What Is It Worth?

In the spirit of the recent election, let's talk about freedom of expression. Specifically, the artistic variety. I'm not one to debate something I know squat-diddly about.

Growing up within many artists' circles, I've seen a tragic number of my peers swing wide on this precarious lane, drunken with perceived expressive freedom, and plunge off the creative mountain they believe to be climbing into a void filled with unstable relationships, casual substance abuse & constant emotional conflict.

Speaking from experience, when you find yourself habitually using inner turmoil as a source of inspiration, it becomes the axle upon which your life turns. It's like an internal parasite -- you consume more and more raw material with the intention of supporting life, yet you grow increasingly undernourished.

In my heart, I have adopted the belief that the talent and drive to express ones' self artisically is a gift best tempered with a dual sense of social responsibility and the consideration for the psychological health of the artist and her audience. Let's face it: words, sounds and images are a powerful cocktail of influence, especially upon young minds who are striving to define themselves.

"As a man thinketh in his heart so is he." (Proverbs 23:7) How I wish someone would've scrawled these words upon my beloved Nirvana poster hanging on my wall when I was a young teen, directing me toward empathy and away from that back-of-the-bus, liquor-in-my-locker brand of apathy so popular amongst my peers and I. To this day, I encounter former classmates who are still paying for the ideas they bought into at a tender age. I occasionally still find myself struggling against these demigods I sought and served in my youth.

What if Kurdt Cobain hadn't uttered those quotes I painstakingly copied into my junior high journal? What if Jack Kerouac, with his pot and bennies and casual physical relationships, hadn't made it look like his rootless lifestyle was the most beautiful thing on four wheels? What if Tori Amos hadn't painted the Christians in her world to look like drooling, misogynist carnivores? How different would my young life have been if I hadn't known any of these artists' works? Would I be a lesser person, or would I be a less conflicted person?

Maybe that little Sunday school song that goes, "Oh, be careful little eyes what you see...." should've included another verse:

"Oh be careful little mind, what you conceive...."

In honor of the election...

...I'm sharing a beloved clip from Berke Breathed's discontinued Bloom County comic strip because it reminds me so, so much of the vocal exchange during election time.