The renaissance fair!  One of my favorite things to do!

With Cultural Backlash

By Anthony D’Juan

Low expectations are the major contribution to the decline of artistic out put.  Jim Sherriden (My Left Foot, The Boxer) knew this when he agreed to direct Get Rich Or Die Trying, in that America would flock to this nightmare of an event based on audience needs to see a performer do an actor’s job.  Yet he posed with 50 Cent, proudly, in honor of this genocide-pawned off as an inspirational film, and killed his credibility in cinema history.  The motivations of money are the very things that kill off honest art.  Between the words “entertainment” and “art”, some how “art” has become the four-letter word.  Yet it’s “entertainment” that has stifled society, since people don’t want to think.  They want to be conned.  A good lie is better than some harsh truth, any day.  

50 Cent (along with a long line of rappers and comedians, who found their way into cinema) is not an icon.  Yet Americans tell him he is, based on the desire to be entertained rather than stimulated – a close connection to internet porn, instant messaging, and the video iPod; all examples of society moving forward; yet the backlash lies in the laziness produced by these innovations; in that one no longer has to think.  One just has to act out.  Audiences went crazy over Crash earlier this year when they were led to believe this was an accurate portrayal of modern racism.  These people never saw, or ignored, James Toback’s Black and White, which used rappers for the soul purpose of communicating the influence of blacks on suburban white kids:  hence, the “wigger”; or “the white Negro”.  Toback allowed Black and White to unfold in it’s own truth, whereas Paul Haggis, with Crash, created a melodramatic heavy hand in obvious racial confrontation (Sandra Bullock’s portrayal of an upper-middle class wife, who’s mistrust of the Hispanic carpenter escalates to white bred suburban heights).  As with Million Dollar Baby, Haggis goes for the jugular of the bleeding heart, not trusting the audience to think on their own – which adds to the sinking expectations of American culture. 

Art is interpretive.  One may take away what one wishes, without any direct contact with the artist.  Yet the artist has a responsibility to create a point of view for the selected few that may grasp it (critics that listened to Fiona Apple’s Extraordinary Machine one time through took a negative stance; it’s a layered album – still no where close to the brilliance of Tori Amos; but in the same vein as Amos, Machine is brave enough to play against pop culture).  The artist’s job is to tell the truth, in whatever form it may be.  The artist contributes to culture; and culture roots in love.  People are more willing to embrace the obvious (50 Cent) than the authentic (Nas).  Singers who hold a strong force (Beyonce) are showered with mediocre music, whereas, again, the authentic (Me’Shell N’degocello) continue to churn out honest work to a limited audience.  American culture is at the mercy of the artist, and for the artist to betray this responsibility is to create a false foundation of dreams.  We grow up in the shadows of icons.  And when these icons betray us we’ve no place to go and the music that has motivated us (the music within our closed worlds) swindles out and we’re left with the boredom of “reality.”  The job of the artist is considered a waste in American culture by old generation killjoys, who gave up on their own dreams and deemed the achievement impossible, and called the artist life a pipe dream.  The artist life is a commitment – burning the bridges and sacrificing the lover for the sake of something fulfilling.  Our culture depends on our art.  And the lower the standards on art, the lower the expectations on thinking. 

A Tribute to Cody Chestnutt! By Anthony D Juan

Perhaps the boldest statement, since NWA said “Fuck the Police” (and “gangsta” rap took a well deserved nose dive ever since).  This is not a tantrum; it’s an honest statement.  The results one gets when dealing with inner contradictions.  ChestnuTT puts his contradictions on the table, with no apologies.  Listeners can relate to his music, because we’ve all felt it: Continued..

Why I love being Crow Indian The fry bread you know!