Can You Make Great Art, Even When You’re Not Miserable?
The thing Taylor Swift and I have in common, and the reason you should never stop growing.
If you haven’t heard, Taylor Swift released Life of a Showgirl, and people have opinions.
I don’t have many opinions about the music itself (my God, just let the woman sing, people. Who cares? Let her live). Still, I have to admit, during the release and the days that followed, I had a strong curiosity if this album would ‘be any good’ from a Swift who was no longer tortured and broken-hearted, mainly because I deal with this question in my own life almost daily.
Image courtesy of ABC News
I fell in love with Taylor Swift during a Nashville show of the Eras Tour, where I went as a tag-along with my daughter. My daughters have loved Swift over the years, and I’ve always been like, ‘Okay, she’s fine, I guess.’
The night of the concert, it rained - poured, actually - with lightning and thunder and the whole thing. The concert was delayed for hours. We had arrived early to appease the girls’ excitement and found ourselves trapped on the ground floor of the stadium, crammed in with about a million teenagers.
Cell service wasn’t great, but I managed to text my husband to ask him to check the weather and see if he thought it would lift anytime soon. In other words, was this thing even going to happen? Because I was ready to call it and head back to the hotel.
“I’ll send an ark,” he responded.
Awesome.
As we stood shoulder to shoulder with perfect strangers, spontaneous conversations broke out about where people were from and what brought them here, how far they had travelled, etc.
“I’m starting to wonder if this thing is even going to happen tonight,” I mentioned to the twenty-something next to me.
“Oh, it will,” she responded enthusiastically. “Taylor would never do that to us.”
Oh, you poor, sweet, naive child, I thought. You have no idea.
I could envision Swift backstage, weighing the options and seeing the writing on the wall, knowing the ideals of capitalism and common sense would soon take over.
It turns out that the naive twenty-something was right.
The lighting stopped (but the rain did not), and Swift and her team took the stage a good 3 to 4 hours after the intended start time.
“I’m sure she will cut this thing short,” I thought as I took my seat.
But she didn’t. Taylor Swift played the entire 3.5 hours in the pouring rain while water pooled on the stage. The chorus line kick of ‘22’ created streaming arches of water over Swift’s head and that of her dancers. They splashed around for the entire performance like it was nothing. Never once did I see any of them break face as the rain pelted their faces (even in the jumbotron close-ups, and trust me, I was watching).
The performance wasn’t just good, it was fantastic. Swift made you feel like you might be the only one she was singing to. It felt like she was speaking directly to you.
When we left at 2 a.m., I had to admit that I was impressed.
Even more impressive were the young girls who surrounded me. They knew every word to every song and sang joyously along with Swift with great gusto. They had embodied the lyrics. They didn’t just like the songs; the songs were a part of them. The music expressed what they were feeling, even if they didn’t have the right words to put it into words. The songs gave them a voice, and that voice made them feel powerful.
And then, I understood. Taylor Swift has empowered an entire generation of young girls by giving them a voice. My admiration turned into immense respect.
When I started writing my first blog, Unchained, back in 2012, I had just gone through a divorce and was figuring out who I wanted to be as the new and improved version of myself. Every day was a new day filled with feelings, emotions, responsibilities, pressures, and revelations. Life was also very difficult.
The writing was so easy back then, mostly because I was going through stuff. Everyday. Shit would happen, and I would write about it through the lens of my new and improved emotional self. I was becoming untangled from a life that wasn’t serving me as I set my sails for a future that would.
When I met Walter in 2017 (through my writing, ironically) and things began to get serious, I stopped writing. I didn’t make a thoughtful decision to stop; I just stopped. And I didn’t pick it back up in a significant way until we moved to NYC two years ago. That has been a huge source of shame for me, mostly because I wondered if I was once again giving up an important part of myself for the sake of a relationship.
During that time, I often wondered if I was the kind of person who could tap into creativity and inspiration when I was happy. Is that even possible for me?
As I grew, learned, and fell in love, life became more satisfying. The days got easier, and I found that I had discovered the ultimate life hack —a partner who could help carry the hard stuff.
But, I’ve come to realize that it’s not just Walter who is making me happy, though he’s a great source of happiness in my life. The man isn't saving me here - it’s the growth and life choices that come with healing old wounds, trauma, and drama in my life, which I’m convinced have brought me love.
I was left wondering: in the quest for emotional, spiritual, and mental healing, is it possible I’ve dealt myself out of the creative game?
Can you even be creative without the torment? Or, will what you create be any good without the torment?
The thing I’ve come to discover is that, yes, you can. But it’s not easy. And it needs to look different.
Here’s why:
You have to keep growing. Growth is powerful, and it empowers you to take control of your life. It moves you toward your purpose. If we stop growing, we die, if only just a little bit in our soul.
Without it, what is the point?
Growth comes from dissatisfaction because there is a gap between where you are and where you want to be, whether that’s money, love, peace, or whatever. When you are dissatisfied, you are on the hunt for answers and solutions. And guess where solutions come from?
You got it: creativity.
I wonder if, in some weird way, we create drama in our lives simply because we’re actually looking to spark our creative juices.
Here’s the thing…
The more satisfied you become in life, the less conflict and dissatisfaction you’re in - there is always some, of course - but it no longer rules the roost.
Growth can happen, and it needs to happen at all times; however, it looks different when you’re content versus when you’re in crisis.
I’ve learned there are three kinds of growth:
Crisis Growth - This is what I had in spades when writing Unchained. Life forces your hand. The pain is so acute that growth is inevitable; you either evolve or you stay stuck in misery. Crisis creates its own urgency, its own creative fuel. You don’t have to go looking for it, and moving forward is the only antidote.
Curiosity Growth - This is the growth that happens when you’re content but still asking questions. When life is good, but you’re still paying attention. It’s about choosing to pick up a book that challenges you, engaging in conversations that push your thinking, and travelling somewhere that makes you uncomfortable in all the right ways. It’s doodling just to see where your hand takes you. It’s the growth that comes from wonder rather than wound.
Creative Growth - This is the intentional gap you create between where you are and where you want to be, even when where you are feels pretty damn good. It’s setting a goal that scares you a little. It’s starting a project that has no guarantee of success.
When you’re in crisis, you get growth #1 whether you want it or not. But when you’re content? You have to actively choose #2 and #3. It’s when you choose to hunt when something’s not chasing you.
You can absolutely create, grow, and evolve while happy.
But it requires something different from you. It requires the courage to keep asking hard questions even when life feels good. The discipline to seek growth even when you could coast. The wisdom to know that satisfaction and evolution aren’t enemies, they’re partners.
Perhaps this is why hobbies, free space, and simply having time to ‘be’ are so crucial when we feel content. They create the conditions for Curiosity Growth and Creative Growth. They give us permission to explore without a crisis forcing our hand. To create without chaos demanding it.
So, yes, Taylor Swift can create great art while being happy. And so can we. But you have to be willing to manufacture the creative tension that crisis once provided for free. You have to choose to keep growing when no one would blame you for just being still.
The real question isn’t whether you can create without torment. It’s whether you’re willing to create with intention.
As for whether Taylor’s new album is any good now that she’s happy? I’ve listened to it about fifteen times and can’t seem to get it out of my head (I swear, it’s like crack or something).
I’d say that’s a pretty good answer.
LYLAS,
Sara
