Playing Jazz, part one

I hung out in a small spot of night on the fringes of No Smoking and Adults Only.

Thick air, eighty proof attitude, and shadows that kept your seat for you during intermissions.

The stage belonged to a round of changing keys, facile fingers, and moods found in forgotten closets, abandoned buildings, after hour garages, and overlooked streets, brought in by saxes, axes, horns, and skins wearing misery wrapped up in puzzles, suits that only glowed in moonlight, who spoke in tongues unheard by day.

One night they were handing out faces to the smiling, voiceless crowd, laying foundations for towers that never rose, sending messages in forgotten codes, when the Kid walked in, case under his arm, hat cocked, eyes clear behind opaque wisdom no one sought.  He stood at the foot of the stage, straight, respectful, patient, till the set was done and they noticed him.

They asked him who he was and what did he want.  He set his case down on the edge of the platform and he said:

“Who I am is a work in progress, a collection of possible outcomes, an arrow looking for a bow, a bullet for a barrel, a truth for a mouth to put it in.  What I do is whatever it takes to make all this congeal into reason and purpose.”

We heard echoes.  So what, they asked then, do you think you’re gonna do here?

And he answered: “I want to play jazz.”

Down. To It and Otherwise

But not depressed. Just tired. Sort of a twilight feeling.

I’m working on the last chapter of The Spanish Bride, an action/historical mystery/thriller/etc set in the uncrowded days of 1780s St. Louis.  This is about the fifth draft now and I think it’s ready.  Just one more chapter.

 

 

This is always a dangerous point in the process.  I see that finish line and I get anxious, I want it to be done, but the last stretch of a novel is where all the promise is supposed to pay off, so you shouldn’t hurry it up.

It will be fine.  After I finish this draft, Donna gets to read it and then I must go back and fix the things she indicates need fixing.

But I am tired.  I’ve been constantly redrafting a novel—this one and Orleans—since March.  I need a break.  A couple weeks to catch up on some other things.  I have a guest blog to write, things around the house to tend to, more photographs to finish, friends to catch up with.

The image above was taken the night of the Fourth of July.  A pall of smoke filled the neighborhood as if some battle had been fought (which ritualistically it had).  I’ve manipulated it a bit to make it a little stranger.

I’m going to go feed the dog and watch some tv now.

Star Wars and Science Fiction

On Thursday, July 21st,  I gave a talk at the Daniel Boone Regional Library on the nature of science fiction.  I had a good turn-out, the room was almost full, and the talk was generally well-received.

I used a comparison I’ve grown used to deploying, comparing Star Wars to something else and pointing out how it is not science fiction but rather a quest fantasy dressed up like SF, which is not at all uncommon, but can be confusing when talking about the differences that make SF unique.  Normally, this point gets across without too much trouble and for that reason, perhaps, I’ve grown a bit complacent in how I present it.

One person in the audience kept coming back to it, arguing that my definition of what makes Star Wars a fantasy is not sufficiently differentiating to separate it from science fiction.  We went back a forth throughout the evening.  The exchange was fun, respectful, and illuminating, but I still think I failed to address the concerns made.  For one, I didn’t identify the direction from which the objection came well enough.

The question centered around the requirement that SF be about how humans deal with significant changes in the environment around them, causing them to see the universe fundamentally differently than before, requiring them to change.  As stated, all fiction of any worth makes this demand of characters.  No change, no drama.  I put the emphasis on the specifics of the environment—an environment that is changed out of our norm by advances in technology or encounters with aliens or one of the several other motifs SF has deployed in the past, like time travel, telepathy, advanced weapons, faster-than-light travel and so forth.

Well, Star Wars  has all that, so why doesn’t it qualify as SF?

I think I failed to get across that the changes elicited by such things must also be in accord with the nature of the new environment.  The fact is, Luke doesn’t meet that criteria, nor really does anyone else in Star Wars.  Nor do they have to, because the changed milieu in which they move is not acting upon them the way it would in a science fiction novel.

My questioner seemed to be taking the stance that Luke was going through a Hero’s Journey, ala Joseph Campbell’s thesis in The Hero With A Thousand Faces.  Everyone knows, or should know, that Campbell was a close adviser to George Lucas on the first two movies and they conform to Campbell’s mythic analysis.  Why does this make Star Wars fantasy instead of science fiction?  Don’t  SF characters go through a Hero’s Journey?

Well, many do, certainly, but not all, and science fiction really isn’t concerned with reifying those kinds of myths.  And here’s where I fumbled.

Luke Skywalker’s entire journey is destined.  He walks the path he does to fulfill the potential left unfulfilled by his father, making this a story tied to a thick strand of myth that is the same in that film as it was in Aeschylus or Euripedes.  The universe through which Luke moves is functionally no different than the myth-strewn landscape through which Hercules, Theseus, or Perseus walked.  The aliens in Star Wars are not really aliens, but mythic archetypes and racial stereotypes.  Take the whole corpus of Star Wars and drop it into any of the stories of the Age of Heroes and the only things you would have to change are the modes of transportation and the weapons.  Luke doesn’t have to change because who and what he is will not meet the changed conditions of the universe, but because the universe has a predetermined role for him to fulfill and he need only become what he can inevitably become.  The universe in this instance is almost a conscious enabler in a process that has nothing to do with what we know of nature.

Luke’s training is the same as that of any warrior monk of any period of history.  He’s a squire, an apprentice, Obi Wan is a knight, the Emperor is a wizard and Darth Vader his co-opted henchman.  Where have we seen these before?  The universe of Star Wars is a magic quest that sees no reason for anything to change simply because it is different.

Rather than compare it to what it is usually compared with—Star Trek—let’s compare it to something strikingly different.  Blade Runner.  Is there a Hero’s Journey in Blade Runner?  Sort of.  Deckard must go on a quest, meeting challenges, in order to become who he really is.  But the landscape has utterly changed, so when he gets to the end he has not triumphed. All he has learned is that he was lied to all his life and that what he is has no place in the society he has just defended.  And what are the challenges he has faced?  Are they threats to society?  Perhaps, but not in any reifying way.  He has to kill beings like himself who are designed to a purpose and want only to be free of their destiny.  Very much like Deckard himself, who has at the beginning quit the service he finds damaging to himself.

The changed conditions of the environment require him to do what is not in his nature, so there is no fulfillment of potential, only a kind of indentured servitude with the elusive goal at the end of not having to do it anymore.  And at the end what he learns is that his prey is not what he thought it was, that in achieving the ends set for him by society he has perhaps committed a worse crime, a moral crime, and that the reward he sought was intended for someone he no longer believes he is—in fact, he will be hunted down by others now for having learned what he is.

Only another level, just as important, is an argument over the nature of slavery and what is human, deployed in a manner than sidesteps the arbitrariness of personal prejudice—the replicants are Made Objects rather than designated as such by those without empathy.  Like anything else humans make, are they not property?

This is not a scenario easily translated into fantasy—even the Urukai of Tolkein and the Orcs are undeniably evil by virtue of having been made, the idea being that any imitation of nature in such a process is by definition corrupted—because the replicants are individuals, not archetypes, and that’s where the dividing line is.

And finally there is the science thing.  Star Wars depicts a universe wherein science and technology are almost always inferior, usually corrupt, and complete failures at answering the questions posed by nature.  The Force overrides all—dark or light—rendering anything science might do pointless.

The whole point of science fiction from the beginning has been to establish that such ways of seeing the universe are invalid in terms of human potential.  The nature of Nature is not amenable to petitions based on—for lack of a better term—religious concepts of reality, which is ultimately what Star Wars is all about.

What would a genuinely SFnal Star Wars look like?  I’m not sure, but for one thing all those blasters would be laser-sited and no one would miss.  For another, there would likely be no robot slaves (which is what they are)—intelligences at that level would long since have acquired status equal if not superior to the organics life forms around them.  For still a third, there would likely not be an Empire with even the slimmest semblance of homogeneity.

One could go down the list.  The scope and scale of the civilization depicted wouldn’t fit within the narrow confines of the feudal system portrayed.  As for Luke and Leia? Well…

But as to the Hero’s Journey, there are two ways to look at it within this context.  There is the one the hero makes in order to fulfill expectations built into the universe around him—which is the journey Luke Skywalker makes—and this is mythic and religious.  The other is the struggle to find ourselves, our true natures, and fulfill or at least complete the personal journey to become our own selves.  The rest of the universe doesn’t give a damn about this, it is your journey and fulfills no one else’s expectations.  Doing so is its own reward—or, in some cases, punishment—and does not have world-changing consequences.  The former is a fantasy conceit, the latter—well, that’s reality, isn’t it?  And as it plays out in science fiction, it is part of a reality that shares little with fantasy.

Not Very Plain Black & White

I sometimes get so caught up in all the cool things I can do with color now I forget the simpler yet often deeper pleasures of good black & white.  I’ve mentioned often enough that, photographically-speaking, my influences all spring from the pool of talent surrounding and comprising the f64 Group, a legendary coterie of pioneer photographers from the 1930s and 40s.  I’ve spent many a lazy afternoon in a dark room with trays of chemicals and an enlarger and a selection of negatives, reveling in the creation of textures and tones.  There is still something magic watching a white sheet of paper “grow” an image in solution, the latent photon-affected silver salts tarnishing in a couple of minutes into the order and definition of a photograph.  It’s not something you could ever do in color and now that the digital age in upon us it is a treat a great many people may never have.

But I spent almost forty years in a lab, I’ve had my share of watching that kind of magic, and for the time being I don’t miss it a bit.  But I would miss new black & white images.  In many ways, I still regard black & white as the superior medium.  Opinions vary, naturally.

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A Few Pictures

Not much specifically to tell.  I’m still deep into rewrites (and having a genuinely good time of it—there’s nothing quite like solid, professional feedback!) and there are some things on other fronts that are not quite ready to announce, so…I thought I’d just post a few new photographs.

Within walking distance from my home there is a strikingly variegated landscape.  Conforming neighborhood with unique houses, a main street with several ethnic influences, and an industrial district with a mix of thriving and defunct businesses.  Thought I’d post a few of the latter.

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Now back to rewrites.

It’s Friday

So it is.  I’ve been crunching away on line edits all week and having a good time.  The weather has been pleasant, at least compared to last week, and a couple of mornings I’ve been able to turn off the air and open the windows while working.  I loaded up the CD changer with classical—Respighi, Strauss, Grieg—and did fresh ground coffee.

During breaks, I’ve been playing with pictures again.  You know, you make damn near anything fascinating, even beautiful in a dark, bizarre way, with enough patience and mods.  For instance:

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Someone pointed out that in the past something like this would have taken a dozen Kodalith masks and posterization steps.  There are about fifteen or so steps in this image and I think it could be a bit better.

We’ll see a friend tonight, go to a really cool party tomorrow night, and Sunday join our reading group to continue Canto X of Dante’s Paradiso.  Maybe I’ll get together with some musicians Sunday afternoon to rehearse a couple of things.

Walk the dog.

I’m ignoring the politics going on right now.  Just too pathetic to contemplate.  Maybe next week.

For now, just relax and chill and enjoy the moment.  That’s my plan.

If the above image is a little too weird, let me leave something here a little more normal.  But not too normal.  Have a good weekend.

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A Different “Doctored” Photograph

For something less fraught with the concerns of the day and a bit more fun.  They say you ought not take photographs from a moving car, but sometimes it’s the only way to get certain shots.

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And yes, this is heavily worked over.  I wanted an extra rainy effect.  This is something I was never able to achieve in color before and in B & W only by chemical abuse of the film.

I’m completing some of the online galleries—this one finishes out the Experimental gallery, which is filled with images that I have played with at length.  It might not be immediately obvious in some of them that they are, indeed, experimental insofar as the extent of manipulations are concerned, but they are all distortions of what was Actually There.

Anyway, something more pleasant.

Between

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I completed a massive rewrite the other day and sent it out.  When I say massive, I mean big, a whole novel.  There’s a lot riding on this and I find myself fidgety and on edge in a way I haven’t experienced in a long time.  It was an older book, one I thought (mistakenly, as it turned out) was done, complete, just fine.  What I found was proof that I need a good editor.

But the work is done and it’s out the door and all I can do now is wait for the yea or the nay.  Not sure what I’ll do if the answer is…

Everytime I get to the end of a major project, I find myself at sixes and sevens, loose ends need chasing down, and I don’t quite know what to do with myself.  Formerly, some of this time and excess energy was spent by going to a job.  That’s not an option now.  I used to go through a frenzy of cleaning house as well and I will likely do some of that today.  But later.  This morning, after breakfast, I opened Photoshop and noodled with a few images.  Having multiple creative streams is a good thing when you’re in a situation like this.  The above image is one result and I’ve decided to sandwich this post between two pictures.

Not to be melodramatic, but in some ways I’m facing a turning point.  I have to do Something.  Almost 30 years ago I set my goal to become a published writer.  Much to my amazement, I succeeded, but the effort birthed the desire to do this as my main work, which means I have to keep publishing.  Whether we like it or not, we need money to live, otherwise I could quite contentedly (I think, I tell myself) write for my own pleasure and use this medium or others to put the work out and not worry about income streams.  But it’s not just the income and anyone who writes for a living knows very well that this is true.  After a five year spurt of publishing intensity, things have ground to a virtual halt.  There are a number of reasons for this, some of them entirely my fault.  But I have to turn it around and soon or walk away.

I’m not at all sure I can and remain whole.

Of course I have this older art, photography.  I can, with some difficulty, get a freelance business up and running.  There’s music, too, although I am years from the kind of proficiency that would adequately supplement my income.  Tomorrow I’ll be playing guitar at the anniversary party of the business of a friend.  An hour or so of my ideosyncratic “stylings” as a favor.  For fun.

These spans of dry time between projects require distraction lest I tumble into a tangle of self-pity and despair.  It never lasts, I’m not so stoically romantic that I can sustain the dark time of the soul connected to artists denied their opportunity.  For better or worse, I seek happiness and am constitutionally incapable of living long in depression.  If not today, then by Monday I’ll be at work on something new or a new twist on something old and I’ll be trying again.

And for the time being I feel like the rewrite just finished is pretty good.  I have confidence in it.  I will let you all know if the news is…

Well, whatever it is.

Have a good weekend.

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The Fruits of (Fun) Labor

For whatever reason, I put 32 images in each of my online galleries.  Don’t know why, I just do.  No cosmic significance, it just worked out that way when I started, so I’m sticking to it.

That said, I have filled a new gallery with work done since I began using my new camera.  I’d like to share with everyone.  So here:

As always, all these images are for sale.  Click on the one you think you’d like, copy and paste that URL into an email message to me, and tell me what you’d like.  I’ll send you a quote.

Soon as I get the current manuscript done and out the door, Donna and I have tentatively scheduled a long day on the road to get some other shots besides stuff just around our house.  But I’ve always been a firm believer in looking closer at what there is right to hand.  It’s amazing what you can find even in your own back yard.

Enjoy.