A Thought on the Gifts We Carry
We all have gifts. None of us are bereft of some talent, some special idiosyncratic skill that sets us apart. Everyone. It doesn’t matter if it is in regards to something practical, something useful, or something simply ethereal. Artists.
Art, as it’s been said, isn’t easy. I personally have never understood much of paint and canvas, but I know what art is. Art is anything created for the deliberate intent of evoking a reaction. It’s that simple.
Enter the Dork Element: I’m a huge fan of Highlander. Currently enjoying the 5th season, I made my way to an episode starring Lord Byron as an Immortal, a creative genius doing his thing for centuries. Given the plying of charcoal filtered whiskey, thoughts flow a little easier. Or at least, more well-lubricated. Regardless: there’s a scene of Byron in his element, reciting his poetry for an audience that hangs on his every word. And he thrives on it.
How many of us, how many of our gifts allow us to perform it in front of others? People with gifted hands don’t necessarily build furniture before an audience. Some virtuosos only play piano beautifully for themselves. Some of us just get lucky. I’m an actor. I’m also a writer. I express my thoughts, and I express scripted words, I perform. And I do it for a shitload of reasons. I do it for myself. I do it for the audience. I do it for the indescribable rush of feeling eyes keeping their gaze on me. I do it to vent whatever emotional baggage is pent up at the moment. I do it to flush out insignificant thoughts to make way for better ones.
I do it because I have to.
I’ve wandered off topic. The reason for writing this particular piece is because I had a moment tonight. I’m a wordsmith. But to a much greater degree I’m a storyteller. I had an audience of dear friends, and I shared a story or three with them about my favorite storyline. That of Tuxxer. Please understand, making this story a published reality is one of my greatest priorities. I’ve been working on it for so long, I have years’ worth of material, if it were measured in twelve 22-page increments a year. Years’ worth.
It’s interesting. Performers can go to their audiences to feed them, and both parties can end up… hungry for more. The author/speaker/actor wants more time to divulge and express, and the reader/listener/viewer wants more material to indulge in. I like it.
This isn’t the first time I’ve danced on the qwerty under the influence. Still. I don’t drive a car or flirt in this mood, so I think I’m doing alright. Rock on.
Art, as it’s been said, isn’t easy. I personally have never understood much of paint and canvas, but I know what art is. Art is anything created for the deliberate intent of evoking a reaction. It’s that simple.
Enter the Dork Element: I’m a huge fan of Highlander. Currently enjoying the 5th season, I made my way to an episode starring Lord Byron as an Immortal, a creative genius doing his thing for centuries. Given the plying of charcoal filtered whiskey, thoughts flow a little easier. Or at least, more well-lubricated. Regardless: there’s a scene of Byron in his element, reciting his poetry for an audience that hangs on his every word. And he thrives on it.
How many of us, how many of our gifts allow us to perform it in front of others? People with gifted hands don’t necessarily build furniture before an audience. Some virtuosos only play piano beautifully for themselves. Some of us just get lucky. I’m an actor. I’m also a writer. I express my thoughts, and I express scripted words, I perform. And I do it for a shitload of reasons. I do it for myself. I do it for the audience. I do it for the indescribable rush of feeling eyes keeping their gaze on me. I do it to vent whatever emotional baggage is pent up at the moment. I do it to flush out insignificant thoughts to make way for better ones.
I do it because I have to.
I’ve wandered off topic. The reason for writing this particular piece is because I had a moment tonight. I’m a wordsmith. But to a much greater degree I’m a storyteller. I had an audience of dear friends, and I shared a story or three with them about my favorite storyline. That of Tuxxer. Please understand, making this story a published reality is one of my greatest priorities. I’ve been working on it for so long, I have years’ worth of material, if it were measured in twelve 22-page increments a year. Years’ worth.
It’s interesting. Performers can go to their audiences to feed them, and both parties can end up… hungry for more. The author/speaker/actor wants more time to divulge and express, and the reader/listener/viewer wants more material to indulge in. I like it.
This isn’t the first time I’ve danced on the qwerty under the influence. Still. I don’t drive a car or flirt in this mood, so I think I’m doing alright. Rock on.
posted by Casey Jones @ 1/09/2005 02:18:00 AM
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