For your future Muse.

She's waiting for you to create her.

“It’s perfect,” my friend says, barely above a whisper, her eyes falling on the creation in front of us, positioned atop a pedestal of stone as if it knew we were admiring its form. “I don’t know how. But, it’s perfect.”

It takes only one glance to believe her.

Forbidden promises inscribed into marble. Desire unfolded through a tangle of arms and legs. Desperation chiseled into shared looks turned into ghosts of stone. Smooth flesh and unbroken devotion. Hands woven into curly hair, thrown over naked breasts. Wings spread, as if in flight, while arms folded around the waist of a woman deeply loved. Light filters through the columns of glass windows framing the granite hall, and to the delight of all those who have the pleasure to see it, it illuminates this calcified, frozen depiction of eternal love. Carved by human hands who sought to understand the Muse once it graced them.

Love. Tragedy. Beauty.

Made immortal within slopes of marble.

My skin erupts in goosebumps because I, too, see its perfection.

Something begins in that moment; this invisible tethering that pulls me to look upon it with deeper inspection, to notice, and experience, something of such remarkable beauty that you can’t help but let your jaw fall open and silently whisper to yourself: “Holy shit.”

In moments like this—and maybe you’ve been lucky enough to have witnessed this at some point in. your life, as well—you finally see the impossible.

You see, remember, and know. You yearn the second you examine the marble flesh-that-isn’t-flesh, the love-that-isn’t-human, the impossible-made-impossible-but-physical.

You want to touch it.

To see if it’s truly real, to be sure you’re not dreaming, that you’re not fooled.

And even after you’re convinced… you’re not entirely sure, because to witness perfection like this is like coming across the only true argument for God.

The world’s most Beautiful Art is transcendent.

They begin a relationship with you, but they have already fought to stay since the moment they were born.

They are birthed onto this planet with clear messages and hidden notes, with unseen memories of time and historical implications you could never begin to know unless you walked in the shoes of their Father or Mother. They are immortal, and they’re made with passion. They’re made with Love. With Life. With Soul.

Beautiful Art is not only pleasing to examine, but untouchable because of their origins. They are crafted for perfection most people don’t understand because they are brainwashed by what lacks depth.

Beautiful Art connects with you and forces you to look deep within yourself.

It is uncomfortable, disruptive, and unapologetic. It will force you to pull out your heart and examine its dying beats. It will bless you with the gift of unraveling your inner potential, because you dared to obey your curiosity. It will invite you to explore why you were drawn to it, and what that means for your own creative journey.

It’s been a decade since I looked upon Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss for the first time. In person.

It’s been a decade since I had the opportunity to wander through the Louvre’s hall of endless masterpieces. It’s been a decade since I had the chance so many people don’t have, to explore the minds and hearts and souls of masters long gone. It’s been a decade since I looked upon something that is truly, under all circumstances, a masterpiece.

To this day—as a writer, a storyteller, a designer of narratives—I can safely and proudly call this sculpture a Muse.

One of many. Of dozens, if not hundreds, if not thousands.

Whether you’re a beginner or a veteran, know this—

—every true artist has a Muse.

Every single one.

However, most artists mistake what a Muse is meant to be.

You are wasting your time if you think your Muse will “come” to you.

She is not a treasure to be found, but an artifact to be made.

Quick note from Taylor:

The Oyster is a kingdom for people searching for art, beauty, and the act of becoming. It’s only possible because of readers like you. If you want to support the future of this universe—from Monday and Friday open letters, to Wednesday podcast episodes, to future video content breaking down what it means to make beauty, art, and build yourself into the human you want to be—would be forever grateful if you subscribed and became a Founding Oyster.

Thank you for being here.

A true Muse will slam into you without apology, and without warning.

She will challenge you in ways you never expect.

She will force you to look at the weapon you wield and command you to be brazenly honest, whether it’s a paintbrush, the keys of a piano, your own voice, a pencil, or a block of clay.

She is also one Muse of many.

Some people force themselves to follow one Muse, and thus, their artistic creations will follow a rhythm and pattern you can detect.

If you follow Picasso’s work, you can tell when his Muse is his lover. If you follow the Dutch Masters, you can tell why scholars pinpoint potential friends and romantic interests as inspirations for their works. When you observe Vermeer—my personal favorite of these painters—you understand the subjects were not the art, but the challenge of creating the most realistic light possible when that technology didn’t exist.

A Muse is not defined by one specific thing, and not the same for everyone.

It’s very important that you recognize when this feeling happens, because your Muse is not going to tell you directly that she’s your Muse.

You have to decide within a split second of meeting your incomplete Muse, to grasp onto her, and hold her close to your chest.

To protect her, and know her.

If you’re an overthinker, you might wonder what could be your Muse. You might over-consider what’s allowed to inspire you, or what’s meant to inspire you. You might be so focused on categorization that you miss the point of having a Muse entirely.

You might have lost touch with your Inner Artist, so you’re not sure how to create truly Beautiful Art that transcends time.

If you have, it’s alright. You’re not alone, here.

Your Muse, despite how most artists talk about her, is not something to discover. She is something to create.

If you’re not sure what I mean, think of it like this:

Your Muse is a canvas.

A canvas that needs to be painted with multiple types of brushes, from your emotional breadth, to your thoughts, to your current state of life, to your memories, to your relationships, to your areas of interest, to the condition of man, to messages buried in your subconscious that cannot be unraveled until you connect them.

Your Muse begins as bones. A foundation. The muscle, tissue, tendons, blood, and soul are forged into her as you build her up, similar to how Antonio Canova shaped humanity, love, and tragedy into Psyche and Cupid.

Now, your Muse will start as a flicker.

She’ll come to you as a point of inspiration, and it’s a feeling that you’ll realize is impossible to overthink.

Your Muse could be that beautiful stranger you bumped into at your local coffee shop. Your wife. Your husband. Your lover. Your family. That song you listened to for hours in your car on a snowy morning. That painting you walked by during one of the rare afternoons you had a few minutes to appreciate beauty within the noise. The seconds that play after a film ends, where the credits roll, but you’re left stone-still with epiphanies molded into tears that didn’t exist before you watched it. That one close encounter you had with death. The brush of fabric under your fingers. The smell of cement and grass after spring rain. The isolation that follows once others around you drop to their knees in worship, but you’re left wondering where God is, and if he will ever allow you into his kingdom.

You must also never constrain yourself to one Muse.

If you’re a generalist, you know this well, and you wouldn’t be able to stick to one Muse if you tried. Once you shape your first Muse from the canvas and create art inspired by her, there’s no turning back.

But, maybe you will find that this Muse has served her purpose. Maybe you’ll wonder where you can find other inspirations. Other stories to tell through mediums you care about.

It’s also important that you obey your need to obsess over your Muses. She will never be fully realized unless you let her. The whole point of creating your Muse is instilling so much of what you want to say through her, that it becomes impossible for you to not constantly get to know her again and again.

You might wonder why any of this matters.

It matters, because an artist who creates and identifies her Muses and their thousands upon thousands of roles, is an artist who never runs out of ideas. She never runs out of confidence. She never doubts herself. She finds joy and happiness and servitude in the art she creates, because there is nothing more fulfilling than creating from a place that includes yourself and those that have inspired you.

So, please. Do this for yourself.

Open your ears. Your heart. Your mind.

Stop trying to find your Muse. She will run from you.

Create her. Understand her. Know her. Give her a place within your Inner Kingdom. She deserves a place in your court, in some way. Then, she’ll be accompanied by so many like her, and they will all serve you while you give them a place to stay out of respect and love and loyalty.

Your relationship with your Muses are so eternally valuable.

Do whatever you can to put them first.

- Taylor

The Oyster is only possible because of readers like you. If you’re new here, welcome—this is a kingdom we’re building to inspire people yearning for art, beauty, and the act of becoming. Thank you for subscribing and supporting this growing empire.