Chris Cornell, former (hellified!) lead singer of Soundgarden and Audioslave died May 17th in Michigan after playing a sold out show as part of the reunited Soundgarden's tour. Early confirmed reports say that he committed suicide by hanging himself in the bathroom of his hotel. His wife was shocked and grieved by his sudden departure, as were his many fans who were looking forward to seeing him perform. He had a full slate of appearances scheduled. Cornell was only 52.
He was in Worcester, MA last summer to do a show at the Hanover Theater. I never got to see him. Another flame of creative passion has been snuffed out for reasons that I cannot, and we cannot begin to imagine. I will be sad if the cause was related to addiction. Or depression. Sad because we still don't understand these things. Sad because it continues to afflict all of us.
Nothing else to say here. So I leave you with his music and with sadness that he cannot bring us more joy through his distinctive gift.
Chris Cornell
Born July 20th, 1964
Died May 17th, 2017
Rest In Peace
We were not ready for you to leave us.
Also, in other news, Gregg Allman died last week on May 27th. He was considered one of the pioneers of what has been called "Southern Rock". He was also the co-founder of the Allman Brothers Band. He was 69.
Last year this time, we were still reeling in shock and sadness over the sudden death of Prince on April 21st. I attempted to write about it at the time, but no words seemed adequate to describe what he had been, the sheer enormity of his talent and prodigious productivity or how the loss of him would reverberate. He was an incandescent flame of creative energy. We all feel the darkness now that he's no longer here.
Last year this time, we were beginning to suffocate as the news media was giving us unprecedented coverage (and an unprecedented amount of air time) to a simpleton, rage-fueled, attention whore, racist, erstwhile billionaire TV personality who was aspiring to the White House. He figured his scheme of being outrageously xenophobic enough, unbelievably "politically incorrect" enough might actually work. Meanwhile, many of us underestimated him, including me.
Last year this time, with the Paris Climate Accords having been signed in NY in April (the day after Prince died), we had hope that we were finally as a planet going to get a handle on climate change. Innovation and technology are leading the charge ahead of actual government policy, which I think is encouraging. Our collective creativity may yet win the day.
The conclusion I'm drawing here is that despite the turbulent and even savage times we live in, we are finding inventive ways to create lives that work, or at least work better. Take this story about an art studio in Manitoba, Canada that helps people who are mentally ill (which is to say suffering from things like depression, schizophrenia, etc.). They lost a federal grant which was worth $100,000, but the community stepped up and gave $153,000 to more than make up for the loss. This was reported just yesterday on the Good News Network. This is just one example of the ways in which we all find ways to "keep on keepin' on", as the old song goes.
The results can be pretty damned awesome.
More Later
KCD
P.S. The song, by Gladys Knight and the Pips from the 1970s is called "I've Got To Use My Imagination". Appropriate for these times, no?
The moment that many of us have dreaded since November 8th has finally arrived. Donald Trump was formally sworn in as President of the United States on Jan. 20th, 2017. It's probably the most scandal plagued administration that ever took office in the history of the Republic, as recent events are bearing out. Out of respect for my peace of mind, I am now ignoring the 24-hour news cycle and selectively reading stories that catch my interest.
Noting that, as this is a blog about art, the new president, consistent with Republican ideology will attempt to make dramatic cuts to things that we know to be public goods, such as Social Security, Medicare, funding for public education, healthcare, and the arts. Things such as the CPB (Corporation for Public Broadcasting which helps fund NPR, Sesame Street and Masterpiece Theatre), the NEA (National Endowment for the Arts) and others are once again in the crosshairs. Now, to be fair, funding for the arts has never been particularly robust at the federal level. In fact, according to a new analysis by Salon.com writer Scott Timberg, the previous administration's commitment to arts and culture funding was less than his predecessor, George W. Bush, who I note with continued shock, in his post-presidency, has taken up painting!
The new administration's budget blueprint calls for eliminating these agencies altogether. It's basically a symbolic move to show voters that they're serious about eliminating "wasteful spending". The truth is the combined money spent at the federal level on arts and culture is a scintilla of the overall federal budget. We still spend more on defense that the next 7 nations combined. What would happen if that were inverted? What would happen if things like inspiration, beauty, and reflection were actually priorities of local, state, and federal governments? What would our country, and indeed the world look like?
Whether these cuts happen or not is really dependent on people standing up and saying "NO" just the way we should be saying "NO" to the renewed and really quite tired attempt to slash Social Security and Medicare and all the rest. We must once again prove that engagement with art (having it and making it) is beneficial to the public and worth public investment.
There is a lot of research that shows that it is. Without these things we become more savage, less able to think and reason deeply, less contemplative and reflective, and more prone to the simplistic and reductionist ideologies of racism, misogyny, homophobia, and authoritarian-style strongman rule.
In other words, since our public investment in arts funding has been historically abysmal, I would argue it is part of the reason we have Donald Trump in the White House and not someone who truly represents the best of the US. The best of us. Now I understand that this is more political than this blog has tended to be, and I have heard the argument that the arts and artists shouldn't be political. Art shouldn't be provocative, or so the thinking goes. But it's precisely because art is provocative that repressive governments attempt to eliminate art from the public space. There's historical precedent for what's being contemplated here, and it's why we all need to make our current government STOP THIS. Ultimately, we the people have the power to stop yet another idiotic and cynical attempt to cut something that does a tremendous amount of good for a relative pittance.
Do the math: $448 million to the CPB vs. $54 BILLION for our military apparatus.
My return from blogging purgatory is greeted by a new, grim, surreality. It's called Donald Trump as incoming President of the United States. What the hell happened?
Well, simply, 61 million people voted in the states that mattered in the Electoral College and on November 9th, the rest of us woke up in this alternate universe. And you thought "Flashpoint" was just a story arc on "The Flash".
People are imagining the worst possible scenarios right now in a Trump Administration. It's not unreasonable to assume that at least some of that could happen. I've spent nearly two weeks in a near fetal position waiting to be awakened when it's over. But I've also spent the last few months doing what I do: making art, and that takes on renewed and critical significance given the new landscape. So while journalists and sages (we call them "pundits") report the details and provide analysis, I will continue to do what I have been doing, what I would have been doing if Hillary Clinton were the incoming President of the United States. From that perspective, nothing has changed. If things were the other way around, there would still be a need for the kind of breath of fresh air that living with well-made art of all kinds brings. There would still be the need for beauty and deepening of soul. There would still be the need for the kind of emotional and mental reset that art brings.
We would still have divisions to heal in this country, hurting and angry people that haven't been listened to or tended to for a long time, people who haven't benefited from this "recovery" that the current administration is so proud of. Unfortunately, that anger has given oxygen to the very worst elements of our political expression.
So I would say grieve if you must. Go through the stages, ride the waves of emotion that will surely surge. God knows I am. But when those waves recede, and they will, remember that this wave will recede as well. It's already happening in the UK as people rethink Brexit.
David Bowie is dead at 69. He fought an 18 month battle with cancer that apparently no one knew about except his family.
Alan Rickman, a.k.a. Severus Snape (and the bad guy in "Die Hard", and the Sheriff of Nottingham in "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves" who chewed the scenery while Kevin Costner attempted, badly, to affect a British accent) of the Harry Potter franchise is dead at 69. Apparently he had cancer as well and kept it a secret.
Now, here stateside comes word that Glenn Frey, founding member of the Eagles has died of a variety of illnesses relating to arthritis, ulcerative colitis, and pneumonia. He was 67. The Eagles had completed a two-year tour called "History of the Eagles" this past July. The tour came with a 3-hour documentary on Showtime that was quite compelling.
We're not even 3 weeks into 2016. What the hell's going on? Well, on one level, there is a very natural passing on of life. People like me grew up listening to the Eagles in the 1970s and were trying to figure out just who or what the hell Ziggy Stardust was. Alan Rickman was already 28 years old when he started his career as an actor. No one had ever even heard of him. Now, Don Henley calls the day he met Glenn Lewis Frey in 1970 a moment that changed his life forever. The proof is in the pudding obviously. But that was 45 years ago.
WHAT??
By the time Alan Rickman cast a contemptuous eye on his unsuspecting students at Hogwarts Academy as Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master, his career as an actor had spanned 25 years. And David Bowie was long past his Ziggy Stardust, gender bending days by 2001. A mere 15 years ago. In my mind, and in the minds of many others my age, these people, these artists were doing amazing things, and I was still a kid. I hadn't figured out anything. So it's a shock when these people suddenly pass because we're still looking up to them to inspire us, to lead us. Maybe to let us know that there's still time to sort it out. One more spin of "Heartache Tonight" or "New Kid in Town". Or one more turn of "Let's Dance" or "Fame" by Bowie. One more time watching Rickman as Snape or the Sheriff of Nottingham. One more time around. Where's that VHS?
Oh. It's a DVD now. No. It's BluRay. Or Netflix. Or Hulu. Now you can see it (or hear it) on these little mini-computers that allow you to make phone calls. They're called "smart phones".
Smart phones? It took me hours and a search to figure out how to just answer the goddamned thing when a call comes in. I feel pretty dumb to be honest.
And I feel blindsided.
And I don't really care a damn that these people have had pretty amazing lives, done pretty awesome things and have now moved on. It's too damned soon. I wasn't ready for them to leave. I'm just beginning. How will I know whether I've got it right? When did it happen, when was the moment that I stopped being a kid? I was always in awe of these people. Like so many of us.
Now, we have to take the stage ourselves without them. Swallow the fear as they must have. Lean into that uncertainty and fling ourselves out there. Look to catch the wind and soar as they did. They were here to inspire us, but they couldn't very well fly for us, could they? Nor could we very well expect them to stay and watch. Something has ended. We feel that. But the time for our own uniqueness in this world has only begun. And it can't happen if we wait for the next great thing these people create while our own greatness languishes, while our own music still has yet to play. So maybe the way to remember these and others who've passed and who've left such a mark (like Lemmy Kilmister of Motorhead, and Mic Gillette who founded Tower Of Power) is by noting that though their time has passed, ours has come. And we're ready.
But first we mourn:
David Bowie (born: David Robert Jones January 8th, 1947; died: January 10th, 2016) Alan Rickman (born: Alan Sidney Patrick Rickman February 21st, 1946; died January 14th, 2016) Glenn Frey (born: Glenn Lewis Frey November 6th 1948; died January 18th, 2016)
Working artists all. We were not ready for you to leave us.
Rest In Peace.
"Let's Dance" by David Bowie
"New Kid In Town" by the Eagles with Glenn Frey on guitar and vocals.
The Sheriff of Nottingham in "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves" played with relish by Alan Rickman.
Wherever in the world Paris Hilton is laying her head tonight, I'm quite sure her last thoughts before drifting off to sleep will not be about me, or my little blog where I, among other things, skewer people like her and the Kardashians and the pop culture landscape that celebrates (yea, worships!) anything that promotes style over substance.
How do I know this? For two reasons. One, why should she? She exists in another realm and breathes another kind of air than I do. She doesn't have to care what I think. She's made a ton, several tons, actually, of money trafficking on her looks and on a carefully crafted version of herself that represents the kind of vapid, clueless celebrity that people like me roll their eyes at. But today I got a bit of an eye-opener after reading a fairly detailed story about her inBroadly. Behind the baby voice, and the doe-eyed, air-headed affect is someone who does in fact know what she's doing and understands that her persona is, in a way, a bit of performance art. In other words, ladies and gentlemen, Ms. Hilton is acting. She's giving us a show. She's tried her hand at acting and at music while we all thought she was just looking for something to occupy her time, but if this story is to be believed, her dance card is plenty full. Always has been. From New York to Paris to L.A. and back. Rinse and repeat. She's been having us on the whole time. There's probably not a lot of social critique going on in all this. It's just something that happens to work for her and has made her quite wealthy and famous. From a business perspective, this kind of shameless self-promotion works. She's not the only one who's tried it, and it's essentially harmless compared to the horrific bombast of Donald Trump, who will not EVER get to be president, and whose only reason for campaigning is to promote his monumental ego.
He actually doesn't care a damn about the job of president anymore than Paris Hilton cares what I think. Which leads us to reason Number Two why Paris Hilton cares not a damn what I think: she's said as much. In the aforementioned article, she says, "I don't really care what people think about me." I take her at her word. My noting is of this phenomenon of faux celebrity that she's a part of and helped create. She, and the Kardashians and a bunch of others are a mirror for this culture of no-think. Of distraction. And, to be sure, a bit of it is fine. Just like a bit of McDonald's so-called "food" is fine.
You just don't want to mistake it for the real thing and make a steady diet of it. The effect, over time is deleterious. With that understood, I will say that like so many of us, I was fooled by the image of a shallow celebrity party-girl which is in fact, a brand being fleshed out by a rather attractive and canny young woman.
Well played, Paris. Not that you care a damn what I think. Nor should you.
Feast your eyes, friends. Maybe there is yet a functioning brain in there. But, as a friend of mine put it recently, "The brilliance only goes so far."
On Sept. 25th, Apple released its newest iPhone. The iPhone 6s and 6 Plus. According to published reports, 13 million of them were sold during launch week, with 10 million of them sold during the first three days of the launch. CEO Tim Cook announced that although they may look familiar, "we've changed everything about these new iPhones."
Oh, goody. Just when you were figuring out how to update your Facebook page with this thing, they go and change EVERYTHING. Just when you were figuring out how to speak in Emojis on your Twitter feed, they go and change EVERYTHING.
And did I mention that without a contract, these devices start at $650? Now, lest anybody think that I'm just "hatin'" on new technology, let me say that there do seem to be some pretty cool features with this upgrade. The camera features by themselves make this fascinating for the true tech-heads among us. The always on Siri feature could become a bit annoying in the way that Number Six was a constant distraction for Gaius Baltar. And it's safe to assume Siri bears no resemblance to Tricia Helfer.
A rep at the local Verizon outlet told me they were only getting 40 iPhones to sell initially that first day, and that there'd be a line stretching round the block. I didn't go check but he may have been right. Poor bastard had to work that opening too.
Ye Gods. Behold what Steve Jobs hath wrought upon the earth! Behold his second coming (or third or fourth; he died Oct. 5th, 2011) in every new iteration of the I...fill in the blank. There's a new movie out now about him, exploring his complexity.
I just find it a curiosity that a man so obviously brilliant could get people to plunk down a sizable chunk of change every time one of his digital offspring reproduces after its kind, so that they can go take "selfies" at a baseball game. I'd like to think Steve Jobs' legacy would not be another generation of mindless sheep, or worse, tech-starved addicts. Unfortunately, we have a predilection in this culture to lionize CEOs, to gather by the hundreds if not thousands and incline our ears for the next bit of "wisdom" these people might drop on us.
It's just another sales pitch, people.
But the multitudes stream forth from the event as if from some revival, and before you know it, everyone you know has the shiny new trinket, eyes glazed over, updating Facebook statuses and refreshing Twitter feeds and sinking into blissful oblivion from the lights on the tiny screen.
Go forth and consume. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile.
