I'm about creating a body of work and moving on to the next

Hear the words of Mark Lanegan, a troubadour who walked the long road of song and sorrow: “I’m about creating a body of work and moving on to the next thing.” This utterance, though simple in form, carries the weight of a life dedicated to art, endurance, and transformation. For in it lies the teaching that one must not cling too tightly to what has been made, nor be enslaved by the glories or failures of yesterday. The true artist, the true seeker, builds, completes, and then journeys onward.

The ancients understood this rhythm well. They saw life not as a single work but as a series of labors, each one a stone placed upon the edifice of the soul. Creation is not meant to be hoarded, nor are victories meant to be worshiped forever. To cling is to stagnate; to release is to remain alive. Lanegan’s words remind us that every work, whether song, poem, deed, or life’s chapter, is but one movement in a greater symphony. Once its note is sounded, the spirit must turn to the next, lest the music fall silent.

Think of the builders of the cathedrals in the Middle Ages. Many labored their whole lives on structures they would never see completed. Yet they did not despair, for their task was to create their part and then pass it on. They added their stones, their carvings, their stained glass, and then moved forward to the next calling. The cathedral itself became a body of work not of one man but of generations. Such is the way of those who create and then let go.

Contrast this with those who cling to their past triumphs, who grow drunk on yesterday’s applause. Many kings and generals, after one victory, sought only to relive it, fearing the uncertainty of the next challenge. In their hesitation, their kingdoms crumbled, for they could not release the old to embrace the new. The river of life does not stop its flow; it carries forward. He who resists is left behind, but he who moves with it grows continually renewed.

Lanegan himself lived this lesson. From his early years with Screaming Trees to his solo works, and later his collaborations with others, he never allowed himself to be chained to one form of success. His body of work was vast, spanning decades, moods, and genres. He did not stay fixed in one season but moved forward, even when the path was uncertain, even when his own battles with darkness weighed heavily. Each record was a stone laid, then released, as he walked on to the next.

What lesson, then, must you take? Do not cling forever to what you have already made, be it a victory, a creation, or even a failure. Complete it with all your heart, then release it into the world. Know that your worth does not lie in one act alone, but in the continual building of a greater whole. Life itself is your cathedral, and each deed, each word, each song is a stone. Do not linger too long over one stone; place it well, and then move forward.

Practical steps are these: when you finish a project, resist the temptation to perfect it endlessly. Honor it, but then step toward the new. When you achieve success, rejoice, but do not live in its shadow. When you fail, grieve if you must, but then rise and take the next step. Set your heart not on one act but on the journey of many, for this is how legacies are built.

Thus remember Lanegan’s wisdom: create, release, and move forward. For clinging is death, but motion is life. Build your body of work, stone upon stone, song upon song, deed upon deed. And when the end of your days arrives, you shall see that the beauty was never in one single work, but in the great tapestry of them all.