Concert Experience Morphs into Art Favorite

In October, I had the mind-blowing experience of seeing Alice in Chains in concert.  Since then, I’ve been describing that show as “a spiritual experience” to anyone who will listen. A typical reaction to my statement is a look of general confusion, followed by, “so was it good?”

Now I don’t typically go around describing my daily activities as spiritual experiences. And maybe spiritual is an imprecise word to describe how the music, lights and crowd energized my soul. In fact, I have been putting off this very blog post since October because I can’t seem find the words to describe it—a rare occurrence, indeed.

For me, Alice in Chains’ music has always been a cathartic experience. The hypnotic guitars and pain-filled lyrics—amplified further by Layne Staley’s catatonic, yet snarling vocals—were a soothing balm to my teenage angst and were a key inspiration to my own poetry. Whereas Nine Inch Nails provided an outlet for my anger, Alice in Chains provided an outlet for my sorrow.

It was hard not to be skeptical as I purchased the tickets. Is Alice in Chains really Alice in Chains without Layne Staley? The answer, for me, is a resounding YES, although some disagree.

The fact is that Staley died in 2002 and had distanced himself from the band years prior. The band mourned—obvious by listening to the 2009 release of “Black Gives Way to Blue” as well as Jerry Cantrell’s solo work. But Staley’s spirit lives on in the songs from “Facelift,” “Sap,” “Dirt,” “Jar of Flies,” and “Alice in Chains.” Let’s not forget that Cantrell wrote and sang at least half of those albums and remains the band’s heart and soul. And even though it makes me unpopular with other Alice in Chains purists, William DuVall is fabulous on vocals by just being himself.

But, I digress.

Alice in Chains is quite possibly the best band I have every seen live. The energy I took from that show sustained me for months, and, even writing this post now, I can feel the excitement of that night thumbing through me.

As I was swept up in the power of the music, I wanted a memento of the evening—something more personal, more powerful than a T-shirt (although I got that too).  The image below was originally taken with my phone from my not-so-great seat. The image itself—blurry and underexposed—was worthless. The Photoshop rendering of it, however, has become one of my personal favorites.

Exploring ‘Peer Review’ Possibilities

I am proud to have co-authored a case study titled “Using Technology to Impact Student Retention” for the winter 2010 edition of the national, peer-reviewed publication EDUCAUSE Quarterly. This is my second piece published by EDUCASUE. In 2009, I contributed to an article titled “Charting the Course and Tapping the Community: The EDUCAUSE Top Teaching and Learning Challenges 2009,” which was published in EDUCAUSE Review.

Contemplating the ‘New Year’s Resolution’

A decade ago when I was working at The Trend Midweek (now called My Community Trend), I wrote a weekly opinion column on a topic of my choosing—one of the few things I miss about that painful gig. I recall, in the first issue of 2002, writing about my “anti-new year’s resolution,” during which I resolved not to make a new year’s resolution. (Yes, I realize in doing this that I contradicted the entire point of the piece.)

But here I am, a decade later thinking about new year’s resolutions and how I haven’t really made any yet, three days after ringing in the new year. Resolution-making is a tricky business. Last year, I made several and spent the latter half of 2010 beating myself up for not following through. This is especially self-destructive, as one of the resolutions was to not beat myself up. And so, the cycle continues.

On Dec. 31, Mike Robbins wrote a piece for The Huffington Post about “Completing the Year Consciously.” In the article, he suggests reflecting on the highs and lows of the past year and doing and saying “whatever we need to in order to create a true sense of closure to an experience.” He writes:

Because we often have resistance to authentically celebrating and appreciating ourselves, reflecting honestly on our accomplishments or our failures, acknowledging our real results or lack thereof, grieving loss with depth, and more, we usually just roll through the end of things and either avoid completion altogether or move on to the next thing as fast as we can. When we do this, however, we miss out on a sacred and important process.

Ouch! The “avoid completion altogether” remark hits close to home, and, unfortunately is the way I deal with more than just unfulfilled new year’s resolutions. According to Robbins, “when we don’t take the time to truly complete something, we end up carrying baggage, regrets, fear and unresolved issues into our next experience,” all of which undermine our success and fulfillment.

No kidding!

In order to help bring closure to 2010, Robbins proposes asking oneself a series of questions and putting the answers in writing. They include:

• What were my biggest lessons in 2010?
• What am I most proud of from this past year?
• What were my biggest disappointments in 2010?
• What am I ready to let go of from this past year?
• What else do I need to do or say to be totally complete with 2010?

He even suggests sharing the answers with important people in your life. Then, and only then, will be in a place where you can effectively craft goals and intentions for 2011.

As I reflect on 2010 with less focus on the negative, I realize that I did take some steps—baby steps—toward some of the lofty resolutions I set for myself.  At least now, I am positioned in a more accurate—though still scattered—direction in some areas.

Perhaps the answer, then, is to not make grand and likely un-realizable new year’s resolutions for 2011, but rather to build on the goals (scaled back) set in 2010. Notice I said “goals” as opposed to “resolutions.” Goals can change as we grow. Resolutions feel as though they are set in stone.

Expert Advice on Getting Unstuck: Blow it Up!

Author and marketing guru Seth Godin (The Dip, Tribes, Linchpin) gives advice on “Getting Unstuck” in his blog, aptly titled Seth Godin’s Blog.

Godin concludes his post by writing, “If the only alternative is slow and painful failure, the way to get unstuck is to blow up a constraint, deal with the pain and then run forward. Fast.”

While the “cut and run” method of coping isn’t always the most viable method, I have begun, recently, to understand its value as a life tool.

‘Wonder Boys’ and Writing

As I re-read Michael Chabon’s Wonder Boys in preparation for the author’s keynote address at an upcoming Writers Conference, I was struck by the number of truths the novel speaks about the art of writing. I suppose that is, in part, the reason I enjoyed the book the first time around when I read in the mid 1990s. At its heart, the novel is essentially a study in writers block, in addition to the messiness of life.

Here are some of my favorite excerpts:

“While I worked I told myself lies. Writers, unlike most people, tell their best lies when they are alone.”

“The midnight disease is a kind of emotional insomnia; at every conscious moment its victim – even if he or she writes at dawn, or in the middle of the afternoon – feels like a person lying in a sweltering bedroom, with the window thrown open, looking up at a sky filled with stars and airplanes, listening to the narrative of a rattling blind, an ambulance, a fly trapped in a Coke bottle, while all around him the neighbors soundly sleep.”

“I knew that I shouldn’t have, but I did it all the same; and there you have my epitaph, or one of them, because my grave is going to require a monument inscribed on all four sides with rueful mottoes, in small characters, set close together.”

“This was the writer’s true doppelgänger, I thought; not some invisible imp of the perverse who watched you from the shadows, periodically appearing, dressed in your clothes and carrying your house keys, to set fire to your life; but rather the typical protagonist of your work — Roderick Usher, Eric Waldensee, Francis Macomber, Dick Diver — whose narratives at first reflected but in time came to determine your life’s very course.”

“I said, ‘I need to hear something that’s going to save my life.'”

“It’s always been hard for me to tell the difference between denial and what used to be known as hope.”

I could go on and on…

Next up, two more of Chabon’s novels (that I haven’t already read): The Mysteries of Pittsburgh and The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay.

Planning is NOT the Key

I had an idea in my head for a few weeks now to do an abstract paining based on a field of red flowers and grass against a blue sky. I finally got the image on canvas board this morning, and I’m really not happy with the results. The colors are too dark. It’s too boring. It looks like a poor attempt at painting a burning field.

I contemplated throwing in the towel, and instead picked up a 5×7″ piece of canvas board that I had previously used to test some colors on. I painting the whole thing a shade of magenta and then added some green (the colors originally on the board were pinkish-purple and mint green, which is why I subconsciously used those colors).

Within 15 minutes, I had the painting completed, and I am very happy with the results! The key then, for me, at least when it comes to art, is to go into it without a preconceived idea.

Catching Up

For the first time since early January, I got up this morning and painted…two pieces actually. However, I thought I should share three of the pieces I did in January (two paintings and one digital photo) in order to document them in order.

The first is titled burning tree. The photo doesn’t really do all of the colors justice.

I worked on this piece for most of the weekend. It’s only 5×7″ in size, but I used a ton of paint to get the texture right. The shininess comes from two coats of gloss varnish. You can’t really tell from the pic, but the piece has subtle variations of magenta, purple and green throughout. It’s interesting how the painting evolved as the day progressed. It started as an abstract flower with a pinkish color on top and mint green on the bottom.

This one is a digital photograph. It started out as a shot of icicles.

Art As Life

Art is necessary for life. We breathe it, touch it, taste it, and experience it every day. Without it, we fail to thrive, to create, to be.

I am not an artist, and yet, I experience art in everything I encounter–even in that which some may consider mundane, ugly, and pieces of life best forgotten.

This blog, ~imagine hope~, has gone through many incarnations (as has its writer!) over the past few years; however, the blog topics always return to some form of artistic expression: music, visual arts, philosophy, etc.

In its latest incarnation, ~imagine hope~ will serve as my “home base” of sorts. Its the hub of the wheel from which my other endeavors (Kismet Break–a music review blog, and The Art of Communications–a new blog about my profession) will grow.

Just Say It!

Mary Jaksch published a recent article on copyblogger.com (a blog about—you guessed  it—copywriting) that outlined 73 ways to become a better writer.  It’s probably one of my favorite blog posts of all time—and not because I necessarily agree with everything included.

I found it reassuring that I engage regularly in around 40 percent of the activities or practices on the list. There’s another 30 percent that I want to follow/practice and at least 10-15 percent that I SHOULD follow but probably won’t (that’s a discussion for another day). I realize these percentages don’t equal 100—there’s a reason I’m a writer and not in a profession that involves absolutes. Some of the remaining tips are irrelevant; others may work for some writers, but not for me.

My favorite pieces of advice from the list include:

# 3. Accept all forms of criticism and learn to grow from it.
#8. Live with passion.
# 9. Be open, curious, present, and engaged.
#13. Write in different genres: blog posts, poems, short stories, essays.
#34. Be inspired by other art forms – music, dance, sculpture, painting.
#35. Read your old stuff and acknowledge how far you’ve come – and how far you have to go.
#72. Take risks – don’t be afraid to shock. You are not who you think you are.

Most of the statements above offer abstract advice as opposed to instruction on mechanics. The technical aspects are writing are equally important, but without passion, art, risk and general openness to new experiences, all of the mechanics in the world can’t bring a piece of work to life.

When I read the article for the second time, I was taken in by one of the tips that I had previously dismissed: #39. Tell everyone: “I’m a writer.”

I knew I wanted to be a writer since around eighth grade. I dabbled in poetry and prose, and often wrote essays as opposed to entries in a journal.  I loved metaphors, and everything I wrote symbolically meant something else. I brooded, agonized, and dressed only in black. I was the epitome of teenage angst and a tortured artist rolled into one.

Reality hit around age 17, at which point I woke up and realized that one can not live on poetry and sulking alone. I took an interest in journalism and fell in love with the art of writing the op-ed. One day a non-writer friend of mine—after reading what I know was a sappy, garbled essay that I wrote on a bus—gave me the same piece of advice as #39 on Jaksch’s list: “Tell everyone: ‘I’m a writer.’”

She probably has no idea that she changed my life. I remember saying to her, “but I’m NOT a writer.” And she said, something to the effect of, “why not? You are if you say you are.” And I remember sitting in my room working on some piece of writing in the following days, saying to myself, “I am a writer. I am a writer. I am a writer.”

Today, when people ask me what I “do,” I tell them I’m a writer—although, for me, it’s more of WHO I am rather than what I DO. Maybe #39 on the list is the most important after all.

Poet of the Garage Revival?

The first solo album from Strokes front man Julian Casablancas is certainly living up to its hype—because there wasn’t any.  In fact, he describes “Phrazes for the Young” as a way to “kill boredom” while The Strokes continue their indefinite hiatus. (Although, for the second consecutive year, Casablancas tells us that recording for the fourth Strokes album will begin in January…we’ll see.)

Though not anticipated, the release of “Phrazes for the Young” is not surprising, as it positions Casablancas as the fourth member of the band to embark on a solo or side project over the past three years. (The others include Albert Hammond Jr., “Yours to Keep,” 2006 and “Como Te Llama?” 2008; Nikolai Fraiture as Nickel Eye, “The Time of the Assassins,” 2009; and Fab Moretti with Little Joy, self-titled, 2009.)

Fans of The Strokes will not be disappointed by the album’s cutting, introspective and honest lyrics that manage to be dark yet hopeful at the same time—the bread and butter of The Strokes, with Casablancas as their main lyricist. Also expect occasional whirling guitars (think “12:51”) and instrumental tracks that overpower the vocal track (think the entire 2003 album “Room on Fire”).

For me, the album’s first two tracks, “Out of the Blue” and “Left & Right in the Dark” are the best. From the first chord of “Out of the Blue,” I experienced the same chills I felt the first time I heard “Is This It” (2001). It’s a weak-in-the-knees, butterflies-in-your-stomach, can’t-stop-listening-for-days kind of feeling, and it’s absolutely amazing.

And then, he lost me. Casablancas’ lyrics are still compelling—some of the best in alt rock today. And the music is still well-orchestrated, despite the fact that pop-snyth (“11th Dimension”) and country swagger (“Ludlow Street”) aren’t my thing. But somehow, much of the remaining album falls short (and dare I say is a little boring?) of my expectations.

“Phrazes for the Young” disappoints in much the same way as The Strokes’ third album “First Impressions of Earth” (2006). Both start off with a bang and then stop. Not literally, of course, but they stop being relevant as a whole and leave us wanting more.

However, much like The Strokes were heralded as the second coming of the Velvet Underground, Casablancas’ may very well be the second coming of Lou Reed. From a literary perspective, the words are sheer poetry.