Solitude: an Allowance or a Prohibition
As a kid, I loved crowds. The thought of Times Square, Disneyland, or even my town’s center during Christmas gave me butterflies. I dreamt of living in New York- to my knowledge, everything important was happening there. Being born and raised in a relatively small town, crowds were an indicator of interesting affairs.
Growing up, I understood that life’s greatness is much more than that. The older I became, the less ready-made entertainment I needed. I realized that the movement around me and even inside me is worth exploring. What was happening in my head after reading a good novel became as empowering as my noisy town during Christmas. I developed a passion for music and visuals and I needed solitude to grow my skills in them. Allowing myself to put people’s demands on pause and play the thoughts and ideas I have long neglected, felt liberating. The busier I was, the more I was longing for these moments of freedom.
After the first lockdown at the beginning of March 2020, my perception changed again. When solitude was freshening up my busy routine, it was revitalizing. Once it was the result of a prohibition, it started weighing on me. It wasn’t loneliness. I never felt disconnected. I had the warmth of human contact from my family. I was talking with my friends all the time. It wasn’t loneliness, it was an enforced solitude that no longer felt like freedom.
September was a breath of fresh air. Returning to my university was exciting and I rarely sought solitude. I was enjoying meetings with people and I was constantly planning new ones. I guess this was an attempt to compensate for the past months. I almost succeeded. But the world started closing again.
Now, we are in the midst of a social distancing wave once more. The bittersweet relationship with solitude is something many of us are experiencing. While contemplating my own feelings, I became curious about the perspective of the ones who, with or without a pandemic, spend hours on their own- the creators. I met Martin Marinov, a young artist from my hometown, Sliven. We explored the dimensions of solitude and loneliness:
“Artists are mostly lonely people, purely emotionally. We are difficult to understand and this is not a new thing. I bet that the nameless cave artists who left their paintings on walls, were observed by the rest of the people and everyone was like- ‘what is wrong with these guys?’ “
Martin is not saying that pretentiously. He thinks that there are people who pose artistisism by overexaggerating some stereotypes. One of them is demonstratively praising the solitary life. He is certain that what really matters is the artist’s work and solitude is just a necessary condition for the creative process:
“Whether you are a musician, a singer, or an actor, you would always need time to be alone and sift things, make sense of them, and leave them mature. When an artist works and wants what he does to be sincere, he is alone. He should be alone. In a sense, if your art is real, if it is pure, it doesn’t necessarily need to be shared with anyone. You can do it for yourself.”
As much as Martin needs solitude to work, he loves being around his friends and enjoys big gatherings. Since cultural life is almost stagnant now, he misses communication with the other artists:
“Exhibitions are not so much about seeing the paintings- each artist in my town knows what the rest are creating. It is the moment of interaction that we miss- when we see each other, have a drink, and just talk.”
Despite the prohibitions that make socialization difficult, Martin speaks about the situation in a down-to-earth manner.
“I spend more time at home now because of the safety measures. The season itself contributes- it is already cold and staying inside naturally becomes longer, which is alright. If you think about it, during these periods in the past, our ancestors already finished fieldwork, everything was stored, the wine was poured into the barrels. Modernity’s economic processes didn’t exist back then and everyone was staying home… People should worry less and do what they can at home- keep in touch with nice people online, read books, make art, make love…”
Martin perceives the situation calmly and philosophically, a very useful attitude in the ever-changing times we live in. As poet May Sarton says: “Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is the richness of self”. I think the wisdom of self during these hard times is to simply accept solitude and really do what we can to grow fruit out of it. The pandemic didn’t leave me poor, but I stopped celebrating the enriching part of solitude the way I used to. Maybe it’s the rebellious tinge of my youth that is making me uneasy. I am less excited about the silent pleasures of books and movies. I crave noise. I miss the world bragging about its bigness through shiny celebrations and concert halls full of thousands. I miss seeing the artists from my town gathering at the entrance of the gallery. I miss knowing that this is all happening even the times I feel like staying home. Now, I often want to find a big crowd of people and nestle in it. The call from my childhood will surely be answered once everything is over. Until then, I will be reconciling with solitude and let it be the allowance for the ideas inside me to develop and set free.
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Bozhana Marinova studies Journalism and Mass Communication at the American University in Bulgaria. She loves her solitude when she chooses it.
