Why radical voices are necessary

Let's find out what it takes to stay true to our vision without constant (or even any) validation

“Art is like breathing for me. If I don’t do it, I start to choke.” —Yoko Ono

I’ve always been fascinated by people who sacrifice convention and its de facto safety in exchange for an unrelenting devotion to vision and creative integrity. Such people are often said to be ahead of their time.

This fascination is what led me to write about Victoria C. Woodhull, a social radical in her time, and I believe it will lead me to my next work.

I am fascinated by how unconventional thinkers, artists and writers trust(ed) their vision. How do they keep going when they’re repeatedly told no? How do they find the courage to buck convention?

Should we do the same? Is it worth it?

When we’re always working to try to find the largest audience, it’s easy to become stuck in patterns and seeking to answer to generic expectations. I like to think of it as trying to win at a losing game. When we play by others’ rules, it’s easier to succumb to competition and an endless quest for fulfillment.

As most artists and writers know, however, when we listen to the work, something more powerful happens.

One of my favorite examples of an artist exploring creative prowess, despite convention or “market trends,” despite being dismissed or ridiculed, is Yoko Ono. Often vilified for her supposed influence on breakup of The Beatles and repeatedly minimized as an artist in her own right (not only in the sixties but up until recently), she remained committed to experimenting and exploring her true artistic voice.

She commentated and questioned convention in myriad ways, exploring the topics that pique her curiosity at the time.

In her 1964 “Cut Piece,” she sat on a stage with a pair of scissors and invited people to cut pieces of her dress away. This kind of performance art was not typical or conventional. It was equal parts prescient and ignored. While her very famous husband had enjoyed commercial success, she created what may have been the least commercial art of the time.

Yoko Ono, “Add Colour (Refugee Boat),” Tate Modern, London, 2024.

Vanessa Thorpe wrote an article a few years ago admitting that she could have never predicted Ono’s art would one day find a notable audience on its own; meanwhile, in her nineties, Ono is still true to her vision and perhaps more respected than ever.

The beauty of it is that I doubt she cares about acceptance and accolades. She sees her works as a gift, and she owns that.

I believe we deny our creative energy when we outsource it or dim it to make it more palatable.

Honoring our own creativity and individual vision helps us to be more generous and kind.

I just returned from a writing residency in Vermont, where I met many of the kindest people I’ve ever encountered—all creatives who delighted in seeing each other’s work and sharing processes. I think part of the magic was the diversity of art represented.

The creative community is not without competition, but the essence of pure expression is generosity (a gift), and getting back to that is freeing. It is only from a place of generosity that we can create something brave enough to be true.

Over the next few weeks, as I plan new projects, I will be profiling more writers, artists, and thinkers who were ignored, dismissed, or misrecognized in their times and examine what kept them going. Not to copy or offer formulas (there are none), but from a place of creative inquiry and delight. The next profile I’m working on is inspiring an interesting question.

In the meantime, let’s explore the larger question together with a prompt and exercise about creative courage.

Prompt: Who or what has told you that you cannot or should not create your art? Your writing?

Without naming this person or people, explore their belief system as inspiration to create a piece that begins conventional and safe, then goes off the rails.

A meditation on creative courage

A downloadable verstion of the meditation for paid subscribers is here.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!