Trying to light a fire without a spark

And why make art about it

Sparks for everyone! Photo by Peter Yost on Unsplash

Moving to LA has been hard. I have lived in a handful of big cities for various amounts of time: San Francisco, Paris, New York, and now Los Angeles. Living in LA makes me realize how small the other cities were, really. In more walkable cities, the danger of being new or out of place is feeling alone in a crowd or vulnerable on the street. In Los Angeles, the risk is feeling alone in a car, for hours at a time, days on end.

‘Where is everyone?,' you wonder as you are stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the 10 highway. It’s easy sometimes to forget that you are SURROUNDED- literally, there is often no way out- by people in their vehicles.

Being stuck in LA traffic reminds me of the time I ate a corner off my friend’s edible at Outside Lands and got way too high because I’m a huge lightweight. I found myself coming down slowly while smashed elbow-to-elbow in a crowd, waiting for the Paul McCartney concert to start. I would have left but the throngs of people were pressed so tightly together that there was barely any room to bend my knees, much less reach the exit. As I do often in LA traffic, I felt disconnected completely from the feeling of my feet on the ground and the thousands of people around me constricting my movement. I felt alone in my meat suit just like I often do in Athena, my humble 2007 Camry.

I know this is a bit cliche to talk about traffic in LA, but the reason I bring it up is it has led me to spend a lot more time listening to Top 40 radio. Athena, despite her road warrior chops, has no working charger outlet. So instead of selecting my own music, I save my phone’s battery for the thirsty Google Maps app and play radio roulette looking for a song that I haven’t heard three million times. Or have and still enjoy.

The randomness of the songs that come on the radio does not keep them from often reflecting my state of mind. I mention this because we all can DJ our own playlist to reflect our mental state. But after 9 months of listening to the radio and still feeling my own life reflected back to me in some vague way, I started to think about the way musicians, and artists in general, express their personal experiences through art.

Take for example the excellent song “Dancing in the Dark” by Bruce Springsteen.

It’s the story of a man working the night shift and trying to write a novel in his spare time. But one problem, he’s lonely and uninspired. He wants someone to help him rekindle his passion. Maybe it’s you, random woman in the crowd? Cue jump cut to Courtney Cox.

When I heard Dancing in the Dark recently, after a week of working too much alone in my studio, I was like omg, yes.

As a single person and creative producer living in LA, I too was tired and bored with myself. And yes, I could also use a little help. Despite my feelings about gun control, I would have loved to hire a young Bruce Springsteen to help me get excited about life again.

While we don’t necessarily believe that Bruce the musician has been working the night shift with his buddies down at the factory, we do believe that he has been to that same dark emotional space. And we are comforted that he is there to offer us a sexy light to find our way out.

One of the problems I have is when I am burned out I continue to try and make the work I was making when I was excited and inspired. Or I try and write about things that are not my current experience. And so I get bored. I try to elevate myself to where I think I should be and talk myself out of it.

Sometimes it works, but often I lose my motivation because it doesn’t feel authentic in the moment. Listening to “Dancing in the Dark” with fresh ears showed me something important. I could honor exactly where I am at any given moment and make art that matters and connects with people. As artists, despite what the market says, that is part of our job.

Maybe like the handsome young Bruce Springsteen, I am supposed to be sharing my tough experiences, or even seemingly small (often petty) irritations, for a greater purpose. (The universe was like ding, ding, ding.)

And this is one of a couple sparks that lit my fire to start a Substack. Sadly Bruce Springsteen was not directly involved.

Is it also possible that we go through challenging experiences for the express purpose of communicating our journey through our art to help others? Maybe as a storyteller and an artist, I am meant to be a channel through which these experiences or themes play out. And it is my role to process and share them through my writing and art-making.

Is that why bad things happen to us, or is it just a handy coping mechanism? I think it can be both. Our stories help those who come after us just like seeing the work of others can be an inspiration during our own trials. God knows there are enough songs and movies about how weird LA is, so I don’t have to look too far for that.

Is there a time when you felt a negative experience led you to make art that then went on to help others?

For your next Art Date

The Love Darts. This band followed me on Instagram so I looked up their music. I was super excited to find that their music rocks. They sound like a blend of The Ramones, The White Stripes plus a dash of The Strokes. As long as there are energetic young people, punk will never die.

Bad Sisters. A captivating murder mystery about 4 Irish sisters living in Dublin and one abusive husband who dies in the first episode. Like Big Little Lies meets Derby Girls.