To answer a question from my friend, Joella, about any differences in ‘feeling’ for me between songwriting and creating visual art.Read Now
Joella, I’d say that, superficially, songwriting would appear to be a ‘thinking’ endeavor. However, words that simply drive ideas without having emotion in the passenger seat aren’t much use poetically, so both songwriting and visual art take me out of my thinking self into the realm of feeling. I am guided by a deeper ‘me’.
I remember once ‘coming to’, as if from a dream, whilst in the middle of creating a piece of visual art... I was startled by the realization that I was in the same place songs come from! Yes, it did seem like a real ‘place’ - a place I’d been longing for as I’d not been able to compose. It was so comforting to find another route ‘in’. To say I cherish my times creating is an understatement as both forms are deeply satisfying.
Expressing the who, what, when,where and why of life takes reflection but at the same time, for me at least, seems to require one work only in the present tense, guided by a connection to everyone else in this world to achieve, a satisfying outcome. Anything else is just accounting.
I’d have to add that creating art in any of it’s myriad forms is not for sissy’s who are afraid of being alone with themselves, which is why, in my opinion, the making and celebration of art must be encouraged and fostered and protected by society: (So, no mystery to me why some of the frightened people in power on this planet want to strip funding to the arts). To evolve and express my own vantage point while also situating myself squarely in my time in this world is something I aspire to even as my work as a songwriter continues to be bound by my tiny world view (and by my fears, truth be told, a subject for another day), despite my lofty goals. Meanwhile, my visual art gives me a sense of being fearless and feeds my desire to be braver with words.
Thanks so much for asking the question, Joella. I’ve enjoyed thinking through my answer to you.
Below is the wee Dear Merebeth ‘painting’ I’d done (I paint using digital apps) and posted on Facebook which prompted the query...
Being able to attend a concert at L.A.M.P. last night with the great Latvian violinist Gidon Kremer, cellist Giedrė Dirvanauskaitė, and pianist, Walter Delahunt was an extraordinary bit of luck (thank you, Jules Chamberlain!). Beethoven's Triple Concerto Op.56 arranged by Carl Reinecke was extraordinary and stood out in an evening of excellence. It was one of the greatest exercises in listening I’ve ever had given my seat, as you can see... I closed my eyes and it was the violinist, the cellist, the pianist and me. Oh, and the dog, Israel, ever patiently waiting under the piano throughout. No kidding. For a surprise encore, Maestro Kremer invited out his students lucky enough to study with him this past week. They played Astor Piazzolla’s ‘Oblivion’. It was gorgeous. I so hope they make a recording of their trio...
The lesson I learned long ago - that the only way to preserve and expand whatever energy I do have is by giving it away - was celebrated bigtime this weekend when I did three shows in two days: Two wonderful audiences on Saturday and Sunday night at The Lansdowne Concert Series in Fredericton and again Sunday afternoon at Second Wind Music up in Florenceville-Bristol. Still, I must take special care not to book three shows on a weekend when the time changes again... I’m still in my jammies and might not get up ‘til tomorrow.
The first in a series of writings under the banner ‘Of a morning’... I may include images I’ve created...Read Now
Patience rewarded me eventually with an understanding of how resistant I am to being held to a standard of solemnity carried with cleverly measured words. Even if poetic, they register with me as an affront of ideas substituting for grief - ideas I can’t respond to despite how much someone wants me to feel the way they do. An illusion of camaraderie worded in place with a self-satisfying, punishing rhetoric could be so much more effective if abandoned completely and re-written as song. Without rhythm and music, some ideas are simply bossy, churlish instructions on how to behave.