Borges on Creativity and Blindness

"Whoever is a poet is one always"

Just as he was beginning to be internationally recognized, the Argentinian author Jorge Louis Borges lost his eyesight. In an essay titled, Blindness¹ the author reflected on the important lesson it had taught him. Even though he was blind, he would never stop writing.

“A writer lives. The task of being a poet is not completed at a fixed schedule. No one is a poet from eight to twelve and from two to six. Whoever is a poet is one always, and continually assaulted by poetry. I suppose a painter feels that colors and shapes are besieging him. Or a musician feels that the strange world of sounds -the strangest world of art- is always seeking him out, that there are melodies and dissonances looking for him.”

What he meant is simple, but important. You don’t stop being a writer just because you cannot write. It’s not something you can just switch off. Consider Beethoven, who composed some of his best work when he was deaf. Or Antonio Gramsci, who wrote his best work while he was in prison, without access to his papers. To be an artist is to keep on creating no matter what. It’s not what you do, it’s who you are.

And vice versa, this also means that sometimes it’s ok not to be creative. You don’t stop being a writer, just because you aren’t writing. Inasmuch as you don’t stop being a painter when you don’t paint. As Borges put it, “whoever is a poet is one always.” Once an artist, always an artist.

Borges wrote that his blindness had taught him that every experience was a kind of gift, an instrument for the creation of something new. Even his blindness was a kind of “clay” from which he could shape new forms. As Borges put it, “All has been given like clay, like material for one’s art. (…) one must accept it”.

In his words:

“A writer, or any man, must believe that whatever happens to him is an instrument; everything has been given for an end. Everything that happens, including humiliations, embarassments, misfortunes, all has been given like clay, like material for one’s art. One must accept it. (…) Those things are given to us to transform, so that we may make from the miserable circumstances of our lives things that are eternal, or aspire to be so.”

Borges chose to see his blindness as a gift. Without his eyesight he could commit himself entirely to his learning, relying on loved ones to read for him and taking his dictation. Something had been lost, but something was also gained. He reflected on the fact that without his blindness he never would have immersed himself as deeply into Midieval and Anglo-saxon poetry. In this sense, he chose to see his blindness as a blessing, not a curse. As he put it, “If a blind man thinks this way, he is saved. Blindness is a gift.”

I find this very touching, and indeed courageous. It reminds us that even though pain is inevitable, perhaps suffering is not. Borges had the unique grace to keep on thinking and educating despite what appeared to be a debilitating loss. Moreover, he says it brought him closer to people.

“Blindness has made me feel surrounded by the kindness of others. People always feel good will toward the blind.”

In his characteristically humble way, Borges was therefore encouraging us to keep on creating, no matter what. If he could lose his eyesight and keep on writing, then what excuse do we have? As Borges reminds us:

Art is but another name for Hope.

Julian

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1. As published in, “Everything and Nothing”, a short collection of Borges' writing published as part of the “Pearl” series for New Direction Publishing. This essay was translated by Eliot Weinberger.