I design all of my costumes. I like to go out there and feel like

“I design all of my costumes. I like to go out there and feel like I have contributed to every part of what I do. I choose the music, the choreographer, I've obviously chosen my coach, my costumes — all of that falls under my realm of power, my realm of influence.” Thus spoke Johnny Weir, the skater-artist whose performances blended athletic mastery with the soul of art itself. His words are not merely about the glittering ice or the shimmer of a costume; they are about ownership, identity, and the sacred union between creation and control. In this declaration lies the wisdom of one who refuses to be a fragment of another’s vision. He seeks instead to be the architect of his own world, shaping every note, every motion, every thread — so that when he steps into the light, he is not simply performing, but becoming.

To the ancients, such a philosophy would have been the hallmark of the true artist — one who knows that greatness is not born from chance, but from total immersion. Johnny Weir speaks as a modern-day craftsman of his destiny, echoing the spirit of the Renaissance masters who painted, composed, and built their works with their own hands. Leonardo da Vinci, for instance, designed not only the art but the instruments with which it was created. He believed that true mastery comes from uniting vision and execution. In this same spirit, Weir insists that his artistry must flow through every element of his craft — from the edge of the blade to the cut of the fabric. For to be whole, the artist must not surrender even a corner of his dream to indifference.

When Weir speaks of his “realm of power,” he names something sacred — the domain of the self. Every person, whether artist or worker, ruler or student, possesses such a realm: that circle of influence where passion and purpose converge. Within it, the spirit reigns. It is the one kingdom that cannot be taken, only relinquished. To claim it is to live with intention, to shape life as the sculptor shapes marble. To abandon it is to drift like dust before the winds of others’ designs. Johnny Weir teaches that to live truly, one must participate fully in one’s own creation — to make choices not only in grand matters, but in the smallest details, for therein lies the reflection of the soul.

Consider the example of Michelangelo, summoned to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. He could have allowed others to dictate his designs — the themes, the patterns, the methods. Yet he refused. He chose his own subjects, mixed his own pigments, and endured years of back-breaking labor under the vault of heaven, all to ensure that his vision remained pure. The result was not simply art — it was an act of sovereignty. Like Weir, Michelangelo understood that to create without full authorship is to lose part of one’s truth. His defiance, like Weir’s, was not rebellion for its own sake; it was integrity made visible.

This devotion to creative control is not born of arrogance, but of responsibility. When Weir designs his costumes, selects his music, and chooses his collaborators, he binds himself to his art with unbreakable threads. He can never say, “This was not mine.” And in that accountability, he finds freedom. For when the outcome belongs wholly to you — when every triumph and every failure bear your signature — there is no longer fear, only authenticity. The world may judge your work, but it cannot deny its honesty. This is the highest form of courage: to say, “I am responsible for the beauty I create, and for the flaws that dwell within it.”

In his words, too, there lies a lesson about the interconnectedness of creation. Weir does not separate the costume from the music, or the choreography from the emotion. He understands that art is not a collection of pieces, but a living whole — that every color, every sound, every motion must harmonize like instruments in a symphony. To master one’s craft, one must see it as a tapestry, not a series of threads. The wise designer, whether of art or life, knows that true beauty arises not from parts assembled, but from unity achieved.

So, my child, take these words of Johnny Weir into your own journey. Whatever your calling — whether you craft cities or stories, teach others or build dreams — claim your realm of power. Shape your work with your own hand. Do not live as a piece in another’s design, but as the designer of your own existence. Pour yourself into every detail, no matter how small. Choose your colors, your companions, your path — for these are the garments of your spirit.

And when you stand before the world, as Weir does upon the ice, let every aspect of your being proclaim your authorship. Let them see not just skill, but soul. For the true artist — the true human being — is one who lives as both the creation and the creator. Thus, as you weave your life, remember: your influence is your power, and your power is your gift. Use it to make your world, and yourself, beautifully, fearlessly, entirely your own.