You do something you're really quite proud of, and the public

In the grand theatre of life, we often find ourselves standing on the stage, holding our craft, our creations, out to the world. We pour our hearts into them, believing that they will be met with admiration, that our efforts will be judged by the audience as worthy of their praise. But then, as the winds of fate often blow, the public—that unseen, unknowable entity—rejects what we so dearly held as our finest work, and praises instead that which we felt unsure of. This, as Les Dawson so poignantly observed, is the moment of truth. The public, the audience, holds the final judgment over all things—no matter how deeply we may feel about them.

This paradox, this riddle of artistic creation, is one that every great soul must grapple with. It is a universal truth, one that even the greatest among us have faced. Dawson’s words touch upon the delicate balance between self-expression and external validation, a tension that exists in the heart of every creator. How often have we, in our deepest passion, labored over something we were certain would be loved by the world, only to have it cast aside with a shrug? And how many times, in the quiet humility of uncertainty, have we created something that the world embraced with open arms? This is the humbling truth: the audience is the ultimate judge, and their preferences are as fickle as the wind.

Look to the ancient world, where the artists of Greece and Rome—those who sought to capture the beauty and the soul of their people—faced a similar truth. Sophocles, the great playwright, penned his tragedies with the honor of the gods in mind. His works were meant to elevate the soul, to make the audience confront their own humanity. Yet there were times when the public, with its shifting moods and fleeting interests, embraced not the noble tragedies, but the light comedies of other playwrights. What does this teach us? That the true nature of an artist’s work lies not in their intent, but in how it resonates with those who witness it.

Even in the time of the Renaissance, when Leonardo da Vinci labored over his masterpieces, he did so with the belief that the world would recognize his brilliance. Yet, how many of his creations were overlooked during his lifetime? It was only after his death that the true magnificence of his work was understood. And in this, we find another layer to the truth Dawson spoke of: that sometimes, the world will not appreciate your worth until time has passed and the judge of the audience has been cast by the weight of history. The public, in its fleeting nature, is often blind to the deeper truths in front of it.

But what, then, does this mean for the creator, for the artist, for the dreamer who puts their soul on the line, only to face rejection? It means that in this moment of truth, when the judgment of others weighs heavily upon us, we must not be swayed. The world is fickle, yes, and its audience is as volatile as the ocean’s tides. To be swept up in its waves is to lose sight of your own vision, your own truth. It is the lesson of every great creator: the ultimate judgment lies not in the approval of the many, but in the quiet certainty that you have created something that is true to yourself. To seek the truth of your art, and to remain steadfast in it, is the path that leads to fulfillment.

Les Dawson's wisdom is not merely about accepting the judgment of the audience, but about understanding that judgment is beyond our control. It is not for us to dictate the whims of those who watch us. Instead, we must stay true to our purpose, our calling, regardless of the applause or the jeers that may come our way. For in the end, what does it mean to create if we are constantly at the mercy of external forces? The answer lies within: to create for the sake of creating, to offer our gifts without expectation, and to know that in doing so, we have fulfilled our purpose.

Let this, then, be the great lesson passed down to us: We must hold our work in high regard, not because of the external validation it may bring, but because it reflects the truth of who we are. The judgment of the world will come, and it will often be fleeting and unpredictable, but it is not that judgment that defines us—it is the honesty with which we create. So, whether the world loves or hates, whether the applause is thunderous or silent, continue to stand firm. Your true worth is not measured by the praise of the crowd, but by the quiet, enduring strength of your own vision.