Like I said, in 2009 I gave up on criticizing the mainstream ideals or things like “celebrity culture” because, well, there’s a lot of it that just plain disgusts me, but an equal amount that fascinates me, as is life. With that, I’m going to also try to complain less about the weak notions of art and “pop,” etc. Well, I didn’t give up on criticizing it (because I’m not dead) but I’ve started to understand it a little more. And I’ve stopped fighting it. Fighting it damages me more than it. But things like American Idol that I don’t respect? I get them now. As much as I’m going to, at least. I may not join in, per se, but I understand.
New thoughts on the matter:
-Like what you like.
-Do what you do.
-Accept that your art is not for everyone.
-Conversely, don’t freak out if no one gives a shit for the things you “like.”
-Don’t be a cocksucker about things that others like, especially if others are intelligent.
-Something something fingerbang (because that’s my new favorite word)!
-You probably don’t know shit about shit. Teach when you can, but more importantly, be ready to shut up and learn.
-Make art when you can. Life is hard, it’s true, and it’s rough. It’s so rough. But it’s also temporary. It flies right by. But, before you go, put something on your walls, on your bookshelves, on your shrine of self or whatever, okay?
And that last one comes with a special caveat for writers. Partly because I think I’m going to talk a little, just a little, and in a very abstract way, about writers this week. But here’s some advice for writers: Write. Magic elves don’t bring you respect and money and credibility and beaucoup fingerbanging just because you declare yourself as a writer to a universe. Do a little living, make some decisions, see some weird shit, do some weird shit, and then do some fingerbanging. On the keyboard, that is.
Anyway, separate from writers and back to “pop art” in general… And what’s the most poppiest of the current pop shit out there as far as I can tell? Lady Gaga.
She looks like what I imagine slowly going insane feels like. And I’m not complaining. There’s just no point. She’s not necessarily my thing, but I find her to be an interesting bit of current oddity (even if my particular bit of gravamen is with the unnecessary pomp of it all)(though maybe it’s unnecessariness is what makes it so necessary?). The strange dada pop star. That place where music becomes experience turned into bad romance? A culture reflected back on itself through a disco ball? Also, this:
That’s Amanda Palmer, formerly of The Dresden Dolls, writing a song, a “blogsong,” if you will (in lieu of writing a blog post) about things like Lady GaGa and pop music entitled “Gaga, Palmer, Madonna.” I like this because, I like Amanda Palmer, it’s relevant to something I wanted to talk about, and Palmer has a thematically connective tissue to something like GaGa, to me, but is certainly at the other end of the popularity spectrum (unfortunately), right?
I discovered the song via Neil Gaiman’s blog (they’re dating), and they were apparently having a private discussion about things like pop art and Lady GaGa and she responded by making the song/video, which fascinates me. Every once in a while you need to immerse yourself in the medium to discuss the medium. Plus, Palmer raises some interesting questions not just about making popular art, but what it’s like to be a woman making popular art today.
Food for thought while you’re thinking about being artistic, yeah?
And now I shall leave you with one of my favorite pure pop songs: