The Art Of Loving And Leaving New York

Today is the day a 28 foot container will arrive in front of my house here in Brooklyn. It's here for my things - all of them - well almost all of them. Every worldly possesion that need not accompany me on my flight to San Francisco at the end of this week.

I left New York the first time in 1996. I'd not yet turned 24 and spent 18 months living in Williamsburg, Brooklyn pre-trucker-hat-chic. That exit was far from graceful. I half ass packed up the furniture and music studio that'd been strewn throughout the palacial 7 room railroad apartment I lived in and hired an Israeli moving company to come and take my things away. I didn't know where I was *really* going; the geographic destination was San Francisco but where my life would take me once I arrived was a mystery to me.

There were no going away parties, no sappy goodbyes, no hugs - I had all of 2 friends here in New York and they were both so busy with whatever they had going that I think I probably got a phone call from each of them. Instead, on my last day, hours before my flight left, I set out to wander Broadway looking for the shoe shop I'd purchased a pair of Frye's boots from; I can't remember why exactly but there was something that needed to be done there.

This time around I approached my departure with a different attitude. I put a fair amount of effort into the quality of my exit. Saying goodbye in a celebratory manner, I threw myself a little going away party. Sentiments were exchanged, drinks and food were consummed and hugs and kisses were had all around. This time there was love.

"I made people in New York love me!" I gleefully remarked to my boyfriend waiting for me up in Northern California. He knew that what I meant was that here in New York, where the air is riddled with aggression and territorial conflict there are people who will miss my presence. It seemed like a feat to me.

There is a lot about New York that I still don't completely understand. The hostility, humidity, people's worship of a place that boasts excess that strikes me as criminal and hosts poverty that in contrast is deplorable. But what I've learned is that part of living in New York is embracing that which is inexplicable instead of turning one's nose up. I can't say that I really like it here but I do love it; it's a place where love is so needed *because* it can be such a hideous place.

Permission For Expression

Why are we such tight asses about art?

You'll pardon the vernacular - tight ass is a very technical term in art criticism I assure you.

Is it fear of being wrong?

And if so, how is it that some artists *seem* to have absolutely NO fear of being wrong?

Who gets permission to make art and how do they acquire that permission?

This weekend I cruised through a handful of galleries in Chelsea. The experience was pleasant enough; walking through big air conditioned open spaces plunked down in the middle of Manhattan is blissful actually. If you've ever lived through a summer in New York City you know why. I'll give you a hint - it has little to do with the art hanging from the walls in those big, cool, open spaces. Perhaps, the artists hanging their work are in on the secret as well.

I was truly amazed at the price tags dangling from drawings and paintings that quite frankly lacked the inspiration of a good spring time pollen infused sneeze.

That's not to say I didn't like them - some of them where fun to look at and interest piquing. But I am a pedestrian in the art world. I can't imagine the response of an art world devotee.

But that takes us back the questions I posed earlier .... who gets permission, from whom and how to make art? And why, do some of us accept and celebrate q-tips glued to large pieces of industrial plastic as art and others turn up our noses, shake our heads and walk away with squished up cheeks?

Boring questions actually - real snoooooozers - silly movies are made to address them - films akin to a late adolescent afterschool special. It's more pedestrian stuff.

But does anyone have any good answers to these banal questions?

And if so, could you please provide them, in writing at the entrance of every gallery in Manhattan. It would help eliminate a lot of confusion.

But perhaps that would ruin all of that art world mystique.

Okay so from a less bitter and snide point of view - no one gives permission to an artist. One can try, but it's really got to emanate from within and it's got to resonate at a high enough frequency that the artist can cut through art world and societal standards, critiques and criticisms maybe even his or her own internal demons and critics and pave the way for creation.

Wrong or right - who knows - and who cares really?

In the end it makes little difference.

Where a difference is made is in made or not - was the artist able to create and actualize or was he so mired down by negativity, doubt and fear that he was paralyzed?

Maybe - just maybe - art is really a reflection of a human being's ability to evolve beyond that sort of paralysis and the works themselves are just a byproduct. Some of the byproducts happen to be made by hands that are technically developed and endowed - capable of the intricate, complex. While others are the fruits of the less physically evolved. I don't think those Chelsea price tags are a reflection of this theory and I'm quite confident that history would show the same.

The monetary value of art is a reflection of the politics, geography, culture and egos of every human involved in the process of showing, buying and selling art. An art in and of itself; it bares little relation to the pieces of canvas to which it's assigned.

So lighten up or tighten up?

Hang the q-tip adorned plastic from your walls or chuck it into the recycling bin?

Expect more or enjoy what's there?

Taking on the tone of an afterschool special, I'd advise that it'd probably be in one's best interest to tell the art world to go screw and explore the nature of one's own aesthetic leanings and predispositions.

Tools Of The Psyche

In preparation for leaving New York and starting a new life in California I've been doing a lot of meditating and reflection. The relationship between human form and beingness - if you will - amazes me.

The most fascinating phenomenon I see now is the power that human beings possess to work with their own psyches to manifest change both internally and externally.

We live in a culture that tells us that we need someone else's hand and permission to work on change or reshape our interior lives. But all the tools, power and capacity actually exist within each of us.

So I ask myself "what's the key to putting the tools in your own hands?"

I think the answer is trust.

I talked to my friend John last night. He talked to me about messing up all of his drawings. I told him that he'd better stop and not mess them up and he said no - that he comes back to them at the last minute and figures out how they're supposed to work.

I think he's onto something. I'd imagine there's an awful lot of trust required to put something into a form that appears messed up or messy and leave it alone and come back to it to see that with a few changes it actually makes sense.

Like baking - like bread rising - like all organic processes.

Change Is In The Air

Hmmmm, it's been awhile. I think this blog is changing again as am I and as is my life.

I'm moving out of Brooklyn, NY and back to California. It feels like I've been in New York forever and it's really only been 2 years.

So in the spirit of change I'm going to broaden the topic of this blog *again* and let it encompass more than just writings about music.

Creativity and spirit - fruity combination of words. Words that evoke a cringe from a lot of people. Words that I think get misused and abused for so many reasons it'd take another blog to capture it all so I'll leave that alone.

Is creativity a force - a type of energy?

Is it a reaction to convention?

Most of the time I hear about creativity in a context that leads me to believe that it's something happening within a structure that is intrinsically and patently stale, rigid, boring and scripted. Doesn't sound very creative actually - sounds like a very simple dynamic that could probably be represented by two shapes - a square and a circle.

But - back to my topic - my blog - it's subject matter and change.

I've picked up the meditation work I was doing before I spent time studying the buddhist tradition and some interesting things have surfaced as a result. Most notably my creativity. I was working with my teacher and she noted that it is wild and thus created conflict between me and other people close to me that didn't know how to handle it. Perhaps this is why the square - circle dynamic is so quick to come to mind.

What I'm faced with now - is this - how do I relate to my own creativity. It is a wild force and part of what this blog originally represented was my intellectual response to it. For years, I've searched for tools and theories to help me understand and harness it. I've engaged in all kinds of spiritual inquiry and been open to embracing whatever philosophy might provide a better context for me to engage it.

I feel hopeless - but also more curious than ever. I wonder now if perhaps I'd had things backwards all along in looking for a context to put my creative energy into instead of allowing my creativity to create it's own context through me .....

I had the pleasure to getting to know John Lurie while I've been living in New York. He is an important figure in my musical history. He said to me once - "music is not science". I don't know if I've ever felt more nailed in my life; I really have no idea if he knew that I'd been looking to science to help me understand music and my own musical inclinations. It didn't matter. I was caught. And thankfully.