Yes, The Tree Makes Noise: Hope, Storytelling, and Humanity’s Connection With Art [REVISED & FREE VERSION]
The following is a free and revised version of my published work, Yes, The Tree Makes Noise: Hope, Storytelling, And Humanity’s Connection With Art. You can read the original here to support the magazine it resides in, Rising Dawn Literary Magazine, and I financially.
Date of First Publication: May 15th, 2025
Date of Repost: July 13th, 2025
Humanity creates magic through art, storytelling, and connections made with the land and those around us. Despite this inherent expression, a popular saying amongst theatre critics plagues the minds of every performer and every technician before pride can even be felt for their efforts, “A performance without an audience is only a rehearsal”. The significance behind this phrase is emphasized throughout modern teachings of all arts, its common interpretation being that “Art cannot be art, if there is no one there to interpret it”. Yet, human society is built on storytelling, and as such one can never escape the existence of art. The notion that art is determined only by an audience, completely discredits the pre-existing interpretation of the creator(s), and furthermore cultivates a culture of consumer entitlement and advocates for the capitalization of the arts.
The public confuses the ability to perform with the choice to perform, and while all art is open to interpretation by nature, as everyone will have a unique and personal perspective, such does not endorse undermining the integrity of art when reviewing it. It is the very same as asking “If a tree falls, and no one is around to hear it, does it really make a noise?” Yes, the tree made a noise, and yes, the artist(s) decides the true meaning, because even if there is no one around to witness something, it still happens. It still exists, just as life exists outside of our own perception, and art exists outside of our own entitlement.
Art is a craft, an expression of humanity, a pillar of storytelling, a tapestry of history, and a beacon for hope in suffering. Yet, presently, it is a skill used for profit. Within academia, it is regarded as a dying, dead-end, and starving field to pursue, where typically those graced with nepotism, pre-existing connections, or white privilege can succeed. The notion of the American Dream is a lie, and with it brings the death of concepts of media literacy, intellectualism, and creation for creation’s sake. The death of knowledge for knowledge’s sake.
It is this post-colonial, late-stage capitalist Western world we live in, that rips away the integrity of artists and the significance of art; all in favour of clickbait entertainment, consumerism, and the engorgement of human entitlement. Songwriters and artists that cannot release albums back-to-back are soon forgotten. Those that can muster the strength to do so, a quantity of work our bodies are never meant to sustain, are never truly appreciated for the art they create, and rather for the limited-timed entertainment they bring. Ninety-thousand-word manuscripts are adapted to tv shows with only eight episodes, in which every scene is either cut or squished together so that the producers can make more money for lower quality films. The shows are cancelled after the first season, if consumers don’t immediately become obsessed with them, and the showrunners only make fifteen million dollars instead of one billion dollars. Literary publishing houses promote story selling over storytelling. Art classes are cut from elementary school curriculums due to budget wars. Theatre productions cost hundreds of dollars to see. Concerts costing even more. Generative AI steals from artists, writers, and creatives so corporations don’t have to pay their artists.
Through such, consumerism has taken over the production and distribution of art. This indoctrination turns the viewer greedy and entitled, and while the message of an artwork can certainly be interpreted entirely outside of the creator’s intentions, claiming that the consumer determines the message invokes a social authority over artists. If viewers don’t get that instant dopamine hit, then your art is worth nothing to society, and therefore is a waste of time. The audience, a role that exists so the creator may share their art, have become executioners. Instead of performing on a stage, artists dance on a stool above the gallows. One move that the viewer doesn’t like, and the floor is dropped beneath their feet. It doesn’t matter that the audience can leave at any time if they so desire. It doesn’t matter that art is subjective. Anything too long, too deep, or too intellectual is hung. Anything too abstract, too real, or too uncomfortable is guillotined. It’s irresponsible to give this kind of totalitarian power to a culture undeserving of the gift it is given; that abuses its own, all the while causing its own bored and lifeless death.
Robin Wall Kimmerer, author of the 2013 non-fiction work, Braiding Sweetgrass, encapsulates this frustration perfectly in her later chapter, “Defeating the Wendigo”. The Wendigo is a widely known creature among various Indigenous’ folklore, in which a human so consumed by their greed becomes a mindless cannibalistic monster, their hunger never satisfied. The sharing of this story serves to ward people from overconsumption and entitlement, as what you devour will turn back to devour you. At first encounter, Kimmerer’s character barely escapes the claws of the Wendigo, before handing it a naturally drugged tea, which he gulps down within seconds. Her teapot is shattered by the creature, who grows angry when his cup empties. These events hold a mirror to the modernized nature of audience-turned executioners, who ingest and ingest without satisfaction, nor appreciation for what’s shared with them. Much like the decline in media literacy and intellectualism in Western society, the Wendigo faces horrible ailments from the amount of tea he’s swallowed. Rather than seek revenge upon this monster, she uses her knowledge of creation to care for him, applying it as a craft, not a skill. She heals the Wendigo by forcing him to taste true art through her Willow and Strawberry tea. It is this display of raw humanity that snaps him out of his blood lustful haze, “You can’t know reciprocity until you know the gift. He is helpless before [it’s] power. His head falls back, leaving the cup still full” (pg. 379). The significance of the Wendigo restraining himself from overconsuming and allowing himself to bask in real creation and real knowledge, irrevocably ties to how real art heals people. As Kimmerer explicitly states, it presents the message that even this consumeristic world can turn around, if we stop and acknowledge what is around.
Our society has been so starved for sustenance, that we’ve forgotten what it truly tastes like. A performance without an audience is still a performance. A story that no one reads is still a story. While the viewer can interpret art however they please, the first and true meaning will always belong to the creator(s). You cannot fill a colosseum, watch art come to life upon a stage, and then claim to understand its foundations when you can barely acknowledge that the very seating is built by an artist as well. It is their creations that allow audiences to exist and to feel. After all, art cannot be interpreted if it is not created by someone with a dream to share.
References
Godin, S., Hagy, J., & MacLeod, H. (2010). Linchpin: Are you indispensable? http://ci.nii.ac.jp/ncid/BB08635710
Kimmerer, R. W. (2013). Braiding Sweetgrass. Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants. Milkweed Editions.
Kleon, A. (2012). Steal like an artist : 10 things nobody told you about being creative. http://ci.nii.ac.jp/ncid/BB11324286
Lorde, A. (1977). Poetry Is Not A Luxury. https://makinglearning.files.wordpress.com/2014/01/poetry-is-not-a-luxury-audre-lorde.pdf
Lorde, A. (1984). The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle The Master’s House. In Sister Outsider: Essays and speeches. http://ci.nii.ac.jp/ncid/BA01234259
Shields, C. V., & Arendt, H. (1951). The Origins of Totalitarianism. The Western Political Quarterly, 4(3), 501. https://doi.org/10.2307/442863
