I'm glad my 20's are over. I consider them to be just as much my adolescence as my middle school years. It's definitely the era where I fucked up the most, and I plan on leaving it all there.
I now feel like an adult, more ready than ever to get this thing jumpstarted. I got the fire, but it's a refined flame. It's a lightsabre, but sexier, in between pink and purple. It aint going out...eva.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
Number Your Paper
On the first day of class, Professor Bates promptly announced after all students were seated, "I want you to take out a sheet of notebook paper. Number your paper from one to sixty-six. List all the books of the Bible in order, spelled correctly. If any book is misspelled or out of order, it's incorrect. This is your first test. You have five minutes. Go."
No syllabus or proper introduction given. Role call and the Baptist-school-pre-class-prayer were skipped, so God would not bless our ignorant minds that morning. I expected a half-assed easy day of filling out paperwork and introducing myself in front of the class with Han Solo-like nonchalance. Just the ol' customary bullshit. Instead, this professor prepped me for carbonite freezing.
Thankfully, I wasn't the only one about to die. Toward the back of the class, with the rest of those who dared to defy The Criswell College's policy of "No T-shirts Allowed", happened a heated-hunt for notebook paper and sanity. The well-churched who sat up front seemed more calm. It wasn't fair. I imagined the reading order of the Bible had been tattooed to their corneas as young children, an ancient Baptist practice similar to the Anglican Church's infant baptism, performed by church elders without the consent of the child, nevertheless giving it an unfair advantage in this life and the one beyond.
These lifelong Baptists (18-24 years, from birth to present) simply read from their corneas what had been ingrained in them since childhood. And the me who sat at the back of the class, who's theological curiosity and desire to cure clinical depression through Bible College landed him on a suddenly uncomfortable chair, swiftly scribbled and scored close to a twenty. Amen.
No syllabus or proper introduction given. Role call and the Baptist-school-pre-class-prayer were skipped, so God would not bless our ignorant minds that morning. I expected a half-assed easy day of filling out paperwork and introducing myself in front of the class with Han Solo-like nonchalance. Just the ol' customary bullshit. Instead, this professor prepped me for carbonite freezing.
Thankfully, I wasn't the only one about to die. Toward the back of the class, with the rest of those who dared to defy The Criswell College's policy of "No T-shirts Allowed", happened a heated-hunt for notebook paper and sanity. The well-churched who sat up front seemed more calm. It wasn't fair. I imagined the reading order of the Bible had been tattooed to their corneas as young children, an ancient Baptist practice similar to the Anglican Church's infant baptism, performed by church elders without the consent of the child, nevertheless giving it an unfair advantage in this life and the one beyond.
These lifelong Baptists (18-24 years, from birth to present) simply read from their corneas what had been ingrained in them since childhood. And the me who sat at the back of the class, who's theological curiosity and desire to cure clinical depression through Bible College landed him on a suddenly uncomfortable chair, swiftly scribbled and scored close to a twenty. Amen.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
The Entire History of Art. Part 1 of 83
Inflated value of opinions. Never has the exaggerated value of my own opinion ever become so apparent as when other over-valued opinions responded to my art.
I funded the production and very slight release of an album full of my original songs (no small feat considering the amount of money I make and music production costs on any level). It is an understatement to say that I put much thought into this album. To hint on the amount of energy I spent on this album: I wrote every song, played all bass lines, played all rhythm and lead guitar save for one guitar solo, came up with and sang all vocals, and created the main drum loops for a majority of the songs. I did damn near everything, and I put absolutely all my resources into it.
After releasing my baby into the wild, the few who heard it responded positively. A few didn't dig it, and some just didn't respond at all. Fine. Mostly smiles from me.
An irritating observation came from listening to some of the responses. My observation is this: some folks can't respond to art without a retraction. It sounds like this, "It's good, but..." or "I like it, but it needs to do this, travel in this direction." I've responded in this manner before.
Someone can like or dislike a piece of art, but to say it ought to be one thing or another, while not being the author of the art is presumptuous. It assumes the author didn't accurately relay his/her thoughts or feelings or whatever he/she wanted to express in a communicable way, which is the point of art.
I know I accurately portrayed a snapshot of my life in the album I produced. I said what i wanted to say. If you don't like what I produce, then fine. However, don't say it ought to be this or that so you'll like it, assuming what you like is what I want to express. I hope this doesn't break your heart, but I won't check to see if what you like is what I want to say.
Bottom line (again, I'm guilty of this infraction and will change), take art for what it is, and don't be an AUTHORity concerning a piece if you aren't it's AUTHOR. Like and dislike with regard to art ought to happen. To assume the direction you want an artist's work to take will accurately express what that artist wishes to say is a more-than 15 yard penalty in my book.
I funded the production and very slight release of an album full of my original songs (no small feat considering the amount of money I make and music production costs on any level). It is an understatement to say that I put much thought into this album. To hint on the amount of energy I spent on this album: I wrote every song, played all bass lines, played all rhythm and lead guitar save for one guitar solo, came up with and sang all vocals, and created the main drum loops for a majority of the songs. I did damn near everything, and I put absolutely all my resources into it.
After releasing my baby into the wild, the few who heard it responded positively. A few didn't dig it, and some just didn't respond at all. Fine. Mostly smiles from me.
An irritating observation came from listening to some of the responses. My observation is this: some folks can't respond to art without a retraction. It sounds like this, "It's good, but..." or "I like it, but it needs to do this, travel in this direction." I've responded in this manner before.
Someone can like or dislike a piece of art, but to say it ought to be one thing or another, while not being the author of the art is presumptuous. It assumes the author didn't accurately relay his/her thoughts or feelings or whatever he/she wanted to express in a communicable way, which is the point of art.
I know I accurately portrayed a snapshot of my life in the album I produced. I said what i wanted to say. If you don't like what I produce, then fine. However, don't say it ought to be this or that so you'll like it, assuming what you like is what I want to express. I hope this doesn't break your heart, but I won't check to see if what you like is what I want to say.
Bottom line (again, I'm guilty of this infraction and will change), take art for what it is, and don't be an AUTHORity concerning a piece if you aren't it's AUTHOR. Like and dislike with regard to art ought to happen. To assume the direction you want an artist's work to take will accurately express what that artist wishes to say is a more-than 15 yard penalty in my book.
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