If you know anyone in the Atlanta area, tell them to come out to see "Hand To Hand: 100 Artists Comment on the Iraq War" at the Spruill Center for the Arts. The opening is from 6-8. and the exhibition will be up through April 26th. Wish I could be there to see my friends in Atlanta! Someone email me and tell me how the show looks!
I stumbled upon this quote in an email this morning, announcing a new CD by one of my old favorite singer/songwriters, David Wilcox. My sibs and I have been listening to him and going to see him for about two decades now. His site is http://davidwilcox.com/.
"My question is: can you know too much about a song? How far can we take this thing? Maybe eventually we’ll have a commentary track that plays alongside the music to interpret for the metaphorically impaired. All I know is that it was big fun to explain what they mean to me. I hope they serve you well. I am grateful to have songs to live up to. I almost got the cold that Nance and Nate had, and while I was dragging around I saw the edges of the old abyss. The stompin’ grounds of my past. I must admit, I got curious. I spent so much time in that vague hopelessness as a kid that I thought the world was made that way. But it was only the view from my personal black hole, or the emotional equivalent. So recently, when I passed close to the edge of the old vortex with its own gravitational pull that lets no joy escape, I thought I’d stop in and see what time has done to the place. The wild part is, that when I’m outside of it, I can’t imagine being inside, but when I enter back into that depression, I can’t imagine ever being outside. I forget that there IS an outside. It felt like it had me. But now I have all these belay lines in the form of songs that are anchored to experiences out in the bright light of the bigger world, so I can look around inside the blue abyss and still have some hold on reality. Songs have saved my life that way in the past, and now I get to see they can still do that for me. I hear myself sing: “You’re just down inside yourself,” and the black hole loses some of its pull. Maybe as a songwriter, it’s my job to be willing and able to go back into the poisonous swirling lies of ruin in order to write the travel guide for how to get out. That is what I always wanted from music, and I’m so grateful to feel it working in my life."
I have always hated the word "fan", but I have been feeding off this guy's music in my studio for years. I admire his mixture of humor and despair: it is something I aspire to in my own work. (I love his term "metaphorically impaired", and wish I had had it in my arsenal to describe my haters when I was being interviewed during the "Blessed Art Thou" days.) I have always thought that making art was the reward for depression.... that acute sensitivity was responsible for both, they were just heads and tails of the same coin. (or "companion traits", like those men who are excessively romantic in the classic sense are usually possessive.) The example on David's website is one of my least favorites, but he has done some amazing work. He is playing near here in a few weeks, and the budget is tight, but I am going to try to find a way to see him.
Did not get as far as I wanted on the hair embroidery yesterday, so off to work!