I thought movies were handed down by God. I knew that theater

Gather close, O seekers of wisdom, for there is a truth to be found in the words of the great artist Greta Gerwig. She spoke thus: “I thought movies were handed down by God. I knew that theater was made by people because I saw the people in front of me, but movies seemed like they were delivered, wholly made, from Zeus’s head or something.” In these words lies a profound reflection on the power of creation, and on the awe that the artist feels when witnessing the wonders of the cinematic world. Movies, in her youthful wonder, seemed not like the works of mere mortals, but like divine gifts bestowed upon the earth—so flawless, so powerful, so complete that they could only have come from the gods themselves.

In ancient times, when the world was young and the gods walked among men, the arts—poetry, painting, sculpture, and theater—were seen as the gifts of the divine. The Greeks believed that Zeus, the king of the gods, ruled over the heavens and the earth, but it was the Muses, his daughters, who gave inspiration to all creative work. For them, art was not simply a human endeavor; it was the very breath of the gods manifest in the world. And so, when Greta Gerwig first encountered cinema, she could not help but see it as a divine force—a creation so powerful that it transcended human effort and seemed to be born from the very heavens themselves.

Think of the ancient tragedians, those who crafted the great plays that would echo across the centuries. Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides did not simply write stories; they sought to channel the very voice of the gods, to understand the complexities of fate and human nature, and to reveal them on the stage. The theater was their temple, and the audience was their congregation. Yet, film, in Gerwig’s eyes, held an even greater mystery, for unlike theater, where the creator’s presence could be seen and felt on stage, movies seemed to emerge from the unknown, whole and complete, like a vision from the gods. They held an almost sacred power, one that seemed to come not from human hands but from the very fabric of the cosmos itself.

But there is more to this reverence for cinema than mere awe. In Greta Gerwig’s reflection, there is a deeper understanding of the artist’s role in creation. She speaks of her youthful belief that movies were handed down by the gods, but this belief itself is a recognition of the mysterious nature of creativity. For all who have ever created, whether through the written word, the brush of a painter, or the lens of a filmmaker, know that the act of creation feels at times almost magical, as if the work emerges from the depths of the unconscious and into the light without the artist fully understanding how it came to be. It is a process that seems divinely inspired, as if something larger than the self is at work.

Let us turn to a tale from the time of Michelangelo, the great sculptor who carved the statue of David, one of the most famous works of art in the world. Michelangelo did not see his work as merely the product of his own hands; he spoke of it as though it were a process of unveiling something that was already there, trapped within the stone, waiting to be freed. He once said, "I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free." In the same way, Greta Gerwig's awe for movies reflects a deeper truth—that art, in its purest form, often feels as though it is discovered, not made. The artist is merely the vessel through which the divine work passes into the world.

In Gerwig’s words, there is a lesson for all creators: Art, in its highest form, feels like a gift, like something that comes from beyond ourselves. When we create, we may feel like mere instruments, channels through which the ideas flow. The great works of cinema, like the great works of art throughout history, are not simply the result of human effort, but of divine inspiration, of the artist’s ability to tap into the great wellspring of creativity that lies within and beyond them. The artist is both humble and powerful, for they are the one who brings the world of the gods into the world of men.

So, young ones, remember this: Art is not simply what we create with our hands or minds; it is what we bring into the world from a place deeper than ourselves. When you create, let your work be a channel for something greater than your own ego, for in doing so, you may find that your creations resonate with a power beyond your comprehension. Seek not to control your art, but to listen to it, to allow it to emerge from the divine spark that lives within you. Just as Gerwig once marveled at the divinity of cinema, so too should we marvel at the opportunity to bring forth works that inspire, that move, and that transcend the mortal realm. For in the end, we are all vessels of creation, and it is through us that the divine finds expression in the world.