One of the things I love most about Cubism is how it changed the way I see.
Before Cubism, artists usually painted people from one point of view. But artists like Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque began showing the same person from many angles, all on one canvas.
An eye from the front. A nose from the side. A face broken into pieces.
And somehowâŠ
In all that distortionâŠ
Something beautiful appeared.
And Iâve been thinking about why that even happens.
If youâve ever spent hours painting someone, you know what I meanâŠ
You start with a sketch. You study the shape of their face.
You erase. You look again.
You zero in on how the light falls on their skin.
The curve of their nose. Their cheeks. Their lips.
You notice all the little things you wouldâve missed if you hadnât stopped to look.
And then something strange happensâŠ
The longer you look, the more beautiful they become.
It doesnât matter if they fit the worldâs idea of beauty. After hours of studying their face, you begin to see something those standards could never measure.
And thatâs what fascinates meâŠ
They didnât become more beautiful.
You became more capable of seeing their beauty.
Nothing about their face changed. The only thing that changed was how much attention you gave it.
Iâve realized weâre not making them into a work of art.
Weâre discovering that they already are a work of art.
The word âbeholdâ means to see, look at, or observe something with deep attention and focus.
And thatâs a part of what makes being an artist such a joy.
We are practicing the act of beholding.
Creating forces us to slow down long enough to see what a passing glance would miss.
Because beauty doesnât always reveal itself at first sight.
Sometimes it takes hours of looking. Sometimes it takes studying every angle. Sometimes it takes getting close enough to notice the things you thought were flaws.
And as artists, we spend so much of our lives giving that kind of attention to other people.
We write songs about them. We paint their faces. We tell their stories.
Weâre so used to holding the brush that we forget what itâs like to be the subject.
But what would happen if we gave ourselves the same attention we give our art?
Not a quick glance in the mirror. Not another judgment about what we like or donât like.
I mean the kind of attention that makes us curious instead of critical.
The kind that looks again when something doesnât make sense.
The kind that doesnât turn away when it finds something imperfect.
And thatâs why I want to challenge you this week to make something about yourself.
A melody that sounds like the feelings you canât explain.
A drawing that holds the parts of you nobody gets to see.
A poem that gives a voice to the person youâve been afraid to become.
And as you create it, take your time.
Study yourself the way you would study someone you love.
Notice your strange angles. Your contradictions. Your unfinished parts. The things you love about yourself and the things youâre still learning to love.
Donât rush to make something beautiful.
Just pay attention.
Because thatâs what I find so beautiful about Cubism.
It reminds me that thereâs more to a person than any single point of view can show us.
And showcasing every angle is what reveals the beauty.
And the same is true of all of us.
We spend so much time looking at ourselves through the worldâs eyes that sometimes we forget to have our own.
Youâre the one holding the brush. And youâre the subject.
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
So behold the magnificence of all you are.
Stay creative,
Way Walker
P.S. If this sparked something for you, you can buy me a coffee here.â