Do stuff. Be clenched, curious. Not waiting for inspiration's shove or society's kiss on your forehead. Pay attention. It's all about paying attention. Attention is vitality. It connects you with others. It makes you eager. Stay eager.

One day you’ll have whatever it is you’re now so confusedly seeking. That kind of calm that comes from knowing oneself and others. But you can’t rush the arrival of that state of mind. There are things you only learn when no one teaches them. And that’s how it is with life. There’s even more beauty in discovering it for yourself, in spite of the suffering.

The great critic Barbara McClay has written about the "politics creep" in every corner of human life, though really of bourgeois Anglophone human life, where every act from reading a novel to lighting a scented candle can be justified - and in fact, self-consciously needs to be justified in advance - as a bold act of resistance. Pretending that self-care is a brave political act detracts from actual political acts, and it sucks the life out of life itself: turning every moment into a performance for an audience, for an imagined crowd of other people on social media. This is other people not as fellow complicated human beings, but as fearful object, whose inner lives are imaginable only insofar as they might be watching and comparing and judging us for whether we've done enough, whether we're wasting our time. And books and movies and TV shows and every other form of fiction will always be, to some extent, a waste of time, as having friends will be a waste of time, as being in love is a waste of time, as every possible action or thought you may have could be considered a waste of time if every second of your life has to prove its value, and has to get a job.

While scholarship is an essential part of decoding the evolution of art, it’s important to stress that a work of art cannot be wrong: it is what it is. Both making and looking are unstable activities, and images are unstable objects.