A singer I work with sent me a recording of her voice over one of my compositions. As I listened, I was struck by this wide, emphasized vibrato I’d never heard her use before. It reminded me of David Bowie’s more artsy moments, with that theatrical, classical quality that cuts through the safe, polished surface of popular music.
When I told her how much I loved it, she dismissed it. “Do you like that vibrato? Sometimes I just don’t really like it or think it’s appropriate for the style.” She explained that it wasn’t even a conscious choice. That it’s just what her voice does when she lets it be free. When she stops fighting against its natural impulses. She’d always felt it was “too classical sounding or whatever.”
But who cares if it’s “too classical”? It’s art! That vibrato is her voice when she stops holding it back, when she lets it do what it naturally wants to do, and it’s a mistake to write that off as a stylistic misstep. And… it is uniquely hers. She’s been fighting against this part of herself for years, worried it’s not “pop music appropriate enough,” not realizing that this tension, this particular quality that makes her uncomfortable, is exactly what makes it evocative.
If you don’t express yourself and do surprising things as an artist, everything winds up as that sanitized, auto-tuned/filter softened, AI-generated slop that looks and sounds like everything else. Real art comes from the parts of you that don’t fit neatly into categories, from the qualities that make you uncomfortable about yourself, from the voice that emerges when you stop trying to control it.
There’s a difference between creating from your essence and creating from your ego. When we create from our ego, we’re constantly editing ourselves, second-guessing, trying to anticipate how others will receive what we’re making. We become curators of our own expression before it’s even fully expressed. But when we create from our essence and trust what emerges naturally, we become conduits of what is inherent within us.
Our thinking mind may believe it knows what art should be, but our soul knows what art is. Your authentic artistic impulses are perfect, not because they’re flawless, but because they’re genuinely yours, and they’re real.
True art polarizes. It cannot please everyone because it emerges from a specific voice, with all its particular beauty and imperfection. What moves one person deeply may leave another cold or even offended, and this isn’t a flaw: it’s the entire point. Art that tries to appeal to everyone appeals to no one. When we soften our edges to become more accessible, we often become forgettable. I’d rather be disliked but remembered for who I am, than liked and then forgotten for who I am not.
There’s a difference between art and pandering. Art communicates something essential, even if not everyone wants to hear it. Pandering tells people what they want to hear.
Art transforms. Pandering confirms.
The accessibility trap convinces us that reach equals impact, that being understood by more people is always better. But some truths can only be received by the few who are ready to hear them. Some beauty is too specific, too strange, too particular to translate into something universally accessible without losing what makes it beautiful.
When you create without apology, when you trust what emerges from your soul, you give others permission to do the same. Your courage to authentically express yourself becomes an invitation for others to discover their own authentic voice.
The artist’s responsibility isn’t to be liked or understood by everyone. It is to discover what’s true within you, to express it, and then let that be seen, regardless of how it’s received. Art is archeology of the soul: you’re not constructing something new so much as uncovering something that’s been there all along, waiting to be found.
Your natural voice, your unconscious choices, your authentic impulses… these are the source from which real art flows, not problems to be solved. Trust them. Let them lead. What emerges may surprise you. It may not match your expectations, and it may divide your audience, but that’s how you know it’s art.