I got some good advice from someone in the entertainment industry yesterday. He said,
“I do not advise anyone to work in any form of entertainment, no matter how talented, if there is any other endeavor in which they can be happy and fulfilled. This business is so difficult and unpredictable, that you have to be absolutely assured there is no alternative. You will need that determination to endure the process of getting to a place where you can earn a living at it.”
Tough words to hear for an aspiring artist like me, but I suppose I knew it was tough already. People like Thomas Merton and Julia Cameron inspire me by their simplicity when facing the task of creating art. For them, writing isn’t about making money, it isn’t about their careers, it’s about being a conduit for God, and because they wrote for God it was joy rather than a job.
Yes, you need money because you need food and clothes and shelter, but I am inspired by these words,
“And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?”
Like I said a little while ago, there are two ways to do art.
This time though, let’s focus on something a little different, on storytelling. Two ways:
- You can start with the ending in mind and plan everything out about how you’ll get to that point. This is what my friend Alex does. He wants to be a screenwriter, is working on 5 scripts, and knows from the beginning exactly where he wants his characters to end up. Incidentally, this is how I work when I try to write stories.
- Or, you can start with a blank page and a character or two and simply get to know them, playing around with them seeing what happens. You throw them into dire circumstances and heap conflict on them. You see if they swim… or sink. A lot of professional writers I read about or hear interviews from write like this.
Which way is better? I think the 2nd. Even though I tend to lean toward the first way, the 2nd is more fulfilling. When you’re just playing, you enjoy the whole process. If you’re building a story like stacking blocks and care only about how it will look when it’s finished, the only enjoyable moment comes at the very end.
No no no… it’s the first, because if you just fool around with your characters and never know where you’re going, it could make for some very dull, superficial stories. A screenwriting professor I had in college was all about knowing exactly where you were going. “Structure, structure, structure,” he would lecture us. It worked, too. He made a lot of money in Hollywood. Is it right for me though? Is it right for you?
Yes… and no. As they say, Rome wasn’t built in a day.
You’re thinking, “Wait, what does that have to do with anything. Anchorman anyone?” Well wait for it and I’ll tell you.
Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it might have been dreamed up in some antisocial architect’s head in just a moment. That architect might have been so lonely and bored that he wrote out all the plans in one day and gave them to the builders.
Construction workers, as we all know, aren’t very smart though. They’re whiney and drink beer and have pot bellies. So they took their time with Rome and finished it about a thousand years later.
The point is it takes both kinds. You have to have a creative side which comes up with plot twists and plans the destruction and resurrection of his characters, but you also have to have a builder side, which puts together the words, sentences, film, music, photography, and all that. And the thing is, you might as well enjoy both sides.
Hold both loosely and dominate!
There are two ways to do art.
I was talking with an old family friend and talented artist, Linda Ekstrom, about how she composes art.
“In your art,” I asked, “do you start with an idea or concept you want to communicate, or do you play with your mediums and then interperet concept in later?”
“I start with the concept,” she said. ”Also, I’m a sculptor. I have an idea I’m trying to express and then look for ways I can build it.”
Two ways:
- Focus on ideas.
- Focus on medium.
Storytelling and songwriting have the same principles. You can tell a story to illustrate a point, or you can tell a story for the sake of the story.
Often, those who tell the story for the sake of the story tend to put more energy into making it entertaining, and those who tell the story for the sake of the ideas put more energy into making their ideas deep and meaningful.
The best artists do both well.
The first image is Linda’s “Opere Apum” made in 1996. The second is called “Santa Rita (tears)” made in 2003. Linda lives and teaches in Santa Barbara. Her website can be found here.
I’m reading a book called The Artist’s Way. Really cool book. Here are some of my reflections:
Julia describes the Censor as such an evil character, like The Emperor in Star Wars or Lucifer. It’s true though. Art is about playing. It’s easy and anyone can do it. It’s easy because it’s what we are made for. Go for it, just go out and play, make some Art.
The Censor, on the other hand, says, “Build a giant tower up to heaven. Labor. Toil. Carry heavy blocks on your back until they break you, and maybe, just maybe, you can be a god.”
How lame.
Instead we finger paint. We put words together that don’t make sense. We write in handwriting that becomes a scrawl in our enthusiasm, like cavemen painting in embers and ash, like children writing what no one will be able to read, except for our God.
The Censor says, “You’re naked. Here, sew together these leaves and cover yourself up. That’s disgusting.”
Instead we say, “WE’RE GOING STREAKING! THROUGH THE QUAD! COME ON!” And we come, and we feel free like we are and hopefully always will be.
We try to play nice with our friends still under the Censor’s power, but we know better. We conform to some of their laws, and carry some of the burdens they place on our shoulders. We put our clothes back on and get “careers.” We try to look a bit respectable.
But only just enough, never more, because more would be a waste of freedom. We stoke the fire inside, giving our friends little glimpses every once in a while, the fire of freedom, little signs that the Censor has been put in chains. He has lost his power over our minds, over our hands, over our feet and hearts.
We pay lip service to him, but even that is converted because we do it for the sake of our friends. Then in over flowing joy, we finger paint. With words, pastels, neons. With metal, with wood, and marble and oils.
We create. We create. We create, because we were created, because the Great Finger Painter is creating. In joy our cups overflow and the creation spills out, and those who are thirsty are invited to drink. And some of them, the ones who learn the way, some of them find that same joy, and they drink and are satisfied. Their cups overflow too.
Then all of a sudden, ex nihilo, we have a scene, a church, a communion. Our lives are joined and bonded with each other, such that no one may put them asunder. The Great Finger Painter keeps on creating, and we are recreated.
Because all things are new, didn’t you know.
May his face shine upon you, and may your cup overflow.
What will be the judgment a century hence concerning the lorded works of our favorite composers today? Inasmuch as nearly everything is subject to the changes of time, and - more’s the pity- the fashions of time, only that which is good and true will endure like a rock and no wanton hand will ever venture to defile it. Then, let every man do that which is right, strive with all his might towards the goal which can never be obtained, develop to the last breath the gifts with which the gracious Creator has endowed him, and never cease to learn. For life is short, art eternal.
Ludwig van Beethoven
Tonight (Friday, May 9) I’m playing a show with my friend Phil at Northstar Coffee, and you probably shouldn’t come.
I’m realizing more and more that for a musician, shows are like jobs. After you play one, you put it on your resume and leverage it to get another show. As things go, playing a coffee shop is the unpaid internships of the music business. Which is fine. I’m still pretty new to performing. I don’t even have a legitimate demo yet, not to mention an album.
However, it’s dangerous for an artist to view a performance as a stepping stone. One of the roles of the artist is to make all things new–something I talked about in Vol. 8 of the “Please Leave If” series (see HERE if you haven’t read it)–but I can’t do that if I’m just going through the motions.
The opposite of going through the motions is indwelling in the songs. In performance, there has to be a connection between the physical act of performing and the words, emotions, and meanings of the subject being performed.
Everyone is different though. For example, I can’t fit into every song ever written. I couldn’t sing “Low” by Flo Rida and make you believe I meant it. I doubt there is even one Christina Aguilera song that I could sing with a straight face. Not even that song “Genie in a Bottle.” If each song is a different shaped bottle, there’s no way you could squish my Genie into a Christna Aguilera bottle.
The reason you probably shouldn’t come tonight is because if you’re like most people, you like cute movies with happy endings. You probably don’t want to see Crash or Schindler’s List every night. They’re good movies but not for everyone.
Tonight’s show is not for everyone. The songs that I can indwell are usually pretty dark. Sometimes they have happy endings, but they’re almost all bittersweet. Tonight promises to be even worse.
If that doesn’t sound like the way you’d like to spend your Friday night, then please, for your own sake, leave. You’re more than welcome not to come. And if you’re reading this and you can’t stand The Shawshank Redemption and would never even think of watching something like Hamlet, then you might think about why you’re reading this.
After all, this is the place where despair meets hope. If you can’t handle the despair, you’ll only be getting half the fun.
I sent my dad the link to Seth’s reaction to my blog (see Thanks Seth). Here is his reaction:
Hey Joe,I read the comments of Seth Barnes. Honestly, I don’t have time to blog or even to read blogs. But I read this and his post of your comments. I’ve been praying for you Son… and today on the way to the office I had this idea that what you are likely to become is totally not like what I would expect or pick for you.
I am reminded of great artists and how they build a body of work and at the time they are doing the work, much of it trivial and wasted, a moment comes and the abstract and small becomes something incredible. We all build this body of work and only a few moments really stand out as being special. But I like the way you are preparing; your blog is complex, thoughtful and sincere. You have good intellectual gifts and an emotional touch that helps you connect. I am proud of you son.
I like Seth Barnes’ comments about the artist and agree. I was discouraged as a young singer because so few wanted to hear me sing; I rarely felt encouraged. Nowhere has this been truer than at church. But an artist must do the right to left thing… it is an imperative, rather than a choice (”I have to write!”), and I think and what separates an artist from an amateur. I could write on and on here.
I’m a fan…
Love,
Dad
It’s hard to be in the world. These words are Eucharist to me Dad, sustenance for the long race ahead.
Thanks for being a fan.
