Dear Juan René,

Remember this: if you love art, and you are truly an artist through and through, you will make art—plain and simple. That bond, between you and Art, is what is most sacred, not how much money you do or don’t make from it, and not how big of an audience you do or don’t have.

Don’t dwell on success too much. Success in art/entertainment as a concept is too random, requires so much luck, it’s almost absurd to pay too much mind to the idea. Artistic success is a fantasy lived by the few. We tried to amplify this thesis to comical proportions in order to hammer down the magnitude of its absurdity, to tell you: Don’t. Dwell. On. Success. You will most likely not win anyway…

And that’s okay! Life will go on regardless of your efforts, so always be ready to adapt (recall how my Llewyn begins to accept this towards the end of the film), but don’t ever belittle yourself for not “winning.” Remember The Old Man and the Sea: there is a quiet dignity in always trying, in never giving up. Protect this dignity, don’t be defeated. My Llewyn is someone who has lost sight of this dignity (and understandably so, given all the misfortune that has befallen him). He is my gift to you, a tender word of caution, a friendly reminder of your inherent worth. I hope you see in his melancholic gaze the shades of your own compromised soul, which paints the world in hazy grays whenever you let your Artist’s spark be dwindled by external pressures. I repeat: do not be defeated.

Kindly,

Inside Llewyn Davis

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Dear Inside Llewyn Davis,

I cannot overstate how situationally and thematically relevant this film is to my life right now, as someone who:

● lives adjacent to Lewyn’s Queens (greetings from my Bushwick basement!)

● feels many steps behind in the archetypal trajectory of the Artist-Who-Made-It-Big

● is increasingly embittered by the gnawing recognition that I will not, in fact, lead the ideal life I wanted: one where I can make a comfortable-enough living via artistic creation

Both Llewyn and I are at the same impasse: now that I know I won’t “win” (in the capitalist sense of the term), what remains of my journey as an artist? Now that I am on the threshold of the rest of my “ordinary” life, what will become of my identity as an artist, and how will this affect me? How will it affect my self-worth? Will I ever truly be happy, or will I always feel like I’ve settled for some sub-par version of my life, one where I’ve committed an embarrassing, mountain’s worth of wrong turns?

You beautifully distilled all these existential inquiries, and I am so fucking grateful for it. Watching you felt like: “I see your struggle. Have a beer with me, let’s talk that shit out.” And by the end of our hangout I’m laughing my ass off, because…you’re right: in the grand cosmic scheme of things it really isn’t that serious, and I almost lost sight of what was most important: this, this, this.

Thank you for the warm hug,

Juan René

P.S. RIP Ginger, our family cat (he was also type orange—I’m telling you, the parallels are crazy)

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Juan René is from the Bay Area, and currently resides in New York City. His work is found and forthcoming in HOBART, Huizache 10, and The Acentos Review. Follow him on Instagram @juanxrene.