Wednesday, October 8, 2014

the old way – the new renaissance

the dismissal of what it took to build, to invent, to yield, to pour out, to hurt, to bleed, to die, to love, to lose, and to build again – this dismissal is what's wrong with the post-modern patron, listener, observer, critic, consumer. perhaps they don't realize that these days to "lose one's ass" is exactly what it means to be the post-modern artist. it was the same during the dark ages and then out of nowhere came salvation; came a renaissance.

to appreciate that art, to be an appreciator of art, we pre to post-moderners must realize the artist more than likely did just that: he "lost his ass" to give us what we are enjoying, identifying with or completely taking for granted. we must wise up.

art, at one time or another in the artists life, either costs or will cost him everything. if you do not read further then, in the short run, buy! no excuses. if you like it - buy it. without artists, without music, without the push toward creative eternity, we are lost in dark.

good you are still reading.

didn't you know? we are currently under siege.

we've been given games, bread and circus and told they are the standards. we are easily distracted. we'd rather watch kittens than be challenged, moved, bettered, refined (please note: i include myself in the insult). even our meals are indicative of how easily we settle. we buy food because there's a toy inside not because it's perfect and life-giving. the way we treat our fellow man on the highway or on the sidewalk or at the market - the way we talk and are profusely and proudly profane. the way we rob the earth ...

what have we become? really, what have we become? surely enlightenment started with a vision. now we hold the keys to the proverbial building known as that very renaissance. it's dark and dank, unloved and in need of repair but still so epic and beautiful, and useful and important. it serves as a reminder of who we are and sets irrefutable standards – but most us don't want reminded of that – the centuries it took to build. some of us, desperate, have sold our share and can't bear to look back. others, partners still, don't look because we want a twinkie instead of a feast. a developer in town and fellow key-holder wants to tear it all down and build condos, and most of us key-holders, koozies in hand, will trade in our keys for casts and systems without questioning it. and it's not because we are bad or stupid. it's because we don't know how to question it or even why we should. we all know something is wrong but can't put fingers on it.


we grew up in think tanks that weren't think tanks at all. the opinions of our fathers gave us only bottom lines. we grew not knowing anything about spirit and truth and thus the artisans and masters of the ages in medicine, law, philosophy, architecture and design were discarded because of the inability to replicate the finery for lack of understanding. the arts were lost because the learning was no longer passed down and we babes grew fat without challenge and no longer cared for the disciplines in the warm light of entitlement and easy living.


we know also that to appreciate means to connect, and to connect one must invest, and if one invests he must look in the mirror, and if the entitled generational mask is all he sees, one will never identify with what it cost to make such a marvelous structure – one will never identify with the coldest days of dark ages and war – and so the anthem of the day will sing.. "money is easy, let's print more, let's tear it down and start a war. we last forever, we proud elite. the gods bow down, on bended knees."

today we exist with the dying relics – a group of leaders with no understanding of how to "stand in the old way and to know it is a good path.." they are lost. art is lost. the art of medicine succumbs to the art of making money, and the art of people is to make them slaves to that same dollar and system. and so with a lack of foundational art – all of it perishes. and with them, we also are lost.

one might ask, "why buy a print of an artists work, or an original that moves me, or give money to a pastor that poured his heart out, or to a musician that gave his life to bleed into the microphone when i've got the internets and can access it all for free?" suddenly he knows the answer and perhaps now is asking himself, "why did i just ask such a stupid question?"

if we buy, support, we rebuild. but with that comes great responsibility. take a look at notre dame and the sistine or castles on the rhine, or even the nations capital – or was the renaissance all for nothing? have we really lost our connection with the divine?

if you build it, build it fine. buy it fine. built it right. buy it only if it can be right. music, art, medicine, structure, design, life, family, meal, quiet time, family time. re-build it all in mirrored renaissance – beautiful and perfect. erect it to God and if nothing is wrong with it, don't build it at all. support your craftsmen and tradesmen and artisans and workers and musicians and teachers and poets. cast out the dr's of money and the artisans of distraction. give wine to the broken-hearted. look at the curvy uneven walls of your downtown condo and refuse to buy this shit. hold everything in the light of that great renaissance, even your own work, and if it's not that good, refuse it. break the mold and start again.


the decline of art is the saturation of a world of so called artisans breeding monetary filth in every doctoral discipline and field. but the saturation of a world demanding quality and paying for it, is a world of inspired workers no longer getting their means by selling lies and miracle elixirs. yes, many of those working artisans will fall away and for a time they will struggle and morn without identity. but when the spiritually elite again find their place, the world will restore and enlighten all by itself. we will build less and better. we will refine. we will come to community castles to hear the latest and greatest outpourings by the worlds premier artists on instruments that must be paid for with huge endowments. medicine will finally heal us. structures will never fall. food will do its work. the soil will be restored. disease will flee before us and pestilence become a thing of the dark ages.


but …

in the meantime, in the world of goods and trade and refining art – if it moves you – patron, listener, observer, critic, consumer – you can afford it even if you can't afford to own it, and you can own it even if you can't afford it. give to it's cause, it's creator some fond tangible token. it isn't yours to like or claim until you've done so. you defile it's temple if you refuse. you've merely stolen it. yes yes you are right. you want it. you need it. you can't afford not to have it. 10,000 keen glances, 10,000 listens in a lifetime, your favorite works … yes, yes, your life, my life, his life, her life, our lives depend upon it. and at last, when the aristocracy again employs the artist, it's because the patron is revived, he dances the waltz, and enlightened, he knows he will die without the artist and his renaissance.


joshua payne 281.22.y2

Thursday, February 27, 2014



i got an email from cdbaby that said: "words you never want to hear when it comes to your music: 'i tried to add your music to a spotify playlist and it wasn't there.'"

if you know where i'm going with this you can stop reading now.

i love it when people hear me speak of "ordered steps" and belief systems and 9 times out of ten they always say, "oh where do you go to church?" and i get a tremendous amount of glee in my own response, "i don't go." a.k.a. did you just lock the bird of heaven in a cage of gold?

and so with spotify. let me say that those words: "i tried to add your new music to a spotify playlist and it wasn't there." this makes me happier than most things. this is music to my ears. and with tremendous amounts of glee i simply and exuberantly reply, "Wonderful!"

dear spotify and the so called big four advocates of performance royalty licensing who sold us out in D.C. a couple years ago so you could get into bed with the streaming triangle,
kindly piss off.

JOSHUA PAYNE