July 2010

“An art which isn’t based on feeling isn’t an art at all…feeling is the principle, the beginning and the end; craft, objective, technique—all these are in the middle.”—Paul Cézanne

Dressed in familiar traditional garb, a Tibetan Buddhist monk hunched over a square table in the middle of the glass-enclosed atrium of the Jepson Center for the Arts in Savannah, rubbing a metal rod he held in his right hand against the serrated surface of a long, thin metal funnel (called a chak-pur) in his left. As tourists of the historic district’s antebellum mansions entered the conspicuously contemporary structure to escape the sudden summer storm, joining those who intended to attend this event, the monk remained solely focused on task before him, despite the squeaking sneakers, increasingly audible chitchat, and camera flashes. The colored grains of sand flowed like liquid through the chak-pur (a result of the vibrations caused by the metal rod) on to the wooden platform, guided by the monk’s steady hand and concentrating mind.

After nearly 30 hours over several days, the group of lamas from the Drepung Loseling Monastery eventually completed the mandala, a remarkably intricate circular design composed of millions of grains of various colored sand. Once finished, it was destroyed. Read more…

“What art offers is space—a certain breathing room for the spirit.”
—John Updike

“You can’t make art with business in mind. You have to make art first.”—Jay-Z

One Fan’s Quest to Get Closer to the Music

By James F. Broderick, Guest Contributor

They jam it in the basements
And crank it in the cars
It’s on the Voyageur
On its way out to the stars
—From “Do You Rock and Roll?”

It’s a crisp spring Saturday afternoon in Georgetown, Ontario, Canada, and the lead guitarist of the greatest band in North America is gingerly pushing his 1978 Mesa Boogie amplifier up a slightly inclined concrete sidewalk. About a block ahead, a small crowd has begun gathering inside the bar on the main floor of the McGibbon Hotel, a scrubbed-brick structure dating back to the mid-1800s that would be at home in a Civil War movie shoot. The din of the dimly lit bar room and restaurant, a homey hybrid that is part hunting lodge, part small-town wedding hall, rises appreciably as a local music promoter pulls raffle numbers for a local charity from a glass bowl and announces six-digit numbers to the crowd of Molson drinkers, who check their tickets and cheer or groan, bathed in reflected faded neon and jostling to get a little closer to the stage.

Back on the sidewalk, I offer to help, and position myself behind the vintage amplifier that sits aboard a set of wheeled planks. I push even more slowly than he did, pausing when I get to a noticeably large crack in the sidewalk. I’m wary of going too quickly, of knocking this deceptively heavy box off its casters.

“Good man,” I hear over my hunched shoulders, and I look up. The guitarist is nodding, apparently grateful for my caution, my reverence for this piece of irreplaceable sonic furniture.

Guitars will also shortly be unpacked from car trunks, basses and keyboards unloaded from another car. But they’ll be carried in the nonchalant style of seasoned musicians, more like appendages than appliances. But this piece of equipment requires special care.

I get to the door, and there’s a steady flow of people coming and going from the bar room. The guitarist is well known here, and he gives the bouncer a wave and enters the bar. I straddle along behind, still pushing. In a clearly redundant gesture that I just can’t keep from making, I look up and tell the ticket-taker, “I’m with the band.” Read more…

“The important thing is never to let oneself be guided by the opinion of one’s contemporaries; to continue steadfastly on one’s way without letting oneself be either defeated by failure or diverted by applause.”
—Gustav Mahler

In locales across the country this weekend, from backyard barbecues and community celebrations to bars and car stereos, chances are Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the U.S.A.” will be blasting from speakers—the track seemingly set on an endless loop, crowds shouting the chorus en masse with a heightened level of patriotic fever, the song selection and singalongs rife with irony.

The Boss’s most recognizable recording is, after all, one of the great protest songs of all time. A damning criticism of the Vietnam War and a scathing indictment of the devastating effects of Reaganomics on the working class, “Born in the U.S.A” has been long been misinterpreted, by Reagan himself and other right-wingers. For those who understand the narrative and themes of the song, perhaps it is appropriate that this anthem serves as part of the soundtrack for Independence Day celebrations throughout the United States every summer. There’s nothing more American and patriotic than dissent and rock music (the First Amendment is first for a reason), from the spirituals of enslaved African-Americans and the early 20th century folk songs in support of the American worker to the protest music during the Vietnam War era and the resurgence of anti-war songs during the Bush administration.

So at a time when the right wing fights to cut off unemployment benefits for average Americans while apologizing to a foreign corporation like BP and Democrats continue to wage wars started by the previous administration, The Madness of Art offers a patriotic playlist (after the jump) different than most, one in which musicians use their voices and artistic ability to speak truth to power.  Read more…