The Music of the Doors, A Statement of Art

This week I have just finished a new painting of an orange tree dangling over Oak Creek in Sedona. A heavy, colorful piece that has all the peculiarity of one of my works - where even the water or the leaves give off the feeling of weighing a hundred tons.

Those who have read my blogs will know that I am a great appreciator of what seem to me to be true and powerful artistic statements, even if the aritsts in question are not oil painters or visual artists. I've long admired the Candyland-like fantasies of the architect Gaudi. And among a legion of amazing artists that I admire and respect are found countless musicians. One of which stands alone, The Doors.

The first and most obvious thing about The Doors is the persistence and the longevity of the music that they created. "Unknown Soldier" could tell the story of an American soldier in Afghanistan just as well as its implied references to soldiers and the militarism and violence of the Vietnam era. The cry "What have they done to the earth? What have they done to our fair sister?" that rings out in "When the Music's Over" could well tell the story of an oil-stained gulf coast beach today. It could well be a statement in agony over the destruction of so many irreplacable natural habitats on our planet.

Timelessness demonstrates the power of an artistic statement. Those statements that are too much a product of the time that they were expressed in tend to dissipate with the passing of that particular time. The music of the Doors is powerful because it is an inter-generational commentary by sensitive individuals, who were deeply concerned with the art of what they were saying. Some regard Jim Morrison as an American poet - and I share this feeling. Though it should not be overlooked that Robbie Krieger wrote some of the Doors' best known songs, most notably the immortal "Light my Fire." If you read Morrison's published notebooks and poems, such as "Wilderness" and "The American Night", then you realize that his sensations and words were not always a product of the rational, but in the images that they created, powerful visions were let loose on the consciousness of those who read them in print - and those who heard them in Doors concerts. Morrison was reported to have said that "real poetry doesn't say anything, it just ticks off the possibilities."

Frequently, when I allowed myself to think about my own paintings in a deeper way - I articulated in my mind a dual standard that I always wanted to strive for. That standard was beauty and originality. I think the Doors and their music also lines up nicely with this idea of a creative aspiration. Of course many of the lyrics and sentiments in the music of the Doors were dark, even darkened Dionysian visions of America and our reality. But I don't count that as ugly - I think that's beautiful. Disturbing images, or even disturbing songs can stir the mind to beauty just as much as an any other cliche of beauty can. And songs like "Summer's Almost Gone" as well as "Crystal Ship" are indeed quite beautiful on the surface. It has seemed to me that the poignant words of Morrison, and the carnavalesque feeling of Ray Manzarek's organ went hand in hand in making songs that could range you for the depths of joy, sadness, confusion, even apocalyptic sensations.

What does the music of the Doors say to artists of all varieties? Primarily, I think it drives home, with punishing insistence, the reality that there really is NO substitute for originality in the creative arts. When you realize how much timeless substance exists in the songs of the Doors, you realize that a true statement of creation - as I've mentioned above, is timeless and inter-generational. So if you wish to hang your hat with the gods of the creative arts - it should be obvious that you ought to aim for the timeless and the original. Take a lesson from the Doors, and the fact that we are still talking about them today.

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Take a Walk in Santa Fe

This week I am working on a painting of the Abbey of Senanque in Provence, France. After copying some of the masterworks of Provencal artists in my college days - this represents my first return to painting Provence in a very long time. It's been a joy to work at the root-source of my idols, namely Quilici and Van Gogh. It reminds me of the quote that my friend and mentor Jean-Claude Quilici made about my work, when he said "it's too bad that Provence is so far from where Neil lives!" In all honesty, Provence is the real origin of the kind of expressionist work that I and Jean-Claude do, so it seems natural that I should come back to it at some point.

Several times this week, as my wife and I have been talking about our trips around the Southwest, the subject of Santa Fe has come up. Invariably, we start talking about how many beautiful days and evenings we've had on trips to this wonderful city. Honestly, if circumstances didn't have me based in Southern Arizona, my immediate 2nd choice for a place to live would be Santa Fe, New Mexico. We first saw the town briefly in 2003, and have made trips back there as frequently as we could manage.

There is some kind of unique confluence in Santa Fe - a kind of nexus of art, history, cross culture influences of native American, Hispanic, and Anglo American traditions. And the fact that Santa Fe is one of our oldest cities - also containing the oldest church in America, the San Miguel Mission which was built between 1610-1628. I painted the mission in 2004, and still have the painting. Santa Fe itself dates from 1610. The old churches and history are just one aspect - what seems so interesting is that the quaintness and the age of the town has been so well preserved. What is unfortunately true about America is a near obsessive need to bulldoze the old buildings and structures - but this hasn't gotten its way entirely in Santa Fe. Even the new buildings around town are built in the adobe style that was so well known to much of New Mexico and Arizona. Many of the homes around areas like Canyon Road also preserve this style. The end result is that Santa Fe still feels small, intimate, and it looks beautiful.

One obvious plus to spending time in Santa Fe is that you can walk around it. Most of the artsy parts of town, the main square, Canyon Road - these all have good sidewalks and are a reasonable distance apart. When I visit Santa Fe I find myself thinking of the terrible epidemic of obesity in America - and it occurs to me that some small responsibility for this should be placed on city planners. For example, there are many highly developed areas around Tucson (where we live) that have NO sidewalks at all. School kids get off the bus and walk home in the dirt beside the paved road. It seems to me that if you'd like to encourage your population to take an afternoon or morning stroll - or walk somewhere in lieu of driving, they need that basic convenience of a sidewalk. Even most small towns in North Carolina where I grew up had them - and it is another great aspect of visiting Santa Fe. Just park your car and walk around it. You'll find all sorts of nooks in town, with galleries, shops, restaurants, etc - places you'd have missed if you were zooming by in a car.

In 2007 I saw a special exhibit at the Palace of the Governors where the original scroll for the Jack Kerouac book "On the Road" was unrolled and put on display in a long, clear display case. Kerouac wrote the book in a frenzy of work in 1951 - and his style of writing was executed so fast that he didn't use conventional pages - he used a long scroll that could be unwound as he went. It's display was part of a special travelling exhibit taking the scroll around America. Always having been a fan of the beat generation and their new visions of life and writing - it was a special privilege to see this important piece of history on display in one of Santa Fe's most historic spots.

Another aspect of Santa Fe which I find interesting is it's inherent value as an artistic subject. Frequently on trips my wife and I wander along the back alleys of the downtown and the roads and driveways around Canyon Road - and from the photographs we took in these areas have come some of my best works, like "Spring Sunshine, Canyon Road", "Fence Shadows, Santa Fe" and "Pink Tree, Santa Fe." Visually, what is at work in Santa Fe - as you see the sunlight filtering off the adobe structures - is the same thing that is at work when you visit Taos Pueblo. Ochre and Sienna Earth colors in solid shapes, with light and shadow projected on them. Thus the homes around Canyon Road strike me artistically the same way the native American Pueblos do. And that's a great source for wonderful paintings.

When I travel, and then I think about it afterwards, I have to say that I don't remember things in a perfect stream of consciousness - but rather in individual scenes, or images. Like arriving in Santa Fe in 2007 while a soft springtime snow was falling on the town. My wife and I checked into our hotel and then walked over to a cafe with a terrace, where we watched the snow falling on some recently blooming flowers. Till all the adobe buildings were coated with white, and the town slowed down to a hush as the snow accumulated. Or I remember a gorgeous sunny morning during our trip to Santa Fe last year, where we bought muffins for breakfast and took them out to a bench on the square - sharing crumbs with the birds and watching vendors set up for the day. Travel is full of those kinds of moments, and for those of you who may be thinking about it - take it from me, those moments are very, very easy to find in a place like Santa Fe. Stay there a few days, and make a few memories of your own.

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