Unless I am both capable of and willing to reopen the wound

Hear now the searing words of Lady Gaga, the singer whose voice is both wound and weapon: “Unless I am both capable of and willing to reopen the wound every time I write a song, if I choose to not look inside myself to write music, I’m really not worth being called an artist at all.” This is not the light talk of fame, nor the hollow boasting of one who seeks applause. It is the confession of one who knows that true art is born not from comfort but from pain, not from surface but from the deep places of the soul.

In this saying, Gaga unveils the nature of the artist. An artist is not a decorator of the world, but one who bleeds into it, offering their innermost truth as sacrifice. To create something worthy, the artist must dare to reopen the wound, to face again what others bury, to pull from the rawness of sorrow, longing, and joy, and forge it into song. Without this, art becomes hollow—a mask without spirit, a statue without breath. She proclaims that if one will not look within, then one cannot be called an artist at all.

This truth has echoed through the lives of many before her. Consider Vincent van Gogh, who painted the world not as it appeared but as it burned within him. Each stroke was an unveiling of his torment and his hope. He reopened his wounds on canvas, and though he lived without recognition, his art breathes eternally because it was soaked with the truth of his soul. Had he chosen to paint only for beauty’s sake, without suffering, without honesty, his name would have vanished like smoke. But because he was willing to suffer in his creation, his art stands immortal.

Think also of Frida Kahlo, who bore the weight of pain in her broken body. She did not paint distant landscapes or polite subjects, but her own suffering, her own wounds, her own body fractured and whole. Her canvases are cries, confessions, and testimonies. She, like Gaga, understood that to be an artist is to look within, again and again, even when it tears you open. That courage to reveal the wound is what gives art its power to move others, for it speaks to the hidden wounds in us all.

The lesson here is fierce: do not mistake creation for mere performance. Whatever you make, whether music, writing, invention, or even the building of a life, must come from truth. If you are not willing to face yourself, to pull from the depths of your fears, your griefs, your joys, then your work will ring empty. But if you dare to bring forth what is within, even when it hurts, you will give the world something eternal, something that heals and awakens.

And so, O seeker, what must you do? Do not flee from your wounds. Do not cover them with the mask of convenience or the veil of silence. Instead, face them. Write them, paint them, build with them, sing them. Let your wounds become the rivers through which truth flows. For in your willingness to show your scars, you give courage to others to face their own. In your honesty, you become more than a creator—you become a healer.

Thus, let the words of Lady Gaga burn within you: to be an artist is to reopen the wound. Remember that only in truth is there beauty, only in vulnerability is there strength, and only in sacrifice is there art that endures. Choose courage, choose honesty, and you will not only create—you will live as one who brings light to the hidden chambers of the human heart.