RTomens, 2021 |
Paper collage of words cut from an old newspaper. No, the old papers are not the source of the moths that also inhabit The Cave, honest, I tell LJ, because they're also eating her clothes - the bastards! Like a moth to a flame I can't keep away from words and letters. I'm still learning to read the signals buzzing around in my brain because like alien transmissions they need decoding - is anybody there? So I cut up words as if scrambling 'the message' will make things clearer.
When told that Wayne Shorter sounds like scrambled eggs, Art Blakey replied "Yeah, but it's the way he scrambles 'em!" Wayne's playing was considered to be 'weird' by some, understandably, because if you listen to his 60s albums for Blue Note as leader and member of Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers there is something very 'weird' about his playing. Not weird as in 'Free', although he obviously felt free enough to test the boundaries; but weird choice in ways to go, or ways to begin a solo as on this classic, Afrique...
...Afreek! Wayne, what the hell are you doing starting right down there?!
When I come over all pretentious I tell anyone who asks (one or two have) regarding my methodology in making art that it's comparable to a Jazz solo - I told you it was pretentious. But, yes, a lot of us artists improvise, of course. Another song springs to mind, the one that asks 'Do you know, where you're going to?' - the answer is always no. To continue the Jazz solo analogy, if I may and you can't stop me, I'm definitely more akin to soloists in the first 50 years than the long-players of the second half. I usually work quickly and like some of the best players, get in, get the job done and get out, not before I bore the non-existent audience, but before I bore myself.
With that in mind, I'm off now to finish a collage.
TTFN
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