Work: Surviving the Arts

Exploring issues of sustainability in the arts.

~by Scott Pinkmountain

 

Raft Building

 027-2

I built a raft. I think it’s sturdy, I think it will hold, hell I even think it looks pretty good, but my opinion doesn’t count for much. I spent a huge amount of time working on it – designing it, sketching out plans, building models and prototypes, testing individual pieces, assembling it, tearing it apart and starting over again. And this was after basically a lifetime of preparation.

I’ve been building stuff since I was young. It wasn’t always rafts. Sometimes buoys or canoes, or go-carts. I even built a small glider once. It flew almost fifty feet. But for the past few years, I’ve focused entirely on rafts. I studied archaic and contemporary designs, I consulted with expert builders, I immersed myself in the raft-building community. I even got a two-year accredited degree in Raft Craft.

And then I hunkered down and built the best raft I possibly could. It took years. Continue reading

Work: Surviving the Arts

Exploring issues of sustainability in the arts.

~by Scott Pinkmountain

On Ambiguity

 

Below is a written conversation between the composer/songwriter Michael Zapruder and myself. (MZ in italics)

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A week or so ago we were talking about ambiguity in songwriting (or the lack thereof in the case of a particular song of mine). It’s something we’ve spoken about at length in the past, and a creative principal I’m strongly committed to. And yet, for some reason, which maybe I’m still struggling to articulate, I intentionally avoided a high degree of ambiguity on some songs I recently wrote. I understand and cherish the value of ambiguity – its expanded potential for meaning and interpretation, its grounding in realism and the lived experience, access to a greater depth and resonance – but I wonder if it’s a necessary ingredient in all art. Can there be some creative circumstance that call for limited ambiguity or none at all? If so, what might those be? If not, is ambiguity the defining element that separates art from entertainment (or something else, some non-art expression)?

I think writing or music or any art is too contextual to single out one element, even something as important as ambiguity, as a defining element. I see ambiguity as having a special status, but your question makes me think of David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest, large parts of which consist of the annihilation of ambiguity, really. So there’s an unforgettable and wonderful book which emphasizes extreme accuracy and thoroughness, not ambiguity. That’s also an answer to your question above, about whether there can be some creative circumstance in which ambiguity is a bad thing.

As to your question about ambiguity in art vs. entertainment, I find it really hard to make any definite connection there. What does a pop lyric like Lorde’s “We live in cities you’ll never see on screen / not very pretty but we sure know how to run free” really give you, specifically? Not much. It might even be “bad” writing, since it’s so general (You can’t really judge a lyric without its melody in my opinion). Still, the vagueness really stimulates my imagination. “Cities you’ll never see on screen” reminds me of pretty much everywhere I’ve ever been. In my mind, that’s the power of ambiguous writing right there. Continue reading

Work: Surviving the Arts

 
Exploring issues of sustainability in the arts.
 
~by Scott Pinkmountain
 
Excessive Celebration

It’s football season. Or was when I was writing this. I have a shameful, dirty secret, which is that I love football. It’s a newish infatuation that’s grown rapidly over the last few years, so maybe it will dwindle as infatuations often do. I’m kind of hoping it does because I’d like my Sundays and Monday nights back.

A big part of what I love about football is the potential at the beginning of each game, each play, that a new combination of actions is about to occur, and it could be anything. It could be a useless plodding scrum, or it could be a majestic, near-super-human record-breaking feat. The excitement at getting to witness some unique, spontaneous moment in real time is the same thing that drew me to improvised music in my teens. It’s all about the stakes, the risk, the unpredictability, the desire to accomplish the near impossible, and the potential that it could happen at any time. Continue reading

Work: Surviving the Arts

Exploring issues of sustainability in the arts.

~by Scott Pinkmountain

“Advice Column”

PANK1

I’ve taught songwriting to college students some, and a few months ago I received an email from a former student. He caught me up on where he landed after college and sent me some of his music to check out. Then he added:

I’ve played a few shows at some bars around Portland and have a streak going of quieting the room, which has been super encouraging. But, I was wondering if you had any advice for going further with my music. I don’t really have any idea where to go from here, or how to take the next step or anything.

P.S. I also got my first short story published a few months ago. Though being a school bus driver for the year made it a constant struggle to pay the bills, it gave me plenty of time for writing, and that’s been totally worth it.

Continue reading

Work: Surviving the Arts

Exploring issues of sustainability in the arts.

~by Scott Pinkmountain

 

Don’t You Know Me?

 

sunrise at the train 113

 

“I’ll be gone 500 miles when the day is done,” read the bottom of the plastic bin where I placed my cell phone, wallet, pen, gum, loose change, pocket lint as I passed through security at JFK airport this summer.

Actually, it said:

“I’ll be gone 500 miles when the days is done.”
City of New Orleans, Arlo Guthrie

It was part of some quasi-inspirational marketing campaign by an unnamed outsourced agency trying to garner my affection for an international commercial transportation depot. Or something. Except instead of affection, it filled me with anger, sadness and defeat. Continue reading

Work: Surviving the Arts

Exploring issues of sustainability in the arts.

~by Scott Pinkmountain

City Walls

 

Out grabbing a quick burrito one night shortly before I moved away from the Bay Area for parts sparser, I got swallowed into the grinding, smoggy gridlock that throttled the streets of my distinctly not-fancy Oakland neighborhood. I marveled at the density –

cars, trucks, busses, pushcarts – seeing it through my new, exiting eyes. We could power the planet by harnessing our wasted energy, spun wheels. So much determination, so much frothed agenda to clearly signal that we’re all too busy to deal with each other’s needs – every man unapologetically for himself. I poked at my tinny horn as a Planet Crusher almost pancaked a biker. The cyclist swerved, the SUV did not.

I used to bike to my day job, constantly debating whether or not it was worth it. The softened carbon footprint, light cardio workout, and open-air engagement with my environment were pitted against the taxing of my thyroid as I’d dodge to avoid violently negligent drivers. Venomous thoughts poisoned my spirit and soured my pluralistic ideals when people enacted the worst, meanest characteristics of the stereotypical versions of themselves. Not to even mention the pollution, the risk of catching a car door, a bullet, a social disease from one of the used needles littering my path. It was a calculus of value to determine the worth of self-betterment. “It shouldn’t be this way,” I’d catch myself thinking at least once a day. Continue reading