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i often think about how we say great art can only be made through misery and dysfunction—not despite it. that as if the full potential of our talents could only be unleashed at the brink of despair. that the suffering is a requisite and we’re made to believe it is meaningful and eventually worth it.
but like this semi-autobriographical story of spielberg himself, good and great art could also come from a supportive and healthy environment. there’s no necessity for pain; it only distracts not encourages, diminishes not expands, and impedes not flourishes. the fabelmans is essentially about the pursuit of love: mitzi to bennie, burt to his career, and sammy to filmmaking. many great artists have not come out alive from their pain, and beyond the priveleges of generational wealth and networked connections, the best gift we could give to our artists is allow them to pursue what they love through an enabling and justly compensating environment. then maybe we could have more spielbergs, especially from the most marginalized communities who are already borne disadvantaged. then maybe i could have pursued mine too. (footnote: gabriel labelle is so charming? and honestly deserved more accolades this awards season)
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