Glasses

I got new glasses. Ordered them before I went to Nashville. There I saw many pairs of glasses of similar ilk. I don't see as many in Asheville. You may not be able to tell from this photo but these spectacles are a bit granny-ish and very stylish. In case you wondered.

Nashville, Bluebird, Line

Well I've been to the Bluebird Cafe open mic night four or possibly five times now. I've played twice. That's because the line is always long.

I was there a couple weeks ago and the line is much longer than it used to be. Actually it's not longer -- now it's sort of a square, there are lines next to lines. The local businesses got tired of the line blocking their front doors.

They've also added a guard that organizes things. All of this is due, I hear, to the prominence of the Bluebird Cafe in a TV show that I have yet to see (which, legend has it, is NOT filmed at the actual Bluebird Cafe but in a life-sized replica -- step back from that for a second and think about the interesting world we live in -- imagine explaining it to your great great great grandmother).

Songwriting Commission Part Three

My most recent commission ended up pretty well. I sent a rough recording and lyrics to people who commissioned it.  They wrote back that they liked it and sent it to all their family members. One of those family members wants me to do a house concert. 

They also wrote that some of what I put into the song connected with parts of their story that they didn't tell me. They wondered if I'm a mind reader. I'm not. But God is a revealer of mysteries and songs are not sermons, but can be conduits of mystery, filaments that glow, spark, sputter.

We all need truth that brings freedom, even if it's uncomfortable sometimes. I need light shining regularly into my own darkness (and I'm not just talking about shameful things I hide -- I'm also talking about ignorance, habits, assumptions, etc). I am surprised at the persistence that love shows in pointing me towards that which I'd rather ignore or avoid, but which (once faced) means growth. 

Sometimes this light seeps and stammers through a song, shrinking shadows, wooing us into the open.

Shrinking Shadows

Unapologetic Sales Pitch: If you'd like to commission a song for someone, send me an email at flpurple@yahoo.com. I would have time to do three or four yet before Christmas. It costs between $150 and $800 depending on a number of factors, including what type of recording you want.

Songwriting Commissions Part Two

When these songwriting commissions work best the person I write for recognizes themselves, their relationships, or their home town in the song, but also sees some things they might not have noticed before. Hopefully the specifics I use from the interview connect to larger patterns, stories, truths and provide bridges to new perspective and a sense of hope and being known. This does not always happen. Sometimes the people just like the song. 

And sometimes they don't. 

This might be for a variety of reasons. Here are a few: I totally misread them and the song is irrelevant.  I wrote a bad, unlistenable song. The song has something true in it that the person does not want to or is not ready to see. I'm sure there countless other reasons as well.

Now about that "song has something true that the listener doesn't want to hear" thing -- I can think of one or two instances where I wrote and sent a song a person didn't like where that might have been the issue. Of course,  I'm not sure. I do know it's been the case with me (songs I've heard that I didn't want to hear). In most cases though, when people get a song from me they really appreciate it.

There is, after all, something meaningful about having a song written for you, even if someone paid for it. (Someone always pays for it, actually!)

I will write one more post on this, and I will tell you about the most recent commission.

Songwriting Commission (Part One)

One of the fun side effects of the You Have Not Seen project is that I got a songwriting job out of it. One of the kickstarter rewards for a more substantial contribution was a commissioned song. When I say "commission" this is what I mean by it:

1.  I interview the subject (either about themselves, someone close to them like in the case of a song that's a gift for someone, or about a specific relationship or location). I ask a lot of questions and do a lot of listening.

2. I take what I hear and learn and I write a song. It's not meant to be an exact portrait of the person or place -- rather an impressionist sketch or story that takes flight from the facts, memories and perspectives of that person -- mixed with my own thoughts, prayer, reflections. 

I've done a number of these over the years, and it's been great to see what comes of them. I'll reflect more about them in part two.

One lonely post

I posted like mad in the month gearing up to the big art show and now things have gone strangely quiet  on this blog . . . for several weeks. This was not because the show went badly and I didn't want to write about it. The opposite is true (great song by Bill Mallonee btw) -- it was so good it was hard to know where to start. So this is one lonely post where I begin telling you what happened at the You Have Not Seen art installation at Bluffton University:

Let's start with this picture. It was taken by Susan Spurgin who visited the show part way through the month, one of many viewers who had the privilege of having the gallery all to themselves for a bit (the reception was something else altogether, but I'm getting ahead of myself).

The first really important thing about this show was the work itself. It was captivating, cohesive, varied, interesting, and restful all at once. It was amazing to see people walk into the room and react in different ways to the art and the space. The art enveloped you and invited you somewhere different.

A number of people spent hours in the gallery looking, soaking.

This alone made all the work worth it, but it's just the beginning of what happened...

Artist Reception/Interactive Event Part III (the Why)

The most common question we hear these days is "why are you doing this?" Some people have connected to the work feel sad or frustrated that it will be taken down and divvied out to people. We feel a bit that way too, which is good -- that's part of what we are getting at! (We also feel thankful and excited).

The idea for giving the art away came to us after going to Christa's grandmother's estate auction. Grandma was moving in with one of her daughters so she had to get rid of most of her stuff. Some of that stuff was highly valued by the family members who came (an old Bible, a coin collection, a doll). Other pieces went for almost nothing. This got us thinking about how transient material possessions are, and how what one generation loves the next might dismiss without a second thought.

As artists we want to create something that is valuable and that might outlast us. We can can become very attached to our work and our ideas about what it should or might become. These dreams and plans are important to have, but they can also be damaging and distracting. Giving away the art was for us, a way of looking right in the eyes of the reality that this work is temporal. It may or may not last beyond our lifetimes.

This frees us also to take ourselves and our work a little more lightly, and to look for ways that it might make peoples' lives a little better, even if it's only for a few years or even (gulp) months. So (with this project) we decided to give the art away to whoever comes to the event.

Another image that was helpful to us as part of the "why"  is the parable Jesus told about the guy who invited his friends to a banquet. Many of them were too busy so the guy went out and invited anyone and everyone to come (including people you wouldn't usually want at your party).

Similarly, gallery openings and artist receptions tend to draw a certain crowd: art lovers, colleagues, and the artists' friends and family. We are hoping that by deciding to give away the art rather than sell it, that we can wholeheartedly invite whoever is interested (rather than focusing on the people who could further our career or afford to purchase the work).

This is a good chance for us as artists (and viewers) to consider (or reconsider) the reasons we make (or view) art. As we have thought about it, these things surfaced:

Art has been a gift to us, like nature is a gift.
We want to give others that gift too; the gift of beauty, rest, and a chance to acknowledge how little we have actually seen and open our eyes to see more.