I used to believe that great art is made in solitude. Virginia Woolf writes in “A Room of One’s Own” that, “it is necessary to have…a room with a lock on the door if you are to write fiction or poetry.” Of course, there is much to be said about the need for a private space in which to create. But I wonder, what good are the fruits of our labor if our doors stay locked?
When we create things that weren’t there before and share them with others, we make ourselves vulnerable. We invite our audience to see through our eyes, and, in doing so, open ourselves up to praise for or criticism of how we see the world. But still, here we are, putting ourselves at the world’s mercy. For many of us, this is the greatest gift we can offer.
We make art because we love language or melody or beauty, but we do it too to offer ourselves humbly to each other. In creation, we reach out our hands in the hopes that we will find someone reaching back. And as we build a community around this love, this passion, this penchant for investing in the world, we will always find someone reaching back.
Being a part of Euphemism, working with our board, our staff, our artists and writers and poets, has taught me that nothing we do is ever done alone—not really. We must invite others into our worlds, into our spaces of invention, and we must trust them when they decide to take off their coats and stay awhile.
So, I want to extend my sincere gratitude to everyone who helped to make Issue 18.2 a reality. I’m so proud of what we’ve created together. I’m proud of the community we’ve created together. And regardless of whether you’re enjoying this work as a contributor or a member of our audience, I hope you take pride in your part of it, too.