I have to confess, I’m not a poet. I’m not a particularly good musician either (in my opinion) and I’m by no means a serious photographer. By virtue of the hundreds of songs that I have written, perhaps I can entertain the idea that I may be a songwriter of sorts …but even that’s not a given. ‘Hack of all trades’ is the best way for me to describe whatever it is I do. Master of nothing. If I had put all my creative efforts into one discipline/direction then sure, I could be something somewhat noteworthy. I lack that persistence though. I’ve never really had goals either, now that I think about it. I just liked to create. Or, as I was recently reminded, to make things. It’s fun …and it’s fulfilling in wonderful and important ways. For me that is.
I remember a conversation a few years ago with a young songwriter who had been lucky enough to experience ‘success’ early in her teens by having the opportunity to cowrite with some reputable names in Nashville. I was impressed with her accomplishments (not of her current material per se, as I recently had to learn it and didn’t think it was anything special) and dismissed my little ‘closet writing experiences’ as somehow inferior to hers. I got a chance to talk about those silly notions that I figured all of us songwriters experienced, and said something along the lines of “Isn’t it just great when you finish writing something and it feels so right that you can effectively fall of the face of the earth and still be happy!?” She looked blindly at me though, obviously never having experienced such a thing. I realized then that she might not only be too young to understand, but that I was perhaps a bit ‘different’. But then we all are I suppose.
My creations are somewhat summations of my experiences. I’m far more ‘fartsy’ than artsy when it comes to creativity in general (I don’t at all buy into the tortured, troubled, sensitive, introverted, misunderstood artist who emotes in exotic, multi-syllabled words and layers) but I honestly feel that every song I write is something representative of my character at that time; whether it be a lyric, a melody or a particular sound. In every poem too, there’s a phrase or a word or a rhyme that identifies something of me at that moment it’s made. Through shades and objects and forms, photos also echo that which is often hidden – or not! In hindsight, every creative act I engage in, at some point in its process, contains something of me. To varying degrees of course. As for the final product itself, why that’s just my adhd attempt at expressing …something. And I have to emphasis the word ‘attempt’ here.
The tools you have at your disposal though, are reflected in that final product. School is a great example …as learning how to effectively shape and mold that which you create will no doubt refine that creation; it will better represent whatever it is you want to say. The same can be said for your life experiences, the people around you or your understandings of the world. However, I feel there’s still something primal about the process that doesn’t depend on excessive practice, rehearsal or discussion. At its root, creativity in the hands of a child in grade school can be as equivalently rewarding as that experienced by a seasoned artist. After all, isn’t it often the case that the old look to the young for that wayward exuberance or fascination they once had? Doesn’t the adult strive to relive that lost child-like sense of awe …constantly struggle to retain that inner child themselves?
That desire to explore and to make sense of your place, regardless of the methodologies attached, is the primary motivation of any artist. Be it through finger painting or through symphonic composition, it is the struggle that matters most …not the output or the medium used; these are but markers. I have no doubt that creation can come about machine-like or through exercise and routine, but any stroke, note, sentence or crop owes its life to that initial desire. Any ‘product‘ pays homage to that inspiration that came before it, and I feel it’s this exploration that defines art more so than any net accomplishment or benefit to an observer. Art, like I’ve often said about Science, is but a process.
And this is how I reconcile my status as a hack; for as much as I care about my product, I care more for the way I come about it. Toying with words in pencil on paper while hoping to trace a story that races through my brain far too fast to pin down; looking at that which I have looked at a thousand times before and finding yet more by frame and mirror; having sounds in my head drift outward and then back again endlessly until they form a series that might represent something more than their parts …all these things I cherish. All these experiences. Not necessarily some end goal that pulls me along with promises of an effective finality. There will always be another best after all. There will always be another product …another photo, another song, another poem. And I will always enjoy making them.
Although, I’m still not a poet.
