“[Joy is] a refusal of the alienation they tell us that we ought to believe is true.”
- Ross Gay, Poet
Making art (and poetry and music, etc)
is in itself an act of hope.
It’s a belief in your life as it is,
as it will be,
and in the future.
Hope is such a tricky word these days,
because of how it’s been co-opted.
Maybe joy has been a little co-opted too,
but I think particularly [with] hope—
it’s the thing that gets us out of bed
and makes us keep practicing the sonata
or whatever the thing is that you’re trying to do that day.
In that sense, it’s a daily practice.
Writing is a hopeful act,
especially in the face of abject hopelessness.