|Posted by Socra Teez on May 30, 2013 at 7:15 PM||comments (0)|
I received a 'letter of love' from a family member the other day. To be honest, I never finished reading it all...there was never a need. I finished a new piece Tuesday, entitled "Laujikwurx". A rebutle for the "labor of love" had already been prepared prior to being offended...which, by the way never happened. To be honest, it truly saddened me to know that sumone who had once been a model illustration for what love is, finally expossed their true selves...kewl beans...when love comes attached to constraints that serve only ONE side...then, perhaps we CAN call you selfish!!! ijs
|Posted by Socra Teez on February 22, 2013 at 5:15 AM||comments (0)|
I remember the moment I wanted to become a writer. I was fifteen years old, and I had just been blown away by “The Ballad of Dorothy Parker”, by Prince. Although I had been a connoisseur of music at an early age (thanks primarily to my father), I had never been so drawn to a song! I was blown away by…and that’s when things got “complicated”. For the first time in my life, my vision of the song extended beyond the mere melody. More than just the words…more than just the music…more than the two working together so perfectly as to paint the picture in your mind with every measure…more than a melody that plays in your mind long after it’s finished, but begins as if there is no end. More than all of this, I began to create an entirely new story!
In the past, I began life ‘in song’ as an “extra”. As the song played, I could see the image, but I was never a part of the story. “Crazy Train” by Ozzie Ozbourne, is a perfect example of my simply standing in the scene. The train was moving, yes, but I wasn’t on the train nor was I ‘in control’ of it. I was an observer of the “main characters”, but I was not the star. However, as I began to grow in music, I graduated to a “stand-in” role. I studied the script and I was “invited” to the story, thus becoming a part of it. As I began to study the purpose of melody to sound equations, pitch to tone theories, and a host of other elements that defines “aesthetically pleasing” in music, I began to elevate my “expectation” of the art. Soon, I accepted the leading role and the main character was me! I became the lonely “Man on the Corner” by Genesis…I was the frustrated guy bangin’ on the drums (although I couldn’t play, nor had a clue Phil Collins was singing a song about divorce) “In the Air” tonight…I was the guy with Lucy & Cynthia Rose having “Starfish & Coffee”. As much as I was the lead character, I was still nothing more than an actor in a script written by someone else.
When the last note to the ballad had been played, seemingly the song didn’t stop. It continued on somewhere in my mind that not only had its own set design, but the characters were already in place! The song extended onward so, that not only was I offered the opportunity to pen the rest of this beautifully un-ending silent film that has a supplied soundtrack, but I was up all flippin’ night from the excitement. A rush had come over me so severe, I literally woke up the next morning like a kid on Christmas morning. A writer was born that night, but it has taken several years for me to even feel comfortable telling people I’m a “writer”. My skills were refined from criticism both in and out of art. My television viewing changed. What used to be greeted with utter disdain suddenly became a welcomed subject (for whatever reason). I took notice to what “appealed” to the senses. I noticed that my objections to previously presented sounds, were then investigated & re-catalogued. What could have been ‘offensive’ to the pallets, were tasted again to ensure “quality assurance”. I examined everything I ingested and graded all that crossed my path. Being the agent of chaos that I am, I questioned others as to why they “accepted” what was being fed to them, regardless the source.
Seemingly, my generation has ushered in an age of media dependency, and the public appeared to me as “zombies” dancing to whatever tune the piper’s were playing. The more I examined the content of the messages being sent through main stream media, my depression grew greater from the impending doom that was soon to appear. When “quality entertainment” is defined by planted ex-convicts who portray role models for separation purposes, drug abusive under-acting individuals who’s lives will never be perfect, and power hungry horemongers who inaccurately define success, it’s a wonder why society has issues defining beauty…it’s a wonder as to why it’s complicated to define beauty in one’s message (art). Art, like life, is not complicated…it is the combination of simplicities working in concert to produce a compelling appeal to the witness of said work. Even the most putrid of products can contain an appealing element that both attracts & entraps a witness. The question that must be answered by onlookers is what is the “separator”? Where is the line drawn, when it comes to whether a work “works” or not?
Plato emphasized proportion, harmony and unity when examining aesthetics. Aristotle exhumed the notions of order, symmetry and definiteness. By definition, aesthetics is pertaining to, involving, or concerned with pure emotion and sensation as opposed to pure intellectuality. So then, art is nothing more than a message from one sender to a receiver that “should” appeal to the senses. Is anyone paying attention to the plural tense in ‘senses’? If there are five (5) senses…if we perceive by way of our senses…our perceptions mold & churn our beliefs…then, would it not make sense to be attentive to ALL the “senses” are processing with any communication, be it art or otherwise? The purpose of any work of art, is to transmit a message. The appeal of that message is largely induced by the level of the witness. What is the message’s meaning? Is the meaning congruent with what the senses perceive? Is that message being conveyed correctly?
There are a number of ‘needs’ that require attention in terms of the message, but the sole heir of the “is the message being properly presented”, rests on the presenter…the artist. What motivates the artist, and is that motivation visibly apparent in the work…or does it linger in the shadows? Is the message’s intent clear? The more elements added to the piece, the more “dimensionality” is added. As in other aspects of life, art is not exempt from the asinine ideology that more is better. Too often, artist (including myself) are guilty of over-indulging in the gluttony of an audience’s accolades, we completely disrespect the craft (whatever craft we partake in). We drag story lines out that should have been cut…we sing too many runs in a too long song…we add too much color to a perfect picture. By adding more than should exist, we destroy the beauty of perfection and reduce & demean the work to a ‘novelty’ item as opposed to a collectible.
If we are to produce a better society, then we should be creating better artist. Along with creating better artist, we should also be demanding of the art we DO ingest! If poetry is an ‘elevated’ form of artistic expression, then there is a charge…a call…a responsibility…to produce work that either questions, answers or possess a quality that contains elements of both as well as entertain. We who would call ourselves “poets” or those who seek to join the ranks of those regarded as poets, are educational entertainers who appeal to those who would hear. We are creative expressionist who paint pictures with our pens and make magic with our words. We are more than mere puppets for claps & finger snaps…we are not rappers. We are defenders of the truth. So, why are SO many of us feeding the foolishness?
|Posted by Socra Teez on February 20, 2013 at 9:00 PM||comments (1)|
considering I've have been the hueman disclaimer, this TRULY shouldn't be suprising...but then, ALLOW ME TO RE-INTODUCE MYSELF!!! the CURATOR HAS A HOUSE AND THE HEATHENS HAVE A HOME!!!
for the record, I never professed to be the best. Is what it is, right? Therefore, tap dancing with Destiny does not compute. I have long since understood my purpose. I simply never wanted the wrong conditions to plague my process. Honestly, the closest people to me inaccurately assess me, so being “mislabeled” is nothing new. Hell, I’ve heard some propaganda regarding me that made ME laugh. The objective truth, right? kewl beans
Question…how often does truth mutate in your mind? That it does, is not of concern…repeating “known’s” makes how much sense? For it ‘necessity’ has created a desire in me that has made much sense, but been of little use…until now. God gave me a charge several years ago. I merely asked for the opportunity to select ‘my’ ministry. I wanted to work with those who knew perfection is an aim, not a residual place…not at least where they resided at the moment. Hence, being mislabeled a misunderstood alien has been beautiful.
Being a heathen has been hella kewl. Some beautifully strange learning schemes I could have never dreamed have been bestowed to me, but kewl. A friend described me as a beautiful nightmare. Best description I’ve heard. I am at the center of logic and faith, between pleasure and pain. As no wine appeals to every palate, I have thusly understood my plate…not for everyone’s table. I am...I repeat, I am NOT for everyone! I am, however for those who appreciate and love art as I do. I am a conduit. How God chooses to use me, is an argument to offer to Him…not me. I am a teacher…I am an artist…not particularly sensitive to criticism regarding my work. I didn’t create the characters, I only expose them. Knowing the words serve a much greater purpose than my plan, I don’t get too hung up on idiots these days. Is what it is.
Still, it is rather cumbersome to know that I am the system’s Sigmund…I am the system’s Freud. Argue with the work all you wish, I am still that which is discussed. Not the creator, but an innovator nonetheless. Buddy of mine, Birdwalker, reminded me that my classroom is beyond walls…my classroom is the stage. Since securing a building to train in, I am more confident than ever of our promise. With whatever you do, LET IT BE BEAUTIFUL!!! ARS VITA: Art is Life.
My mother once asked me if I was afraid to speak up for myself. Laughable as I look back, but still asked. Although much of the past has been reanimated by black & white artist in HD, I am not certain three is an adequate number to call dimensions. Perhaps this is the same philosophy promoters employ charging artist to have them entertain themselves. Some things simply don’t add up…never have, never will. BUT I BE DAMN IF YOU’RE GOING TO CHARGE ME TO ENTERTAIN YOU?! I cannot ask “where they do THAT at”, because apparently HOUSTON is the answer! But then, if you regard this craft as a poor man’s sport, then who holds their head high for the championship?
Performance, is much more than being before a few. My assistant and friend, Edith, informed me that perhaps many simply don’t know…don’t hold the new responsible for the ignorance offered…at my hand. Ok…point well taken…it HAS been a minute since “the curator” was on the scene…kewl beans! However, please be patient with me…last time I was to resurface, a super cute kid became the sum…lol…I’m nervous! Even still, I am a vocal technician of sound…I am a master artist, who is an instructor of the arts. From the choir stand to the pulpit, from the boardroom to the stage, I have mastered center stage. I have mastered the microphone.