An Experiment with Art

The moment I try to explain art to someone, I cannot stop myself. I feel an unsaid responsibility to convey not just what it is, but how it makes you feel. The joy of creating. The beauty of discovering the unknown.

Having spent most of my life on stage as a vocalist, art has always been something I experienced from within. But then I began to wonder whether this elaborate, personal relationship with art is universal or something experienced only by artists.

As an experiment, I found myself at a dance recital one evening.

My plan was to be the perfect audience member. No thinking about the relentless practice sessions, the hours spent on costumes, or the courage it takes to perform in front of 500 people. Just pure consumption. That lasted about two minutes.

Of all the wonderful emotions I associate with art, the most beautiful one is the act of ‘surrender’, as I like to call it.

The moment when an artist forgets their surroundings and dedicates themselves completely to their craft, and the art takes over, almost dissociating itself from the performer. I do not know how this idea surfaced in my mind while I was simply watching the performance, but it did.

After a fast-paced, intense piece that kept everyone at the edge of their seats, the dancer struck the final pose and held it for a few seconds, letting the audience absorb what they had just seen.

I was left in awe.

It felt as though something inside me had been set free.

I was liberated from the narrow box in my head that defines what I consider possible in reality. In that moment, human ability seemed to expand beyond my imagination.

The performance ended, and I walked out. A third emotion followed.

The magnificence of what I had witnessed made me feel small.

Here I was, one tiny human with my tiny struggles, set against this vast universe of creation. Yet paradoxically, art is born from exactly these small human experiences. A song helps someone process grief. A painting captures a moment for life. Theatre sparks conversations about society.

Individual experiences that are fragile, personal, and temporary give rise to something timeless and universal.

Perhaps this is why art continues to matter. It expands how we see, feel, and understand the world.

This experiment showed me that it is absolutely possible to form a deep relationship with art, even as a member of the audience. It is a personal experience that varies for everyone, but it is possible.

Since then, I have begun turning to art on the days I feel lost. It may be worth trying for you too. Art can simply lighten your mood or take on the tougher job of bringing perspective and revealing what truly matters. It does not change our world overnight, but it gently changes how we experience it.

Storyteller