I hold it gently, letting it rest in me.  It cries itself to sleep.

When it wakes I let it wail, not asking it to be calm.

I create a safe space around it and never say, “hush now.”

I begin to understand that this sorrow is bigger than me.

I am grieving for something greater than myself.

The pain of the world passes through me.

As I give it space,

it begins a transformation

into beauty,

into kindness,

into peace.

– Jennifer Sturgis

Why do I make art? To see myself. To look into the void and recognize who I am at that moment. To see colors together–to hear them cling and shout at one another. To feel the paint slide from my brush and go free wheeling across a page. To know that I AM. To make magic-a transforming act of regeneration, renewal and extension. To grow-over and over and over. To reach for the unknown within me—to embrace both dark and light and present it to myself. To be seen as more than I think I am—to show myself and others that all is acceptable and of value—even in brokenness. To gain favor for my little self—so that she is happy. To play and have joy in making marks. To show the physical presence of my emotions, my reactions—to see these illusions for what they are. To be with myself in a way that no other action allows. To go into another world—deep and dark, wild and free, into joy and into madness.     –Angel Craddock

An artist at work in the studio

As you can see, this simple question–why do you make art?–prompted deep and meaningful reflections on what motivates us as artists, what brings us back to the canvas (or blank page or piano or dance floor or microphone) time and again, in spite of the challenges we each may face. Sometimes minute to minute.

So, why do you make art–whatever your art is? What keeps bringing you back?

Many have taken this ten-month intensive several times over. What is it about the Year-Long that keeps bringing you back? What about it intrigues you as a potential first-timer?

So, tell us: what would you like to see here?