The Art of Falling Apart

by Monochromatic

from ponyville

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Art, in all its forms, was a deeply personal experience, Rarity found.

Twilight and she discussed the matter once as they talked about a book. The idea of whether one can separate the creator from what’s been created. There were some things they agreed one could do such a thing with, such as scientific matters, for example.

If one were to create a mathematical equation or theorem or something of the sort, no matter who they were or what their life experiences were, the result would stay the same.

It exists beyond them.

But art comes from within. There are rules one mostly follows, such as a dress is a dress and a hat is not a dress unless one is exceedingly flexible with the definition of a dress, but what comes from within is… the color! Or the fabric, or the patterns, or the design.

Rainbow Dash could never make a dress the way Rarity could, and neither could Rarity ever make a dress the way Rainbow Dash might.

There is also a thin line between creating to share and creating for others to consume. There are, evidently, also some that create for the sake of creating. The artistes whose only audience is themselves, whom Rarity started as.

She had been, after all, creating outfits for a society that as a vast majority did not wear clothes, so it had clearly been a passion project for her. Or it had started as that.

But living in such a small pond meant that once she got noticed, she felt big.

And, more than that, other designers sought her out just as she sought them out.

And then she opened Canterlot Carousel featuring yet another dress she’d made for Twilight Sparkle.

And, of course, that came with its hiccups and a warning sign of things to come, but in the end, all Rarity cared for was that she was designing.

The fact that what she loved so much was being shared with others, every outfit, every garment lovingly stitched together with a piece of her soul.

Certainly, there was also a profit motivation—she didn’t want to be a starving artist from Ponyville—but to have her own boutique in Canterlot?

It was…

Well, it was, just like her dress back in Ponyville, it was intoxicating. And it was hers, born from her work and passion and desire to create and nothing else.

At the time, at least.

“Hi!” said Silverluck once upon a time, stepping into Rarity’s Canterlot boutique.

A talented earth pony, Silver introduced herself as a fellow seamstress, eager to talk with ‘fresh blood’ as it were.

Though she worked on all manner of things, Silver excelled in making suits, and they were wonderful suits. She’d brought some over for Rarity to look at, hoping to have her opinion, and all Rarity could do was rave about them.

“Goodness!” she exclaimed, admiring it inside and out while poor Silver blushed to the side, pleased as punch. “This is beautiful stitchwork. You can barely see it!”

“Thank you!” Silver replied, tail practically wagging from side to side. “It took forever! But I’m really happy with the results. I’m delivering it to the client tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Rarity asked, and before Silver knew what was happening, Rarity was all over her. “Wait, what time? Afternoon, I hope! You must let me borrow this overnight so I can study it!”

“Study it?” Silver gasped. She laughed. “What? Really?”

Rarity nodded feverishly. She loved the suit. She went on about it, the design choices and the fabric and the stitching, and the more she went on, the more Silverluck spoke about her design, and the more she shared, the more excited Rarity grew.

“Where did you study?” Silverluck asked her, eventually. “Your designs aren’t really anything I see others selling.”

Rarity blinked. “Study?”

Silver nodded. “Mhm. Canterlot Fashion School? Or Canterlot Design? Oooh! Or are you from Manehattan? I know MFS always like going against the trends..”

For a moment, Rarity was gripped with panic.

For a moment, there she was again, as if it were years ago, and she’d been caught trying to mingle between the Canterlot elite and Twilight’s party, and the humiliation at having her station pointed out.

But she’d learned her lesson. She was proud of who she was and where she came from.

“I didn’t study anywhere,” she said, smiling proud as she was and her friends would want her to be. “I’m self-taught!” And she was prouder still when she added, “I’m from Ponyville, in fact. That’s where my inspiration comes from.”

“From Ponyville? That’s amazing! Wow,” Silver said, and then added, and she probably meant well, but years later, Rarity would remember it with nothing but hate, “And you have a shop in Canterlot? That’s impressive for somepony from Ponyville. And that explains the style! That’s so interesting.”

Rarity smiled, gracious. But… But something stuck with her. Something nagged at her.

The implicit understanding that she was apparently only impressive because she wasn’t expected to succeed.

That she wasn’t supposed to be succeeding with what she was doing.

That she was a fluke.

But she smiled, and persevered, because that didn’t matter, what mattered is that she loved to design, and she was good at what she loved.

Right?

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Author's Note:

It's one am and I am tired so I'm going to head to bed and keep updating tomorrow.

As a last thought for the night, I said I was going to change the story into being first person, but I realized literally the only reason I was doing it is because I was trying to make it more palatable, better for readers, because then doing something like this might have more justification.

Which is hilarious considering this is a story about the horrors of letting your art belong to someone else, and needing validation to the point that the very thing you loved becomes your worst poison.

anyway, i decided to stick to 3rd person because i wasn't doing it out of fear of not being perfect and good so to quote a great meme I saw on tumblr today

see u tomorrow!!!!

Comments

[nighters]

it has to be a nightmare being an element... pressure and expectations can be toxic.