Icelandic Hiatus

Just in case you were wondering... for the next year I will be blogging HERE. I will return to RobotBanjo in March 2014.

A Prologue to Iceland

After 6 months of background checks, paperwork, and awaiting permits, I'm officially less than one week away from my departure to Iceland. Next Sunday at approximately 4:00pm I'll board a direct flight from Denver to fly approximately 3500 miles to live in a town I can't yet approximately pronounce and work as an au pair for two sweet girls approximately aged six and nine.

This is the most excited I've been in my life... approximately.

When I mention I'm moving to Iceland, people's first surprised reaction is “why Iceland?” to which I usually jest back “why not Iceland?”. Though that is an honest response, my choice in going to Iceland is slated in much deeper desires and emotions.

During the summer between my junior and senior years of high school, photography found its way into my life to stay; breathing new light, color, and compositions into my everyday and uncovering and amplifying my innate drive and need to observe, interpret, and create. Because it was summer (and I wasn't too interested in photography classes anyway) I turned to online forums and cyber mentors. A few photographers who inspired me early on who were from Iceland, and their worked sparked my interest and fascination with the country and culture. Around this same time, a friend of mine introduced me to the otherworldly Icelandic band Sigur Ros, who sound as if they infuse the very soul of Iceland into their music. It seems stupid and immaturely romanticized that my interest in Iceland came from a couple of photographers I never met and a band with really beautiful music I only assume inspirations for, but nonetheless it's these things that initially kindled the fire that kept Iceland as one of the top three places I've wanted to visit (the Galapagos Islands and New Zealand are the others, respectively).

Whatever draws me to Iceland, it was a pull I shared with my brother Alex who also dreamed of going one day, though he died before he could make the trip. Writing this prologue to my adventure without including the intricate influence Alex's life and death had on my growth over the last year would be impossible. Simply put, I wouldn't be going, not right now and not like this, if it weren't for him. There is not a more accurate description for this trip than a pilgrimage. Not only for Alex directly, but in honor of the risks that are required to live a full life. At Alex's memorial service, my dad talked about living a life of risk. Not the irresponsible risk of literally jumping out of an airplane without a parachute, but something similar in a metaphorical way-- the risk of sacrificing your comfort or normalcy for experiencing something completely new and unknown. Though I had many au pair opportunities offered to me around the world, I chose Iceland in the end not only as a tribute to Alex but also because I knew it would be something unlike anything I had ever experienced before. It would undoubtedly be a new adventure.

And what of this whole au pair thing? When people learn I'm leaving my photography career to become an au pair, I get this special look of confusion and suspicion. I can almost see their thought process written verbally across their faces like ticker tape. They first think why would anyone do that at my age. I seem so successful at wedding photography, after all, why leave a good thing? Then they start suspecting my photography career must not be going that well if I'm leaving it to become a glorified nanny. Perhaps I'm quitting because I couldn't quite make it? Ah, their faces say, that makes sense. Then a wave of sympathy moves its way down their faces...

OK, it might not be that dramatic, but it's close. Although I never intend to return to a full-time wedding photographer career (though part-time seems lovely!), I assure you my decision to become an au pair in particular was calculated and extremely well thought out. I've enjoyed photographing weddings over the last few years, but weddings were not what made me fall in love with photography, and artistically I started feeling stagnant and unoriginal. It was as if I were trudging along some enormous creative plateau for a couple of years, and even though I was being applauded for my work, I grew frustrated with myself for not progressing. It wasn't until I documented the last months of Alex's life that I fell back in love with what inspired me not only in photography, but in life and relationships as a whole. I was given great drive to live a life I wanted, cherish people I loved, and not waste one more second on anything unnecessarily uninspiring. This rediscovered inspiration was only amplified after I was involved in a car accident that was nothing less than a second chance. I couldn't help but feel everything in my life was screaming at me to pursue a well lived life. And so I went to work.

Because I have no debt, boyfriend, pressing school matters, or other responsibilities to consider, I knew I wanted to live abroad and do meaningful work. It just so happens that being an au pair fits the bill perfectly! Who knows if I'll ever be blessed with a family and children of my own one day, so why not fill my time by being a positive influence on another's child? Nothing is more important that helping young ones learn who they are while encouraging their unique talents. I will always make more money and gain more prestige from peers by being a wedding photographer, but surely my soul will be more nourished hanging out with kids who don't yet care about money or prestige. There is that great innocence in children who haven't been downtrodden by the world ruining their imaginations. What could be better for a creatively-starved artist than an environment full of uninhibited ideas and emotion and the ever pressing issue of right and wrong? I understand child care is not for the faint of heart, but that only must be because it stretches your heart into realms you never knew existed. I welcome the challenge.

I, of course, also plan on photographing the living crap out of Iceland. I want to throw everything I used to do with photography out the window and wipe the slate clean of my old practices. I hope to grow in ways I wouldn't have even thought about when my livelihood and portfolio were on the line. I have no particular expectations for myself artistically, only the goal to be happy with the direction I'm going.

And that brings me to right now... less than a week and about 5 million last minute errands until my departure into the great unknown. I can do it!

(To read more about my Icelandic adventures, please read my blog dedicated to just that: www.ayearinfireandice.com)

Confessions of a Temporary Vegan

This year, instead of my standard resolutions I would have definitely broken by now, my family decided to take one concept to focus on each month for the whole year. This month is fitness, another month is cutting down on trash/waste, another is focusing on relationships, etc. Eating vegan for the month of January, or as we affectionately called it Veganuary, was our first challenge.

Now, I understand what most of you are thinking right now. It's probably along the lines of a verbal (and literal) eye roll that is a precursor to turning off your brain from smug overload. Trust me, I get it. Vegans are all pretentious jerks who only ever talk about being vegan and really need a punch to their self-righteous little faces.

Or are they? I smell a PARADIGM SHIFT coming on...

The first thing I noticed when becoming a temporary vegan is how incredibly easy it is to sound like a pretentious jerk who only ever talks about being a vegan and needs a punch to their self-righteous little face in my day-to-day life. Just the very mention of the word "vegan" immediately fills the air with annoyed sighs from meat-eaters. You might be thinking: but couldn't this be solved if you just didn't talk about being a vegan all the time? No, my readers, no.

As a new vegan, I wasn't confident with my options yet. Apart from salad (which, come on guys, is usually gross and unsatisfying), I didn't know what I could and couldn't eat and therefore had to (gasp!) ask the server what the vegan options were. MOST places, as I found, do not have a good vegan option (They do, however, have ridiculously good and abundant vegetarian options... so I NEVER want to hear any of my vegetarian friends complain about anything. Ever. Not that you do. But IF you did. Pain.). Because vegan options weren't plentiful, I sometimes had to ask (to my great embarrassment) if they could make something special for me (this sandwich on this bread with none of this). This whole song and dance of eating out would regrettably lead to some conversation about the vegan lifestyle with my dinner-mates, thus digging my pretentious jerk hole all the bigger.

Eating at friend's houses wasn't any better. Most of the time I'd politely decline their beautiful party foods, which would be met by persistant guilt-tripping, which would have to be responded with my vegan explanation, which would immediately fill the room with the awkward smiles of everyone thinking everyone else is judging them. Even my good friends who I saw at least weekly always forgot about my vegan diet, bless their hearts. There was simply no way around NOT talking about it unless I buried myself deep in the recesses of my basement and never socialized with anyone ever again while I quietly kept my vegan thoughts secret. Seeing as I just described Gollum, I hope we can agree that's a bit harsh all in the name of not offending an omnivore. Why all this judgement from both sides about who is eating what? Everyone just needs to stop it! Especially you meat-lovin' Mormons because our dietary guidelines essentially describe a mostly-vegetarian lifestyle.

OH THE VEGAN AND THE COW-EATER SHOULD BE FRIENDS!

I get that both sides usually feel pretty passionately about their stances. But can't we find common ground of encouragement and understanding? Yes, vegans, our American diet consists of WAY too many unhealthy animal products, especially from unethical sources that are ruining our environment and economy. And yes, non-vegans, animals can still be treated humanely while providing nutrients, clothing, and shelter for us homo sapiens. How about we work together to create a more harmonized and loving food situation in general? We don't really need to hate each other because we feel insecure about our own life choices, right? Alright, everyone take a deep breath and hug the person with a different diet next to you. We good? Good.

Anyway, off my soap-box and back to my adventures of being a vegan. Here are the following things of interest I experienced in my 27 days of being a straight-up vegan (and the last couple being mostly vegan but sorta of vegetarian).

1. Yep, I feel amazing. My skin looks and feels better. I lost weight without trying (10-15 lbs). I slept better. After the first couple weeks as my body adjusted I had more energy. I only got mild heartburn once (I've had harsh heartburn basically everyday since I was 11 years old). My mood was more stable. I can tell a huge difference in how my body feels. Even starting to slowly incorporate mild animal products like cheese the last couple of days has made me feel more sluggish and "meh".

2. I don't crave meat. AT ALL. At about day 13 I was desperate for a ham-steak-bacon burrito of death from Betos, but that impulse was completely gone by day 15. Even when I had a little bite of meat last night to initiate my return to a meat eating lifestyle, I didn't really enjoy or care about it. I am not at all eager to eat meat as a main dish.

3. I think vegetarianism is very smart. If I wasn't going to Iceland where fresh produce is lacking, I would definitely continue a plant based diet with an occasional non-meat animal product. I also think being flexible is very smart. If I chose to be vegetarian, but I was traveling to Africa and someone slaughtered their goat to feed to me, I wouldn't turn them down. To me, the important thing is knowing where your food came from more than anything.

4. There are some dang good vegan alternatives out there I have grown to love more than the original animal based ones. It is a little more expensive most of the time, but your body is probably a worth-while investment. Besides, if you're not buying steak, you're going to be saving a lot of money anyway. That shiz is expensive!

5. It gets much easier. The first couple of weeks I OBSESSED over food. I thought about what I could and couldn't eat constantly. It stressed me out to get invited to lunch with friends. But after about day 20, I didn't think about it at all. I knew what I liked making at home. I knew what restaurants had good vegan options. I knew to eat before I went anywhere with friends. It honestly just became my way of life.

6. I enjoy my food a lot more. I'm more thankful for it. I put more effort into preparing it. I think it tastes better. I'm more conscious about where it came from and how far away from it's original form it is. I loved the feeling of "full" I got from plants as opposed to animal products.

7. I became a better cook. I've always liked cooking, but when your options are somewhat limited, you learn how to get crafty. Not to mention I don't like gross-tasting things. Nowhere in my life's rule-book does it say I have to eat rabbit food and cardboard to eat healthily.

And yeah, I guess that about sums it all up in one massive and confusing post. I also want to add I was the last survivor from my family to make it through Veganuary. Most of them survived less than 2 weeks! Hooray for bragging rights!

In closing I leave you with how I thought I'd feel by the end of the month, but to my surprise... didn't:

peace,
k.

In Defense of Feminism

Here we go...

Most of you probably saw the event inviting Latter-Day Saint women to wear pants to church last month. I had watched in mild fascination as the expected attendees grew from around 100 to thousands in a matter of days. My intrigue turned to surprise as a viral eruption, almost in unison, took to Facebook walls to scream opinions for or against it. No matter what my personal stance was, it saddened me to see the essence of the movement completely forgotten by the deafeningly angry and dangerously apathetic who dominated the conversations. Could they even be called conversations? Howls for agreement, perhaps, but not conversations. Sometimes I think we've forgotten how to really listen to one another.

The most alarming rhetoric I saw, which I have yet to shake a few weeks later, is the misuse of the term FEMINIST. Unfortunately feminism is ignorantly used as a negative term in mainstream LDS culture. I grew up hating feminists and avoided any commonality with them. I assumed, as I had been taught, they all hated men, bras, shaving, and motherhood; things I happened to passionately approve of. I even took it so far as to voice my opposition in a high school essay about the women's rights movements because "they sort of ruined it for us in the chivalry department". It wasn't until I became an adult, traveled the world, went to college, and dated a string of passionately conservative men that I became aware of the vast world that encompasses feminism, and just how profoundly wrong and close-minded my views were. You can imagine my confusion and surprise when I realized, and finally accepted, I am a feminist.

Although feminism covers an enormous range of opinions, movements, and viewpoints, the common root of feminism lies in political, social, and economic equality of the sexes. If you believe men and women should both have opportunity to: be paid the same for the same work, hold the same positions in government, have their own car and house payments, or pursue an excellent education, I hate to break it to you but... you're a feminist. Do you support the end of human trafficking? Feminist. Do you support the end of gender-biased infanticide? Feminist. Do you support Malala Yousafzai? Feminist. Do you find rape inexcusable and deplorable under all circumstances? Feminist. Not all feminists believe in the same things, but political, social, and economic equality IS the core of typical feminist beliefs. The man-hating stereotype is atypical, and something I personally can't believe in and still call myself a feminist.

My views on equality are fluid and ever changing. Although I passionately support political, social, and economic equality across the globe, men and women are different and will NEVER be fully "equal" because of our biology. In fact, I think it's rather silly to try to obtain perfect equality of the sexes. I welcome and celebrate our differences! However, over time we've compartmentalized our differences into gender roles that do not always reflect the nature (or biology) of the individual. For now, until my mind is expanded otherwise, I support defined "roles" within a relationship (ie. breadwinner, caregiver, spider-killer, etc) because it gives people a sense of responsibility and purpose, BUT, I adamantly disagree they should be confined by gender (or to one person within the relationship for that matter).

Gender roles are a very black and white area in the culture of the Latter-day Saints. We often cling to what is culturally expected of our sex to find worth, rather than develop our personal talents as an individual to find our worth in God. For example, I should never feel ashamed that I'm adventurous, independent, or intellectually curious, even though I'm sometimes encouraged otherwise by the LDS mainstream. These are cherished traits that have enriched my personal relationship with my Heavenly Parents and shouldn't be judged as unfeminine because I'm 24 and still single (gasp!). Nor should men feel embarrassed to embrace the traditionally female roles like cooking, crafting, and child raising if they find happiness and growth in these activities. Imagine the possibilities of each unique human being if they embraced all the things they were good at regardless of gender role acceptability! My first guess is spouses wouldn't feel quite as alone or overwhelmed in their marriages.  

But let's get back to the pants. It's OK if you didn't support that particular movement, just don't bag on all feminists because chances are you women probably enjoy your right to vote, own land, have birth control, and wear pants to BYU (all brought to you by the feminist movements most people didn't support at first). It's easy to forget who fought for our freedoms when the freedom becomes common-- but to vilify the heroes because of weird politics? Unacceptable and ignorant. Ladies and gentlemen, feminists gave you a voice for positive change and reason. Don't ruin it because you're scared of the word! Be happy you're part of something that has done, and is currently doing, so much good in the world!

(((FEMINIST HUGS ALL AROUND!)))

Are you still convinced you're not a feminist? In my last effort, I encourage you to watch the documentary Half the Sky (available on Netflix). If you can then come back and tell me you don't support what you saw, I'll personally take you to dinner so I can better understand how that's even possible.

And... welp... if you've read this far, thank you for humoring my opinionated novel of a post. As a reward to you, I close with the words of feminist Ryan Gosling meme (you're welcome):

peace,
k.

Movies: A Year in Review

-->Full disclosure, the following are movies I have yet to see:

Coriolanus, Being Flynn, Cosmopolis, Robot and Frank, Chasing Ice, Hyde Park on Hudson, Prometheus, The Sessions

THE TOP (IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER)

Moonrise Kingdom

I've been a huge Wes Anderson film since I saw, and promptly fell in love with, Rushmore. Since then I've devoured, and promptly owned, all of his movies (being a starving/frugal artist/student, I don't just buy ANY movie). I understand he's not everyone's cup-o-hipster-tea, but I think Moonrise Kingdom is his most user-friendly film to date. It's sweet, poignant, funny, unique, and the art direction is to die for.

The Impossible
I've never cried so hard (SOBS, PEOPLE!) in a movie before. This is an important movie for people to see. Not to mention it was so well made (the disaster sequences are the best I've ever seen!). 

Skyfall

This was not the mindless action James Bond I wanted, but it was the great James Bond I deserved. Being an enormous fan of Casino Royal, and then venomously hating Quantum of Solace, I was a bit weary going into Skyfall. But why would I ever lack faith in the genius Sam Mendes? He delivered an excellent action movie with a deeply philosophical edge. It isn't just my favorite James Bond to date, but it's one of the greatest action movies ever made.

Lawless

This was the year I discovered my undying love-crush on Tom Hardy (the seeds were planted in Inception, but it didn't bloom 'til I saw Warrior on Netflix). Pair him with an insanely good supporting cast and an unbelievable true(ish) story, and I call that a good time in the theater. In my excitement after exiting said theater, I sent texts to all the people I assumed would enjoy this movie as much I did. Oddly I was met with a resounding "meh" in response over the next few days. I still have yet to meet anyone who enjoyed this movie as much as I did.

Django Unchained

Tarantino is hit or miss with me. This one was a bingo. Ridiculously long (and feels it)? Yes. Gratuitous gallons of blood? Yes. Uncomfortable torture sequences? Yes. Possibly Tarantino's greatest movie ever made? Yes. The thing I really liked about this movie was how fun it was to watch. It didn't make me look deep into my soul and examine my life, it just went really well with popcorn and a drink. My guess is if you liked Inglorious Bastards, you will thoroughly enjoy Django.

Anna Karenina

This was the movie that made me look deep into my soul and examine my life. Joe Wright, currently my favorite director, knows how to cater to every artistic fiber of my being. His theatrical and metaphorical interpretation of Anna Karenina was so lovely and so unique, it has single-handedly ruined my expectation for all dramatic period pieces in the next 5 years (read: Les Mis). When I met up with my family in the food court post-movie, I felt like I had run a marathon... a beautiful and cathartic marathon full of mind-blowing cinematography.

Looper

I can confidently say this is my favorite time travel movie of all time. Joseph Gordon-Levitt did a spectacular job mirroring Bruce Willis, and Bruce Willis did a spectacular job at being the bad-A he is. I can't wait to watch this one again on Blu-Ray.

Argo

In my opinion, Ben Affleck is the most under-appreciated director in Hollywood. Sure, this is only his third feature film, but his first two were so good. Like, REALLY good. Like, hey guys, this is BEN FREAKING AFFLECK making these good. Argo is no exception. To be honest, I wasn't looking forward to seeing this movie. There was something about the trailer that annoyed me. Or maybe it was the pretentious sounding title? Nonetheless, I loved it in the end. Embellished as the story might be, it was pretty impressive what they did.

Seven Psychopaths

Oh gosh. What to say about this silly, silly, movie. I loved it. It is the most unique story I've seen on screen in a loooooong time. Be prepared for countless profanities, Tarantino type violence, and non-stop laughter.

Hitchcock

Being a film enthusiast such as myself, I've always had an innate respect for the very odd Mr. Hitchcock. I was expecting to geek out over references I understood and impress myself with history I already knew-- and while I did these things, this movie also captured my heart with one of the most "awe" inducing love stories this year.

Safety Not Guaranteed

When I first saw this in the theater over the summer, I fell in love with it. Hard. I locked it away in my head labeled as not only the best movie of the year, but probably in my top 3 best movies of all time. Well I watched it again recently, and although I liked it, I wasn't as in love with it. It definitely deserves to be in the top movies of this year, but it's probably only in the top 30 best movies of all time. 

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Beasts of the Southern Wild

This movie was devastatingly beautiful and poignant, and ALMOST the best movie of the year, but the cinematography was a joke. It was the most painful movie my brain has ever watched in a theater. Nothing was in focus. Nothing was still. I  understand what the "artistic" intention of that sort of visual was in relation to the narrative, but instead it just made me motion sick.

Jeff Who Lives at Home

The only reason this isn't in my top 10 is because I can't quite remember everything I liked about this movie, just that it effected me. I'm a little too strapped for time to re-watch it before I finish this list, so for now I'm going to hesitantly put it in my "honorable mentions" list.

Bernie

What a great little film. In my (ever so) humble opinion, Jack Black's performance was one of the best of the year, if not the outright best.

Lincoln 

I feel like I'm obligated to include this on my list. Perfectly acted, perfectly lit, perfectly scored, blah blah blah... yawn. It is awards show fodder. Yes, it's a flawless movie, but it was an easy movie to make flawless.

Silver Linings Playbook

I didn't love this as much as the critics seem to (it was a bit predictable for my tastes), but it is one of the better movies of the year, especially of it's genre.

Ruby Sparks
This movie really affected me. That is all.

Sleepwalk With Me
Clever, funny, touching, and important stuff about the creative arts and personal lives.


Zero Dark Thirty
Another one I feel obligated to include. Yeah, it was good. Very well made all the way around, and incredibly interesting to see how things when down. The raid sequence was pretty amazing. But, for some reason, it doesn't crack my top movies list.

THE WORST

The Master
I don't think words describe how much I disliked this movie. It was crude, weirdly written, and exactly the type of movie that make idiots feel smart. There was one impressive scene (the interview), but I honestly couldn't wait for it to be over. Such a massive disappointment.

Men in Black 3

I fell asleep. I never fall asleep in movies at the theater. It was awful with no excuse.

THE ONES I NEED TO JUSTIFY NOT INCLUDING

Les Miserable

I didn't hate it. I didn't even not like it. I just didn't love it. It was overacted, under sung, and the cinematography was oddly small (not every scene needs to feel "intimate"). I love the story, and was moved to tears watching the 25th Anniversary performance on PBS (so we know it can be done), but this one fell short for me. It had moments, but not enough to justify it as one of the best movies of the year.

Life of Pi

I love the book too much to love this over computerized (and overall poorly acted) version. I acknowledge they did a pretty OK job adapting the story, but did we really need a giant glowing whale?

Dark Knight Rises

I love Batman. I love Christopher Nolan. I didn't love Dark Knight Rises. HOWEVER, I saw it under really unfortunate circumstances, and I think I might like it a little better with a re-watch. It has Tom Hardy in it, after all.

Sufjan Stevens and 9:00am Humanities

This is a paper I wrote for a humanities class (I absolutely hated) a couple of years ago. I found it while doing a little fall cleaning on my laptop today among some other papers I BS-ed my way through. This is one of two papers I've ever written that I actually enjoyed the subject matter (but ultimately didn't score well on in return, haha). Re-reading it reminded me why I can be confident in my decision to to create photos I love instead of creating photos for money. It also reminded me why I love Sufjan Stevens so darn much. Mmmhm.

It's not fair to be such a talented musician and so devastatingly good looking. At least that was the overall consensus in the car as we drove up to the concert. And for the record, I wasn't sharing a ride with 15 year old fangirls with Edward t-shirts on. These people were straight men in their middle twenty somethings who couldn't help but covet in disbelief the dark haired, perfect-faced artist with eyes like a poetic morning on a misty sea. Those striking eyes alone are enough to make a girl understand a deeper meaning to the word beautiful, and when added to a soft spoken man who plays the banjo, well, it's all over. But, however more abundantly blessed than any one of us riding in that car he may be, I don't think you can quite say we felt jealous of him. Jealousy would imply a sense of resentment and I'm not sure it's possible to have any resentment toward someone you feel you've connected with on a level in which words are a useless tool for description. The otherworldly emotions invoked by listening to John Wayne Gacy Jr for the first time alone are ineffable. It's not simply the marvelous progressive song structure or haunting lyrics about a serial killer that captivate me; it's the confusingly empathetic interpretation of an exposed self awareness that leaves both the performer and the willful audience naked, all of which is completely embodied by the subtle inhale and exhale of a vulnerable singer in the last moments before the track ends. Simply put, that song changed the way I know how to feel. It was also the first song (of many) that convinced me of the genius that is Sufjan Stevens, all flawless facial features aside.

The anticipation grew as we waited in our seats at Kingsbury Hall on the campus of the University of Utah; second row balcony, almost center. Since Sufjan had not toured to Utah in many years I felt especially eager for this concert. There are very few concerts I feel compelled to attend (call me crazy but I'm not into drunk chicks spilling their beer all over me or creepy dudes getting handsy on me all in the name of “feeling the music”), but this was one of the few I probably wouldn't have missed for anything. There is something that attracts me to visually view the raw organics of acoustic based music in person.

The lights went out and DM Stith, Sufjan's opening act and fellow band member, walked out onto the stage with his guitar. He sat in an unremarkable chair which was simply lit with one amber toned light sitting on the ground to his left. His music was passionate and folksy with a strange undertone that is hard to describe beyond bluesy minstrel. Stith's almost classical finger picking complimented by his falsetto register, which often slipped into heart wrenching ohs and moans (aptly nicknamed “sex scenes” by Sufjan during the band's practices), proved to be the perfect prelude. When Stith finished his serenades, the lights came on for a few minutes and then quietly dimmed again. The crowd roared.

A low overture floated out from the darkness of the stage for a few seconds until a magenta light faded onto Sufjan standing alone at center holding a banjo. A mesh screen divided the audience and the musician who was whimsically dressed in white angel wings (wings being a signature piece he commonly wears) and shiny silver pants. His wardrobe a stark contrast to his bare voice and lyrics. “I will try, I will try, I will try”. More magenta light flooded the stage and the entire band joined in with foreboding force for a moment before dissolving back to black. “We saw the dragon move down. My father burned into coal. My mother saw it from afar. She took the purse to the bed. I saw the sign in the sky.” Sufjan stood alone while the projected stars on the trapezoidal screen behind him mesmerizingly built and re-built nonsensical illustrations. His voice became harsher. “He will take you if you run he will chase you”. The magenta light eased to red and slowly exposed the entire band once again. “Because he is Lord”. The mesh screen lifted, removing the barrier, uniting the room. “Because he is Lord”. The song amplified to an erratic peak and abruptly ended.
Everyone on stage looked as if an intergalactic costume party had throw up on them. There was no apparent consistency except that the two drummers, two backup singer-dancers, the smattering of guitarists, the bassist, and the horn section that made up the band were all sporting some sort of crazy hat or accessory. Even DM Stith, the now keyboardist had changed from his previously casual outfit into a skeleton costume. The only explanation given was that it was November first and the band hadn't quite gotten over Halloween yet. Fair enough. Little did I know that costumes were going to be the least eccentric thing seen that night.

The closed-minded-technique-perfecting side of me pushed back. You probably shouldn't accept this silliness, it said to me, and it tried to justify it away as contrived hipster drivel. It wasn't even ironic, they just looked ridiculous. This band I was watching was being that weird band at that weird underground bar in a scene from that kind of movie in which someone is very out of their element. But the creative side, like the angel on my other shoulder, sweetly chimed in and nudged me to gave it a chance. Once I did, it didn't take long to recognize the thing that had been on my mind recently, so much even that it was the very topic of conversation on the drive up to the concert.
Creative honesty.

Everything I was watching became infinitely more important. The costumes weren't there for shock value or to make a crazy statement, they represented the artistic integrity Sufjan radiates. It was as if the crazy accessories were to tell the audience that he didn't want anyone to take him too seriously that they couldn't have fun anymore. Too many people want their artists placed on an unattainable pedestal to be their beacon of misunderstood creative genius for the flock to follow; and many artist readily keep themselves there in that cloak of mystery for their ego's sake. The longer the concert went on, the more I knew I wasn't blindly accepting what was being fed to me for fear of being left out. Sufjan, just as his music reflects, is uncomfortably honest. Even to the point of looking downright stupid. Take his Elaine Benes-like dance moves, or soft and apologetic small talk with the audience for example, not even his devastatingly good looks help him there. All of his quirky idiosyncratic gestures and modest words were not done to keep up a flattering or abstruse facade, nor were they born out of an unacquainted identity for one could not write his poetry without an achingly acute sense of self. It was simply stark raving honesty. To be able to recognize it was to feel relevant. With my eyes filled with tears, I hung on to every sensory experience of the performance. My world melted away as Sufjan led me into his universe.

I observed that they weren't merely songs, but rather experiments with sound. His voice was often times just another instrument, and not necessarily the dominating focus like it normally was in earlier albums. This perception became truth nearing the end of the concert when Sufjan took time to explain his inspiration for his new albums. This explanation above anything else was the most profound experience of the evening for me. Not only was he describing what I had already assumed about his music but more importantly he also went into depth about his creative process. I found myself going through a significant creative rebirth with my own art and to hear his description was like hearing a friend describe how they find the same satisfaction in popping a giant pimple as you do. A ritual probably everyone finds rewarding, but few might fess up to for fear of looking human. Sufjan expressed that his growing dissatisfaction with his usual voice led him to start experiments in sculpting soundscapes. Although a good exercise, this didn't really produce anything beyond a cosmic catalogue of noises and tones. It wasn't until he came across the eccentric artwork of a late schizophrenic named Royal Robertson that he got his companion to create music again. I myself had been feeling that same discomfort with my regular style, and although that style pleased everyone around me, I was going back to the basics of my medium to experiment and started finding inspiration in the most unlikely of places. To face the disapproval of your audience when you embark on a creative process like that takes bravery, they beg you to return to what they find comfortable. I was very familiar with the displeasure from former admirers in my own career and I knew there were many in the audience at Kingsbury Hall that felt this way toward Sufjan. The three women sitting directly in front of us were obviously unimpressed with this new sound, casually texting and refusing to applaud anything except the expected acoustically toned songs. As I mentioned before, I was also expecting that raw goodness but was met with quite the unexpected. It would have been easy to brush the unknown aside like those sitting in front of me, but that would have defeated everything I had been analyzing in my own creative progression. Sufjan could have proudly sat upon the pedestal of which he was placed by the hundreds of people in attendance at the beginning of the show, but instead he came down to ground level and freely, honestly, exposed his flaws, dreams, humor, and creativity. It's true, this was by far his most electronic and synthesized music to date, but Sufjan still has an acoustic soul that by any other sound still smells as sweet.

The song that epitomizes the incredible journey regarding myself and Sufjan, Sufjan and himself, the audience and Sufjan, myself and the audience, et cetera, is Impossible Soul. The nearly thirty minute anthem finale is quite the experience. The five part concerto starts with a simple pulsating piano setting a soft adagio tempo. Sufjan's beautiful vocals slide into place after a few measures. Oh, woman, tell me what you want and I'll calm down without bleeding out with a broken heart that you stabbed for an hour. Woman, I was freaking out because I want you to know, my beloved, you are the lover of my impossible soul... The subtle percussion joins in and starts to build, inviting the horns and backup singers to join. Together they work there way through the next few stanzas, progressing and becoming less precise until the second of the five parts startlingly begins. Do you want to be afraid...The backup singers are now highlighted above a continuously pulsating beat that transforms into a swirling textures of trumpets and synthesizers that are reminiscent of a groovy cop movie from the late 1970s. This tapers off into a more whimsical and haunting polyphonic “sex scene” until Sufjan once agains joins the soundscape with an auto-tuned microphone for the third, and shortest, movement. Stupid man in the window, I couldn't be at rest... The metallic noise rang through the venue until the erratic instruments engulfed it at which the song nearly stops and restarts into a more complete structure. The tone shifts into impossibly catchy and upbeat. It's a long life, better pinch yourself, put your face together, better get it right... The musicians chant the same few verses over the next ten minutes and provoke a dance party on stage and in the audience. The music is at it's highest point. Boy, we can do much more together, it's not so impossible... The auto-tuner makes a return and the rhythm starts slowing back down as the phrase is repeated several times. The random pacing swells again until everything stops for a moment and the final stage of the chronicle begins. The focus is on Sufjan who enters into a more melancholy and acoustic realm. I never meant to cause you pain my burden is the weight of a feather. I never meant to lead you on I only meant to please me, however. And then you tell me, boy, we an do much more, boy, we can do much more, boy, we can do much more together... The lyrics like an apology of someone who has accepted who they are and consequences that come with them. The energy is again caged into the thoughtful coda reflecting the beginning of the song. The song fades out in familiar lyrics with a lamentable twist; Boy, we made such a mess together. 

Sufjan did end up playing John Wayne Gacy Jr. for his final encore which seemed like the perfect fit to end such an emotionally vulnerable night. I walked out of Kingsbury Hall with a renewed sense of strength to explore my own creativity; to wear my figurative white angel wings and silver pants without shame. What a beautiful experience. 

peace,
k.

Little Brother

The following took place via text message between my little brother and I the other day...

ME: Knock knock...
J: Come in.
ME: KNOCK KNOCK.
J: Doctor Who.
ME: You're the worst.
J: :D bahaha
ME: Knock knock.
J: Who's there?
ME: He.
J: He who?
J: Expeliomus!
ME: Ugh.
J: Knock knock knock knock
ME: Go away.
J: But I'm your brother!
ME: I can't hear you, you're behind a door.
J: I'll wait for you under your porch because I love you.
ME: Yeah OK Rory.
J: I was actually going for Dug from Up, but Rory works too.
ME: Knock knock.
J: Who's there?
ME: Doctor
J: Doctor Who?
ME: Fez's are cool.
J: I wear a fez now.

This is why you don't have little brothers who think on the exact same nerdy brain wave as you. But this is why little brothers have awesome older sisters who can take pretty dang good looking senior pics for them...

peace,
k.