Lately, I’ve been watching the reactions to Taylor Swift’s newest album. Some fans are ecstatic, some are confused, and others aren’t sure what to make of the shift. It’s a reminder that whenever an artist grows or pivots creatively, the world doesn’t always know how to respond.
As an artist myself, I feel that deeply.
When you create, you live with your evolution long before anyone else sees it. You try new colors, new sounds, new materials. You shed old skin. You let your work move closer to where you are now — even if it’s far from where you started. But when that evolution goes public, it can feel like a gamble: will people embrace it, or will they wish for the version of you they first fell in love with?
The Vulnerability of Creative Change
Change is thrilling, but it’s also scary. When I reorganized my entire body of work earlier this year, it felt risky. I stopped sorting pieces by medium or year and instead grouped them by feeling — collections like Transmission (struggle, determination), Root & Bloom (growth and mourning), and Celestial Flow (wonder and expansion). It felt more honest, but it also meant stepping away from what had been familiar to collectors.
Artists evolve because they have to. Staying the same might feel safe, but it can drain the joy out of creating. And still, there’s that whisper: What if this scares people away?
Why Audiences Resist (and Why That’s Okay)
It’s natural for audiences to feel uneasy when an artist changes. Art is deeply personal; people connect to it during certain seasons of their lives. When that feeling shifts, it can feel like losing something comforting. Add in social media’s instant reaction culture — where albums are judged within hours — and change can feel jarring.
I remember Billy Corgan of The Smashing Pumpkins once saying that fans often tell him they love the early work and wish the band would produce songs like that again. Hearing that made me think about why change feels so uncomfortable for listeners. So much of the music we love is tied to memory — where we were in life when we played it on repeat, what we were feeling, who we were becoming. I know I mark whole seasons of my life by the songs that carried me through them. As an audience, we tend to connect with what a song meant for us as consumers — while for the creator, the tie is completely different. They may be moving toward new ideas and new chapters while we’re holding on to the moments their older work helped us navigate.
Billy Corgan and Taylor Swift share this challenge. Both started with a sound that defined an era — Corgan with the dreamy angst of early ’90s alt-rock, Swift with country and then polished pop. Both built immersive worlds around their work, and both have kept evolving even when fans longed for the past. It’s a reminder that the very growth that keeps an artist alive can also unsettle those who loved who they were before.
Growth Is a Sign of Creative Health
Evolution isn’t a betrayal; it’s proof that the artist is alive. It’s curiosity. It’s courage. Whether it’s a musician exploring a new sound or a painter like me diving into new themes, change keeps creativity vibrant.
When I look at my newest collection, Entanglement – Where Things Tangle and Take Hold, I see pieces that wouldn’t have existed if I’d stayed in my comfort zone. They carry the knots of uncertainty, grief, and hope — but also the beauty of letting things intertwine in unexpected ways. They are me, now.
Giving Artists — and Ourselves — Grace
Taylor Swift deserves grace. Yes, she’s powerful, fearless, and wildly successful — but she’s also human. I’m not here to critique her work or deny that some songs may have been inspired by other pieces, intentionally or subconsciously. Artists create from a lifetime of influences and feelings. What matters is the courage it takes to keep creating when the world wants the “old you.”
Next time you encounter new work — an album, a painting, a book — I invite you to pause before dismissing it. Sit with it. Let it surprise you. Art often needs time to bloom.
And if you’re an artist (in any sense of the word), I hope this is permission to grow. Your work is allowed to shift, even if not everyone applauds right away. Someone out there needs the you that exists today, not just the version you were yesterday.
