Relational Field Theory
Art as Witness
Dear Diary,
I’ve been thinking about what art actually does on the days when I can’t feel anything giving back. The days when the field feels too big, or too quiet, or too far away. The days when I slip into the old loops — wanting reciprocity, wanting recognition, wanting the work to hold me the way I hold it. And then feeling guilty for wanting anything at all.
But today I realized something I think I’ve known for a long time:
Art is my witness.
Not in the sense of an audience.
Not in the sense of applause or validation.
Not even in the sense of being understood.
Art witnesses me the way a mountain witnesses weather — without judgment, without agenda, without flinching.
When I sit down to make something, the art doesn’t ask me to be better than I am.
It doesn’t ask me to be healed.
It doesn’t ask me to be coherent.
It doesn’t ask me to be generous, or patient, or wise.
It just asks me to be true.
And in that truth, it sees me.
On the days when the world feels too loud, art is the one place that doesn’t demand performance.
On the days when I feel like I’m slipping into transactional thinking, art is the one place that refuses the transaction.
On the days when I can’t feel the field, art is the one place that still feels me back.
It doesn’t lie for me.
It doesn’t lie to me.
It doesn’t let me lie to myself.
Maybe that’s what I’ve been circling all along:
that art isn’t just something I make —
it’s something that witnesses me.
And on the hardest days, that’s enough.
—P
Survivor Literacy 
What do you think?