Time Will Tell

The word "create" is spelled out with paintings of each letter on placards stuck in a grassy ground.

I’ve been thinking a lot about art and artists lately. How so much of an artist’s individual process is rarely seen, and how once the work is put out into the world, it is no longer theirs. Whether we’re crafting a meal or a novel, we never really know how our work will be received, do we?

A toy Wonder Woman figurine sits atop a stack of packages wrapped with sparkly paper, holding a box with a ribbon bow.

I saw a post from Christopher Rice recently talking about writing the forward for the special illustrated edition of Anne’s Rice’s Interview with the Vampire (which is set to be released in early 2025). He said of the forward:

In it, I talk about the novel’s initial critical dismissal and lackluster sales and how the path a work of art travels through the universe is often chaotic and unpredictable.”

He goes on to say, “The inspiring message to creators everywhere is clear, the work we put out into the world is capable of outliving the initial response to it.”

That had me thinking about all kinds of people whose work wasn’t initially appreciated. How many scientists and philosophers were heralded as crazy. How many artists died paupers, their work not recognized until long after they’d left the planet. How so many of the artists we now laud as “the greats” were in fact, considered not so great when they debuted. Surprisingly, even Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake, one of the most iconic ballets of all time, was initially deemed a critical failure. But even with that label, performances continued for several years. Over time, more talented dancers, better choreography, and tweaks to the original score resulted in what we now know as Swan Lake, and Tchaikovsky didn’t live to see that ballet become successful. He died before its full revival.

A winding road cuts through scenic mountainous terrain under an azure sky with wispy clouds on a sunny day.

What I love most about both Anne Rice’s and Pyotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky’s stories is that they didn’t give up in the face of initial rejection. They didn’t let poor press, lackluster sales, or dubious audience responses to their work derail them from following their passions. Instead, they simply went on to create more art and put it into the world. They both kept following their joy and creating what called to them, bringing it into this plane of existence regardless of how it might be received. And in both of their cases, the subsequent art they created after their initial, unspectacular debuts, drove interest in their earlier works.

It was because Tchaikovsky went on to compose Sleeping Beauty, Romeo and Juliette, and The Nutcracker that people gave Swan Lake another look. And Anne Rice published four books (two of them under a pseudonym) between Interview with the Vampire and the second book in that series, The Vampire Lestat. She went on to write and publish at least thirty more books across eight series after that (including the rest of the now famous Vampire Chronicles).

The world is all the richer for artists like these who kept creating, even in the face of disappointing receptions and in many cases, outright rejections of their art. And I find incredible inspiration in these stories to keep on going. To keep making the art we are here to create, keep telling the stories, crafting the things, and bringing ideas to life in this realm in the ways that only we can. Our job is to create, the reception of our work isn’t really up to us. Here’s to focusing on creating what wants to come through us, regardless of its reception. And doing it again and again.

Next
Next

Biggie