SHE WASN'T YOURS. NEITHER WAS THE ART.

Did you give them your heart, or your whole identity?

Sharing builds character. Never give to receive. Never. A lesson hard learned as a little brother, stamped into grey matter by a mother that didn’t play that shit.

I wasn’t sharing a Twix. That’s just psychotic, there’s two pieces. Only two sticks of chocolate. If we were talking about a kit-Kat, cool. But a Twix Mum? A TWIX? …Regardless, sharing was had.

Shared experience, particularly in the context of art (in its endless permutations) has become a constant source of joy and more often than not, a way to connect. This act of giving has grown to become more than a toe dip on a birthday, or during the festive season...

But what happens when the act of giving ultimately hurts? What happens when a need to connect eventually breeds contempt?

Relationships, platonic and romantic share a common thread. I’ve found that both achieve a new depth when that song, that restaurant or even that movie become a shared experience. But what happens when the bond breaks? Can you claim ownership over the shared real estate of art?

When the relationship is over and the sweat pants become (temporary) uniform, have you caught yourself spoon-deep in another cereal dinner, suddenly and inexplicably furious? Have you ever felt a rage so deep, its scale tickles your core, enveloping you in a black hole of indignation?

I have.

My specific brand of ire is best described as loss compounded by the person you’re hard wired to (temporarily at least) dislike. This is entirely based on them taking something you shared and building upon it. Living with it. Learning to love it so much, they then make it their own and ultimately share it with someone else. The most likely candidate - a new partner.

Yep, the worst kind of someone else.

The new ting.

God forbid, someone you hate.

Or even worse, someone with better shoes.

Now, I’m not for one second suggesting that the rage of a recently single, sweat pant wearing, hermit is valid. I am saying that any fury born in losing a ‘favourite thing’ to the wreckage of a relationship should be allowed.

Particularly if your ex hoovered up the shiniest remains for their ‘post you’ existence. If you’ve been there, you’ll agree it’s shit. Watery, splashy shit.

When someone colours their new life with art you’ve introduced, it’s a tough pill to swallow. But let’s not make this personal. This is, and could never be about one relationship – this is about them. All of them. The ones we lost to the game. *Pours out a little liquor…

The ones we chalk up to experience, who seem to always leave with something. Usually, it’s a new found appreciation for your favourite things, things that have suddenly become a part of their personality. Things they never cared for before you.

A deep seeded love for your favourite café, a strange penchant for the brand you save-up to purchase a single piece from every season. They’re quoting your favourite film on their socials; they’re posting selfies eating the baked goods that nobody buys but you... vomits. In. bin.

To be clear, this extends beyond romantic relationships, I’m also talking about the platonic.

Those friendships that begin as a meeting of the minds. A shared love for the minutiae. A similar long list of dislikes, the same pet peeves, the same ops… until the day comes, when they too have become the ops themselves.

Shit.

Suddenly, they’re in the same places, popping up digitally, invading the spaces you introduced them to. Don’t get me started on those ‘work friend’ robberies either. They’re the worst kind. “Stay out of my faaaakin delicatessen Jill! You never knew about this damn Farmers market before I…” Ugh. What a Sausage. Piss off Jill.

Is this a cry for help?

An admission I should have kept to myself?

Tell me I’m not alone?

Hello?

With all this being shouted said… was any of it even mine in the first place?

There’s a smug entitlement to framing yourself as the person with such great taste that everyone is stealing from you. Scraping your curated existence to build their A.I. Isn’t the point of sharing - the desire for someone else to enjoy the thing you’ve taken so much pleasure from?

Today, the term ‘gate keeping’ is a dirty one. Those in the know, once framed as tastemakers are obsolete in the public conscience. Arbiters of taste, people with the power to empower simply by endorsement no longer wield their king making ‘finger points’ due largely to a democratisation of information.

With enough time and an internet connection, those protected corners of knowledge particularly when it comes to the arts are no longer siloed. They’re shared. Culture is a lot more than a glossy mag that comes with the Sunday papers.

Some of us literally feed our families because of our contribution and eventual renumeration from culture.

Some of us really give a shit about the thing most brand ‘the arts’, as for some of us, it’s our lives. Some of us don’t just consume, we contribute.

So where do you stand?

For the first time I’m not barking my opinions at you with a conclusive closer. I’m having the same debate with everyone I know offline and keep getting a different answer every time...

So, now I’m having it with you.

Is the art you love, no longer yours once shared?

Can you really be mad at shared art becoming a part of that person’s life on their terms, OR are you team ‘Fuck em’ – I gave you power, now politely leave it at the door on your way out?

I’m all ears.