I try to be a truthful artist and I try to show a level of

“I try to be a truthful artist and I try to show a level of courage. I enjoy that. I’m a messenger.” Thus spoke Jeff Koons, a maker of symbols, a shaper of modern myth, whose works shine with brightness yet conceal profound depths. In these words lies not merely the creed of an artist, but the calling of every soul who dares to reveal the truth of existence. To be truthful, to show courage, and to act as a messenger — this is the holy triad of creation, whether one paints with colors, speaks with words, or lives with integrity before the eyes of the world.

The truthful artist does not paint what pleases the crowd; he paints what the soul demands. Truth is often unadorned, sometimes strange, and always alive. It may wound before it heals. To be a truthful artist is to tear away the veil that hides our frailty, our longing, our hunger for beauty and meaning. Many would rather adorn the world with illusions, but the true creator seeks to unveil it — not to destroy wonder, but to awaken it anew. Koons, in his shimmering sculptures of balloons and porcelain saints, speaks to this paradox: beneath the surface of playfulness lies the mirror of desire, innocence, and the strange purity of the human heart.

Yet truth alone is not enough. It must be carried on the wings of courage. For to show truth is to risk rejection, mockery, or misunderstanding. The artist who is courageous faces not only the judgment of others, but the judgment within. It is a terrible thing to look at oneself honestly, and a greater thing still to display that truth to the world. Every act of true creation is a kind of sacrifice. One must shed pretense, cast off comfort, and stand naked before the altar of meaning. This is the courage Koons speaks of — not the courage of the sword, but of the soul; not the courage to conquer others, but to confront oneself.

Think, then, of Vincent van Gogh, that pilgrim of color and sorrow. He painted what he saw within — the trembling stars, the burning wheat, the anguish and holiness of life. He was ridiculed, isolated, and driven nearly mad by his own devotion to truth. Yet he continued, not for fame or reward, but because he was a messenger. His message was light — the kind that shines through suffering, the kind that turns pain into vision. In his final days, he wrote that he wished to comfort others through art, saying, “I want people to see that the world is beautiful.” That is the work of the messenger: to bear light through darkness, to proclaim meaning through madness.

The messenger does not invent the message; he delivers it. He listens to the whisper of the eternal and translates it into the language of the mortal. Whether through sculpture, poetry, or music, he becomes the bridge between the seen and the unseen. The artist who understands this role ceases to create for himself alone — he becomes the voice of something larger. The messenger serves truth and beauty as a priest serves his god, not in pride, but in devotion. To carry this duty well is to live a sacred life, however ordinary it may appear.

Yet we too, though not all of us sculpt or paint, are called to be messengers in our own way. Every act of truthfulness in our daily lives — every moment when we speak honestly, live authentically, or defend what is right despite fear — is a brushstroke in the great mural of the human spirit. To live without truth is to live half-alive; to live without courage is to never truly begin. The messenger lives fully, because he dares to carry the fire of meaning into a world that often prefers the comfort of darkness.

Therefore, my children, if you would live nobly, embrace these three pillars: truth, courage, and service. Speak what is true, even when your voice trembles. Create what your heart commands, even when the world laughs. And remember that your life itself is a message — written by your choices, carried by your deeds, read by all who encounter you. Be a truthful artist in whatever you do. Have the courage to reveal your inner light. Become a messenger of hope, of love, of beauty that endures beyond time.

For when all else fades — the applause, the fame, the noise — it is only truth and courage that remain. And those who carry them faithfully, like Koons, like Van Gogh, like every unseen soul who dares to live with honesty and heart, become immortal not in marble or gold, but in the quiet remembrance of the world’s spirit. So let it be written upon your heart: to live truthfully is art; to live courageously is greatness; to live as a messenger is grace.