As I sit in my hotel room watching the pages of my calendar roll by and the numbers in my savings account drop, I ask myself (as I have asked so many others on this tour)…what are we doing?
In Tulsa, Oklahoma on Saturday I will hang up my guitar and put on my writing shoes. For the last 60 days straight I have been all over this country. I’ve been to 26 cities and played 26 shows. I’ve been talking to people and singing songs I wrote out of my mothers Ford almost everyday, totally independent from any rules and regulations…freedom the name of the game. I’ve gathered that this experiment in being an artist is so wildly misunderstood. I watch and listen as people (myself included) grasp for comparison through the star-haves and star-have-nots. Aren’t we still the few among the many? The storytellers the artisans the singers, the dancers, the potters, weavers, and painters of the ages…these gifts bestowed are not always choices for those giving them. Sometimes they are the only reason for those artists being alive. We have all witnessed that, and for me, I have been on this amazing self created journey, wondering where I fit in and where will I end up. I can’t and never have been able to choose anything other than what I do because I can’t do anything else. My skills are so heavily engaged in one area that I am almost a fool I think. I seem to understand the invisible world. I know the way to interpret other peoples invisible worlds and I see the shadows and light engaged in the art of the music that surrounds me. I have felt it from a producer far far away filtering through a vacant body like a tuning fork they strike, and it vibrates, sound and beat to a dancing nation. Other times I hear it pouring like water from a band combining each instrument into one voice. Then there are times where it is one vibration, one explosion slithering it’s way through a many noted rain storm to fall drop by drop upon me. These experiences I can feel and I can see, I notice. Noticing seems to be the real ticket anyway. We all have the opportunity to see art everywhere we look. It’s in the nature of birth and death or a growing garden it’s in a well designed staircase you run up and down at your parents house everyday. It’s in my moms Ford. My point is, I wonder sometimes why we feel so disconnected from art or how it becomes so glossed over and why we became artist in the first place. I haven’t found any concrete answer I would adopt completely, and this topic is more than one blog can handle but I think we are all born with an artist inside us, and in my opinion some of us carry it forth in different ways. Like every little boy or girl who dances in their room, or draws on the walls, or rebels against society, or reads encyclopedias dreaming about flying with dragons, or being one for that matter. They may just teach english one day, or write your wedding song, or design your website for your business, or build your mothers rocking chair, or raise your beautiful children. So share the love and support the arts in your community. All of us weirdos are what make things bearable…
No shows booked at the moment.
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