This is the first installment of a series of posts about art and life. It's long, it's rambly, it's opinion mixed with just a wee bit of fact. It's fun.
You have been warned.
It has been said many times, and in many ways, that art imitates life. Some even go so far as to say that life in turn imitates art. This concept has always intrigued me, but not in the way that concepts or ideas usually do. Usually I'll grab hold of an idea and treasure it for its "what if" value, as I call it; that the idea is fascinating and wouldn't it be great if that's how things actually were? I am fascinated with the art and life concept more as a kid in science class is fascinated with the organs they expose while dissecting a frog.
Now, forgive me, but I know that's not a very pretty way to describe it. What I mean is that I'm usually fascinated with ideals that, while very real and liveable on an individual basis, usually have not been proven work on a global scale. For instance, the old golden rule: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." Well, that's fanstastic, truly, but there are so many people in the world that do whatever the hell they want to others with no care as to the consequences. So, it's a nice idea, but not one that is so very widely acknowledged in the individuals that make up our global community.
Art imitating life — or vice versa — however, is not simply an idea, or something that either the artist or the viewer would like to have happen. It's the very basis of art, really, in that the creation of art stems from the desires, needs, and ultimately the base emotions of life as we silly humans know it. For as far back as the history books go, art has always been born of some need to express some part of the artists life or view on life, encompassing everything from personal experiences to politics to religion. On a side note and just for fun, let me point out that one of my favorite painters was Hieronymus Bosch, and that's who Harry is named after. I can't think of any art that doesn't stem from some aspect of life istelf, whether as a reaction to the times or as a purely pysocological extension of the human brain with all its memories, instincts, and unconscious desires.
So art does imitate life, and every piece of art you see proves that, if you take the time to look past the surface. Even the sweating wren that Mama Wren sketched out several months ago is more than mere pretty fancy (I liked that drawing, by the way, Mom). Now I could get into life imitating art but I'll leave that for another day and concentrate now on art immitating life and, as promised, I'm going to zero in on music, starting with Bjork.
The idea for this post came to me last week while listening to Bjork's Greatest Hits album (her only album, sadly, that I own). Being at work, I was therefore unable to just sit and type out all the thoughts that came into my head as I listened, but in the end I think this post may be better off for that, as I've had time now to mull it all over. I don't remember how that particular day started out, but Bjork always leaves me feeling calm and somewhat melancholoy but refreshed at the same time. The word spiritual might work here, in that it's almost like a form of meditation that takes place in the back of my mind while the rest of my brain concentrates on work, and in the end leaves me feeling as if I've realized some peaceful and profound truth about life.
The first song on this album is All is Full of Love, a sort of daily affirmation that, well, all if full of love, no matter how dark things may seem. It's a reminder that things aren't so bad, really. This is follwed by Hyperballad, a song that at first I didn't like at all. Hearing the lyrics describing the need to visualize one's own dead body slamming into jagged rocks at the bottom of a cliff in order to obtain peace of mind, my first though was, "Wow. Talk about psycho. Couldn't you just - oh I don't know, eat some ice cream maybe, to 'feel happier,' or take self defense classes to 'feel safe'? Why the ritual with imagining your own horrid death?" Despite my own rather gothic tendencies, I couldn't understand how such a seemingly morbid practice could bring a sense of peace and give meaning and hope to each day. I saw it as the selfish act of a drama queen, a way to scream out "Look at me! Pay attention to me! Love me! Me me me me me!"
Older now, and — if I may say so myself — at least a wee bit wiser about life in general, I think I get it.
What goes through my head now upon hearing this song is not disgust and confusion, but a bittersweet sort of joy, or a thoughtful kind of peace. As I see it, the act of "throw(ing) little things off" the cliff and imagining them to be one's own body is a type of daily meditation, if you will. It's a way to say to one's self, "Simply by living, this destruction is the risk I take, whether I go out into the world or wait for the world to come to me, and by understanding this I am prepared for it and can go forward without the fear of it. I can do this because I understand that the death that will take me — today, tomorrow, ten years from now — is as random as someone throwing a fork or a rear-view mirror off a cliff, and just as pointless to try to interpret or worry about. Death, like those rocks, is inevitable and unmovable by me, so worrying about it is useless and will only steal the joy from life."
In this meditation, the cliff is symbolic of life's lack of predictability; we go forward each day not knowing if, throughout the courses of our various actions, there will be ground beneath our feet to stand on at the end of the day or if we will be lying overthrown at the bottom of some vast pit wondering what the hell happened and how to go on from there. The rocks at the bottom of the cliff are the pain or death we could possibly face if we fall, be that fall physical or centered in the course of a job or relationship, or in the striving to achieve a dream. At the end of this meditation, we leave the cliff having looked death in the face, saying, "You cannot frighten me," and with each step the realization that we alone control our reactions to life and whatever it throws at us grows and a sense of peace takes root. We are "safe" again in the knowledge that we're alive and that is all that matters. Not in the end, not here and now; it is all that matters, period, because with the simple act of being alive without fear of what might happen at any given moment, we are more free than can be imagined or enacted through the trappings of life.
Hearing this song now inspires in me a confidence in myself and my ability to do whatever I dream, be it someday building my own house, selling my artwork and becoming a well known artist before my time, or simply having the courage to apply for a new job in a field I've never worked before. I find it highly appropriate that these are the first two songs on = an alubm that encompasses the "best" of this particular artist's works; it's a very good introduction, if you will. It tells you that life is beautiful and love is everywhere, and then tells you why and how to find that love, or peace, or sense of safety.
Hyperballad is the only Bjork song I'll break down to that extent, because I do have a tendency to ramble on. However, most of her songs have a similar effect; they make you think about more than just the words or sounds themselves and to find a meaning in them that is rooted in the intimacies of life itself.
Bjork, I think, is a very wise woman, and her manner of dress only enforces the confidence found after the death meditation in Hyperballad; in her own way, she's saying "This is my life, and no matter what may come of it, I will live it and share it as I choose." I think that society as a whole could learn much from this. There are many teachers in life; it just takes an open mind to recognize some of them. Remember that next time she chooses to wear a swan to an award ceremony.
The third song — and I promise this is the last Bjork song I'll interpret ... this time — is Human Behaviour. Again appropriately placed, this song seems to confirm the odd subject of Hyperballad, and the psychology or philosophy of it. Humans do strange things, and you don't always know why (see my "Wow. Talk about psycho," knee-jerk reaction) but it's almost irresitable to poke at it and prod it until you figure it out. The journey to find out what the hell someone is doing or saying, or why, is not always easy — "there's no map and / a compass / wouldn't help at all" — but damn is it fun. Take this post for example; I'm having a wondeful time musing on all this. I can only hope you're getting as much enjoyment out of it as I am but if not, well, it certainly wasn't a waste of time for me.
Of course Bjork is not the only musician out there to hit the mark so dead-on where life itself is concerned, as opposed to zeroing in one certain parts of life, like drugs or rodeos or love (lost or found) or even bowling (thanks, Weird Al), but to discuss all of them is beyond my humble ramble-musing ability. Instead, I'll go on to just one other artist, a band that I find to be pretty damn intelligent in their own right.
Although some may dub them mainstream, I don't think that Disturbed is your average "I hate life so I'm bitching about it in my parents' basement" rock band. Rather, in most of their songs I find messages that have valid points and meanings that are connected to current world events as well as some more psychological views of the human mind or spirit. The ambience of Disturbed's music makes me think more in terms of the human monster rather than in terms of the strangely peaceful optimism that Bjork brings up. This is not to say that Disturbed is depressing; rather they are a flip side of Bjork, in a manner of speaking. Both Bjork's and Disturbed's music — their art — is born of the human experience, but where Bjork dazzles you with light airy sounds around a deeper meaning, Disturbed just grabs hold and drags you right down into that part of yourself where anger and outrage at all the injustices of life brew.
This, too, is important, and full of lessons. Anyone who says that we should only embrace that which is happy and bright, and should shun all that is angry or sad or dark has more than a few screws loose. If the darker emotions were of no value, they would not exist. We need outrage as much as love; both are needed to repair the damages that we humans ourselves make in the world. Think of Hurricane Katrina. Think of Tibet. Think of the wolves in danger of being taken off the endangered species list and slaughtered, again. These things inspire outrage as much as love, and one without the other, I think, would not be enough to move us to act. One wothout the other very often leads to apathy.
That said, Disturbed is the metaphorical slap in the face. Their songs demand that we wake up and take a look at what is happening in the world around us and how that affects not only people as whole groups that can lose identity in an apathetic mind, but how it affects the individuals as well on deeper, more psychological levels.
The lyrics of Disturbed's music has always been a wake-up call, but has progressed with each album from an introspective view to a wider world-view, and has become more political because of that. Their last album, 10,000 Fists, is a cry for the people of America to wake up in terms of the war in Iraq and the man who has led us all on this deadly wild goose chase. Although Mama Wren has never struck me as much of a rock music person, I'm sure she'd love the song Deify if she heard it, and might even sing along. The lyrics alone do not do it justice; if you get the chance to hear it, do. Along with that is the song Overburdened, about the soldiers who die for a cause that was seen as something good and right but is finally understood to be an atrocity. This one brings tears to my eyes every time, and makes me even angrier with Bush and Company. Truly, if you never buy any of their other albums, and even if you don't like rock, and metal especially, the album 10,000 Fists is a must. It has its introspective songs as well to balance the world views, and in all it demands that even if you don't like what you hear, you listen and learn from it.
From the previous album, Believe, is one of my favorite Disturbed songs, Darkness. This is a truly thoughftul piece, pleading that the listener understand the words spoken and the lessons in them. This, too, tears me up, but again the lyrics alone hardly suffice. Listen to it if you get the chance. I think it's a good song to end this post on, being as it asks that you understand not just the words in (any) song, but that you take back with you some meaning and lesson for life.
In the end, this is the highest and most basic purpose of art in any form. The object of creating something and sharing it with others is to share an experience in an attempt to teach a lesson, to better life in general. Teachers are everywhere; just open your mind and you'll see (and hear) them at every turn. And realize, too, than in creating something, anything — even a blog — you, too, are a teacher.
Next time I get to rambling, I'll ramble about life imitating art. You just know there will be tattoos in that one, though certainly they won't be the only thing I cover in it. I'll even post a pic of my fish tat, if you ask really nicely.
Now, get out there and let your crazy art shine, no matter what form it may take. You may be suprised with the lessons people take away from it.
