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Monthly Archives: July 2015

“The most violent thing is what we do to ourselves when we hide who we really are.”
Just when I thought it was safe to go out..

After coming to the realization that things are not what they seem, I realize I’m part of that equation. Giving in to who you really are is a battle that is waged by one. You.

The part of me that fights for normalcy uses its weapons to suppress. It is a well organized army. Its supply line, fed by societal influences and human dogma, is a well oiled machine. Experienced in its task and rarely changing.

The inner army is crafty. Guerilla like in its tactics and ready to spring to the front at any moment. It uses emotion and imagination to coerce the mind I to thinking that it can conquer Goliath.

This shit sucks…..

The battles fought are not simple. The ones won by the big army keep you feeling safe. They give a feeling that this is the way it should be, no matter what that guerilla band of fighters says. Until they strike the engine is purring. But when they do, all hell breaks loose. You start feeling uncomfortable, things look different, you get ideas and different points of view.

I know where I want to spend my time but I don’t always have the courage to fight the uphill battle, even though I would rather have the scars of being who I am, then the non callus hands of living the life of a lie. I’m aware of the sacrifice that must be made in this battle but carrying the weight of satisfaction will slowly kill you in a life already short.

So those short periods of times when one creates a work, is the time where both armies work towards a common goal. The brevity of these times allows me to let loose from the struggle. You are free to be as you want. Or at least feel you are.

Should I fight on the side I believe or the side that has the best odds?

Weight weight, don’t tell me.

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After watching a documentary on Greenwich Village, a couple of things I picked up were the same things my 90 year old mother told me for years. “There is nothing new”.
As we grew as a country through the fifties, sixties and and early seventies, we had a a group of artists looking for change. They found it in the village. They could be who they were even if they didn’t know what that was.
They spoke out and challenged authority. They knew that change needed to happen and fought with their words, music and visual expression, made for what they believed in. The art wasn’t nessesarily good, but they used it to express what they felt and it worked for the times, at the time.

Some of the art survived. Some didn’t. Topical work is risky, but serves a purpose at the time.

I do know one thing, that my mom didn’t factor in social media. Imagine the outrage and debate when the NYC police banned Sunday singing in the fountain in the village. It would have changed things much faster.

These people brought change, much like the changes going on today. Social activism is a huge force in letting people use not only art but using their ” social voice” to create change.

Although my mother was correct in her statement, the true meaning of her passage, as I grow older, is clearer. Don’t forget the past. We as artist, activist and just people with passion┬ácan change the world with a song, and painting or a photograph. Don’t think your voice doesn’t matter.

There won’t be anotherVillagee like in New York. But there will always be the idea that will plant itself in our souls. We should just look to the recent past for motivation.

And when we are old and gray, remember that our children will be looking at us and what we did to instigate change. Don’t let them down.