52 Weeks a Party of One: ‘An Artist with No Art Form’?

One of my favorite novels of all time is Sula by Toni Morrison. I first read it a few years ago, and it has stayed with me ever since. The passage that has lingered the most is the following:

“In a way, her strangeness, her naiveté, her craving for the other half of her equation was the consequence of an idle imagination. Had she paints, or clay, or knew the discipline of the dance, or strings, had she anything to engage her tremendous curiosity and her gift for metaphor, she might have exchanged the restlessness and preoccupation with whim for an activity that provided her with all she yearned for. And like an artist with no art form, she became dangerous.”

First, how beautiful is Toni Morrison’s prose? Just stunning.

Now, the concept of a person spiraling or engaging in destructive behavior because they lack a creative outlet is a premise that has always intrigued me. As a writer who spent almost a decade finding her way back to this art form, this notion deeply resonates with me. There was a lot of ‘restlessness and preoccupation’ during the years I was not writing.

In 52 Weeks a Party of One, our protagonist, Aisha, learns a heartbreaking truth on New Year’s Eve: her best friend and boyfriend are having an affair. This is the first event that leads off the deep end. But eventually, more comes to the surface: friction with her mother, brother, and—when he was still alive—absentee father.

These conflicts send Aisha further down her spiral.

There are a lot of quiet times and empty spaces. There is a lot of ‘restlessness and preoccupation.’ And within those voids, Aisha creates chaos.

I’m not making a definitive statement that Aisha is “an artist with no art form.” She is a very flawed character, and there are a lot of moving parts.

I’m merely journaling.

I will leave it up to the reader to determine if Aisha falls under this category.