always return to baldwin in times of artistic strife:
the role of the artist, then precisely, is to illuminate that darkness, blaze roads through that vast forest; so that we will not, in all our doing, lose sight of its purpose, which is, after all, to make the world a more human dwelling place.
the state of being alone is not meant to bring to mind merely a rustic musing beside some silver lake. the aloneness which one sees in the eyes of someone who is suffering, whom we cannot help. or it is like the aloneless of love, that force and mystery which to many have extolled and so many have cursed, but which no one has ever understood or ever really been able to control. i put the matter this way, not out of any desire to create pity for the artist-god forbid!-but to suggest how nearly, after all, is his state the state of everyone, and in an attempt to make vivid his endeavor. the states of birth, suffering, love, and death, are extreme states: extreme, universal, and inescapable. we all know this, but we would rather not know it. the artist is present to correct the delusions to which we fall prey in our attempts to avoid this knowledge.
-the creative process
