VIGILANTSY

Some days just look better than others. The specifics are irrelevant. Sunshine, clouds, doesn’t really matter. I’ve felt like a million bucks on a crappy gray day only to wake up the next morning to sunshine and want to crawl into a hole. 

It’s all in my mind. I’ve got that part. The problem is, how to manage the void in between the 2 perspectives. 

Some people say, “find something to be grateful for, like just being alive.” Sounds nice, but that doesn’t always work for me. On a bad day, I don’t necessarily consider being human such an honor. Just because I might have it a little better than someone else, doesn’t mean the human condition is all that great. What about their dinner? We live in a place where the atrocious is not only possible, but a daily occurence. Our little sick bodies decaying, needing food and shelter, posturing for a better view for the ride down. 

But then there are those moments. You know…those transcendental moments when she laughs just right. Or when the sun hits the flowers on the bookcase from just the perfect angle. Moments that are sometimes experienced and sometimes just a memory hidden behind a veil of AAARRRRGGHHHH!!!!! But even then I still know they exist. I’ve had too many of them to forget.

Today is not my best day. I’ve annoyed myself twice this week and haven’t recovered yet. Once totally self-inflicted, the second time, partially self-inflicted. I’m usually am at least part of the problem when I feel like this. Today is no exception. 

It’s not that someone used my idea for something, it’s that they did it better. Then I said “no” when I should’ve said “yes” because I didn’t feel I had the money. I instantly regretted it, because I SWORE I wouldn’t do that again. 

Self deception is cunning and hides everywhere. And it thinks fast. 

Conclusion? I need to step up my game. Be more vigilant.

FLO AND WIMPY'S...SIT AT THE COUNTER!!!

I love old diners. Whenever I’m traveling, have some time alone, a couple of hunger pangs, and the opportunity, I’ll try to find the closest one and drop in for a bite. Maybe it’s the TV show “Alice” I grew up watching, with Flo, the trash talking waitress and her tarnished heart of gold, I don’t know. But there’s something about them. 

The best ones aren’t the big chains. A good diner shouldn’t be decorated by a district manager 1000 miles away. It should be smaller. More personal. That’s why the locals go there. And that’s who I want to see. 

The best way to experience them? Alone. Sitting at the counter. A table or booth is nice, and eating with a friend is a great way to spend an hour, but it’s not like being alone at the counter. If you really want a taste of what’s going on there, that’s the place to sit.  

Today’s choice? Wimpy’s Diner. I walked by a couple times deciding whether or not to go in. Little strip mall restaurants can backfire on you if you’re not careful. It’s got to have the right vibe and the blinding sun reflecting on the window made it hard to see in. But on my second pass, while looking for something else, I happened to catch the name on a sign partially hidden by the door. I couldn’t resist. Wimpy’s Diner. My mind was immediately launched back to memories of all the Popeye cartoons I watched growing up…”I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today,” Wimpy would say. 

I thought, “how can I not try this place?” 

I open the door to walk in, and it’s everything I hoped for. Red plastic booths line the wall, and there is an elderly wait staff that looks like they’ve been there for decades. Coat racks. Funky signs….and a small counter. 

“Counter ok?” I ask one of the waitresses? 

“Of course.”

I sit down and she hands me a menu. There’s one other guy waiting for a To Go order sitting next to me. He’s buried in his iPhone. 

There is something about going almost anywhere alone. Whether it’s just running to the local market down the street, or renting a flat in Madrid for the summer. It’s an opportunity. A simple smile or lightweight comment about how cold it is outside can lead to a deep conversation about childhoods, work issues, creativity or rocky marriages. That’s the thing about most of us. We want to connect. We’re looking for it. All we need is an open door. 

“When are you outta here?” One says to another. 

“I’m almost done. Who’s coming in?”

“I don’t know.”

“This salad is mine.” 

“Who’s garlic toast is this?” 

Suddenly I’m in the club. My proximity makes me inescapable. Sitting at the counter at Wimpy’s, I find myself included in conversations I would never get a glimpse of sitting anywhere else. It’s like hanging out with the staff while they’re working. They know I can hear everything, so they might as well include me. It’s beautiful. 

A group of elderly men who are obviously regulars get ready to leave behind me, and Tony, our waitress, gives one a hug.  

“I’m old” he says. “450 horsepower in my car was too much, so I traded it in. You get old and things slow down.” He’s talking to Tony, but he looks at me and shrugs. 

Tony responds, “We’re not older. We’re better” with a sarcastic grin. 

I decide to chime in. “Smarter.” 

They all smile, apparently unaware or unconcerned that I’m a stranger butting into their conversation. 

I hear one of the other men behind me say “I’m going to get a manicure. Then home for a nap.”

“WWWWhhhhhaaaaattttttt?” his friend can’t believe it. 

A few more flirty comments with Tony, and the guys leave. 

I eat as slowly as possible. This is to be savored. All of it. My burger is actually good, which is really just a bonus. I already got what I came for. The experience. I finish up, thank Tony and tell her how good my lunch was. We walk up front together so I can pay and be on my way. Finally I put on my coat, and walk out the door, leaving my new friends behind. 

Part of me wants to go back there tomorrow, but I know better. Maybe someday, but the glimpse I’ve been given into their world is as good as it will ever get. If I did go back tomorrow, I’m sure I would enjoy myself, but I’d be looking for an experience I already had. And in chasing the past, I would no longer able to see how beautiful it truly is there. It’s better to leave perfect alone. 

the LAAA

I applied and was accepted to the Los Angeles Art Association this week. I'm still finding out more about it, but the short of it is that I will have the opportunity to take part in more art shows in new places and meet some new people. It's the next step in a good direction. And any time I can say that, well, that's a good thing. 

UNSEEN at WUHO

A juried group photography show on exhibit until Feb 8th. It's sponsored by the Woodbury University's Schools of Architecture and Media, Culture & Design and organized by the Zone V photographic organization. I have one piece in the show entitled "Birthday in Amboise" from my "TRUST" collection. 

THE PARIS SHOW - ONCE IN A LIFETIME

I played a show in Paris a few weeks ago at an art installation on a footbridge over the Seine River. I haven’t really had a chance to assimilate the experience until now because I had 2 art exhibitions opening right after I got back. It wasn’t easy, but I got everything finished. The paintings are all hanging on walls now and I’m proud of what came out. The LA Brewery Artwalk show went amazing last weekend, and I’m looking forward to my opening at The Frame Gallery in Agoura next Saturday night.

And now here I am. And there I was. Paris.

I started this entry a couple times but ran out of words before I could do the experience any justice. It just doesn’t translate well to language. But I really want to share the experience with you, so I’m trying again.

When I got offered the gig, I was told there was no budget so they couldn’t pay for me or any expenses, but if I could get myself there they would love to have me. I didn’t commit right away while I wrestled with whether or not I “should” go due to the sad state of my finances and the fact that I had just had a vacation. Plus, I knew there was a distinct possibility I could wind up playing for 3 people. From a rational  perspective, it really made no sense.

But there was something inside me that just wouldn’t let me say no. I knew I HAD to do it. I was helpless. I knew it the moment Adrian and Ruth first offered it to me. I heard a voice say, “It’s Paris. This is once in a lifetime. Go.”

Just because something doesn’t “make sense”, doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a bad idea. “Sense” is overrated. My best decisions usually fly in the face of reason. So I listened to my gut and finally hit “send” on the email committing myself to go.

Woo hoo! Was quickly followed by…Eek! What am I going to play? I’ve performed at countless clubs over the years and some of my art openings, but never an installation like this. Somehow my “regular” set just didn’t feel appropriate. When I imagined myself on that bridge playing, I knew I had to do something different. Something new.

STEP UP 48"x36"
The steps at the St. Michel Station in Paris

The thing is, I feel a kinship with Paris. The first time I went there was in 2008. I spent a week there alone that altered me for life. I remember walking up the steps at the St. Michel station in the Latin Quarter after riding the train in from London, taking one look around, and feeling something I’d never felt before...comfortable. Comfortable in a way I never even knew existed until that moment.

It was beautiful. Yes. I was happy. YES! Ecstatic in fact. It was noisy, chaotic and strange. Absolutely. But the best word to describe the feeling I had is comfortable. It’s odd. And it struck me as odd at the time. There’s no other way to explain it. It was like unbeknownst to me, I’d been holding my breath my whole life until that moment when a silent, spiritual, gutteral sigh came over me...and then...everything was different.

It still is.

So when I got offered this gig, it was personal. I almost teared up when I imagined sound waves of my music floating, bouncing around and being absorbed by the city. This was a chance to give an offering of myself to a place that has given me so much.

I wanted whatever I did to make sense with the concept of the installation, which involved a connection between 2 things….people, cities, nations or lives (hence, the bridge). I stayed up nights for weeks concocting together a musical experience which I felt mapped the emotional terrain involved in moving from one place in life to another. I tried to throw away everything I thought I knew about music. I just pictured myself standing there playing….what feels right? Drums? Ok. A string section? Sure. I refused to worry about logistics. If it sounded beautiful or right, it went in. I worked until the last second getting on the plane. 

In the end I don’t know exactly what I wound up with, but i liked it. It would require me to play live with prerecorded backing tracks on my computer which I had mixed feelings about, but nothing else seemed majestic enough. So I went with it. 

I was fine until the day before. Then the doubts came. “What have I done? I would’ve been better off with etheric sound effects than a concert. They’re going to hate it. It’s an art installation, not a rock show.”

I was a basket case. I promptly blew the electricity in the apartment where we were staying because I didn’t use a transformer with my old reverb unit. I couldn’t get my head screwed on right. My girlfriend who joined me on the trip tried to talk me off the cliff but I was struggling.

Later that night we went to dinner with our friend who flew in from Italy for the weekend, and finally I relaxed. Trust, right? The whole concept of my show. “Nothing I can do now. I did this for me. As recently as yesterday, I thought it sounded good, so I need to roll with it. It is what it is.”

So I wake up the next day feeling good. We see a few sights in the morning and take the train to the bridge in the afternoon. It’s a beautiful day.

When we get to the bridge, I set up, plug in, and Adrian turns up the PA loud. Loud is good. We hang out for a little while, and then it’s time. I start with my light intro music and build up from there. The concept of the set opens with this naïve bravado kind of space, ultimately ending in a humble determination to continue forward. I turn my head to the left as the sun sets over the Seine. Sound my from guitar is everywhere. I can feel the bridge vibrate under my feet. I’m in Paris. Everyone is watching. Good crowd. I've never sounded quite like this.

It’s not often in life I can say I’ve had an actual and completely new experience. This was one of those times. Everyone was so nice and appreciative that I came so far and put so much into it. And this is where words fail me. As I profusely thanked everyone after my first set via Adrian who translated for me, I felt tears welling up so I stopped talking before it got ugly. Or beautiful. However you want to see it.

Two days later, we went to visit a suburb where I had another profound experience in 2009 and it’s as special and incredible as I remember. And this time I got to share it with my beautiful girlfriend.

The once in a lifetime experience I was hoping to have, I did, in fact have.

Today I feel different. Again. I’ve been changed. Again. And I can’t help but to see the irony in going to Paris to perform a concert about bridging the gap between 2 chapters of a man’s life, coming home to realize that the experience itself has carried me across the void to a new chapter in my own life. Art leading life. Or is it art reflecting life? Or is it the other way around?

Funny how things are. And all I had to do was say yes. Sort of. 

DEADLINES, TRUST AND 6 FOOT FLOOR LAMPS

It's been another long gap on here because I've been pouring my thoughts into my next round of artwork for a new show in LA in October, and some new songs I’m preparing for a special performance coming up in Paris. Deadlines are motivating, but they can also be stressful.  I don’t mind working a lot. I’m used to that. It’s not the hours. It’s knowing that I need inspired ideas to pull it off. Where will they come from? And how can I create the space for them to happen and still get all the associated work done? This is where I feel the pressure. And this is where trust comes into play.

I decided to use it as the topic of both shows. This idea of trust. Not so much trusting another person (although it applies here too. I don’t think we can truly trust someone else unless we trust ourselves at some level), but trusting that “the idea” will come. Trusting that things will work out. Trusting that little voice in my head that says “fix this bit over here,” or “perfect. Move on.” I grew up not listening to that voice. I’d listen to everyone else. Do you think it’s ok? If you do, then so do I. I defined myself by it, and I defined my success by it. It’s an idea I worked on for years, but the decision to change it was overnight. Some things really can be simple.

As an experiment, I stopped complaining recently. I stopped trying to troubleshoot situations. I stopped trying to give advice, especially when it wasn’t asked for. I realized how many of my conversations with friends, family and strangers centered around finding solutions to what was wrong. Wrong in the world. Wrong in a given situation. I’ve never seen myself as a “negative” person, but I didn’t realize how much evergy I was spending overcoming obstacles. Or helping someone else to do it.

What if it’s all fine? Not that I don’t look for solutions as I need them. I’m currently trying to figure out how to make 6 foot floor lamps with heads and bodies and ship them to Paris for my show. A solution I haven’t found yet and have about 3 more days to do it. But that’s far more interesting to me than wrestling with how I feel about my work situation or worrying if the money is going to run out. 

Now I feel boring. It’s totally hilarious. Conversations are shorter and I don’t have a whole lot to say. But I’m getting more done. And I’m happier. Whatever gets done for these shows gets done. Then I’ll go to the next thing.

I’m grateful for the opportunities I have and the beautiful people I have in my life (this includes you if you’re reading this).  Thank you for all the kind notes about my health. I continue to improve and think about it as little as possible. 

Here’s a painting I did for my current show in LA at Slash Salon. They're having an opening reception this Monday the 10^th. Please come and hang out. The night is free. Details here. 

SOMETIMES IT'S GOOD TO BE WRONG

I haven’t posted in awhile. I just haven’t had a whole lot to say. 

A lot has happened, but nothing has changed. Yet somehow everything is different. 

The right people keep saying the right things to me. I love it when I get into this kind of zone. I’m open. It can be hard to route water into a new direction when it’s eroded itself a nice, deep, comfortable trench. Rocks only pick up speed rolling downhill. Math tells us it takes an active force to change the course of any mass. Since no outside force in my life has come in to make a change, I decided I need to be that force. 

I have a good life by most units of measurement, but stress took its toll on me physically and emotionally. I was doing the “right things” in order to have a better tomorrow, “sucking it up” until this temporary situation passed. Basically, throwing away today. The thing about tomorrow is, it never really comes. I learned this from my travels. But evidently I refiled it in my brain. I forgot. 

My friend Michael said to me the other day, “do you really even know what you want? What if everything you wanted to happen when you were younger, actually did? Who would you be today?”  

He had a good point. Do I really know what I want? 

I thought I knew, but I wasn’t happy back then. Or fulfilled. One tiny avenue of creativity opened for me and I hoped that I would have enough “success” someday to branch out. But would that perhaps have made it worse? What if I actually made money and millions of people viewed me a certain way? Would the prison have been even more difficult to break out of? Probably.

I never would’ve been fulfilled creatively in my old bands. There was a whole other side to me I wasn’t exploring, didn’t even consider exploring, and didn’t believe in. Just a dull burn somewhere in my gut waiting for its day. 

It’s easy to look back and say “what if?” But what if this really is the better path and I lucked out? I remember wanting more spotlight. It was never enough. When the interview was over, I felt like I had just started. Sure, partly because I was young and just wanted the attention. But it was also deeper. I wasn’t getting “it” out. I had more to say and more to give. 

I feel differently today. All avenues are open and I’m grateful to be where I’m at. And I’m aware now that I’ve barely taken two steps down the path I’m now on. I’m reevaluating everything. What are the parts of me I’m afraid to show you? To let you hear? Where am I afraid to fail? That’s where I want to go.