Because I am not the center of the universe (contrary to my belief at this moment).
(Stop), I pause and take in the city.
Caked in a layer of grime. Exposed from being hidden under the freshly melted snow.
(Waiting)
I sit on a wet tinker toy plastic chair in the bus stop.
Trying to get a glimpse through the glass
now almost opaque from the dirt that cars have splashed onto it.
(that could be an old lady that just passed...or a dog...I'm unsure)
Anyway, I sit here and I think this:
What is art without fans? Like a tree falls in the forest kind of scenario. If my art is never listened to, read, watched, appreciated. Does it really exist? Is there really any point?
We artists need validation as much as the next guy if not more. So does there come a point where without nutrition...our artist dies?
Once when I was very little I knew a man who I believed was a true, true artist.
This man chose his art over everything. Including sometimes, me. Which as a child I thought "wooooooow...his art must be sooooooooo important". He would wake up in the morning with music in his ears. That feeling that it must escape and tooth brushing and showering are just guards standing in the way of his great release. Days would go by with his door closed and sounds leaking out from under his door. I would sit outside like Christmas morning waiting for the door to open to see what he'd created. To see him again.
One day when I was much much older. This man stopped making art. Slowly it trickled out of him in smaller and smaller drops until one day he was dry.
And at that moment. One of my biggest fears as an artist. Was born.
See I knew why he went dry. Validation. How many years can you make art for just you? Fifteen minutes of fame breeze by you- you wonder if they even happened at all or if you just daydreamed it during a particularly bad hangover. But what IS art if there's no one there to see it?
Anyway I sat at this bus stop and I thought about my own artist and how I haven't seen her for 17 months. Since I last had a drink of alcohol. I've caught brief glimpses but nothing of real measure. And I wonder how long I can go without that relationship. And I miss her. And I hope she comes back soon.
Jade
I recently had the displeasure of witnessing a recording session fueled by cocaine and alcohol. As the only sober person at this session, I witnessed three, previously professional and talented musicians, devolve into a bunch of squabbling, tone-deaf, time-retarded children. It was the most pathetic upsetting display of dissonance I had ever seen, and that includes public school recorder recitals. The most unfortunate part of this whole ordeal was their drug induced self envisioned brilliance. All three of them were imagining this incredible musical collaboration, when in reality, they were just making a mess.
ReplyDeleteAll of this is to say that while it is often harder to feel inspired when sober, the things that eventually do inspire us will be of a much worthier caliber than those which we find when inebriated.
Also, I find learning helps. The more I read or take in other art, the more I am inspired to draw and dance. Otherwise, I just go stagnant and and have nothing to express.
I know how you feel. and I think that you know that I know. But you don;t know WHAT I know. And that is your artist dies only when you let her. that is when, or if, you let your dreams die.
ReplyDeleteart without fans is still art. if you give it time, and you build it right, they will come. I have heard you before. you have talent. you have an angel's voice. you are beautiful.
I took myself to school for 10 years, listening, listening, borrowing, stealing, learning.
I thought I might never write or record or perform again. I was wrong, thank God.
you must summon and make peace with your muse. If you have not seen her since alcohol, ask her why--in the dark intimacy of the wee hours of the night, when you are alone with only your heart--ask her why.
my guess is she is waiting to show you a whole new music. be patient; it will emerge when the time is right. this is a time a growing, of change, of pain. you are young... be patient...