The Unlocking Power of Art

I was watching a show the other night, just trying to turn my brain off. Nothing deep, nothing profound…just some background noise. Then “Rape Me” by Nirvana played in a scene, and something in me stirred.

I’ve heard that song a thousand times. It’s part of the DNA of the ‘90s, the soundtrack of a generation. But this time, it hit differently. I paused the show, opened Spotify, and listened to the full thing. Then I pulled up the lyrics, searched for Cobain’s meaning, listened again. And then something clicked:

Rape me, rape me, my friend
Rape me, rape me again

In that moment, the lyrics meant to me…

Go ahead. Betray me. Hurt me. Take your best shot. I’ll survive. And in the end—I’ll win.

I had never interpreted it that way before. But at that moment, it was the only way I could hear it.

And that’s when I realized…great art is unlocking what’s already inside us.

Often, the most influential art is created from deep, profound emotion. And when it’s good, raw, and real, it doesn’t just exist in its own time. It lives on. It transmutes into something else inside the person experiencing it. When it really hits, the person consuming it is probably deeply focused on a profound emotion of their own… and boom…the bridge is built. 

The Express A Train from the artist to the consumer.

News flash: It has nothing to do with the medium of art and everything to do with emotions. Not to get all hippy-dippy, but that bridge is vibrational, and it doesn’t know time, space, ink, or notes. A song, a book, a painting…it’s a master key, unlocking different meanings for every person who comes across it. A million different people can engage with the same piece of art and walk away with a million different interpretations, almost wholly disconnected from what the artist initially felt.

And yet, none of them are wrong.

That’s the magic of it. Art is never just one thing. It’s not fixed, not limited to its creator’s intention. It becomes something new every time it’s experienced. A song heard at 26 won’t hit the same way at 56. A novel that once felt slow and tedious might suddenly crack open a hidden truth in you years later. The art itself doesn’t change…we do.

And that’s what makes art powerful. Not just what the artist intended, but what we make of it. How we reshape it, reinterpret it, and use it to make sense of our own world. We turn it into something uniquely ours.

This morning, I woke up knowing that a newsletter I wrote about my hardest struggles…my breakdowns, the moments I barely made it through…was going out to 6,000 people. At least 2,500 will open it. That kind of personal exposure feels foreign to me. A little scary. But then I thought about one person who might read it and feel less alone.

And suddenly, it didn’t feel scary. It felt worthwhile.

Because once words are out there, they live on. And maybe, just maybe, that little effort…that raw piece of truth…becomes a master key for someone else. Maybe they see themselves in it. Maybe it shifts their perspective. Maybe it helps them unlock something inside that they didn’t even know was there.

And once that door opens…it never fully closes again.

And in the end, maybe that’s the power of art…

it doesn’t just stay with us. 

It changes us.