In the Garden of Iden

Book written by Kage Baker

Great artists fall into two categories. Some generate fireworks because they seem to innovate out of nothing. Often, they appear to have few precursors. In some ways, their greatest work appears to bear hints of a different brain at work, to be kind. I’m thinking of Vincent Van Gogh, James Joyce, William Blake, and their ilk.

Then, there are those who synthesize their antecedents so magnificently that their art stuns with its creativity. These artists often bring to their work knowledge gained from other fields. Here would fit Johannes Vermeer, Orson Welles, and like-minded geniuses. We feel we can connect the dots, as it were, that lead to their art.

All artists do some of both. No artist lives their entire life in a paper bag unaffected by the world around them, just as all art leaps from input to output with at least some small part in the middle that can only be labelled “magic happens.” The greatest fallacy, however, is that the latter category (synthesizers) had to work for it, while the former group (fireworks) just sat at the cafe sipping espresso and awaiting inspiration.

What does all this have to do with a science fiction author like Kage Baker?

I started writing at a young age. A few years later, I started noticing the man behind the curtain in the things that I was reading. How did they set the scene? Carry off dialog? Make me feel something? Not surprisingly, I also started comparing my abilities to those of other writers. That led to one of two conclusions: 1) That’s just something I can’t do (and maybe never), but that’s all right; or 2) I could do that (especially if I bothered, which I probably won’t). This had to evolve, if only because it gets exhausting. So, the next stage became: 1) I don’t need to read any more of this; 2) I am going to finish this because it is good; or 3) OMG- this writer is pointing the way.

Tying back to the fireworks and the synthesizers, it is really hard to get something out of the path followed by one of those fireworks artists. Their work might be inspirational, but the way that they got there is difficult to delineate, by definition.

Kage Baker started publishing the fantastic stories and novels in 1997 when she was 45. Her Company series combines science fiction elements like time travel, well-researched history, and political thriller driven plots. Add to that incredible craft and talent.

I read Black Projects, White Knights first because it was huddled in the science fiction ghetto on the new book shelf at the library. Instantly hooked, I felt energized because someone new had emerged who wrote brilliantly with feeling. You just knew that the research had been heavy, but it also never felt like a lecture. The tone never condescended. It was like reading Bradbury or Sheckley or Kornbluth for the first time.

Naomi Novik and Jo Walton and Charles Stross, among others, have come along since- all of them pointing the way. I don;t know if it’s true or not, but I like to think Baker brought that new burst of inspiration.

What’s it all about?

You’ve Got to Check This Out is a blog series about music, words, and all sorts of artistic matters. It started with an explanation. 115 more to go.

New additions to You’ve Got to Check This Out release regularly. Also, free humor, short works, and poetry post irregularly. Receive notifications on Facebook by friending or following Craig.

Images may be subject to copyright.

I’d Rather Go Blind

Song written by Bill Foster and Ellington Jordan; performed by Etta James

Don’t tell my wife, but I fell in love with two different women when I moved to Boston so, so many years ago. I was fortunate enough to marry one of them. The other one- well, I was fortunate enough to hear her records somewhere. I picked up one of those “Great Hits of the 50’s” albums- probably Volume 27, on sale for $2.99. I wore out two songs- Lightning Strikes and Dance With Me Henry.

This coincided with the resurgence of the incredible Ruth Brown and her subsequent hosting of a radio show. I was swimming in great blues belters- a sound that I found irresistible.

I started noticing Etta James on television. You heard her on the radio and the owners would be playing her when you walked into used record stores. In fact, I discovered one of those wonderful, unexpected finds in a Somerville record store. Up on the wall- hanging right above the counter- just right up there- well- check it out. Be still my heart.

We even got tickets to see Etta James perform. Unfortunately, the gigs ended up being canceled. So, we started paying a little more attention to the back story, which was not quite as easy then as heading over to Wikipedia.

Needless to say,

the story that emerged was horrifying. Coming in the wake of so many other stories of abuse of young performers, I admit that it became difficult to differentiate from all the other horrors. Those of us who populate the nameless throngs of the audience ask no less of our artists- they also need to suppress their past to the power of the present moment.

That sublimation of the self becomes the defining aspect of performance for many artists, whether on stage, canvas or paper. In the end, it feels as though the mass of people demand a ritual sacrifice- I’m not saying that they actually want one, but the artist can feel that way. No matter how comfortable the performer looks baring their soul, it is never easy.

This is also where the notion of art and ritual intersect. In our prehistory, it appears that the two concepts may be inseparable. Leap forward hundreds of millennia and watch Etta James and Doctor John while looking for the rituals within their performance. Something about their entrances and movements feels designed as an incantation to communal ecstasy, doesn’t it?

For that matter, the real threat of secular art to organized religion is this notion of embedded ritual. For most people, the sense of community and background of order provided by ritual and a unifying creed fulfill primary needs. Once art can provide those, we next need to see who leads, who follows, and who defines the creed.

What’s it all about?

You’ve Got to Check This Out is a blog series about music, words, and all sorts of artistic matters. It started with an explanation. 116 more to go.

New additions to You’ve Got to Check This Out release regularly. Also, free humor, short works, and poetry post irregularly. Receive notifications on Facebook by friending or following Craig.

Images may be subject to copyright.

John from Cincinnati

Television series created by David Milch and Kem Nunn

Cutting to the final judgement, John from Cincinnati was something of a mess, a mesmerizing mess, but still not something you were ever going to persuade most people to watch.

“It’s this show about this guy who shows up in this surfing community on southern California. Miracles start happening and his initials are, you know, John and Cincinnati. Really, it’s about this family and all this stuff keeps happening to them. The acting is really amazing with this incredible cast. Oh, and it was canceled like halfway through the first season, so it ends with this really long monologue that tries to explain everything you’ve seen.”

I loved every minute of the show, from the opening theme through that bizarre lecture that wraps everything up with a very confusing-looking knot.

Milch has been widely hailed for his work on Deadwood and NYPD Blue. He worked on Hill Street Blues, too. My point being that he had plenty of verified before John from Cincinnati, but this is the work that haunts me. The cast is mindbogglingly brilliant, populated with familiar faces. The stories as written and presented just seep into your eyeballs, requiring a few quiet minutes of contemplation after each episode.

By the time this show came along, Milch definitely had the auteur thing going. After all, he had received ritual blessing from The New Yorker. With Deadwood, he moved well into the mystical camp when the opportunity presented itself, but that’s a hard sell for a television audience when ratings matter.

Sure, you can do a show about faith or religion,

but the plot needs to hold sway over the ideas. Honestly, John from Cincinnati feels loaded with plot, but the mystical elements play as unexplained events- sort of The X-Files with the detectives replaced by a family drama where all the weirdness occurs in the background of scenes, only tangentially affecting people’s behavior.

So, yes, it is hard to mix philosophy into your tale, especially when it seems like you’re using the tale to explore the philosophy yourself. Perhaps that is the ultimate downfall of the show. The viewer has the sense that the writer is trying to work out his personal issues right there before us. Real-time memoir may not be such a good thing.

But that’s why the show doesn’t work so well, or at least didn’t last. Why do people still discuss it, as opposed to sop many other lost shows? I don’t know what I knew when I started watching. I think I only became aware of the 10 episode length after watching the first couple. The reassurance of a vague attempt at pulling it all together (along with the short commitment- it was only 10 episodes) made playing it out a viable option.

The show just kept on giving what we most want in our art. We need honesty and connection. Sure, I knocked the idea of the writer placing his personal struggles down on paper in real time, but that’s a dodge. Sometimes, we have the opportunity to see what someone is feeling and we should take it.

What’s it all about?

You’ve Got to Check This Out is a blog series about music, words, and all sorts of artistic matters. It started with an explanation. 117 more to go.

New additions to You’ve Got to Check This Out release regularly. Also, free humor, short works, and poetry post irregularly. Receive notifications on Facebook by friending or following Craig.

Images may be subject to copyright.