Storytellersunplugged

Where Words Meet

ALL THE DEMONS OF RAGE, IN THEIR PROPER PLACE

(AND THE ART OF USING ART TO LET OFF STEAM, INSTEAD OF JUST WHIPPIN’ UP MORE)

[AUTHOR’S NOTE: The following is a slightly-modified essay that I wrote several years ago, for my column, THE HARD WAY. Faithful SU readers will be enormously grateful that it has nothing whatsoever to do with JAKE’S WAKE, and has more to do with simple things like writing, and being…and possibly even achieving happiness -- or, at least, balance -- in this life.]

————–

Tonight, after work, I got to thinking about something that – THANK GOD – had nothing to do with work. At least not on the surface.

I got to thinking about anger, from a nicely detached sort of view. Because I was miles away from anger – very happy with the night, as it happens – and yet those thoughts still leapt to mind, like sudden chirruping frog eruptions, echoing up from deep inside the canyons both without and within.

I’ve gotten pretty good at cutting stupid thoughts and feelings off. This does not mean that I have stopped them from happening. You wouldn’t BELIEVE the stupid shit that goes flying through my head, pretty much whenever it wants.

I can’t stop ‘em from comin’.

I just keep ‘em from runnin’ around, loose.

One of the ways that I act as bouncer in the after-hours club that is my mind is:

I FIND SOMEPLACE TO PUT ‘EM.

That place is usually art.

Doesn’t have to be horror (although there are few places so cathartic). Doesn’t have to be humor (although there is nothing like a well-placed laugh, to lighten and perspectivize the ridiculous drama of life). Doesn’t have to be especially socially uplifting (although simply TELLING THE TRUTH is, to my mind, a public service of inestimable worth).

And that’s the essence of the art.

Telling the truth. The WHOLE truth, or as close you can get. From the sweetest to the most severe.

In my experience, the demons hang out in the places that are unresolved: those spaces inside us where we do not care to dwell, or just don’t have a handle on, or are somehow blinded to.

In those spaces, it’s easy to create an echo chamber, where the demons can reverberate off the walls, the whole night long.

Next thing you know, they’re poppin’ up as ugly daydreams: staged encounters, ugly arguments in your head. Psychic battles, which you either win or lose. Incessant dress rehearsals for your future, or your past.

A certain amount of that is a wonderful thing. And as an artist, of course, it’s a fucking gift from God. You simply channel that yammer into active creativity, get all kinds of alchemical on its ass. Squeeze ancient shit into gold (or, more accurately, fossil fuel).

If you make art – or encounter art – that tells those truths, then you might just be onto something. The ideas start jumpin’, like the fish in Skeeter Lake. You’ve got something to work with.

From there, great leaps are made.

Good for you. Good for the art.

Good for everybody.

But if you DON’T somehow channel that raw meat of the subconscious, there’s another possible outcome. And it ain’t nearly quite as great.

So here’s the danger, which is well worth noting:

If you don’t have a WORKING RELEASE VALVE, then the pressure just fucking builds.

Ever spend time with a genuine rage-oholic? Man, that is some scary shit. They focus on those ugly moments. But they don’t vent. They just build and build.

Instead of releasing the source of the rage, they just keep on feeding the furnace. Stoking it with resentment and bitterness. Feeding log after log onto the fire.

Internal combustion is a terrifying thing, if you watch it up close.

Improperly channeled, there’s really not much good that can come from it.

Bottom line: you wind up with bad art, and bad people. Both of which we could all do without.

But great art and great people? Definitely something to shoot for.

And maybe even, perhaps, embody.

It’s something to shoot for, anyway.

Anyway, that’s my observation for the night.

Sweet dreams, my friends.

And if they’re shitty…GO MAKE SOME COOL ART WITH ‘EM!

Finally – and for fuck’s sake – let the steam out.

Don’t just stoke the fires within.

Yer pal,
Skipp

If you enjoyed this post, please consider to leave a comment or subscribe to the feed and get future articles delivered to your feed reader.