Prescribed Burn

It’s the little things that get to me. The tiny little things that no one else picks up on, or gives a second thought to-- that’s the shit that gets me excited. That’s what moves me, what inspires me. I’m a details man, through and through.

Tonight I saw a movie, a damn good one. Movies can inspire me, and often do, much the same way that music or literature can, though I am neither a filmmaker, a musician, nor a writer. It’s all art-- I’ve talked about this before, I think. Maybe it just feels like I have. This movie was, in part, about talent, and genius, and creation, and the price of all those things. Any movie like that is bound to get my blood flowing.

There was a part of the film set in a study, and on the wall was a picture of a dandelion. Was it a print, a photo, a drawing? I couldn’t tell; it was only on screen for a second. But when I saw it, something clicked. I was on already because of the film, and when I saw that, it just clicked in my head, and it made sense. This picture of a dandelion just fit somehow, and for the rest of the movie and the whole way home, and even now as I’m typing this, part of me is still on it. The image is floating around in my mind somewhere, waiting to be attached to some larger whole, waiting for its moment. Meanwhile the picture itself is probably in a box in some studio warehouse, or in a garbage heap. Never mind. I got it, that’s what matters.

Something else clicked on the way upstairs to my apartment. I was thinking about this image from the movie, and I realized what a terrible mistake it would be to try to shoehorn it into this larger idea or body of ideas that I’ve been toying with for the past few years. Why bog down this new image with a bloated and unwieldy concept that has nothing to do with it? It’s a perfectly nice image-- it doesn’t deserve that. For that matter, why do that with any of the images I’ve been interested in lately? For some reason, I thought of it as surgical vs. medical-- if the idea is broken, no amount of time or work is going to fix it. You’ve got to cut it out entirely.

Example: I have a post that I’ve been working on for a week and a half, about family and family history and the impact of our ancestors. I’m not a writer; I need very specific circumstances to produce anything worth reading. Every time I sat down and started typing on this entry, I’d hit a dead end about two paragraphs in. I’m not a writer, but I know that two paragraphs is hardly compelling material. So I stopped, closed the file, and came back later. Six times I’ve done this now-- it’s not happening. The entry just isn’t there. I want to write it but I can’t. The idea is broken. Deal with it, move on.

That’s the whole issue, isn’t it? It’s not separating the good ideas from the bad, ‘cause any idiot can do that. You think that makes, you special, you think that makes you talented? Please. It’s a matter of throwing away the ideas that are good or interesting, but don’t seem to work, or aren’t a part of what you’re trying to do. Or in my case, throwing away all the old ideas, so you can start to understand what you want to do. I’ve got great ideas. I’ve got ideas in abundance. And I love them. But they don’t all fit together, and because I love them anyway, I’ve tried to force them to. It doesn’t work that way. Toss out the old clutter. Burn down the forest, make room for new growth. Anything worthwhile will come back.

I’m thinking about the dandelion and the fish and the apple and the library, and I’m not worrying about what they mean in the larger scheme of things, because there is no larger scheme right now. The old one’s broken, and I don’t want to keep fixing it. There’s just these images that I want to use, these portraits that I want to do, this landscape that I’ve been wanting to tackle. Work, for Christ’s sake-- the patterns will emerge on their own like they’re supposed to. Stop trying to be so damn clever. Stop trying to come up with ultimatums or rules.

(And yes, I’m aware that that’s what I’m doing right now. And no, I don’t care. Shut up.)

You know, my favorite scene from one of my favorite movies is not actually in the movie. It’s a deleted scene from the DVD. It’s perfect, fucking brilliant, really, but it doesn’t belong in the film. It would just take away from a great film. So I appreciate it on it’s own and don’t worry about the big picture. That’s what I’m talking about. I need to make room for stuff like that. If it fits, fine, if not, that’s okay too, but for god’s sake don’t shove it in where it doesn’t belong. The difference between good and great art is all in the editing.

I don’t know how much sense I’m making now. I just realized how tired I am and how much I just want to go to sleep, but when it hits you, it hits you, and you’ve gotta get it down. My original plans for the evening fell through, but I’m glad I saw the movie anyway. Tomorrow I’m going to get up and draw because that’s what I fucking well do, damn it. Whatever else it might be, it won’t be a waste of time. Anything beyond that I’m leaving up for grabs for a bit until I get myself better oriented.