Watched Janis Ian sing on PBS the other night.
Something about seeing a grandma singing and playing a guitar moved me so much...
this is way sexier than anything I've ever seen.
Aged talents brew creative forces like a dark bottle of wine, rich yet subtle.
Although I don't dip alcohol, I would therefore describe them as the amber glowing from a barrel of apple cider, pungent yet soothing straight into the heart.
It is a beautiful dream to envision oneself arting for another 5 decades. It is romantic when you toss aside the material rewards, suddenly the world does not make sense any more, but self survives in dignity.
Janis Ian put it this way, (forgive me for not remembering the exact words)
"Aside from egos and all that, all artists are here to serve.
I am fortunate enough to have the talent to write these songs
and was alive in a time when people would listen.
I am extremely previlieged to be able to serve these songs."
I have learned about artists serving but often wonder who are we serving?
the peopl who never touch or see our art?
the artists surrounding us?
the world with dark buildings erected?
the universe with too much negative emotions?
or me me me?
I assume I could understand it in this way now,
"I am here to deliver the vision I was given, with the gifted fingers I was offered.
I am here to serve the sculptures, the paintings and the space among installation objects."
Suddenly serving people makes no sense, yet serving art expands the possibility to no end.
The gifted one, zonkey with 1/4 zebra and 3/4 donkey, who sings like a trumpet and loves so very gently. She is here to serve, serves the pretty stripes that no other donkeys have.