Art imitates life, it is said. It is a reflection of how we as humans live and behave; it is a message to us in the form of intellect and entertainment. I do ponder the result of our perception of art: is it reflection, message or industry? All three, perhaps?
One can always find estimation in the imagination of a writer, the vision of a filmmaker, the craft of a painter and sculpter, the eye of a photographer, the soul of a songwriter and the heart of a musician. The bottom line, it seems, stems not only the depth of the work but the price placed on it. Okay, maybe I am getting away with myself by discussing art and commerce - especially when it is not the reason for writing this entry. I shall remain diligent in my endeavor, so, please, forgive my cynicism.
Art and life, two topics that seem forever attached to each other based on the fact that one cannot seem to exist without the other. In art, we find ourselves reflected in pictures and stories and words that try as hard as it may to sum up the human experience. Yet, somehow, we find that the value finds itself caught in the category of entertainment. Maybe that is where most forms of art belong, whereas other forms (i'm thinking more along the lines of the dada movement of the early twentieth century) can speak to us on levels that maybe we can not find inside of ourselves.
I bring to you this my perception on life and art from a moment in time that I remember from just a few days ago. I had just come across a song from my first year as a Seattle resident that seemed to sum up the last few years of my life back in Los Angeles and the climate that was becoming a definition of my new life in Seattle. During that time, I came across a fan made video for the Train song 'Calling All Angels' and decided to listen to the song as it had become a favorite among many. At the end of the song, the person who created the video typed in words that went something like this:
If you love someone, don't ever give up
After a few puzzled moments, I wondered if this person had at any time fallen in love with someone and is not giving up loving that person, even if the person has refused their love. Silly person, I thought.
This train of thought took me to moments inside of movie theatres where a character's or story's outcome gave the audience exactly what Hollywood continues to promise: a happy ending. Nice, tidy and wrapped in pretty packaging. A long time ago, I sometimes walked out of those theatres telling myself that maybe if I handle a situation a particular way or with as much honestly as possible that I would come out on top; maybe even change someone's perception of life's unfair treatment.
Naive has a bitter relative hiding behind it's shadow. And I have met him several times...
I think of those stories where a character throws him/herself into committing one last attempt to claim their love/dream/need. A declaration of love or maybe an angry speech to the president of the company usually finds the main character sending that final message of dedication, heart, soul and promise. Then we close the book or walk out of the theatre or turn off the television satisfied that the bare essence of what is right and good and beautiful will often prevail.
What if you do find someone you love and you feel it deep in your heart and you know with all of your intellect that if that person only knew the depths of your emotions that they will give you a chance or re-open their heart to you or your actions will melt their heart. Ah, such a concept does make the heart weak with beauty. But, you know what? These days that kind of behavior will get you arrested for being a stalker and slapped with a restraining order. That's life.
Maybe life is just too fucking dark and disappointing that we need that tied-up tidy ending with the bow to keep us moving forward.
Maybe as of this writing, one can perceive me as bitter and self-pitying. Okay, if you choose. However, I come to you as an artist. I love life. I love everything about life and someday I would like to feel mutual love and passion. Yet, I'm not going to lay down in the middle of the freeway to prove my belief that it is going to happen for me; I am not going to expose my drippy heart to win the emotions of someone who has stolen my heart. Rather, I try to find what I can that makes me enjoy life more: the little things. A walk. A song. A dinner with a friend. Getting drunk or stoned with buddies. A football game. A nice jack off session. You get what I'm saying.
While thinking of this entry I thought of the work I am now posting and preparing to post on Amazon Kindle. Most of my work seems to gather good reviews until the end. I tend to leave my endings rather ambiguous. Life offers no promise of happy endings, so why should my work reflect something that I truly do not believe in? The one piece that I am rather proud of but could not seem to let go of is a novel I wrote where all the characters find themselves dancing on a happy ending. As disgusting as that sounds to me, I find that it's commercial appeal was reflective of my dark predicament during the time it was written. And, I would like to add, that was a very long time ago. So this is my apology to any fan base I may attract in publishing future work.
Art imitates life, it is said. I can believe that, but I think that we seem to find that we want more from fantasy than reflection.
One can always find estimation in the imagination of a writer, the vision of a filmmaker, the craft of a painter and sculpter, the eye of a photographer, the soul of a songwriter and the heart of a musician. The bottom line, it seems, stems not only the depth of the work but the price placed on it. Okay, maybe I am getting away with myself by discussing art and commerce - especially when it is not the reason for writing this entry. I shall remain diligent in my endeavor, so, please, forgive my cynicism.
Art and life, two topics that seem forever attached to each other based on the fact that one cannot seem to exist without the other. In art, we find ourselves reflected in pictures and stories and words that try as hard as it may to sum up the human experience. Yet, somehow, we find that the value finds itself caught in the category of entertainment. Maybe that is where most forms of art belong, whereas other forms (i'm thinking more along the lines of the dada movement of the early twentieth century) can speak to us on levels that maybe we can not find inside of ourselves.
I bring to you this my perception on life and art from a moment in time that I remember from just a few days ago. I had just come across a song from my first year as a Seattle resident that seemed to sum up the last few years of my life back in Los Angeles and the climate that was becoming a definition of my new life in Seattle. During that time, I came across a fan made video for the Train song 'Calling All Angels' and decided to listen to the song as it had become a favorite among many. At the end of the song, the person who created the video typed in words that went something like this:
If you love someone, don't ever give up
After a few puzzled moments, I wondered if this person had at any time fallen in love with someone and is not giving up loving that person, even if the person has refused their love. Silly person, I thought.
This train of thought took me to moments inside of movie theatres where a character's or story's outcome gave the audience exactly what Hollywood continues to promise: a happy ending. Nice, tidy and wrapped in pretty packaging. A long time ago, I sometimes walked out of those theatres telling myself that maybe if I handle a situation a particular way or with as much honestly as possible that I would come out on top; maybe even change someone's perception of life's unfair treatment.
Naive has a bitter relative hiding behind it's shadow. And I have met him several times...
I think of those stories where a character throws him/herself into committing one last attempt to claim their love/dream/need. A declaration of love or maybe an angry speech to the president of the company usually finds the main character sending that final message of dedication, heart, soul and promise. Then we close the book or walk out of the theatre or turn off the television satisfied that the bare essence of what is right and good and beautiful will often prevail.
What if you do find someone you love and you feel it deep in your heart and you know with all of your intellect that if that person only knew the depths of your emotions that they will give you a chance or re-open their heart to you or your actions will melt their heart. Ah, such a concept does make the heart weak with beauty. But, you know what? These days that kind of behavior will get you arrested for being a stalker and slapped with a restraining order. That's life.
Maybe life is just too fucking dark and disappointing that we need that tied-up tidy ending with the bow to keep us moving forward.
Maybe as of this writing, one can perceive me as bitter and self-pitying. Okay, if you choose. However, I come to you as an artist. I love life. I love everything about life and someday I would like to feel mutual love and passion. Yet, I'm not going to lay down in the middle of the freeway to prove my belief that it is going to happen for me; I am not going to expose my drippy heart to win the emotions of someone who has stolen my heart. Rather, I try to find what I can that makes me enjoy life more: the little things. A walk. A song. A dinner with a friend. Getting drunk or stoned with buddies. A football game. A nice jack off session. You get what I'm saying.
While thinking of this entry I thought of the work I am now posting and preparing to post on Amazon Kindle. Most of my work seems to gather good reviews until the end. I tend to leave my endings rather ambiguous. Life offers no promise of happy endings, so why should my work reflect something that I truly do not believe in? The one piece that I am rather proud of but could not seem to let go of is a novel I wrote where all the characters find themselves dancing on a happy ending. As disgusting as that sounds to me, I find that it's commercial appeal was reflective of my dark predicament during the time it was written. And, I would like to add, that was a very long time ago. So this is my apology to any fan base I may attract in publishing future work.
Art imitates life, it is said. I can believe that, but I think that we seem to find that we want more from fantasy than reflection.
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