"I'd never say it doesn't mean that much to me. Glad, anyway, to see you struggle free."
~Jawbox
I hope that at the end of my life, I don't have a headstone that reads, "Here lies Buick Audra, who didn't play well with others." I mean, I hope I don't have a headstone at all as that would mean I had been buried which sounds terrible, but that's beside the point. In all honesty, though... It's been a rough few years with me and collaborations. I'm not so crazy as to think that it always boils down to the other party being the problem, but I also can't shoulder all the blame. Perhaps some of us aren't collaborators. Perhaps some of us just make stuff on our own. I appear to be in the latter category whether I like it or not.
To be fair, I seem to do alright when it's not my project in any way. I very much enjoy lending my ear or voice to other peoples' work, and don't run into any to struggles there. I understand that it is their vision we are working towards; I am merely stepping in for a moment, and whatever the final outcome is: I'm fine with it. But, anytime I enter into a so-called partnership or major collaboration where my art is in play, there will be blood. Over and over again, I play a part in terrific disasters that are disappointing, frustrating, maddening and a colossal waste of time. The sinkhole of bad human behavior usually sucks the art right down into it, to boot. I count three major failures in this arena, and they've each locked me up for periods of time. The first and most significant of the three had me in a medium security prison of the mind for what felt like an eternity. I'd fool myself into thinking I was earning good time, but then a fight would break out and I'd end up in solitary confinement and be right back where I started. The next one actually upgraded me to maximum security, but I served a shorter sentence. The final stay was minimum security but it stung just the same. Jail is jail. I aim to stay free, but it's harder than you think. I'm currently on probation and I'm watching every step.
It's hard to pinpoint exactly what the issue is. I know, the mind reels that this could be the case, given the amount of time I've obviously had to think it over. But, it's true. I think it has to do with this expectation that, on top of attempting to co-create something of value, we'll also be great friends. We'll be Super People who get along famously and agree on everything, and if we don't, we've done the wrong thing altogether. But art is intense and turns you inside out. The process of making it can be more intimate than making out with a person. How are we to be perfect and pulled together at all times? I've said it before and I'll say it again, those abandoned projects are like kids I had with inappropriate partners that were put up for adoption before birth. It never stops being awful. Years later, people you haven't seen in ages ask you about it, assuming you carried that child to term... Because the last time they saw you, you were pregnant. And you give some vague answer about people being different and quickly try to change the subject to something else. Only there isn't anything else, because for me, my work is the whole story. Like I said, it's awful.
So, here I am with my girls, Rose Ink, Singer and Family Album. Everyone's doing well, thanks. I do think about the orphaned ones, more often than you'd guess, but try to forage ahead as best I can. Recently, one of them was left at the doorstep, providing a brand new situation for me to face. You see, I've never had one come back. I've never tried to re-create a bridge that had previously been burned to ash. Do I make a new bridge out of popsicle sticks? Do I have to go back over at all, or can I just get a megaphone and yell across the water from my shore? Message in a bottle? I'm open to the feedback, believe me. My mind works better when I write its contents down, and so in the recent weeks since this new scenario has unfolded, I've done some brainstorming about how not to land myself in the same holding cell of worthlessness I seem to end up in, post break-up. Here's what I have so far:
- Maybe music isn't marriage. (But it is... Oh well.)
- Maybe I need less than I think I do. Only, I just got through convincing myself that I need more. It's all very confusing.
- Maybe the release of an album I don't have individual control over might not kill me. (Doubtful.)
- Maybe the primary purpose of releasing the music overrides the personal bullshit between its parents. I know something about coming from a wreck of a situation.
- Maybe I'm supposed to be learning something here, and who wants to be the kind of person who can't learn?
- Great things have come from people who don't see eye to eye. Great, great things.
Thanks for listening,
buick audra
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