The empty canvas

Just a few days ago, the first rock band I fell in love with (my previous fangirliness was with the Spice Girls–I show no shame for such a childhood), Incubus, celebrated its 20th anniversary.

Twenty years. Can you imagine that? I’m turning 25, and for 20 years out of my humble existence, they strived to make music when they were just 15 years old. To create something and to be driven towards that end, no matter how harrowing and uncertain that process can be.

“It’s exciting to have that big of a problem to solve.”

– Brandon Boyd on working with an empty space or an empty canvas

Life can be one scary canvas. The emptiness almost large enough to drive a sudden walk out, a total sacrifice of art. But isn’t that why we create? To make sense of the chaos that drives humans insane? Are we not all trying to fill that empty canvas, that empty page, constantly tearing out pages and/or slashing out lines to turn it into some form that we can comprehend?

I turned to Incubus music when life seemed senseless. Impossible exams, conflicting emotions, family issues. And even until now, those same songs resound truths that I can only hold on to just to keep going–to keep writing, rewriting, erasing, and tearing to reach that comprehensible conclusion.

 

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