Why Does Art Go Hungry?🎭

Why does art go hungry,
when it feeds the soul?
Why does it starve in the corners of our minds,
reaching out,
its hands empty,
while we feast on the ordinary,
the convenient,
the easy distractions?

Art is the pulse
beneath our skin,
the heartbeat of something deeper,
a language without words
that speaks to us in shapes,
in colors,
in sounds.
But still, it goes hungry,
its stomach growling
while we look away,
too busy
to notice its silent plea.

We are told that art is a luxury,
that it must wait
until the bills are paid,
until the work is done.
We push it aside,
saying there are more important things,
more urgent needs.
But what if art is the need?
What if it is the quiet hunger
we don’t know how to name,
the emptiness we feel
when we’ve filled ourselves
with everything else?

Art goes hungry
because we forget
how much it gives.
We forget that it is not just a painting
on a wall,
or a song played in passing.
It is the breath of our stories,
the reflection of our lives,
the mirror we hold up to the world
and ask:
“Is this who we are?”

We live in a world
that measures worth in numbers,
in things you can count,
you can sell.
But art is immeasurable.
It slips through the cracks
of what is profitable,
what is useful.
It thrives in the spaces
where logic ends
and feeling begins.
And in a world
where time is money,
where efficiency is king,
art sits quietly,
its plate empty,
waiting for us to remember
that it, too, deserves a place at the table.

Art goes hungry
because we feed the body
and starve the soul.
We chase after things
that fill our pockets
but not our hearts.
And we wonder why
we feel hollow,
why the world seems gray
when we’ve turned away
from the colors,
from the beauty that waits
just outside our reach.

Art goes hungry
because we are afraid
to feel too much.
It asks us to look deeper,
to sit with our pain,
our joy,
our confusion.
It demands we stop
and listen
to the music of our own hearts,
to the stories we’ve buried.
But it’s easier to move on,
to keep going,
to stay busy,
than to sit with the weight
of what art reveals.

But art—
it does not need to starve.
It can be fed
by the smallest gesture,
the quiet moments
when we allow ourselves to create,
to witness,
to appreciate.
It can be nourished
by the stories we tell,
by the brushstrokes on a canvas,
by the notes played softly
in a room where no one listens.
It grows strong
when we give it space,
when we feed it with our time,
our attention,
our love.

So why does art go hungry?
Because we have forgotten
that it is not a thing apart from us,
but a part of us.
It is the hunger we all feel,
the need to create,
to express,
to make something beautiful
in a world that often feels
so broken.

Feed art,
and you feed yourself.
Feed art,
and the world begins
to fill with color again,
to sing again,
to remember
that beauty has always been
what sustains us.