When the world is falling apart at the seams and all its guts are spilling into the streets only to be trampled on by opportunistic, self-absorbed, narrow-minded conservative zombies, it's time for artists, poets, and creative persons to come out of their shells, come out of hiding, and get together to share ideas, promote justice and equality, and enjoy the creative spirit for all it is worth while they still can.
I've been doing this - getting out of my shell. I've been checking out local venues for self-expression, and last night I stumbled upon a rare, surreal, yet somehow enticing little place just outside of space and time. It's called Seekers Gallery. And they were holding an open mic.
My wife and I pulled into the tiny parking lot when a familiar face walked by. Mac'roi, who frequents another venue I have been performing in recently, strolled up with guitar in hand. He is, to me, a fine example of individuality embracing the creative ideal. We have a nice little enthusiastic chat - I explain my typical reluctance to try new things, because I've often been disappointed by the local scene. But I'm willing to step inside (and I HOPE they have food because I haven't eaten dinner). I ask if it's as structured as Gypsy; he says absolutely not. There isn't really a structure at all. Free-form, mostly, and very laid back. He says we really need to check out the artwork, too. After all, it's an art gallery. And last time he was there, one or two pieces caught his eye and nearly made him reach for his wallet.
So in we go, and we are suddenly transported back in time to anothe era - a time of free spirits, creative madmen and long-hair tie-dye armies. The powerful odor of Nag Champa assaults our nasal passages, and a subtle scent of mildew (we later find out that the roof's been leaking, and they are desperately trying to raise funds to repair it). There is very little organization about the place. Artwork is hung in little stalls, but not in any particular order of arrangement. Pieces range from complex, LSD-induced tapestries to simple abstract texture, with random bits of hyper-realism thrown in. Even the doors and ceiling tiles are painted with washes of color, minimalistic faces and childrens' handprints. It's groovy, man. Straight out of a 1960's exploitation flick, or the pages of a Tom Robbins novel.
I immediately look for familiar faces. There's Mac'roi, Alice (or Alison), and Laney (the host), a spacy, far-out mother with creamy milk skin, a beautiful 'infinity' tattoo, and her cute little boy Meridian. And quite an arrangement of eccentrics, artists, teenagers and hippies. The air is a melancholy vibe, but exciting and filled with an almost sexual tension; not in the same sense as a bar or a meatmarket, but more of an openness and comfort in the way that people are, the way they came, without too much pretention or desperation to be anything other than comfortable. There is cleavage here, and warm, beautiful bodies, and groovin' souls admiring the creative spirit. There are grandmothers, mothers, sons and daughters. There are hairy armpits, bra-less females, and teenage folk guitarists with dirty tee-shirts. And more guitars, amps and hand instruments than one can shake a stick at.
The only thing that would make all of this perfect: espresso bar. Maybe some wine (I later discover that a bottle of white wine is being passed around, but as I am the driver for the evening I decide not to pursue it).
Seekers is the antithesis of Gypsy. Where Gypsy has order and rules (justifiably so), Seeker's has none of these things. The place is wired with a general consensus approach, not a list of rules. And this is refreshing, even if it means some of the performers go on a bit too long. The one rule that I don't miss is the 'original material only' rule. It's wonderful to hear cover songs from the '60s evolve into 20-minute jam sessions with audience participation. Getting into the zone is what it's all about, the zone where people are less uptight about 'perfection' and embrace the enthusiasm of what everybody is doing.
Through this little exercise, I realize how amazingly uptight I have become over the years. A decade ago, I would have been the perfect example of free spirit. I would have blended right in. But I've become so wrapped up in the news, political events, and crusading for common sense that I might have forgotten the essential importance of what it means to not carry around so much baggage.
It's that kind of pace. Seekers doesn't cry out for perfection, it just is what it is. A synchronious platter of whoever arrives, measured only by the sum of the creative energy that is injected by the people present. While a little organization might uplift the atmosphere, it might also take away some of its innate charm. So I appreciate it for what it is, and I will definitely be coming back. And next time, I'll bring bigger drums.
posted by Edward Svengali @ Friday, April 29, 2005,
