Scenes of a Movie

Another Scene, II

Character A: "Sometimes I just look at other artists and I am inspired by them. I look at David Lynch's hair, for example. I look at Nick Cave wearing a suit and sipping coffee, or smoking a cigarette. I see Tom Waits in his hat looking melancholy or crazed at the piano-- I see these, in my opinion, great artists, and I think maybe I could do that, or, at the very least, could try. What is that? What do you think that is?

Character B: "Hm, yea, interesting, I don't know. What do you think it is?"

Character A: "I feel we, or I, know them as great, I don't know if they know themselves as great, you know? Like we are not aware of any alleged struggle that they've been through, you know? I mean with those examples I assume there was struggle, I guess there was despair, but probably not as much about the things I would think if I asked them... I guess we kind of invent these other lives for people, based on our imaginations of them: how they act, what they've been through. Maybe we know some specifics, maybe we have some jumping off points, maybe not. Maybe when I think about Leonard Cohen, when he was writing, well, when he was able to write [slight laughter] I imagine him toiling away, wearing raggy clothing, rocking back and forth on his heels in the corner of a hotel room, waiting, pressing towards, trying to force the next line though the aether, you know, poking or slapping at the muse, really just sweating it out, looking for the rest of the line, or the beginning of the next one. And then after it's done, just continuing on. I mean the decision to even start and try to create something is bigger than most people imagine, I think, I mean to say or think 'well I could do that' and then to try and begin, to set ink on paper.... sometimes even just getting the materials in order could be too much, you know?"

Character B: "The materials? The paper?"

Character A: "Yeah sure, paper, pens, pencils... if you're a writer. If you're painter you need paper, canvases, paints, brushes... you need to be able to clean them or somehow care for them... you need to be able to replenish the paints when they run out, you know... buy more canvases. I don't even want to THINK about being a sculptor, you know, how the hell do you get marble? Or a big rock to even attempt something epic? Something outrageous? Sure, you start smaller I guess, but I can't imagine you just go picking up rocks at 'Arts R US' or something... could they stock that? It might take up the whole back room! [studio laughter] Then you figure if you want to write a song, you need to have some general understanding of how music works... I mean, you write a poem, you basically write the poem, then anybody can read it, you can write it and read it over and over.. but a song? You have to notate how the song should go, right? How are you going to do that if you can't communicate to another musician? Maybe you have the lyrics, right, but what about the rest of the song? How are you going to say 'do this' when you want this, but 'do that' when you want something else? This I think gets taken for granted. I think people just assume artists go into a room and come up with something either good or bad, and that's it."

Character B: "But isn't that exactly what they do?" [canned laughter, slight applause]

Character A: "Yes, in a way, but they need the ROOM and the TOOLS to do it. I'm saying art comes with its own limits, its own constraints. Ignorance of these restraints then results in the general public, or the viewer or consumer of the art creates a DISCONNECT between the piece of art and the psyche of the unwitting consumer. But I mean, isn't that what we all are here in capitalism land? Unwitting consumers? Maybe that's an art I should get into... exploitation. Then it doesn't matter if the consumer knows or doesn't know... maybe it's best if they know, if they know the rules, then they'll play by the rules, but either way they'll keep consuming because that's the fundamental point of capitalism, right?"

Character B: "I suppose, sure. Well, why don't we hold onto this until next time, eh? We're just about out of time. Please make sure you pay the receptionist on the way out... she told me last week you forgot."

Character A: "Heh, yeh, I guess. [muttering under breath] speaking of capitalism..."

Character B: "Well I think you're making some progress here, getting back to talking about art, rather than dwelling on anything else that you may be holding on to.. that's good, I'll make a note of that. I'll see you next week, then, take care."

Character A leaves the room and walks to the receptionist, grabs a breath mint and winks at her, and leaves the building. The receptionist kind of grimaces to herself and checks her wristwatch. A few more hours.

END SCENE.