On Art

This is a beautiful letter written by Ansel Adams to his best friend. I very much appreciate his definition of art-the taking and giving of beauty, bringing out inner expressions and feelings, the ability to take reality and produce it craftily on another plane, perhaps an easier plane to understand and convey to the world.

The taking and giving of beauty is no small task. I think sometimes artists are stereotyped as brooding or moody, but it makes a certain amount of sense. To take in life in all its complexities and also in all it's simplicities, in it's joys and hardships, pain and happiness and, in turn, then give beauty out of it is remarkable. It's like a constant state of pregnancy-growth, expectation, care, pride, love, pain, birth.

It takes a lifetime of learning to master the medium, whichever it might be-canvas, photographs, literature, music. Are there other jobs that require that level of learning and mastery and so much of your heart? Perhaps because I'm feeling sentimental, none come to mind.

And when considering art, or consuming it, it's so easy to overlook the artist. It is so easy to access art thanks to the internet, and because of this, I think, easy to forget where the art came from, what person created it and born from what circumstance?

Though I'm not so naive to think that legislation such as SOPA protect artists as much as it protects the media corporation's wallets, it still brings to light the importance of recognizing the artist as a creator-someone who has taken and given beauty. Though I never at all intended on turning this post into any kind of statement, please pay for your art. Even if the artist already has millions and likely doesn't need your $0.99 from iTunes (or however much they get from one purchase), the point is that it shows a respect for the artist and for the art.

Anyway, like I said in the beginning, the letter itself was beautiful and I appreciate the sentiment of it.

"I wish the thundercloud had moved up over Tahoe and let loose on you; I could wish you nothing finer."

Semantics

The twitters just suggested that I follow "Cindy" whose 'about me' tagline starts out by saying how she's just trying to be a good Christian. I don't know how the sentence ended because I did not finish reading it, which I suppose is a little unfair to Cindy. However, it was the phrase "good Christian" that caught my attention.

I have no idea what Cindy means by this phrase. What, exactly, is a good Christian? A person who follows the Bible to a t, whose crimes are petty, like poking a badger with a spoon. Original, but hardly very terrible. Though I suppose that you aren't going to get very far by actually being good. The reality is that Cindy is as broken as the rest of us in her own way.

I think "good Christian" is a facade, a dated term my grandfather uses to mean a good Bible reading relatively unstained boy or girl looking for a spouse. Perhaps Cindy understands the term in a more humble way-flawed and sinful but trying and trusting in grace. I can wrap my head around that. To me, it seems that to be a good Christian means that you sort of are a bad Christian, falling short, not always doing what you want, rather doing the things you don't want. Kind of like Nick Lowe's song, Failed Chrisitan.

Personally, I'm hard pressed to even use the label "Christian". It has been so marketed, mass produced and surface that I don't at all connect with it. I believe in God, his existence, Jesus and his earthly task and I try to make the things that are important to him important to me. I usually never come close to the mark. Upon occasion I have some shining moments. I don't read the Bible nor do I feel bad about that. I rarely even go to church. By my grandfather's understanding, I'm not a good Christian girl. I'm pretty ok with that. Because I think, in the end, my grandfather, Cindy and I are all saying the same thing, it just looks different. And different need not be divisive which is a whole other post for a whole other time.

Dave Coulier

I know I tweeted this a couple of days ago, but this blog is pretty damn hilarious. Also, in more Dave Coulier hilarity, there's this!

Good heavens, I missed being able to do the link thing!

The Facebooks

Hi everybody! It's been quite some time since I've written here, besides posting new lyrics. I've used this blog in a variety of ways over the years-as a journal, as a sounding board, to poke fun at weird things, etc but I've mostly neglected it since joining Facebook and Twitter. I've begun to find, however, that I've been spending an enormous amount of time trolling through profile pages and commenting on posts and pictures but actually doing or saying nothing significant. I have nothing to show for all of that time, which is so short and is moving much faster than I like. So, I'm getting rid of my Facebook account. Twitter may follow in time, but for now I still like cussing and saying ridiculous things to get a laugh or two.

I'm sort of excited to shed the shallow "friendships" and the event invites from strangers and the motivational jpegs that have been the bane of my newsfeed no matter how many times I block them. I'm looking forward to paring back all the clatter and chaos in exchange for developing meaningful relationships with a few friends and family.

Instead of posting pictures in an album and tagging people, I could print out the photos and mail them in a card that I wrote a note in and signed and found a postage stamp for. Whaaaaaat?! Instead of posting on a wall, I can call or email or text someone personally to say hi. A little more effort, but worth more in the end, I think.

I'm also looking forward to adding more to this little blog. Here I can walk out ideas more fully than I could in a simple status update. I've found that on plenty of occasions, I'd get piqued or ticked about something and want to write about it, but opted out of any meaningful conversation in favor of a one sentence headline.

I've given myself a week to set up a Flickr account so I can share my wicked amateur photography, give this site a little facelift and make sure those who want to keep in touch with me know where to find me.

Lonely Bird

I can’t unsing the song

And I can’t unhear the words

I can’t turn back the clock

But I can’t seem to make it move any faster

You cannot stitch the wound

And you cannot see how I’m bleeding out

You cannot cut me back

Then show up at my door

Well did you think of me on a summer day?

Did I seep into your soul like ink spilled over linen?

You’re looking for the next laugh with a glass full of whiskey

But we could’ve fixed this mess,

We could have fixed this mess.

I can’t undo what’s done

And I can’t unsay what’s said

I can’t turn back the clock

I can’t seem to want to anyway

I’ll be a lonely bird sitting on a roof

You’ll be all about your own thing

And when nail meets the wood

I know you’re not the staying type

But if you’d thought it out,

We could have fixed this mess.

(c) 12/2011 so don't steal my stuff, mmk?

You and I (The Apple and the Tree)

Wring your hands to the bones

Pace the rutted floor

Take away the demon rum

You only want it more

You only want it more

You think I couldn’t understand you

Couldn’t find you on a map

Babe I know you more than you divine

And I know the way to hell

Same addiction different drug

You drink yours down,I light a match

Take away the poison, dear

But the want is in the blood

And love, I’ve got your blood

Ah let the questions fly

You wonder who you are

If you give in, if you give an inch

Will there be you at all?

Ah let the moment pass

You find yourself again

You find yourself in clarity

And you know the way to hell

(C) Mel Muscarella 09/11 so don't steal my stuff, mmk?

Scissor-man

You bite your tongue but never taste the blood

You burn your hand and never feel the flame

Scissor-man, you’re running with that blade

Mind you do not fall

Snip snip watch the pieces fall away

Trim trim as they curl up at your feet

Do they know how long they have

Before you cut them too?

You wrap it up with a pretty bow

You captivate with a well placed word

Scissor-man, you’re setting them all up

Mind they do not fall

Snip snip you’ve made a pretty mess

Trim trim gather up the scraps

Forget that they were watching you

Keep on cutting til you forget it all.

Scissor-man never mends when it’s too hard

Scissor-man only cuts it all away.

Scissor-man don’t look behind you

Move along, Scissor-man, there’s nothing more to see

(c) 08/2011 so don't steal my stuff, mmk?