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introduction
Welcome to our exploration of "Secrets & Confessions," a terrain that has captivated writers, thinkers, and creators for centuries. From whispered intimacies to unspoken truths, secrets and confessions occupy a liminal space between the known and the hidden, the personal and the performative. They are acts of vulnerability and control, revelation and concealment, deeply human yet profoundly mysterious.
In this lesson, we will examine how secrets and confessions function in literature and art as mechanisms for tension, catharsis, and transformation. We’ll delve into psychological underpinnings, study their narrative and symbolic weight, and consider how they can be wielded in your own creative practice. Together, we will interrogate the balance between withholding and unveiling, asking: What does it mean to confess? Who benefits when a secret is kept, and who suffers when it is revealed? Let’s peel back the layers of this topic with thoughtfulness and care, always mindful of the complexities that secrets and confessions embody.
theory
PSYCHOLOGY
Secrets and confessions lie at the core of human behavior, often defining our relationships, identity, and mental state. Psychologists Michael Slepian and Daniel Wegner have explored how secrets create a cognitive load that demands constant attention. Their studies suggest that the act of concealing a secret can lead to hyperawareness of the hidden information, which paradoxically makes it harder to forget or ignore. The physical metaphor of a "burden" is not accidental—secrets can feel heavy, not because of their content but because of the effort required to keep them hidden. This tension creates a space where confession becomes a possible relief, an opportunity to lighten the load.
However, confession is not inherently liberating. Sigmund Freud saw confession as central to the process of psychoanalysis, a controlled environment where repressed thoughts and desires could surface. But the broader culture often turns confession into spectacle—think of reality TV, public apologies, or social media overshares. The therapeutic potential of confession is diluted when it becomes performative, raising critical questions: Who is confession for? Does it truly alleviate guilt or merely create a temporary sense of catharsis? The phenomenon of confession as control also emerges in Michel Foucault’s work. In The history of sexuality, Foucault examines how confession became a mechanism of power in Western society, particularly within religious and judicial frameworks. Confession, he argues, is not simply self-expression but a transactional act tied to systems of surveillance and authority. This theoretical lens invites us to question the motives and outcomes of confessing: Is it about empowerment, vulnerability, or compliance with societal norms?
LITERATURE
In literature, secrets and confessions are often the engines of narrative tension. They generate suspense, drive character development, and force confrontations with moral ambiguity. The power of secrets lies in their duality: they simultaneously isolate and connect. Characters in possession of secrets carry the weight of concealment, but their eventual revelation often reshapes relationships and power dynamics.
Fyodor Dostoevsky’s Crime and punishment offers a profound study of confession as existential reckoning. Raskolnikov’s guilt over his crime creates a psychological spiral that only confession can resolve, but his confession is not simply about justice; it’s a confrontation with his own fractured humanity. Similarly, in Gabriel García Márquez’s Chronicle of a death foretold, the town’s collective secret—the foreknowledge of Santiago Nasar’s murder—becomes an indictment of complicity and the moral paralysis of a community.
In modern poetry, the confessional movement of the mid-20th century challenged traditional boundaries between the private and the public. Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton used their personal lives as material for their art, revealing intimate details of their struggles with mental health, relationships, and societal expectations. But their work also complicates the idea of confession as therapeutic: rather than purging pain, their poetry transforms it into something aesthetic, controlled, and resonant. Confession in this sense becomes a craft, not an unfiltered release.
inspiration
The confessional, 1983, mixed media sound installation made of a confessional and a soundtrack with the text of 'Suite Vénicienne' in voice-over, 240 x 210 x 110 cm
Sophie Calle’s The confessional (1983) represents a provocative intersection of art, privacy, and voyeurism. In this project, Calle invited individuals to confess their secrets to her in an anonymous setting, later presenting these confessions in her artistic work. By framing these private revelations as public art, Calle blurred the boundaries between intimacy and performance, questioning the ethics of exposure and the audience’s role as a voyeur.
Calle’s approach is deeply rooted in the tension between authenticity and artifice. While the confessions themselves may be genuine, their presentation transforms them into something else entirely—a curated experience for the viewer. This raises critical questions about the relationship between the confessor and the listener: Is the act of confessing a gift, a transaction, or a surrender of agency?
Calle’s work also explores the paradox of confession as both intimate and impersonal. By anonymizing the confessors, she creates a universal space where the specifics of the secret matter less than the act of sharing itself. This invites the audience to reflect on their own secrets and their complicated desire to know the hidden truths of others. Calle challenges us to consider: Is there such a thing as an unmediated confession, or is every act of revelation inevitably shaped by context, audience, and power dynamics?
creative exercises
I. Warm-up exercise: Secrets and confessions Step 1: Select 3 portrait images Choose three photographs of portraits that capture different personalities or moods. Look deeply into their eyes, their posture, their facial expressions. What emotions do they evoke? What might they be hiding? Step 2: Set the timer Spend 5 minutes with each photograph. During this time, allow your imagination to roam freely. What story is locked within this person? What is the one thing they would never tell anyone? Step 3: Write in the first person For each photograph, write as though you are the person in the portrait. Assume their voice, their identity, their perspective. Begin with something like, “I’ve never told anyone this, but…” or “If you really knew me, you’d know…” Step 4: Questions to guide you
What is the secret they’ve been carrying, and why have they hidden it?
Does this secret bring them shame, pride, or fear?
How does keeping this secret affect their daily life?
Is today the day they finally confess? Why?
Step 5: Let it flow Don’t worry about grammar or structure during this warm-up. Let your thoughts spill onto the page, raw and unfiltered. The goal is to tap into the hidden depths of these imagined characters, channeling their inner turmoil or unspoken desires. When the timer ends, pause and reflect. Notice patterns, emotions, or recurring themes that might influence your main writing exercise. II. Instructions for Confessional writing:
The setup: Begin by identifying a secret of your own. This does not need to be monumental or shocking—it could be a small, everyday concealment. If revealing your own secret feels too risky, invent a fictional one that resonates with you emotionally.
The confession: Write a confessional monologue as if addressing an intimate confidant. Focus on the why behind the secret: Why was it hidden? From whom? What are the stakes of its revelation?
The reaction: Imagine the response of the confidant. Write this reaction either as dialogue or as an inner reflection by the confessor. Explore how the secret changes upon being confessed. Is it met with understanding, indifference, or judgment?
Revisiting the secret: Conclude with a reflection from the perspective of time. Has the act of confession reshaped the meaning of the secret?
toolbox
Confessional writing is a literary style that foregrounds the personal, often delving into the intimate, uncomfortable, or taboo aspects of human experience. It transcends mere autobiography by emphasizing vulnerability, emotional depth, and self-revelation. Confessional writing is not simply about sharing one’s life—it’s about using the act of confession as a lens to explore universal truths, societal norms, and the complexity of the human condition. Purpose: The essence of confessional writing lies in its dual function: catharsis and connection.
Catharsis: Writing serves as a means of confronting personal experiences, emotions, or traumas. The act of confessing—whether to oneself, a reader, or an imagined other—offers a sense of release or understanding. However, this catharsis is not always straightforward; the process can be messy, unresolved, and even painful.
Connection: While deeply personal, confessional writing often resonates universally. The specificity of the writer’s experience invites readers to reflect on their own vulnerabilities. This creates an intimate bond between the writer and the audience, where personal pain or joy is refracted through collective empathy.
Historical development:
Early confessional roots Confessional writing is not new—it finds its earliest roots in religious practices. St. Augustine’s Confessions (c. 400 AD) is one of the first major works of confessional literature. In this autobiographical text, Augustine reflects on his sins and spiritual journey, intertwining personal revelation with philosophical inquiry. The confessional format here is both therapeutic and didactic, designed to guide readers toward introspection and moral clarity.
The rise of the memoir The Enlightenment and Romantic periods saw a surge in autobiographical and reflective writing. Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Confessions (1782) is a cornerstone of this tradition. Unlike Augustine, Rousseau emphasizes personal individuality and emotional authenticity. His unflinching self-revelation, including admissions of guilt and shame, sets a precedent for the raw honesty characteristic of later confessional writing.
The modern confessional movement The mid-20th century saw the formalization of confessional writing as a distinct literary movement, particularly in poetry. The term “confessional” gained prominence with Robert Lowell’s Life Studies (1959), a groundbreaking collection that detailed his mental illness, family struggles, and personal failings with stark honesty. Lowell’s work influenced a generation of poets, including Sylvia Plath (Ariel), Anne Sexton (To Bedlam and Part Way Back), and John Berryman (Dream Songs). These poets broke away from impersonal, abstract modernist traditions, centering their work on the deeply personal and often painful aspects of their lives.
Contemporary confessional writing In the digital age, confessional writing has found new life through blogs, memoirs, and social media. Writers like Roxane Gay (Hunger), Maggie Nelson (The Argonauts), and Kiese Laymon (Heavy) continue the tradition of personal exploration, but with a critical edge that interrogates identity, privilege, and systemic structures. Confessional writing today navigates the tension between personal vulnerability and performative self-disclosure in an era of oversharing.
Toolbox for confessional writing:
Voice: The confessional tone is intimate and direct. Experiment with first-person narration that mimics the cadence of spoken thought.
Details: Use vivid, sensory details to ground the confession in the real world. Make the abstract tangible.
Perspective: Play with perspective shifts—how does the secret look from the confessor’s eyes versus an outsider’s?
Ambiguity: A confession doesn’t have to resolve anything. Leave space for contradiction and complexity.
Control: Decide who holds the power in the confession. Does revealing the secret empower the confessor, or does it deepen their vulnerability?
stay grounded and motivated!
"Secrets weigh us down, and confessions can feel like flight—an exhilarating release, but also a dangerous exposure. As you reflect on the relationship between the two, remember this: not every truth needs to be told. Writing about secrets and confessions is not about oversharing or baring your soul for its own sake; it’s about exploring the forces that shape our silences and our speech. Approach this work with care. When a secret feels too raw, step back and ask why. When a confession feels too rehearsed, dig deeper. Writing is not a performance; it’s a process. Trust your instincts, but also respect your limits. Above all, hold space for ambiguity—where meaning resists neat conclusions, that’s where the most compelling stories lie."
—Anna Ádám Founder of the School of Disobedience