Today is a funny sort of a day. The sun is shining (for the moment), it’s cold and the air feels fresh. Yet the world is diminished in some way. When an artist of Bowie’s magnitude, who touched so many lives for so many years, leaves this plane, you can almost feel the loss, a vacuum of space where once someone shone brightly.
People gathered in Brixton last night, singing his songs and lighting candles, trying to hold onto that aura of stardust. And he will remain, of course he will. His music, his art, will not be forgotten. While I wouldn’t class myself as a mega fan, I liked his music, his songs appearing regularly on my playlist. I liked his films, too – on a recent visit to the EMP in Seattle I gazed in awe at his Goblin King costume, it still holding a faint vestige of the spark he brought to the character.
But I guess what I liked the most about Bowie is that he lived a creative life. And he did it for himself. He wasn’t worried about what others would think – he had a vision to explore and he did so. So in many ways, that to me is his lesson, his legacy. The arty version of ‘feel the fear and do it anyway.’
And so, as I walked back over the canal bridge, rippling water and golden leaves, I thought about it. Writing is what I love to do. It’s how I express myself, how I work through things, how I convey what is inside me. To ignore it is to dishonour myself. I know I’m lucky to have the time to pursue it, but it doesn’t mean it is not hard work at times.
Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you.