Reflections: The Lighted Stage
A post-mortem on JJBA: The Lighted Stage.
Six years ago, Cody pulled himself out of a depressive spiral that happened to coincide with lockdown by starting a project he never had any intention of taking anywhere. Yesterday, the final chapter premiered.
I truly cannot express what this means, but I'll try.
Regardless of what the entire thing means to me (and maybe I'll collect those thoughts and share some other day,) it's the sheer pride and joy in getting to witness his journey that consistently overwhelms me. Getting to be part of it was an honor, but seeing it in person? It can't compare.
I'm biased. He's my husband. I've loved him for years. But I fell in love with him because of his mind. His creativity, his ideas, his art, his passion... I've never been able to look away. So I know my gushing and my sap can be excessive.
But it feels wrong to just keep these things to myself.
On the surface, Cody makes great art through honed skill and technique. He crafts stories with strong characters and compelling plots and meaningful themes and clever execution. He creates things that are fun and lovely and all the great things art is thought to be.
But beyond the surface, you can peel back the layers and see that most of all, the work he does is deeply, unbelievably human. And it is so representative of why we NEED to make things, why we NEED art.
Cody started The Lighted Stage shortly after two devastating losses back-to-back. At the time, it was the lowest point he had faced in his life since knowing him. When lockdown hit, he dug up an old idea just to occupy himself. One part distraction, another part impulse.
Over the course of six years, more lows came. Many even more heart-breaking and even traumatizing than what came before. Those details are not mine to share, but it would be foolish not to acknowledge their context. Life was life-ing. It was like the universe was demanding him to give up.
But he refused. Over and over and over again.
And it proved to me something that I always knew but often lost the words for, and I think it maybe started to become clear to him in the end, too.
Art isn’t made in a vacuum. It is actively shaped by its context. Who made it is just as important as who it is made for. When and where it was made in their personal life is just as important as when and where in the universe.
The human experience is complicated. It is layered and multi-faceted and amorphous. We are a species gifted with the ability to think and perceive and feel only for there to be far, far too much information to process it. Designed to find patterns in a universe that is ever-expanding and changing. And limited by time and access and variables beyond our control.
It is horrifying. Oppressive. Overwhelming.
Cody consciously started The Lighted Stage to distract himself from his pain and occupy his time when it became apparent that people were interested in it. His intentions were simple and clear-cut. A conversation between himself and an audience. Connection.
But Cody made The Lighted Stage to survive. Instead of caving under the pressure and weight of a universe that existed to tear him apart, he decided to create something instead. He refused to stop. He chose to keep living.
Art is more than a product or a result. It is the uniquely human experience of survival, as necessary as the air we breathe and as basic as food and shelter. Making art is nothing more than the spiritual equivalent of biological self-preservation.
We make art to survive.
At the end of The Lighted Stage, Cody left his audience a note. At first glance, it seems so simple. A sweet dedication to survivors and a heartfelt request to live.
But beyond the surface, buried deep in the context of the story, it is a letter of immense love for humanity. And a hopeful, if not desperate, plea that it, too, will survive.
⸻ ✦ - ✦ - ✦ ⸻
If compelled, please consider seeing the art speak for itself. No prior knowledge of anything is needed to follow along, and while we’ve closed the chapter on this book, the story has yet to conclude. We’d love to have you join us for the next journey. And to those new and old along the way… Thank you.
