To Be Felt Rather Than Understood: My Take on Alone With You In The Ether by Olivie Blake
Alone With You In The Ether By Olivie Blake was on my to-be-read list for a few years, and at the start of this summer I decided it was time to pick it up. The novel beautifully intertwines themes of art, existence, and love as the author tells the story of Aldo and Reagan, two young adults seeking connection in a world overcome by isolation. While reading this, I was especially drawn to Reagan’s reconnection with visual art, something she had let go of in the face of a mental health crisis. Blake writes:
“Art, a voice buzzed in her ear, was creation. It was dissecting a piece of herself and leaving it out for consumption, for speculation. For the possibility of misinterpretation and the inevitably of judgement. For the abandonment of fear the reward would have to be the possibility of ruin, and that was the inherent sacrifice.” (150)
The last sentence struck a chord with me, because I didn’t quite understand it, so I decided to break it down and dissect its meaning.
For the abandonment of fear
I was intrigued by Blake’s choice of the word “abandon,” which carries a negative connotation. I was caught off guard because fear is something I’m constantly working to get rid of, wishing it wouldn’t invite itself into my mind and life. And yet, Reagan lays out a transaction here between art and abandoning fear.
The reward would have to be the possibility of ruin
Blake forces the reader to ask, why would anyone make art if the reward is the possibility of ruin? That doesn’t sound like much of a reward. What exactly is being ruined? The artist? The art? Why is creating art worth the risk of ruin? What else do we risk for different results?
And that was the inherent sacrifice.
The sacrifice is simply intrinsic. I can’t help but think of the beauty of some of the sacrifices we make. Sometimes we sacrifice personal endeavors to be there for loved ones. We sacrifice comfort to pursue deeper interests. We sacrifice emotional safety in exchange for vulnerability. Then, I suppose, the sacrifice is worth the possibility of ruin when the reward outweighs it.
Even after examining this sentence over and over again like an artifact I can’t quite comprehend, I think this sentence and the story as a whole is one that isn’t entirely meant to be understood, but felt. Maybe that’s what art is truly about–feeling another’s feelings as closely as if they were your own.
