I have been musing lately about the phrase “released a statement.” This is something said of famous (or infamous) people, as in: “Harold Camping released a statement on May 22 saying, ‘Whoops. My bad.'” (disclaimer: this quote is fake).
Artists, of course, try to make statements. For them (us?) it is an act of creation, something active and intentional. This is not the way of celebrity statements. In order to be heard they need only be “released,” like a cat bolting through an open door. The statements long to get out, and once they do, they are heard. No agent, seemingly, is responsible for them.
As a writer, I “release” statements all the time. I shove them, kick them, hurl them with force and aim into the world, but they rarely get very far. They take a few steps outside, lick themselves, and turn around to scratch at the door.
Sometimes it feels like we’re all shouting to be heard over the whispers of a few. Oh well. I suppose I’ll plug my ears and keep yelling. One day, like teased and ridiculed zoo tigers, the statements will escape.