watering out like a river

and the february record continues its heavy-footed, light-hearted, stumbling, falling, tripping and getting up, rolling about, and running, sprinting really, and strolling, and seeking and searching, and gentle snowwalking. moving anyway. though the songs may not sound or feel all that lighthearted {do the songs i write ever sound or feel lighthearted?} this process has been amazing thus far. overflowing with joy. that sounds so stupid and cliche, but really, i mean it. a man hollering now and then, excited about things coming together, if ever so quickly.

the above photo was taken yesterday at around five in the evening, just before i began writing the song. light coming in through the windows. the warmth of it on my skin. though one would assume that this procees all feels terribly fast, in contrast, it does not. it certainly feels focused, but somehow slow-moving. i find it infinitely interesting as i watch the songs unravel, come tumbling out of me, some more gracefully than others. yesterday for example, was a beast, with many versions recorded, before i finally set up one mic on the guitar and one on my voice at midnight. recorded it live. so if you go listen, you might imagine sitting in some dimly lit cafe of nightclub, as the new day turns, listening to me sing. move the fingers.

what i've found most difficult about this project, is that when i feel inspired, and things are falling out of me, watering out like a river, i can write song after song, day after day, and find myself entirely satisfied with them. but this is different, as i am effectively forcing them out. trying to go inside and gently coax them at first, and then finally, at midnight for example, pulling them by their entrails. anything, anyhow. this serves to leave me frustrated and somewhat dissatisfied with the material, but then such is the process. perhaps this is entirely what it is about. making a record full of songs that i like, but do not love. then again, if being honest, i rarely love anything that i do as an artist, for much longer than a day or so. i seem to recall someone {robert altman?} saying that if we are ever satisfied with our work as an artist, that we have just died, for what else moves us onward, but our own disatisfaction? {to paraphrase}

so today, another. the goal today is simply to finish before the sun falls. to sit outside {it has been unseasonably warm here for days} and read, on the porch, in the sun, watching for birds in the trees. black squirrels.

"above all else, it is about leaving a mark that i existed: i was here. i was hungry. i was defeated. i was happy. i was sad. i was in love. i was afraid. i was hopeful. i had an idea and i had a good purpose and that's why i made works of art."

~felix gonzales-torres

Posted by jeff pitcher at February 6, 2005 10:32 AM

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