We went to Marrietta, Ohio to visit Emily's parents. It was a super fun drive, not the marathon that was the trip to Minneapolis. It was scenic, and a bunch of the way took us back through fun towns like Frostburg (where this time the temperature was fine) and Friendsville (where Em and I make even more sense). We also hit Cumberland, Maryland, a place that I have never gotten out of the car, but I feel like I could live there. Also along this route is the beginnings of a project to recreate Noah's Ark. Em says that the frame has been there a long time, but it hasn't moved much in the last couple years. Bummer.
We are taking enough car trips that we've decided to try and start throwing down some audiobooks. Em asked, "What was your favorite book when you were a kid?"
"Maniac Magee," I responded with the first book that came to mind. Turns out I was right. That book was awesome. It's fun and wild and non-conformist and it deals with social issues in a realistic way while still being appropriate for young readers. Plus, I like that the hero never goes to school.
We went to see a Simon and Garfunkle tribute band called Bookends. They were excellent, and it kind of got me to thinking about the nature of art. I suppose that everything has a place at the table when it comes to the inception, execution, and exhibition of artistic endeavors, but I've never had a clear picture as to what my purpose is supposed to be. These guys, two likable blokes from Britan whose acoustic guitar arrangement of 'Bridge Over Troubled Waters' was a huge hit at last year's Edinburgh Fringe Festival, seem to have found their place. They are not creating anything new, but they are paying tribute to art that is significant. They are doing it in a humble and respectful way that is so well executed that they have CDs of their concert for sale. And, these guys are getting to see the world and perform in front of hundreds of people to wild applause.
It occurs to me that this isn't a situation like the Beatles or Elvis or Zepplin or even the Bee-Gees. One could conceivably still catch the real thing in this situation. Of course, I can't imagine that the real Simon and Garfunkle could actually still perform these songs with the precision and passion that these guys do. So, I wonder, what makes art good? I had a fun time at the show. Aside from getting to know Em's mom and stepdad a little better, I was also entertained. We shared a love of great music with other people, clapping and singing along. The night was a success and a lot of the credit is owed to the performers.
I just wonder what my own contribution should be. I've always been too scattered, and nothing has ever seemed like it was satisfying enough for me to devote myself to it enough to craft something truly unique and worthwhile while still being polished enough for others to get anything out of. I've played in bands, done plays, made movies, written books and a lot of the time it seems like the balance was off. The stuff that seems satisfying to me is many times too personal. Something like the Crazy book, that doesn't really appeal to a wider audience. I once told a doctor about it and he asked me, "Who would want to read that?" Good question. When you start typing the title into Amazon, the first book that comes up is 'This book will make you calm.' I guess that's more appealing to people.
And don't get me started on the stuff that I've been writing lately. I write every day, producing weird pages that are the exorcism of everything that I've been up to. But this is hard to think about in a way that could be art made for consumption. Although there are characters and some other awesome stuff, a lot of it is not far removed from a self-obsessed journal. It is hard to think about publishing any of it (even though I have, see the Madeleine book). Of course, these writings have also lead to several other new works that may have more of a chance, I'll get to them in a minute.
Then there is the other side of the coin. I've done a lot of stuff that people were into, but it was never satisfying to me personally. I like stand-up and playing in bands, but the stuff that people get into just kind of baffles me. It's always the jokes or songs that I feel are the weakest. A lot of the time I felt as though I was riding on the coat-tails of better artists or the other people who were involved in the production or band or whatever.
Being in a show like 'It's a Wonderful Life' is cool, and I get to put my own spin on the role and all, and it was great to be in such a big production with a ton of amazing people, but how is it moving anything forward? I guess that I could chalk it up to entertainment, spreading good vibes, bringing people together, all of that. It's good to devote time to service and to be involved with things that are appealing, but do you have to do something digestible in order to do this? Are there no new combinations of words and actions that people will react to? Has everything already been done? I'm finding out that the answer to this question is probably 'yes'. But there are ways to make all the old pieces fresh. We've been watching (for me re-watching) Archer, a show that I find infinitely entertaining and rewarding. Here's a show that takes things that have been done (animation, the spy genre, stoner comedy, the voice of H. Jon Benjamin) and throws them together to create something original and special.
I HAVE been producing new work. I've sent a few stories out to publishers and magazines in the hopes that I can find some sort of larger audience. They are stories that I am proud of, but I feel like they are going to have a hard time. They all have little defiances of convention built into them that could come off as mistakes or sloppiness. Sometimes I feel like maybe I should try something a little easier to get my foot in the door first, but growing up on things like Nirvana and Clerks has warped my ideas about good art. Sometimes I feel like simple honesty and mistakes are beautiful. This is my favorite picture that I took on the trip:
I feel like visceral art should be left sloppy and unpolished. That to edit to the point of perfection, to a certain extent, shaves off the passion from a project. Or, maybe I'm just being lazy. I don't know. Anyway, these new stories have a nice mix of artistic sloppiness and attention to detail that I am happy about. And I have Em, who is an editor by trade, to help me weed out the mistakes that are not intentional. And I'm proud to say that I've already gotten two rejection letters.
I guess that my point is that I suppose I'm done trying to do anything conventionally. I'll take the failure of trying something new over the success of doing something 'good' any day. I couldn't even show up to the last performance of a show that I didn't feel invested in performing. Although I see the monumental contribution of it, I don't think that, anymore, I could be in a cover band any more than I could own a hardware store. I suppose that it shouldn't matter whether I ever have an audience again. Of course, I want my flaccid attempts to contribute something different to be instantly and universally praised. Wouldn't that be nice? I guess that's what I've always wanted, and I know now that this is just not how it works. The work really is part of the reward. I feel like I am crawling closer to being able to produce something worthwhile, and all of my travel and my new art is helping me to live a happy and productive life. Most of the time that is vindication enough to continue. Plus... Emily likes hanging out with me.
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