There are several female singers I don't particularly care for such as Stevie Nicks and Madonna. Then there are a few I just can't stand. I get a visceral feeling of uneasiness when I hear them. One is Natalie Merchant, and the other is Edie Brickell. I have never liked Natalie and sort of could stand Edie for awhile. In my opinion they have unpleasant singing voices. Both of them have a real good self image though. Otherwise how could they sing for their supper? Some years ago, when Paul Simon was 50, he married Edie Brickell who was 25 and she started having babies. It was at this point that I really started disliking Edie Brickell and wondering about Paul Simon, who I always liked.
Paul Simon is a wonderful song writer and poet. I figured that if anyone knew good music and singing and song writing it would be Paul Simon. I just couldn't understand how he could marry such a mediocre artist. Of course she was young and fresh with long hair and long legs and probably had perky nipples. He stands about as high as her shoulder. She must make him feel wonderful when he is with her and being adored is pretty wonderful. But Paul...she is not a good singer or poet. Maybe that is not important to him in a mate, maybe he thinks she sings like an angel when she hums in his ear.
The truth is I am jealous. I don't particularly want to marry Paul Simon. That has never been a dream of mine. I am jealous of her self confidence. I am jealous that she thinks so much of her mediocre art that she got herself a band and a record and married one of the best songwriters of all time. I think about some artists I know. My sister-in-law's mother is one of the most talented, self taught, natural artist I have ever met. She can paint in needlepoint, or create in almost any media. She builds furniture and makes amazing stuffed creations, quilts, you name it. She doesn't think too much of what she does, she just does it. For her it is like breathing. We used to have a friend, Whitey. The last time I saw him was at his wedding in 1994. They moved to NYC directly after for him to pursue his art career. In my opinion, his work and technique were really awful.
About that same time I was class mother for a field trip. We went to the Walker Museum. Erica was about three, and Laurel seven. Eri was quite shy and wouldn't talk to any of the big kids and pretty much kept her face hidden behind my leg. We met our docent in a downstairs hallway that was being used for some rather hideous modern prints. Eri looked around and suddenly piped up, "My mom does this!" much to my and the docent's surprise. I looked around and thought about the difference between the print maker and me. I knew I was at least as talented, but that artist had confidence and a burning desire to make art. It was her life.
I have had many opportunities to make art over the years and have taken advantage of very few of them. The desire to create art does not burn that hot within me. For years I loved crafting the home my family could thrive in. That was art, too. Then I had the rush of using my creativity to help people find solutions to their problems. I think art is anything one does with passion, from detailing a car to writing a manifesto, from raising babies to designing bridges. With passion and intent, life can be art...if we remember.
The sound from downstairs has changed from the passionate Ms. Brickell to something on the tube. I just spent some time passionately blogging and I'm not jealous for the time being.
No comments:
Post a Comment