Now is that Gratitude

Art is a refraction of the artist through our own lens. In some cases — in many in fact — the work for the artist to make that light bend is difficult. Sometimes fatal. Always painful. But it happens, and somehow when it works we’re all better for it.

The show moves on. The music moves us. Life itself finds a soundtrack and the music fades.

The last few years have not been great for me in many aspects, and I’ve been very fortunate in others. But pervading everything is this sense of disconnection, and an attempt to tether yourself back. It’s too easy to fade up and out of the machinations of outrage and despair, and hard to find your way back. We’ve had plenty of outrage and despair.

My way was always through music, and some music proved especially anchoring at the right times.

Last week, in the middle of a pre-show reception I got to say thank you to someone that wrote a lot of that music. To say “thank you for writing it down.” To hear back how hard it was, and what it took to do so. That his own struggles to write it nearly mirrored my own as I was listening. We talked mutual friends, kids of the same age, living in Los Angeles. Of the reluctant appreciation for how difficult the beautiful can be.

But more I just needed to say thank you. To express gratitude to someone who took their demons and put them to tape, so I had a place to rest mine.

It was nice to express that gratitude.

To tell the artist: thanks for letting everything out, so I could take it in, and through that keep going.

Now on with the show.