I want to share some of my music projects with you. Most were written in English, but several were adapted in to French. Here is one, a ballad called “Tout les Silences”, sung and adapted in to French by Barbara Nicoli. Arrangement was by Mathias Schuber. I wrote this song in my home studio in Paris. It is just one of many Pop-Rock songs I have written over the past 20 years.
The irony of success is when we lose ourselves in it. The fickle thing is that everyone wants it, not everyone has it and even when we do, some are not able to handle it. As our society today considers fame and fortune to be the Holy Grail of our sense of purpose, living a life in an attitude of a happy medium is hushed as insufficient. Yet it is shattering to hear the news about great talents leaving this world prematurely. Just these past few months we saw the loss of two, Alexander McQueen and Michael Jackson. How disturbing to think they had what many would consider to be the winning lottery ticket of life: fame, fortune and success. Or did they? What made them and so many others get lost in (their) success?
It is obvious that they lived under extreme pressure to succeed, which ended up absorbing life out of them. Discovering their past childhood, we realized how their dysfunctional families had made their short-lived lives difficult and unhappy. While no one family is perfect nor needs to be, the ability to cope and to have a balanced life would bring out the best potential in all of us. How to overcome failure and challenge is vital for success, and having emotional support from loved ones is crucial for survival. Both seemed to be missing for Alexander McQueen and Michael Jackson.
Of course, there are those who argue that their childhood was what caused their genii, their source of strength and their drive. However, it remains difficult to think an insufferable and miserable upbringing can bring out the genius in someone when most specialists believe geniuses are born as geniuses regardless of their environment. Look at the genius talent of Pablo Picasso who was nurtured as a very young boy. His euphoric artistic career excelled beyond belief while living a life of harmony with his art, friends and family to a ripe old age of 92.
There are exceptions, where the horrible ‘family legacy’ of a painful childhood brought out delicate sensitivity and a subtle visionary, such as Doris Lessing.She coped and survived thanks to her fantastic imagination which led to her happy vocation as a writer, earning her the Nobel Peace Prize. In this case, her agony and memories led to her creativity. This shows two opposed cases of possible sources of success: what must be remembered is the importance of awareness in dealing with what life brings, making the best out of it, by keeping harmony and balance, even when doing so seems impossible.
Below a great documentary “George Michael, a different story” showing how he dealt with success and almost drowned in it during the “Wham!” period… And what was needed: A heavy dose of business acumen to learn how to swim with sharks.
I’ve never been a big RAP person. More in to Alternative Rock, Rock, Pop-Rock and R&B.
But Die Antwoord (which means The Answer) from South AfriKa are really Special. They can Rap at 50,000,000 Miles Per Hour and have some really interesting melodic content blended in to the Mix. Their lyrical content is controversial and worth listening to. It says a lot about the human condition in a sector of South AfriKan culture that is an in your face stark revelation. It also gives one a behind the scene’s look at South AfriKa’s financially underprivileged white minority. Yo-Landi the female in the group is quirky, strange and sexy. I want to call their style of music “Punk wRap”. Why not, it’s like a Punk backlash and Rap wrapped in to a hybridized melting pot. Die Antwoord will be touring in Europe and North America later this year. Could be a real cultural eye opener for all of you Rap Aficionado’s. Have a listen…“Enter the Ninja”
Here is a recent interview with Die Antwoord, just after their first concert:
I have so many stories about my life on the Fashion Battle Field, I don’t know which one to share first.
Should I do my Kim Alexis story, Bert Stern story, Andie MacDowell story, Janice Dickinson story or… ???
Ok here goes “She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me, she loves me not…”
Well the flower petals have chosen the Bert Stern story. You probably all know who Bert Stern is. If not, he did the last sitting with Marilyn Monroe and has shot for everyone from Bazaar to Vogue and everything else that is considered credible.
Several years ago when I was living in Mid Town Manhattan on East 58th Street and only in New York for about 6 months, I got a call from an Art Director named Michael Aprigliano who I had shown my portfolio to several weeks before. It was quite late in the evening and his voice sounded quite frenzied and panicky. I said “What’s wrong Michael?” He asked if he could come and see me with a colleague of his from the Ad Agency and said that he had an urgent problem to solve. It was already 10:00 PM and I was sufficiently curious to comply and said “Sure, no problem, come on over…”
Michael arrived at my place around 10:30 PM with his female associate and sat down and spurted out, “I have a serious problem and we are hoping that you can help us out…” I sat and listened. The next thing that came out of his mouth was a question. “Ben, have a look at this image and tell me honestly what you think of it.” He went in to his attaché case and pulled out several Medium Format slides and selected one for me to have a look at. I asked him to wait a moment and brought out a small light box to have a closer look. On the slide was a very pretty model standing against a gray back drop with a tiny squiggle of light that kind of looked like a light worm just slightly off center from where she was standing. I looked closely at the image and felt rather embarrassed and didn’t quite know what to say. I looked at Michael and asked, “what do you want want, a diplomatic answer or my personal opinion?” He looked at me for a moment and said, “please, tell me what you think of this?”
I starred at the image for what seemed like a very long time and said, “Michael, I don’t really know how to say this, but, ah, well, ah, it kind of looks like a first year student in photography school attempting to shoot a fashion story…” Michael desperately looks at his colleague, glances at me, looks at her and starts to speak really quickly with her almost forgetting that I am in their presence.
“What are we going to do, we have already shot three days and it is costing us a fortune, what should we do?” She looked at him and said with a very firm voice, “We have to pull the plug!” Michael with a grave look on his face says , “Ben, how quickly could you be available to shoot for us?” But before I could answer, they commence a flurry of back and forth dialogue at 100 kilometers a second and finally blurts out, “We Can’t Continue with Bert!”
The room fell in to total silence. You could hear a feather drop. I felt sick to my stomach and could hardly believe my ears and responded, “Bert Reynolds…” just to lighten things up and the first Bert that came to mind and honestly not really wanting to believe the Bert he was referring to. I could not even imagine that the Bert that they were referring to could be the Bert I knew as a celebrity.
Michael looked me straight in the eyes and said, “No Ben, not Bert Reynolds… Bert Stern.” I screamed out “No way Michael, there is no way I am not doing a re-shoot for Bert Stern, Are you crazy??? he said “You have to… Please!” I said “Bert Stern is one of the greats, this can’t be happening!”
Michael said, “Look Ben, we want exactly what you showed us in your portfolio that you did for “New York Fashion District News”. That is the atmosphere we need for this shoot. I asked, “What is the shoot?” Michael “It is one of our biggest clients Dayton Hudson’s and it is the Dayton Hudson Christmas Book.” You will be shooting with Elle MacPherson, Andie MacDowell, etc… etc… etc… It is a seven day shoot and you need to start tomorrow.
I looked at him and took a deep breath and said “Okay on one condition…” he said what’s that? “That I can get my assistant John Naschinski in LA to fly in to assist me.” He said, you got it. I picked up the phone, called John and got him on a flight from LA that evening for our shoot the next morning. We shot at the Broadway Studios at 19th and Broadway. I had to stay up till four in the morning preparing for the next day discussing the shoot with Michael.
Everything was prepared for the shoot except the painted backdrops which we ordered first thing in the morning for that day and commenced hair and make-up and all the other stuff that one does for a fashion shoot.
The morning was moving along quite smoothly until… Are you ready for the punch line?
Next door, there was another shoot happening. I think it was for New York Times Fashion Magazine. I went in to the hall way and looked on the blackboard to see who was shooting that day. My jaw hit the floor! It was Bert Stern shooting for them and to add to that it was Bert Stern’s Birthday, because on the blackboard it said “Happy Birthday Bert.” I guess he was on second option and was canceled the evening before, opening him up for New York Times.
A couple hours later, I see a guy walk in to my studio. I look at him and know his face right away. I think to myself, “Oh shit, what am I going to say?” He speaks to someone in the studio who points at me and Bert turns towards me and approaches me quickly. He puts out his hand and says, “Hi, I’m Bert Stern.” I stutter out, “Bert… Bert, I am really sorry I had nothing to do with this, I am so sorry really I am…” I could see in his eyes that he knew how uncomfortable I was feeling and said “Don’t worry kid, we all have our bad days and anyways it’s my Birthday!”
I looked at him, took his hand, shook it and said “Happy Birthday Bert, have a Happy Birthday.” I think I got a piece of cake during the day. The shoot went really well and the catalogue is still in the archives of Target Stores who purchased Dayton Hudson’s. I am trying to get a copy from their archives department, which has been a logistical nightmare. The good news is that it has been archived.
So, is there a lesson to be learned from this? I think so. We all have good and bad days. Learn to turn the page. Have dignity and try to remain humble. One more thing. Bert was a true Gentleman and showed no malice towards me and that in its own right was a valuable lesson for me.
Well there you have it. Just one of my many stories from the Fashion Battle Field.
A simple epiphany without the guidance of The Muse.
Have you ever watched a child draw? Have you noticed how deeply absorbed and focused they are while they draw?
Have you visited a group exhibition of children’s drawings created during their early formative years? I have. What struck me was the overall “sameness” of the work. The use of very basic primary colours. Simplistic two dimensionality. Little if any depth of field. Why if they are encouraged or feel compelled to continue as they get older does their work take on a different personality? Different colours? Alternate realities and subject matter?. Different levels of technique and execution?
“Body Of Work” is here, let’s see where this goes…
Someone who designs a single house is not an architect. Someone who writes a single song or set of lyrics is not a songwriter. A person who owns a musical instrument is not a musician. A single drawing or painting or photograph does not make an artist nor a photographer. The raw talent may be there but is only in it’s embryonic stage… As I’m writing this unfettered by preconception, I remember hearing this term, “Body Of Work” for the first time by Dennis Hopper. All we have as artist’s when all is said and done is our “Body Of Work”. A body of work is like a road map that finitely lays out a path, a chronology. The progression of ideas and concepts becomes evident. Perhaps even a unified style becomes obvious. It is the signature and fingerprint of the creative spirit that only an extensive body of work can lay bare for both the artist and the onlooker. Without this vital commodity there is nothing to judge, evaluate or appreciate… It is the essential sub conscious goal, obsession for those who’s paths have been chosen. Without the body of work there is no definitive creative personality, no common denominator. Nothing to discuss.
Asking to judge or critique a single piece of work is meaningless. It’s tantamount to judging someone predicated on a single word, or taste just one spice in a complex recipe.
“Body Of Work” is a series of milestones that establish where the artist began, where he or she is now and even possibly foresee where they are going. The body of work for an artist is his or her legacy as much as a stock portfolio or assets are for those driven by money and material gain. A gallery, or record label, or book publisher will not take you on as an artist based on a single painting, or song, or word. A single work perceived by others as genius may inspire them to follow your progress or even assist in your development, but it is the “Body Of Work” that rules supreme. Without it how can you or anyone else understand where or who you are? This path that has chosen us is not for the faint of He-Art! The Muse has left the building… I will now stop…
It’s back. I’m not sure why I was left with “Body Of Work”. It’s obvious to me right now that it won’t be pursued during this writing.
Hoping it’s tossed at me again at a later date. Right now what is resonating within me is, acceptance of praise and criticism and the meaning of Art to the onlooker, the listener and the reader. A seminal moment has been revisited for me. My first major tour with an important artist. I was the drummer. Big show in Detroit. Backstage after the show, we were asked if we would sign autographs. We consented and were led out the stage door to be confronted by security holding back about a couple of hundred people (fans).
A very young couple approached me with the tour brochure. The very young man, also a drummer handed me the brochure nervously. He told me that I had now become one of his favourite drummers and would I sign the the booklet? I immediately started to thank him profusely. I also asked if he wasn’t sure that he wanted the autograph of the artist I was backing up. I continued to humble myself before him and his girlfriend. He snatched the booklet from my hands and they both walked away. The seasoned tour weary artist was within earshot. He approached me saying “do you think that the fans want to know that you are normal like they are”?. Whether you like it or not, you are on a pedestal. In my case it was a drum riser. He went on to say, “just accept the compliment with grace, sign the damn thing, then do the same with every other fan” Do it with dignity and humility. Accept the praise. Don’t be arrogant about it. You have touched someone very deeply. Let them leave with great memories of the “encounter”and especially if it’s a fledgling musician, allow them to be left with the possibility of realizing their dreams. Maybe one day they too will be up there on the world stage. Interesting. Lesson learned.
I know that I can only do what I’m capable of. If it resonates within someone, that’s wonderful If it doesn’t, I’m not going to quit! I have received as much praise as I have criticism. What separated the artists from the boys is the obsessive compulsion to get the work out there. Once it does, the critics and admirers come out of the wood work. A thick skinned resilience is a requirement. A balanced perspective of who you are and what you do is paramount. The realization that you have so much left to learn is the fire that has to keep burning. I guess this applies to all walks of life, but it is a much more intense dynamic as an artist. It gets very personal. You are challenged by emotions that are inspired by both the criticism and the praise.
My first show in Paris was both an uplifting experience and an awakening. The gallery owner insisted that I be available at the opening to speak to potential patrons and collectors. I have always been a performer, but never in that venue. I told the gallery curator that this might be a bad idea. Upon his insistence I gave in. There was an elderly, very well dressed woman who was watching from afar. She sat observing me in a chair, cane in hand. I was helping myself to a glass of wine when she finally approached me. She asked if I could stand in front of one of my paintings to answer some of her questions. I of course had to comply. She was very intelligent and soft spoken. She said to me, and I’m only paraphrasing, “There is a lot of symbolism in your work. I see the suffering of humanity, the Joy of Humanity, highly ordered rhythm and movement, well placed and planned colours, layers of meanings and messages”. Am I correct?”. I stared for a moment avoiding her eyes. I finally said without looking at her “If that’s what you see, then it’s there” I knew that the conversation shouldn’t continue anymore, but she persisted. I/you, have to understand that I wasn’t quite there as a painter who had yet accepted this romanticized “on the pedestal” perception of the artist.
So she asked the inevitable question: “How long did it take you to paint this work?”. What came out of me was “All my life”. She smiled approvingly. I hoped it was over. I was nervous, drunk and under the microscope. She then asked “What inspires you, how do you do this?”. What came out of me was something like: “My inspiration? How does this come out of me?”. “Think of me as a monkey, who with enough time, attempts and lot’s of alcohol and drugs finally puts out something tolerable!”. Both her and her smile quickly went away. I couldn’t deal with being on the pedestal. The gallery owner couldn’t deal with my unpredictability. He suggested that it would be better if he handled the “schmoozing”. My band played. I was relieved. Hadn’t thought about that one for quite a while. I don’t sabotage myself as much as I used to… This one is over… Later?… Again, sorry for typos, etc… It’s the way it is…….
I was going to do something else right now. I was outside having a smoke. Something came in again. So I’m sitting here getting it out before it goes away. Three words:
- Sacrifice, Selfishness, Balance.
When that “moment arrives” it’s only you tapping into and following that energy (Muse?), before it disappears. All else becomes peripheral. All else disappears. It becomes a one man / one woman journey, fired by the fuel of the Muse. Like a free lance who can’t predict when the next job or project comes in, one has to be immediately available when it arrives. If not, you lose it. The same applies here. There is therefore an element of sacrifice. The hours you could have spent with your loved one, a best friend becomes an impossibility unless you are willing to let The Muse go away. So sacrifice is one of the conditions.
It seems as if sacrifice and selfishness are profoundly connected in this process. It is an event that only you and The Muse share. Everything and everyone else is excluded. Again, one can elect to walk away from that moment. I am too weak. I need to be available when that unpredictable opportunity knocks at my soul’s door. So selfishness is a component element.
Balance? Interesting. We are human beings with needs. Unless you live alone on a mountaintop, there are real life issues and problems to take care of. Food, shelter, health insurance (I live in the USA!), rent/mortgage/car payments. Supplies, music gear and accessories, clothes, entertainment. All things necessary in modern life. How can one balance between the obsessive act of creation/expression and survival? Does one work at a job, if they’re still out there, to support your art?
Do you just work enough to get by in order to fuel the art?… Do you make the ultimate sacrifice by reducing your life necessities to bare survival level in order to concentrate entirely on this obsession? As of this writing, I don’t have the answer. As of this writing, I know that I have done all of the above. I have been religiously selfish. Have made many sacrifices, both financially and relationships wise. As of this writing I do know one thing for sure. This applies to my own personal experience and journey. Having something to “fall back on” introduces the element of “comfort” that will and does suck the life out of the sense of creation. Comfort will kill “The Muse”. I know I would “asleep at the wheel” if I lived comfortably. I don’t want to suffer for my Art. I think that’s a bullshit romantic perspective that exists in the realm of urban myth and movies.
I don’t think any artist struck out and followed The Muse to live a life of suffering. So Balance has become a very important word/component of The State of The Artist. A phrase was just tossed to me. “Body Of Work”… And again if anyone ends up reading these ramblings, sorry for typos, side trips etc… It’s being written as it’s being delivered to me… Later
What is Art?
