Thanasimos
07-24-2011, 04:26 PM
Most of us who make art of any kind have been making it for a while. Since we began, we have all, I hope, improved. Some of us may hate our early work (sign me up, holmes!), and some of us may like it a great deal, but I suspect most of us have still moved on from it in some noticeable way.
I want to see two pieces from you, of any kind; one that you would consider your early work, and then something indicative of your current product. I won't even hold you to "early" work, so long as it's not current work. To clarify, I don't want to see your crappiest work. It should all be mature works with merit to them. People who draw should not be posting stick figures; people who write should not be posting essays from the fifth grade.
One of the reasons I am starting this thread is because I'm curious about some of our more talented individuals (Ink Asylum, what did your[i] start look like?), and also because for those of us like me, who maybe aren't too fond of our early material, it can actually feel really good to air it out in front of people. It's cathartic or something.
I'll start. As I'm primarily a songwriter these days, that's the theme I'll be keeping. I do not have the first song I ever wrote and performed on me. That is intentional -- about a year ago, I scrubbed it from existence. Forty people heard it played a little over two years go, and it will never be performed again. I have forgotten almost all of it, and I am glad of that. It sucked.
But I found something from a touch earlier than that the other day, as I was digging through my hard drive for the lyrics to a song I had partially forgotten when I came across this. It has no name. I vaguely remember writing it, and can roughly date it to the summer after high school, which would make it right around three years old. Incidentally, that means I wrote it before I could play guitar or sing; when I still had only dreams of doing either. It is about an alcoholic neighbor I had growing up. The text follows:
-----------------------------------------------
Left behind, little abandoned big man
in a world too small for his great needs.
The expanse of emptiness weighs on broad shoulders
that a stronger man would bear, if on his knees
But he drained his pain into a cup
and drank 'til it was all gone. Drank
Enough to kill the weight away twice,
with enough left to douse a burning bridge's flames higher.
The slope of his decline complemented his proof
so nobody noticed 'til the angels came.
He shooed them away, "too dead for me"
and left a trail of destruction wide and
so long it needed supply lines.
Proven colorblind by lights and dead by pulse
hospital woken simple spoken smile broken
shoulders cried over and eyes smiled in.
Here was a soul empty enough that it could fill others'
And he tried his best; what he didn't have he gave Them
And in those moments he was happy,
But he took that and gave it to Them too
The natural way of things in man's troubled times
And like all good investments it grew:
Into a child and a house with a minivan attached
Where the sun rose and set over roofs across streets
But the grass grew ragged when the minivan died
And the child, man or woman, left
Some day we wake up already drowned
Mothers cry!
-------------------------------------------------
If I had to guess, I had been reading some e.e. cummings at the time. I hate the first verse, and dislike the third (reading it now, I kind of like the second verse, at least the first half!), as on the whole the work is too heavy-handed. I have in general moved on from this style. At the same time, many things which are now central to my work are already present this early! (Mind, this song is three years old, and I began writing songs I was competent enough to play two years ago). It touches on my fear of becoming a cog in the suburban machine, and it brings up mortality. I probably thought it was super-duper deep when I wrote it. Barely seventeen, and by god I knew everything.
Of course, this isn't complete without a modern example; then, this is something I wrote a few months ago. It even has a name: [i]Blink. It's about what happens if you don't.
----------------------------------------------------
I was sitting on pavement nursing my two broken arms
When a man came up to me, said "I can see you future, and boy, it's looking dark
"If you don't think you can make it just come along with me and I'll guide you toward the light
"Don't you know, boy, don't you known boy, don't you know it's looking dark?"
"There's a place just out of town where once the sun goes down there ain't nobody around
"But the moon sleeps so pretty over there, you could stare, you could stay with her all night
"And don't you know boy, that that is what you need -- to just get up off your feet and float right out of this town?
"Don't you known boy, don't you known boy, don't you know it's looking dark?"
Well I declined politely, said I had viewed his moon nightly and knew there was nothing for me there
But reminders of time on my little square of pavement wondering how I might fare
And all I really wanted was a say in where I ended, be it heaven, be it hell
So I'd sit there, waiting for a real choice to come along
He sang--
"If you don't blink your dead eyes might oxidize and fall out of. . .
"If you don't blink your dead eyes might oxidize and fall out of. . .
"If you don't blink your dead eyes might oxidize and fall out of your head"
And the next man came along, said he was looking for a sad song
Said he had found it in me, that I could look in his eyes and believe
Said, "Just listen to you, boy! Don't you know things ain't been half bad?
"But now I've got an interest in you -- I'll make your wishes come true! -- just hear me out right now
"Your mind is sharp just like a razor blade
"But you just use it to cut, cut yourself down"
"But you too, my son, shall have a taste of that power you so crave
"Do you really think there are better ways to end your days?"
Well I declined politely after I considered his dishonest words
Said I'd not listen to Belial, any god or any angel, just the same
And he sang--
"I taught Lady Day to sing those blues
"I marched Judas to his noose
"You can do as I say or you can let those fools lead the way
"If you don't blink your dead eyes might oxidize and fall out of. . .
"If you don't blink your dead eyes might oxidize and fall out of. . .
"If you don't blink your dead eyes might oxidize and fall out of your head"
----------------------------------------------------
My style has clearly shifted in the interim time. As can be seen, it's more literal in its approach to story-telling, and is not so focused on eschewing normal song structures, as mainstream songs don't have choruses because they're mainstream; they have choruses because without some model of repetition music is at least inaccessible, and choruses are one way to introduce that. I also learned that there's nothing terribly wrong with being a little mainstream and accessible.
So, how did you guys start out? And where are you now? Early photos, early paintings, early songs, early knits, early drawings, early poems, early anything. I want to see them!
I want to see two pieces from you, of any kind; one that you would consider your early work, and then something indicative of your current product. I won't even hold you to "early" work, so long as it's not current work. To clarify, I don't want to see your crappiest work. It should all be mature works with merit to them. People who draw should not be posting stick figures; people who write should not be posting essays from the fifth grade.
One of the reasons I am starting this thread is because I'm curious about some of our more talented individuals (Ink Asylum, what did your[i] start look like?), and also because for those of us like me, who maybe aren't too fond of our early material, it can actually feel really good to air it out in front of people. It's cathartic or something.
I'll start. As I'm primarily a songwriter these days, that's the theme I'll be keeping. I do not have the first song I ever wrote and performed on me. That is intentional -- about a year ago, I scrubbed it from existence. Forty people heard it played a little over two years go, and it will never be performed again. I have forgotten almost all of it, and I am glad of that. It sucked.
But I found something from a touch earlier than that the other day, as I was digging through my hard drive for the lyrics to a song I had partially forgotten when I came across this. It has no name. I vaguely remember writing it, and can roughly date it to the summer after high school, which would make it right around three years old. Incidentally, that means I wrote it before I could play guitar or sing; when I still had only dreams of doing either. It is about an alcoholic neighbor I had growing up. The text follows:
-----------------------------------------------
Left behind, little abandoned big man
in a world too small for his great needs.
The expanse of emptiness weighs on broad shoulders
that a stronger man would bear, if on his knees
But he drained his pain into a cup
and drank 'til it was all gone. Drank
Enough to kill the weight away twice,
with enough left to douse a burning bridge's flames higher.
The slope of his decline complemented his proof
so nobody noticed 'til the angels came.
He shooed them away, "too dead for me"
and left a trail of destruction wide and
so long it needed supply lines.
Proven colorblind by lights and dead by pulse
hospital woken simple spoken smile broken
shoulders cried over and eyes smiled in.
Here was a soul empty enough that it could fill others'
And he tried his best; what he didn't have he gave Them
And in those moments he was happy,
But he took that and gave it to Them too
The natural way of things in man's troubled times
And like all good investments it grew:
Into a child and a house with a minivan attached
Where the sun rose and set over roofs across streets
But the grass grew ragged when the minivan died
And the child, man or woman, left
Some day we wake up already drowned
Mothers cry!
-------------------------------------------------
If I had to guess, I had been reading some e.e. cummings at the time. I hate the first verse, and dislike the third (reading it now, I kind of like the second verse, at least the first half!), as on the whole the work is too heavy-handed. I have in general moved on from this style. At the same time, many things which are now central to my work are already present this early! (Mind, this song is three years old, and I began writing songs I was competent enough to play two years ago). It touches on my fear of becoming a cog in the suburban machine, and it brings up mortality. I probably thought it was super-duper deep when I wrote it. Barely seventeen, and by god I knew everything.
Of course, this isn't complete without a modern example; then, this is something I wrote a few months ago. It even has a name: [i]Blink. It's about what happens if you don't.
----------------------------------------------------
I was sitting on pavement nursing my two broken arms
When a man came up to me, said "I can see you future, and boy, it's looking dark
"If you don't think you can make it just come along with me and I'll guide you toward the light
"Don't you know, boy, don't you known boy, don't you know it's looking dark?"
"There's a place just out of town where once the sun goes down there ain't nobody around
"But the moon sleeps so pretty over there, you could stare, you could stay with her all night
"And don't you know boy, that that is what you need -- to just get up off your feet and float right out of this town?
"Don't you known boy, don't you known boy, don't you know it's looking dark?"
Well I declined politely, said I had viewed his moon nightly and knew there was nothing for me there
But reminders of time on my little square of pavement wondering how I might fare
And all I really wanted was a say in where I ended, be it heaven, be it hell
So I'd sit there, waiting for a real choice to come along
He sang--
"If you don't blink your dead eyes might oxidize and fall out of. . .
"If you don't blink your dead eyes might oxidize and fall out of. . .
"If you don't blink your dead eyes might oxidize and fall out of your head"
And the next man came along, said he was looking for a sad song
Said he had found it in me, that I could look in his eyes and believe
Said, "Just listen to you, boy! Don't you know things ain't been half bad?
"But now I've got an interest in you -- I'll make your wishes come true! -- just hear me out right now
"Your mind is sharp just like a razor blade
"But you just use it to cut, cut yourself down"
"But you too, my son, shall have a taste of that power you so crave
"Do you really think there are better ways to end your days?"
Well I declined politely after I considered his dishonest words
Said I'd not listen to Belial, any god or any angel, just the same
And he sang--
"I taught Lady Day to sing those blues
"I marched Judas to his noose
"You can do as I say or you can let those fools lead the way
"If you don't blink your dead eyes might oxidize and fall out of. . .
"If you don't blink your dead eyes might oxidize and fall out of. . .
"If you don't blink your dead eyes might oxidize and fall out of your head"
----------------------------------------------------
My style has clearly shifted in the interim time. As can be seen, it's more literal in its approach to story-telling, and is not so focused on eschewing normal song structures, as mainstream songs don't have choruses because they're mainstream; they have choruses because without some model of repetition music is at least inaccessible, and choruses are one way to introduce that. I also learned that there's nothing terribly wrong with being a little mainstream and accessible.
So, how did you guys start out? And where are you now? Early photos, early paintings, early songs, early knits, early drawings, early poems, early anything. I want to see them!