Lindsay Francis

Lindsay Francis

Art is universally difficult. Every medium, every style and format.

As artists, we are required to not only hone and express our understanding of a detailed craft but feel it thoroughly and openly. Authenticity and vulnerability are in demand, yet not always appreciated.

So, we tell each other to toughen up, to grow a second skin. We shake our heads at any perceived softness — “No, not me, I can take it.” We are unsure but keep plugging away.

We end up picking at the syllables of a sonnet, utterly convincing ourselves that we have forgotten how to pronounce simple words, that we’ve stressed our iambs into spondees. Yet we keep drafting, keep revising and hoping the rhythm will find a way through.

We keep an almost finished painting tucked behind a row of empty canvases. Each day adding a new detail, a highlight or a shadow, encroaching carefully on the undeveloped white center of it. Someday, it will be done, and it will be beautiful.

No matter how afraid we are, the unavoidable urge to create continues. The ideas keep coming so we find new ways to convince ourselves they’re worthwhile and soldier on. Sometimes sharing the things that give shape to our strange and ever-changing existence, even though we know they won’t resonate with everyone or maybe anyone at all.

This, friends, is real courage. I’ve seen it in your community plays and indie art shows. I’ve seen it in living room concerts and coffee house open mics. It’s everywhere and it’s inspiring.

It’s been a pleasure to talk with you about your art and I’m not done. However, my time at The Wenatchee World has come to an end.

I’m thankful for the conversations, the insight, the inspiration I’ve found along the way.

If you ever find yourself doubting, there’s a song — Stolas’ “Captured Light” — that always helps me:

“Are we not ashamed? All of the dreams you had as a child, gone to waste. There must be a time: a moment of clarity, we are the golden age. I cannot stress how important every breath is that you take in that fragile form of yours. Will you catch yourself wasting away? Wake up! Wake up and realize that one day you will die — and that day is coming! With the reaper on your back, move the earth, travel the universe, break the walls and tell all your secrets.”

Thank you to all the artists, writers, musicians, performers, creators and fans that have made writing for and editing Go! a wonderful experience.

Keep going, I’ll be listening.— Lindsay Francis, World staff

— Lindsay Francis, World staff