I don’t know about you, but I love the Oscars. I love that we still celebrate art and creativity and originality in a big and official way, even though our broader culture would rather spend money on superheroes and sequels.
I don’t get emotional about much, but for writers, directors, musicians, actors, and actresses to pour years of their lives into making something beautiful or challenging or new–something that’s then showcased for the entire world to criticize and pick apart or even dismiss in a matter of minutes–it makes me feel a range of emotions on their behalf. That kind of thing takes guts. Real guts. Guts and vision and determination and dreams. And anyone with a dream can feel the gravity of it all.
These people are putting an idea, a part of themselves out into the wide open for anyone and everyone. And how people respond to their art can make or break them just like that. The gossip columnists and film critics. Late-night TV. Someone always trying to dig into their private world or snap a photo. It just isn’t fair, really. But the potential consequences are all part of the risk. In fact, the potential consequences are why most people will never even try.