Way back years and years ago when I was an undergrad art student, I learned an important lesson about putting your art out there in the public eye: it becomes vulnerable to interpretations never intended by the artist. It was always fascinating to sit anonymously in the lobby of the School of Art & Architecture after a show had been hung and listen to the passers-by discuss your work. I recall how one large installation I did, which for me was full of darkness, angst, pain and obstacles, was seen as light and playful by one viewer (who later became a very dear friend). How does that happen? Well, of course, no one can ever be inside your head and have all the personal background knowledge you're privvy to.
As such, a journal page I posted the other day got a very - interesting - response, perhaps based on the viewer's misinterpretation of the page out of context. It would be funny if it weren't for the sadness I felt at the resultant reaction. [My wise daughter has reminded me that 99% of what people do has nothing to do with you or something you've done, so I've decided I don't want to explain the whole thing after all. But I will say that the unfinished page on the left was a call to God I had a few weeks ago, and the page on the right surprised me.]