The New Art Movement

     We are overdue for an artist’s movement that will change the world. It may sound absurd to you but it is only because you have been sleepwalking through life of late, we have all been sleepwalking. It is we the artists who shape perception. We see the path and leave signs in our art for others to follow. But we have lost sight of this fact. We have allowed others to tell the stories, to paint the picture. We have allowed corporations and profiteers to take over. The world of late has been shaped by corporate artists for corporate interests. Hell, we’ve even become corporate artists ourselves, allowing ourselves to believe we do what we must to earn a paycheck.

     Even worse, we have become irrelevant. We have become domesticated, toothless, and fangless. We have forgotten the power we possess and quietly whisper half-truths and assertions we ourselves do not understand nor believe. We no longer even dare call ourselves artists because we fear what the name implies. We fear to take on such a bold undertaking and so call ourselves songwriters, novelists, painters, or filmmakers. But we are artists, all of us, all who seek to express beauty and truth. If we are not artists then we are propagandists. Even if we do not out and out lie, if we do not profess what we believe, if we do not reflect what we see, we are in the camp of the enemy by lulling the population into somnolence when we should be awakening them to their true condition.

     It is time once again for human art that expresses human values. Not money’s values, not machine values, not corporate values. When humans take back art they take back control of their path, their direction, their destiny.

     It must be done boldly, not with one eye behind us, fearing that it will not provide a living. The time has come for choice, the road has diverged and we must choose which path to take. In truth, the paths diverged long ago, and we have been stumbling halfheartedly through the tall grass. It is time to find the path those who have inspired us have laid clear for us.

     To crawl on the way we have been, meekly obeying our baser motives, denying all that is best of our humanity, or to embrace with both arms the visions we see at our best moments. Perhaps we have waited so long because we've allowed ourselves the belief that the other path, the path of doubt and timidity, offered at least a degree of security. Now we have walked it too far, can no longer deny the destruction and hopelessness that lies at the end of it.

     We must embrace our childish dreams with adult determination. It is not maturity to do otherwise, it is a refusal to develop ourselves into the most complete humans we can become, a refusal to grow into what we are capable of being.

     Crawl from your cribs and your playroom you call your man cave and stretch out into a larger existence than you have dared imagine. It can be frightening, yes, but it is worth the risk. The alternative is a life not lived. Put aside fear, and dare.

     Art is not a diversion, it is the summit of human understanding. Literature is not the construction of a beautiful though frail glittering glass ornament. It is the creation of a prism through which we are able to see the world we live in in a way we never have before. It is not the plaything of ivory tower intellectuals nor an escapist drug for bored housewives, but the raw, pulsing stuff of life, the essence, the soul.

     Art is a prism, not a microscope or telescope, which has us looking too finely or too far, but a prism to see what is before us, what is nearest and most relevant.

     You the artist shape how your audience perceives the world. You influence their behavior. It’s a big responsibility but you cannot avoid it. That is why you must try your utmost to give what you perceive to be the truth. To do otherwise, to produce work that is devoid of the deepest parts of you, is to tell others that the deepest part of you—and them—doesn’t matter. Is that the message you wish to convey?

     Charles Barkley once said that he was not a role model, but he was wrong. Once you have someone’s attention, you are a role model whether you like it or not. If you ask to be listened to, if you go out of your way to seek the attention of others, then you incur the responsibility that comes with that. You cannot merely entertain, it doesn’t work that way. You cannot offer only entertainment without message because that in itself sends a message, that life is a trivial game we play with no real purpose or moral aspects.

     The world is adrift on a rudderless ship, but you the artist are the rudder, you know it to be true. You ask for them to see through your eyes, to follow you as you weave your story. You are the navigator who sees the directions written in the stars. Do not tell the rest what they wish to hear but tell them what you have seen. Do not tell them for another instant what they want to hear when you know it’s not true, no matter how much approval or money you stand to lose.

     You are the artist. It is given to you to see what others do not or will not. It is given to you to speak of beauty and of truth. That should be enough. Indeed, there is no other reward that equals it.

Perchance To Dream (A Brief Sample With Explanation)

I had to drag out an already published book of mine tonight to make sure the measurements of my newest book were the same. And having it out, I read a little bit of it, which I now share with you. Looking back I see how much magic is a metaphor for writing to me. Seeing someone escape from a straight jacket on stage is not the most compelling thing for most people, but it is usually the most authentic. If a magician is just looking to impress, he will have compatriots strap him in so that the trick can go quickly. But an honest magician will pick strangers out of the audience in order to test his skill, even if most of the audience won't appreciate it. I think an artist, be it an escape artist or an author, feels compelled to include those parts that are truly authentic, even if they won't draw in the largest audiences. I think an artist wants to give his audience not only an experience but a genuine experience. 

Eventually, Dave needed to drop to the ground in order to proceed further in his deliverance. To his knees, and then flat on the ground, like a Shaker in religious rhapsody. And for Dave, there was some element of the religious to it. He was fighting with his personal demon, fighting the very thing that had held him back. It was not merely a physical struggle, but an existential one. While his body was in a battle with canvas and leather, his mind was confronting the very limitations of his existence. It was a battle that, should he choose not to confront it, would limit his soul as well as his potentiality. He was acting out before an audience a personal struggle that defined him as a human being. All else was deception and deceit, but not this. Everything else was show business, no matter how much of himself he invested into it. Here was something raw and pure, and he would present this before an audience, even if they would prefer to see spectacle. Freed from his restraints, he could then feel justified in performing tricks, sleight of hand and misdirection. This, this made everything else real.

He had no time for fear, no worries about failure. He was fully involved in the escape, purely doing the task at hand. Even the audience was forgotten as he fought for liberation as if it were an affirmation of life. Each inch of movement was for him a marathon, each step closer was a foreshadowing of triumph.

Each success became easier the more it became obvious. The first quarter inch was easier than the sixteenth inch that had come before, which led to a half inch that was easier still. Struggle again peaked as he was required to get his hands, still bound behind him, to squeeze below his feet and so release the loop that constrained his movements. From there it was simple. A few more movements, and he was holding the straightjacket out before him like an ancient gladiator might have held out the severed head of his slain opponent for the spectacle of the crowd. This was the triumph of his existence, an affirmation of life that he played out again and again. With this feat accomplished, he felt worthy of playing before his audience. He felt like a man unconquered by the outside world, like a tree that would not permit the pruning of its branches to the shapes designed by others. And he dearly hoped that some of this might somehow be transferred onto the audience.

A Scene Is Where You Make It

     There are eras in history in which people desire to be something more, times that shine like jewels in the history books. Ancient Greece in the 5^th Century B.C., The Renaissance, 1976, or the Civil Rights Movement.

     This is not one of those eras. Perhaps for some people it is, people who like 3D movies or body art, but not for me. From my earliest awareness of such things I’ve felt that I never really fit in with the times I was born to. Perhaps it is because I was the youngest child by eight years in my family. At the age of four, in 1970, I’d already been introduced to The Beatles, The Kinks, and The Animals. And Cream. Sunshine of Your Love was amongst my favorite songs at that age, as was Hey Jude. I’m sure the Batman Theme Song fell in there somewhere too, but I was very much influenced by my older siblings.

     London in the 60’s and early 70’s, that’s where I should have been as a young adult. I missed it by about 15 years. But just imagine in 1964 that I Want To Hold Your Hand came out and sounded so completely different than anything that came before it. Now think that in three short years Tomorrow Never Knows and Are You Experienced? hit the airwaves. Add to that Whiter Shade of Pale, Itchycoo Park See Emily Play, Paper Sun, and a hundred similar songs. Try to come up with some other era where music was developing so rapidly.

      I missed the party. It always seemed to be that way for me. I always dreamed of the day when some movement would come along and sweep me in its great wave. Even a small wave would have suited me. I would have loved to have been in college in Madison when somebody dreamed up the satirical newspaper The Onion. Or Minneapolis when Mystery Science Theater 3000 was started. I can just imagine how it would feel to love going to work, to feel fortunate to be getting paid for doing exactly what you want to do.

     But it has not been my fate. I have never met the right people, never been in the right place at the right time.

     Or perhaps, perhaps a scene is where you make it. Maybe if you are just so certain of what it is you want that eventually you will find what it is you are searching for. Hell, maybe you will make it happen. Because after all, a scene always has to start somewhere, and every one of the situations I described began with someone openly searching for something more.

     That is what I choose to believe. All my life I have wanted someone to find the right scene, but perhaps it is up to me to get things started. Don’t get me wrong: what pushes me forward is not my own desires but the desire to keep alive all the greatness that I have been fortunate enough to encounter. Everything I’ll ever do will be influenced by Jack London, James Warren, Victor Hugo, and a thousand other influences great and small who inspired me to do something more with my life than merely exist. So in a sense, I already belong to a scene and always have. My heart beats in sympathy with a great tide that has insisted not only that I could be something more but that the human race can be something more than a knot of squirming creatures all fighting each other for their own pitiful existence.

     And so I plant my flag today. Let it be something for others to rally around, humble as it may be. Let it be a reminder to everyone who chances upon it not only that they too may work towards greater, nobler goals, but that society as a whole is filled with individuals who are only lacking a spark to ignite a fire within them. Welcome to my blog. It is small, but it is part of something larger. I reach out to you, whoever you may be. If I can light a single fire, it shall be worth it. If I can preserve that spark that has been passed on from torch to torch for time beyond reckoning, I will feel myself to be some small part of that which has inspired me.

     Feel free to leave a link to your website, an e-mail that we may keep in contact, or a Facebook page. It helps to stay connected with those who are on a similar path. And whatever you are interested in doing, best of luck to you.