The Art That Creates Us
On Creative Courage and the Champions Who Light the Way
Lou asked me to play for her. I was 20 and had, until then, fiercely kept my music to myself. My thinking was, "No one wants to hear my moody diary confessions. No one is going to like my stuff - it's not pop, or catchy or upbeat... it's my own private contemplations and no one will get it." But she got it, and loved me and my music enough to want to collaborate and eventually go on tour together. Vintage Argyle was born.
Lou coaxed me out of my small bubble and encouraged me to share. She was my first champion, a trusted ally who joined me in those early days of fear, doubt, and stress. We faced the dismal coffee house gigs, noisy art openings, dinner crowds that ignored us, and small house concerts of mostly our families together. Honestly, I know I wouldn't have braved playing my music for the world or attempting the indie artist life without her love. She nudged me out of the nest.
Fast forward 7 years. Lou and I had parted ways, and I had slowly gained the courage to keep playing solo. I was working at a Mystery School wrapped in a raw vegan restaurant, Cafe Gratitude, when my friend Yogi invited me to play at a micro-festival with him. I thought, "I am not festival material. No one wants to hear my moody, intimate, raw diary confessions."
After much debate, he convinced me to go. I got slotted for the late night/early morning acoustic tea lounge after everyone had danced their pants off. They were snuggling, enjoying lovely tea service (by someone who turned out to become one of my best friends,) and to my surprise - they were d i g g i n g me.
This event and the champions who emerged from that potent weekend led me to my Bay Area debut where I cut my teeth revealing my true self, bringing my deepest emotions to rapt audiences who drank thirstily from my cup. They loved my moody, intimate diary confessions, my raw, vulnerable haunting and delicate sounds. The classical piano solos... all of it! I was still doubting that it was all real, yet I felt encouraged to keep going.
Since then, I have continued to pursue the life of a professional musician as a source of self-liberation. The sound and words that flow through me are my personal antidote for living in times of dire beauty - living at the end of an age, an era, a paradigm, the ending and beginning of a new species of human. My pursuit has led me to cultivate a lifestyle committed to unblocking what stands in my way of authentically feeling and translating how I metabolize my experience.
It's 2025 and I'm 40. I see now that creativity and imagination are the antidote to being assimilated by the lifeless and shallow, spoon-fed Borg culture. Making art is what will sculpt us into becoming humans capable of freedom, joyful evolution and abundance for all. Our imagination is what will unlock our true potential as human beings.
I still battle against the foggy amnesia. Even today, as I upload my latest EP to the internet (which is profoundly beautiful work that I love and stand behind), a thought emerges: "No one wants to hear this. I'm just a drop in the ocean of artists out there, no one is going to find me anyway, my music isn't pop or catchy..." But when I hear this insipid voice, I remember my champions. I look at their pictures (which are conveniently on my wall), read their letters and emails. I remember that fame and fortune is not my goal.
I think that I'm in the process of creating art, when really it's the art that is creating me.
My moody, haunting existential reckonings, radical soul purges, and soft humble song prayers are my contribution to the fight for the best of humanity to exist. My diary confessions in musical format are my most empowered action I can invest my time in to become an asset in the Cosmic DNA, our akashic records, our human lineage. I never would have dared to subject my inner heart sanctum to the ruthless scrutiny of the world if it weren't for my champions. Deepest thanks. You know who you are.
I have two invitations for you, dear Work In Progress:
1. Consider making a list, making a phone call, or creating a handmade card for someone who's championed you - in your early days, darkest nights, or when you were on the edge of a big break. Let them know what it means to you for them to hold your hand, spank your butt, or just show up on your journey to becoming.
2. Consider someone who could use a champion right now and show up for them. There's nothing like having someone ask you "How's that project going? When's your next gig? Where are you at with that piece?" It can make the difference between giving up or continuing on. This gesture works both ways - you'll feel encouraged in your own art just for being generous with others'.
Remember to nourish what nourishes you. Buy the album directly from the artist, go to the local makers markets, give that busker some cash. Indulge your imagination, dream bigger, and share your truth.
In service to your magic,
-Adey Bell
Exquisite expression 💜🌞💜