Words of Encouragement: Mole Music

Mole lived all alone underground. He spent his days digging tunnels. At night he ate his supper in front of the TV and then went to bed. Mole liked his life, but lately he had begun to feel there was something missing.

One night on the television a man played the violin. He made the most beautiful music mole had ever heard.

“I want to make beautiful music, too,” Mole said to himself.

So the next day he sent away for a violin of his own.

These are the opening lines of David McPhail’s Mole Music—a book that has a permanent place on my bookshelf. Yes, it’s a picture book, but to me, it describes the truth of making art more succinctly and poetically than most books crafted specifically for creators.

The illustrations are beautiful, the text satisfyingly spare. But the book’s true genius lies in how the text and illustrations play off each other. While the words describe Mole’s story as Mole understands it—he’s a solitary, underground creature making music for no audience but himself—the pictures provide another context. Above his tunnel in the ground, mole’s music soars, attracting birds and children, workers in the fields, and even reconciling conflict between warring kingdoms.

Any reader—adult or child—can see the difference mole’s music has made in the world. Only Mole doesn’t. Not even as the book comes to its close.

I love that David McPhail, a veteran picture book author, doesn’t resolve the story by letting mole in on the secret. It’s the perfect depiction of a life in art. Because how can we ever really know the reach and impact of our work?

Yes, publishers count sales, and musicians can track downloads. A painter who exhibits in a public gallery might know the number of patrons who visited the building that year. And as professionals, numbers count. Of course they do.

But what about the song that was playing while someone fell in love, or got up the courage to leave a bad marriage? The picture a kid stared at every morning over breakfast, the one that stirred up his imagination? Or the story a reader found just in the nick of time? The one that gave them the words? Our perfect audience, for whom our work means everything.

Occasionally, we might hear from that person, learn their story and how our art fits into it.

But mostly, we don’t.

Perhaps that’s the central challenge of being an artist: staying true to our work, even when we’re not certain that anyone will see it, or listen to it or read it. Having no guarantee that what we make, makes a difference.

Who wouldn’t feel discouraged, sometimes?

I know that I do. And so do other writers and artists that I know and love. Yes, even ones that have had “success”—i.e. the validation of those measurable numbers.

Maybe that’s the artist’s curse.

Here’s the blessing. When we make something we love, there’s a chance that others will love it too.

It’s good to remember that. Especially when, like Mole, we feel like we’re all alone in the dark.

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Mole Music is an instalment in Words of Encouragement, a series about books for writers and artists.