words, arranged, composed, and sang; heard over wired-earphones, on a brooklyn subway station; bring you to tears,
paint, dripped, spilled & whirled; seen at a museum; inhibits your body to move.
ideas, thought about, developed & concretized in form; spaces & times away from you; seen over the internet; elicit vocal wonder.
spirit, expressed through decades of work; perhaps without much reward; inspires action.
michael asks jon in tick, tick … boom:
what are you doing with your life that’s so noble?
to which jon replies:
making art.
and michael says:
Oh spare me the self-righteousness, Jon. You’re writing musicals in your living room, not saving the rain forest.
…
20 years later, some members of the human-race are inspired to exercise creativity because of the musicals jon wrote in his living room.
the rampant capitalism that the world has chosen, to normatively subscribe to, breaks my heart.
as i sit here to write this, and think of how wonderful it felt to be moved by a song on a brooklyn-subway-station, i am tenderly reminded that there are more ways to live purposefully than one.
related to what is good work?, my principles as a creator.