Our job as artists is to reflect the ills of society sometimes

Hear, O seekers of wisdom, the words of Cuba Gooding, Jr., spoken not merely as an actor upon the stage, but as a prophet of the human spirit: “Our job as artists is to reflect the ills of society sometimes and to find a truth in that, and I think you can’t start the healing process until you recognize the truth and all of its ugly warts and all.” These words ring with timeless force, for they remind us that beauty alone does not save, and that art is not merely decoration but revelation.

From the dawn of civilization, the true artist has never been only an entertainer. The poet, the sculptor, the dramatist, the painter—all have been vessels of uncomfortable truth, mirrors held up to kings and to commoners alike. Where priests guarded temples and warriors guarded borders, it was the artist who guarded the conscience of the people. They showed not only what was noble, but also what was rotten. In exposing the ills of society, they broke illusions, stripped away disguises, and forced men to look upon the hidden sickness within their midst.

Consider the tale of the Greek tragedian Sophocles, who wrote of Oedipus, the king who sought to flee his fate, only to discover that he himself was the source of his city’s plague. The play was not meant to delight alone; it was a mirror, showing Athenians that the greatest danger often lies not in foreign invaders, but in truths hidden and unspoken within their own walls. Only when Oedipus faced his shame could Thebes begin the healing process. Thus, Sophocles fulfilled the same duty of which Cuba Gooding, Jr. speaks: the duty of an artist to uncover, to wound with truth so that deeper wounds might finally be healed.

History is filled with such examples. When Dickens wrote of the poorhouses of London, he dragged into the light the suffering of children that society had chosen to ignore. When Picasso painted Guernica, he revealed the terror of war in shapes too jagged to be ignored. When Nina Simone sang, her voice carried the agony of her people and the rage of injustice. Each of these artists risked comfort to reveal discomfort, choosing not flattery but truth, not denial but recognition. And in that recognition lay the seeds of healing.

Yet, O listeners, this task is not easy. For many despise the one who shows them their reflection when the reflection is ugly. The bearer of truth is often mocked, shunned, or even silenced. But remember: no wound heals by being hidden. A festering sore covered with silk will still poison the blood. Only when it is uncovered, cleaned, and treated with honesty can the body recover. So too with the body of society—only when its corruption is laid bare can justice and renewal begin.

Therefore, the lesson is clear: do not fear the truth, even when it offends you, even when it shows you “warts and all.” Welcome the artists who stir your conscience, for they are physicians of the soul. In your own life, practice the same courage—speak honestly about what is broken, whether in your family, your community, or your nation. Do not pretend all is well when injustice festers or cruelty thrives. Speak, create, reflect, until the light of truth shines fully.

And in this, remember that healing is not born of silence but of confrontation. Do not confuse peace with the absence of conflict; true peace comes only after truth is faced. Create art, live truth, and embrace the wounds, for only then shall the great work of renewal begin.

Thus, carry forward Gooding’s words: the calling of the artist—and of every human soul—is to dare to see clearly, to speak bravely, and to love deeply enough to expose what is broken. For when the truth is revealed, the healing process begins, and the path to wholeness is opened for all.