I feel like I have at least begun to make a contribution, but my

In the depths of every artist’s heart lies a desire to be remembered, to leave behind a legacy that will transcend time. Judy Chicago captures this timeless yearning when she says, "I feel like I have at least begun to make a contribution, but my most significant concern has to do with whether my actual art will be preserved for future generations or be erased." In these words, there is both pride and trepidation—pride in the work that has been accomplished, but fear that the fruits of one's labor may be lost in the passage of time, swallowed by the waves of oblivion. It is a fear shared by countless artists, philosophers, and leaders throughout history: the fear that their efforts, however profound, may not survive beyond their own fleeting existence.

The ancients, too, grappled with the question of legacy. Homer, the blind poet of ancient Greece, wove his epic tales with a clear purpose: to ensure that the deeds of the heroes and the gods would live on through the ages. He sought immortality not for himself, but for the stories he told, knowing that through them, future generations would come to understand the valor and wisdom of those who had come before. Homer's Iliad and Odyssey were not just stories—they were the preservation of history itself. And yet, even Homer, in his wisdom, must have wondered whether his work would endure or fade into nothingness, forgotten by those who came after. In Judy Chicago’s words, we see that same deep concern for the preservation of art, for the safeguarding of the cultural treasures that shape society’s understanding of itself.

In ancient Rome, the historian Tacitus wrote that "the legacy of the dead is preserved by the actions of the living." The idea that the future of art and history rests not only in the hands of the creators but in those who choose to honor and protect their work is an ancient truth. Tacitus understood that time is both a destroyer and a preserver, and it is the living who must bear the responsibility of passing on the past. The great Roman sculptures, the Greek philosophy, and the literature of the ancient world survived because the people of their time recognized their value and took steps to ensure their preservation. In this sense, Chicago’s concern is not unique to the modern world but is a universal one—a call to both artists and society to ensure that the work of the present does not fade into the dust of history.

The fear of erasure that Judy Chicago expresses is also seen in the stories of other artists whose works were overlooked in their own time. Vincent van Gogh, for example, lived in relative obscurity, selling only a few paintings during his lifetime. His genius was not recognized by the world, and the works he created seemed destined for oblivion. Yet, today, van Gogh’s paintings are considered among the greatest treasures of human artistic achievement. His legacy, though nearly lost in the shadows of his lifetime, was preserved by those who came after him—by art lovers, critics, and curators who recognized the value of his work. Judy Chicago’s words speak to this paradox: the significance of art is not always understood in the moment it is created, but in the way it is carried forward by the actions of those who understand its true worth.

Chicago’s concern is not just about immortality in a literal sense, but about the continuation of the ideas and visions that art can represent. Art, in all its forms, is a mirror of society, reflecting its values, its struggles, its triumphs, and its contradictions. The work of an artist like Judy Chicago, who has used her art to address issues of gender, identity, and culture, holds great power in shaping future generations. Her legacy, like the works of the ancients, is not just about the physical form of her creations, but about the ideas they carry, the conversations they spark, and the change they inspire. The concern for her work’s preservation is a reflection of the understanding that art is not static—it is a living force that must be passed on and allowed to evolve.

Thus, the lesson we can take from Judy Chicago’s words is that the preservation of art and culture is not the responsibility of time alone, but of action in the present. As Homer immortalized the heroes of ancient Greece, we too must ensure that the work of today—whether it is art, literature, or ideas—is protected for future generations. Whether through institutions, museums, or the simple act of sharing and celebrating the work, it is our duty to ensure that what is created now does not fade into obscurity. Legacy is not just about the past; it is about how we choose to honor and preserve the world we leave behind.

In our own lives, we must remember that legacy is not only created through the greatness of our individual actions but through the way we collaborate, support, and preserve the work of others. Let us take up the mantle of those who came before us and ensure that their contributions, as well as our own, continue to inspire the generations that follow. For in this act of preservation, we find true immortality—not in the passing of time, but in the eternal impact we make on the world.