It's a simple question. One that has been asked time and time again and probably will be asked again long after we’ve considered our thoughts on the matter:
Not that other people can't appreciate it, connect to it, or feel a resonance to similar feelings or emotional events in their own lives. Regardless of the artist’s intent, the enjoyment you feel comes from the way that the words and ideas resonate with your thoughts, emotions, and intellect. For example, its possible Jackson Pollock's One: Number 31 is supposed to be a picture of a pony. It's quite possible that when Jackson finished painting it, he thought to himself -- "That's by far the best painting of a penguin talking to a polar bear that I've ever done."
And even if it's more likely that it was a painting of the moment -- an explanation of an emotion attempted with paint and canvas, an emotional subset that Pollack understood enough within himself to attempt to visualize in that particular way -- the simple fact is that as a viewer, a recipient of the artistic expression, it's still perfectly valid for you to look at the finished painting and say:
There's nothing worse than staring at some hunk of welded metal and mixed media that someone spent two years of sweat and tears slaving over and thinking to yourself,
To my way of thinking it's not really anyone's fault. Not everyone who looks at art can appreciate it the way it was intended. By the same token, not all people who create are able to connect with a given audience. I might find myself confounded by some nondescript piece of sculpture -- while the person standing next to me could easily be reduced to joyous tears just at the sight of it.
That's the beauty (as well as the frustration) of the whole thing. Can you connect the inspiration that drove you to make something unique and original enough so that someone else can at least tap into the general idea you were going for when they see it/hear it/experience it sometime later?
Because even if every artist out there isn’t trying to make millions of dollars selling their creations -- it’s my honest belief that every one of them is attempting to communicate something. Even if the message is as simple as "Doesn’t this cat look like he wants more vodka?" -- The imagery and presentation needs to be sufficient to get that thought across, or else the whole exercise is a failure.
I know not everyone out there thinks that they are artistic. Some people simply refuse to accept the notion that they can be creative in the ways that other perhaps more famous people are. But the simple fact is that everyone is capable of, and regularly practices certain forms of creative expression intended to express their individuality to those around them.
Perhaps this would make more sense if I used an example -- something we all understand and recognize, but interpret in our own individual ways
The problem is, how do you send that message without it being misread to the point where you go from being a charming guy that might be different from the rest to a slimy pig who believes that two handfuls of Aqua Velva and that K-Tel love songs collection is gonna get him laid?
You make a show --- it’s got a gritty feel, actors that understand and believe in the characters in the premise, a good mix of action, violence, sex, and whatever – yet it still kinda feels like a family melodrama. People really get into it -- because there’s something about the characters (even at the shows most fictionalized and sensationalist points) that people connect with on a basic level (possible spoilers ahead).
The problem is, after eight years or so it’s time to move on. Maybe its past time to move on, but when something catches fire like this it’s hard to let it go. Especially if you feel like there’s more room to explore. I mean when you think about it, character studies don’t really have to end – they could conceivably go on forever.
Which leads to the final question -- Was The Soprano’s a story about what happens to a gangster and his family after a series of events and betrayals leads to a climactic showdown between rival families, or was it in a sense a televised still life painting of what life is like for a jersey Mafioso (complete with betrayals, showdowns, etc.) with the particular traits mobster Tony Soprano was given by the writers that imagined him?
Because if it is meant as a character study -– if it’s just supposed to be some attempt to give the viewer a chance to know what it’s really like to be that kind of person, the ending of the series was perfect.
What better glimpse into that world could there be than to watch a family you know all these things about, to see these people you’ve watched literally for years make decisions that have led them to a point where apparent danger seems all around, in a situation where you’ve come to understand and accept the things that might (and in the opinion of some perhaps should) happen to people like this given the world they live and operate in – eat dinner without consequence.
One has to suppose that a semi-public meal for someone like John Gotti or Sammy Gravano could be filled with that same sense of tension – where it seems like at any moment someone in the restaurant (like that guy in the grey jacket) might walk up to the table and shoot them all in the head or something. You or I might not be able to chow down on onion rings as nonchalantly as someone (real or fictional) who lives in that world every day.
But the problem comes in with the fact that even if The Soprano’s was intended simply as a character study of a unique modern lifestyle, a series finale episode is intended to perform a very specific function in the lifespan of a television show. In a lot of ways a final episode of a television series is no different than the final brushstroke of a painting – it marks the close of the story that the artist is telling on that particular canvas at that particular moment.
When you create, when you imagine, when you write -- is it written forThere really isn't one answer, because different contexts bring forth different criteria. If you're writing for the release that comes from the process, the catharsis of putting thoughts to ink, of claiming the order of definition from the chaos of thought -- then does it really matter if what you put on the page, on the screen, out of your instrument makes sense to anyone else?
the intended audience, for the characters, or do you write for yourself?
Not that other people can't appreciate it, connect to it, or feel a resonance to similar feelings or emotional events in their own lives. Regardless of the artist’s intent, the enjoyment you feel comes from the way that the words and ideas resonate with your thoughts, emotions, and intellect. For example, its possible Jackson Pollock's One: Number 31 is supposed to be a picture of a pony. It's quite possible that when Jackson finished painting it, he thought to himself -- "That's by far the best painting of a penguin talking to a polar bear that I've ever done."And even if it's more likely that it was a painting of the moment -- an explanation of an emotion attempted with paint and canvas, an emotional subset that Pollack understood enough within himself to attempt to visualize in that particular way -- the simple fact is that as a viewer, a recipient of the artistic expression, it's still perfectly valid for you to look at the finished painting and say:
"Oh cool -- a penguin."If you work to create emotionally open art you are by definition asking your viewers/listeners to make themselves emotionally available to it. That's what makes abstract art so exciting (yet equally as frustrating and ultimately blah if you're unable to make the connection the artist was hoping for).
There's nothing worse than staring at some hunk of welded metal and mixed media that someone spent two years of sweat and tears slaving over and thinking to yourself,
You're supposed to be asking something like "How does this make me feel?" -- but if you as a viewer aren't moved enough by the site/sound/reading of something to make an emotional connection -- then that leap to interpretation can't always be made."Ok, what the hell is this thing supposed to be?"
To my way of thinking it's not really anyone's fault. Not everyone who looks at art can appreciate it the way it was intended. By the same token, not all people who create are able to connect with a given audience. I might find myself confounded by some nondescript piece of sculpture -- while the person standing next to me could easily be reduced to joyous tears just at the sight of it.
That's the beauty (as well as the frustration) of the whole thing. Can you connect the inspiration that drove you to make something unique and original enough so that someone else can at least tap into the general idea you were going for when they see it/hear it/experience it sometime later?
Because even if every artist out there isn’t trying to make millions of dollars selling their creations -- it’s my honest belief that every one of them is attempting to communicate something. Even if the message is as simple as "Doesn’t this cat look like he wants more vodka?" -- The imagery and presentation needs to be sufficient to get that thought across, or else the whole exercise is a failure.I know not everyone out there thinks that they are artistic. Some people simply refuse to accept the notion that they can be creative in the ways that other perhaps more famous people are. But the simple fact is that everyone is capable of, and regularly practices certain forms of creative expression intended to express their individuality to those around them.
Perhaps this would make more sense if I used an example -- something we all understand and recognize, but interpret in our own individual ways
Sure it’s kinda high school, but put yourself into this situation for a moment -- You’ve got a date that you really like. Someone you’d like to get perhaps a little more intimate with if you can. The situation between you has led to being in a room together alone, but you’re feeling that coming out and saying something like "Hail to the King, baby -- Gimme some sugar" might not be the most appropriate way to create the mood you’re hoping for.Like Make out music.
Question 1: What is your ultimate goal when playing make out music?In a sense, choosing and playing make out music puts you in the place of being artist attempting to convey a message to an audience. The message is both personal and emotional, but is absolutely intended to be understood by someone else (otherwise what’s the point?)a) To set a mood that is more relaxed and intimate than it might be with silence or the distraction of a TV.
b) To help enhance the existing romantic feeling created by the two of you so far that evening
c) To drop a lead weight-sized hint to the effect that since the buying and eating of lobsters has been completed -- sexy time should commence.
The problem is, how do you send that message without it being misread to the point where you go from being a charming guy that might be different from the rest to a slimy pig who believes that two handfuls of Aqua Velva and that K-Tel love songs collection is gonna get him laid?
The answer -- choose the right music for the situation.I think most people understand that there are certain times when playing 2 Live Crew is probably not your best move. But at the same time you don’t want to bust out with "I don't See Nothing Wrong With a Little Bump and Grind" too early – because nothing is gonna kill the mood faster than a modern educated woman hearing some R. Kelly track to the point where she’s laughing in your face saying "Did you really think that was going to work?"
Let’s get away from the whole Austin Power’s bedroom with the hidden speakers that play Tom Jones songs idea for a second -- let’s say you’ve got a weekend to yourselves with someone you truly care about. The kids are at the grandparents, the party guests have all left, whatever the case may be. You’re alone and feeling frisky, but she wants you to put on some music – maybe dance with her a little.Which is kinda the heart of the point I’m trying to make.
Question 2: What song would you personally choose?Your exact answer will probably be different depending on who you are both as an individual and as a couple. But the creative question that is posed is much the same as the one that’s posed to an artist seeking to express themselves in a manner that’s authentic to their individual sense of creativity, yet clear enough to also be commercially viable:a) Yakkety Sax (aka the Benny Hill theme song)
b) Ice Cube’s Put Your Back Into it
c) Something from your music collection that you’ve always felt conveyed a romantic feeling
d) Something unique that the two of you associate with a romantic memory
How do you set a mood that might lead to sucking face without making it seem like the whole point of the evening was to somehow arrive at the point of said face sucking and whatever else that might lead to (not that there’s anything wrong with that)?Or to put it another way – let’s say you’re David Chase. 10 years ago you had the idea to tell the story of some modern day New Jersey Mafioso’s – but not in the cartoony, larger than life way that mobsters are usually portrayed in the movies. What if your goal was to give as much of a glimpse as you could into what that sort of life might really be like?
You make a show --- it’s got a gritty feel, actors that understand and believe in the characters in the premise, a good mix of action, violence, sex, and whatever – yet it still kinda feels like a family melodrama. People really get into it -- because there’s something about the characters (even at the shows most fictionalized and sensationalist points) that people connect with on a basic level (possible spoilers ahead).
The problem is, after eight years or so it’s time to move on. Maybe its past time to move on, but when something catches fire like this it’s hard to let it go. Especially if you feel like there’s more room to explore. I mean when you think about it, character studies don’t really have to end – they could conceivably go on forever.If that painting truly is an artist’s abstract visualization of a specific set of emotional feelings, there really isn’t an end to it. Every dripping of paint, every open space, every created line and shape is another note in what could be thought of as a very complex musical chord.Or to put it another way: When Pollock was painting
One: Number 31 -- how did he know when he was finished?
See what I'm saying? There’s a big difference between the idea of creative expression and a finished piece of art. One is fluid, while the other can’t help but be static -- a problem that becomes even easier to get confused with when you’re dealing with more interactive forms of media.At the same time, if it is just supposed to be a painting of a pony -- what then?
Which leads to the final question -- Was The Soprano’s a story about what happens to a gangster and his family after a series of events and betrayals leads to a climactic showdown between rival families, or was it in a sense a televised still life painting of what life is like for a jersey Mafioso (complete with betrayals, showdowns, etc.) with the particular traits mobster Tony Soprano was given by the writers that imagined him?
Because if it is meant as a character study -– if it’s just supposed to be some attempt to give the viewer a chance to know what it’s really like to be that kind of person, the ending of the series was perfect.
What better glimpse into that world could there be than to watch a family you know all these things about, to see these people you’ve watched literally for years make decisions that have led them to a point where apparent danger seems all around, in a situation where you’ve come to understand and accept the things that might (and in the opinion of some perhaps should) happen to people like this given the world they live and operate in – eat dinner without consequence.
One has to suppose that a semi-public meal for someone like John Gotti or Sammy Gravano could be filled with that same sense of tension – where it seems like at any moment someone in the restaurant (like that guy in the grey jacket) might walk up to the table and shoot them all in the head or something. You or I might not be able to chow down on onion rings as nonchalantly as someone (real or fictional) who lives in that world every day.
But the problem comes in with the fact that even if The Soprano’s was intended simply as a character study of a unique modern lifestyle, a series finale episode is intended to perform a very specific function in the lifespan of a television show. In a lot of ways a final episode of a television series is no different than the final brushstroke of a painting – it marks the close of the story that the artist is telling on that particular canvas at that particular moment.When you tell a story in episodic form the idea is to build tension for an ending. Each ending can be a different chapter in an ever-evolving fictional character study (i.e. Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Who, James Bond) – but without an ending to the arc of the story the character is a part of, it’s as if you’ve been invited to a private viewing of Pollock’s One: Number 31 -- only to find when you get there that you’re being shown the multi-colored paint drippings left on the floor while he was working on the piece, with a huge blank rectangle in the middle where the finished canvas is supposed to be.And when you look at it that way -- the final episode
of The Sopranos was a complete, crashing failure.
Which makes about as much sense as listening to make out music all by yourself.
[Listening to: Cibo Matto – "Beef Jerky" ]
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