MY ART IS MY BUSINESS

One of the greatest things that has happened to me in the last few years is the discovery of Audio Books. Because of them, I can continue to cook dinner, do the washing, look after my family, travel, enjoy exercise and keep learning.

The more books I read, the more I understand how little I know, but then learning and questioning makes me think I am becoming a better person, so I am all for that.

If you have heard of me, then you probably know me as a musician, or perhaps now as a music business entrepreneur; someone who has always worked in the creative industries. I have always believed my job as an artist is merely to interpret the zeitgeist, box up these thoughts in some sort of expression and then send them out to the public arena.

Sometimes people relate to what I make, more often they probably don’t. It’s all good, even if I only have an audience of one I am winning, because I finished what I set out to do.

In his book, The School Of Life–An Emotional Intelligence, (2019), Alain de Botton wrote;

“We are so used to understanding the purpose of art in Romantic terms, as the fruit of individual artistic genius, that we forget that for most of history, art had a plainer and more direct purpose; it was the tool of education”.

My Art Is My Business Photo: Kendal Simich

This resonated with me and it made me wonder if it was time to throw some thought pieces into the mix.

Having spent most of my career writing songs from experience, or from what I have witnessed, it seemed like a natural step to convert what I am trying to express through music into words.

The lyrics in my songs usually condense bigger ideas into one line, and music accompanies those words to heighten the emotion. I have never had the courage to put ideas on paper because I feared looking foolish and that perhaps my writing was not of a good enough standard.

But now I don’t care. Now I quite like making people laugh.

Once, when he heard me moaning about how difficult everything was and how tough life seemed, my father said, “No one owes you a living Jan”. After not understanding at the time and being annoyed at him for being so insensitive to my delicious melancholy, I now totally agree. Life is hard, and no one is coming to save me, except myself.

Your circumstance is all you have to work on. Unlike a computer simulation, you can’t dial up better clothes, freedom, a new neighbourhood, wealth or different parents. You can’t erase things you wished never happened or have affected you.

“It is what it is right now, so I will work with what I have on hand”.

Not that things are equal. There is nothing fair about the way the world operates, but the alternative is to agree or give up. I can’t do either of those, so instead I ask, “Why does it have to be like this and how can I help make a difference?”

We don’t have a lot of time when you think about it and at any stage, we can face our departure from the mortal coil. The first half of my century has whizzed past and some of it I have wasted doing little while feeling very sorry for myself. Now, as I face my inevitable demise, time seems to have sped up. One day, in less time than I have breathed so far, I will say goodbye to my loved ones, so I really want to make the most of the next fifty years. Carpe Diem.

Wanting to allay ignorance and continuously ask questions somehow makes me calm. It gives me an inner strength while making me less angry at the world and because I believe anger is fear, then I guess that also means I am not as fearful.

During my time at Otago University, mid to late 80s, I was in awe of the learned ones around me. “Wow”, I thought, “all these great minds, books and noble hypotheses and my, how confident everyone is”, while wondering, “how would you have time to think, if you are working a 9–5 day job or are broke?”. From this, I assumed that only the middle classes or above could indulge in new ideas or enjoy the pursuit of the arts.

I was about eighteen when I wrote one of my earliest songs, Workers Lament for my all girls’ band Cassandra’s Ears (1984–1990);

“You ask me why I don’t understand the way you feel; I don’t have time to understand myself at all. You don’t know what it’s like not to have the time to think at night. To come home to a fight at night ’cause you can’t pay the bills”.

Cassandra’s Ears Poster

And that was my absolute position until about 15 years ago when it occurred to me that my belief, that over working, living from week to week, always being broke, not succeeding in the music industry or feeling less capable than others, mirrored those lyrics.

What I was saying in that song was that I had no choice, because I was from a blue-collar background, and to an extent a woman, other than to be ignored. That my work would never be as valid or important as the great minds in the ivory towers or the successful artists in the music industry.

But time is a great leveller, and many of those intellectuals or musicians who I once thought were so invincible turned out to be freaking out about careers, life and death, as much as I was.

“Time will comfort you. It will remove the jagged edges inside of you, and you’ll be smooth just like that mirror judging your decay.” *From Viva Voca (1992)

Now I understand my role in society is to work and entertain. That is simply my job, nothing more, nothing less. I don’t ask for any special favours or reassurance, I just do it because I feel compelled to and am energised when I am producing and creating things.

So, this is one of my next artistic endeavours. I thought I might extrapolate on some ideas I have and write them down. Make songs on paper without the melody, if you like.

Whether this makes me relevant or if anyone will even notice me, a minor cog in the great engine of humanity, who knows.

All I know for sure is that I woke up one morning and said;

“Time to write.”