In yesterday’s post, we left off talking about Mozart writing one last piece of music in the final days of his life.  I mentioned that his final piece was the Requiem Mass in D Minor.  The crazy thing about this fact is that a requiem is a piece of music used as a memorial for someone who has died! (Just in case you didn’t know)  Obviously, in the midst of Mozart’s illness, he knew about the seriousness of his health condition.  He could have written music about life and new beginnings, but instead, he chose to write a piece of music directly addressing his adversity.

I find it to be pretty incredible when creatives make art that directly address their  pain…their “personal pit”.  One area of life that connects all humans is the fact that we have all dealt with grief, fear, pain, adversity.  However even though this is something that connects us with others, because of the uncomfortable nature of adversity,  we oftentimes don’t want to discuss this part of our lives with anybody.  In fact, oftentimes, we don’t want to think about it by ourselves!  This is why I think artists using creativity to address struggle is so powerful.  When artists address personal pain through their art, they are showing to the world their willingness to face their personal pit.  They are opening a window for others to experience empathy…maybe for the first time.

Have you ever created (or consumed) art that addressed personal pain?  Was it a difficult experience?  Was it cathartic?  We’d love to hear your stories.

As an artist, what do you do with personal pain or struggle that follows you?

Throughout my life, bereavement has been a common experience in my family circle.  My mom died when I was 13, my uncle, my mom’s youngest brother, died when I was 18.  My wife’s mother died five years ago.  Two out of four of my Grandparents have died, and the other two are suffering from Alzheimer’s.

Death.  It’s not a word that even feels good to look at on a page or computer screen.  Does the topic  make you uncomfortable?  No matter how hard we try, that seems to follow us unpleasantly.

As creatives, how can we approach the topic of grief, death, or loss?

Mozart died at age 35.  How did he handle his last year of life?  We know that adversity was present with Mozart in his last year.  He was deathly ill.  However, in the midst of this, he composed an incredible piece of work, The Requiem Mass in D Minor.  In his last days, Mozart was using the mind that God gave him to give life to a piece of music that is celebrated hundreds of years later.  What an incredible potential artists have…to give creative life in the midst of death.

As a creative, have you taken steps to give life in the midst of struggle?  Today, I am reminded of the incredible gift we have when we create and the life that it can bring in a world that is so often filled with death and loss.

How does this resonate with you?  I’d love to hear your thoughts in our comment section.  You can hear Mozart’s Requiem below.

-jonathan

The Lightfield Blog will be taking a week long hiatus for the Easter Holidays.

Check back next week for more posts!!

I was in college, working on a minor in Music Business, when the “indie” movement got started. It made for a lot of interesting discussion about the way the entertainment industry was changing. Recording equipment was readily available and any student with a little know-how and a computer could record in their dorm room. At the time, “indie” meant independent, as in free from a major record label, and all the “unique” kids on campus called themselves “emo”.

If you ask me, I think the term “emo”—which is a blog unto itself—became a little loaded and it seems that all the “emo” kids started calling themselves “indie”. And from that point on, the term became more about a genre fashion and sound of music than a business model. Tight jeans, shaggy hair, 80’s sunglasses—you’ve probably seen teens and young 20 somethings dressed like this whenever you go to the mall or the movies.

Indie music itself has a pretty distinctive sound, too. It’s much more simple in its production than major label-backed pop music. The guitars are raw, the bass is punchy and the drums are trashy. Overall, the indie genre is a much more lo-fi pop and rock sound than the music produced for general consumption. The irony in it all, however, is that indie is no longer some kind of sub-culture, but, rather, a very mainstream movement. There are even “indie” bands signed to major recording contracts. Indie isn’t so independent or unique anymore.

The true independent movement is something much larger. Yes, it includes many bands of the aforementioned indie and emo genres, but it also includes country, rock, metal, jazz and classical performers. Even though independent acts are being signed to major labels, it’s also becoming increasingly common to see major recording artists, from Prince to Radiohead, go independent. Where performers once needed to be “discovered” in order to record and distribute their music, anyone can create their own record label and promote their own music; all an artist needs now is a computer and an internet connection. This is creating a sea change in the music industry. Major labels are losing money hand over fist and independent success stories are everywhere. The true independent movement has never been bigger or brighter (the same could be said for film makers, writers, and visual artists).

This topic is huge and we’ve just barely scratched the surface. So rather than trying to work it all out, we thought we would highlight a few favorite independent records, from local to global recording artists. Enjoy.

-Whit

Vapors by Clemency- A self-released record by a local Nashville band, sold through iTunes, CDBaby.com and publicized through Facebook and MySpace. I even played guitar on this record, tracking the parts in a basement.

Transatlanticism by Death Cab for Cutie- A true “indie” success story. This was the last independent record the band would record before their success landed them on a major label.

In Rainbows by Radiohead- This platinum-selling, Grammy award-winning band not only decided to release their latest record themselves, but they gave it away for free. Loyal fans had the option to pay or donate whatever they wanted for the record, and in the end, it paid of. Radiohead made more money giving In Rainbows away than from all of their previous records combined.

Yesterday, my wife and I were watching a movie where a teenager referred himself as an “indie” kid.  A few weeks before that, we were watching American Idol, and Randy referred to a contestant as an “indie” artist.

What is it with this word? If I’m understanding the word correctly, the word refers to art (usually music or film) that is produced and marketed outside of a major record label or studio production company….ok, I just checked the dictionary to be sure…annnnnd yup, my definition is correct.

So I ask the question again: Why is teenager in this film referring to himself as an “indie” kid?  Why is a contestant on AMERICAN IDOL, a show marketed to millions, being referred to as “indie”?

It seems as though, for some reason, the idea of being “indie” is a label that some people wear with pride.  The middle school student that vigorously seeks to find clothes that nobody wears…the high school student that scoffs at anyone proclaiming their allegiance to any Pop artist loved by the masses while proclaiming their undying love for the obscure Swedish 70’s folk  artist that he or she discovered before anyone else..the college student or young adult that constantly sends Facebook updates about their love certain unknown films and their disdain for most well-liked films…

Are these the personalities that long to be referred to as “indie”?  If that is the case, is “indie” just a synonym for “unique”?

The irony of the “indie” brand, is something I find incredibly compelling.  It’s evident that something about this term captivates many  in our culture.  But, why?  If people long to be known as “one-of-a-kind” individuals, then why do they pursue a mass marketed “indie” brand?

These are questions we will explore more deeply in our next post this week.

In the meantime, we would love to hear your thoughts on the topic by commenting below.  What is it with the word “indie”?

The MUSE concert got me thinking about other shows I’ve seen, particularly the shows that I really got lost in, the ones that took me somewhere. It’s a diverse list, but as my memory serves, he goes:

• Prince at the GEC in 2002
• Iron Maiden and Motorhead at Blossom Music Center in 2003
• Patty Griffin at the Ryman in 2005 and 2007
• Damien Rice at the Ryman in 2008
• Rush at Starwood Amplitheater in 2002
• Coldplay at Starwood Amplitheater in 2005
• Radiohead at Verizon Amplitheater in 2008

And of course, MUSE this past Monday night. I’ve been to a lot of great concerts but these shows all had a little something extra, something to set it apart. Maybe it’s because the show was so over-the-top and high energy in its performance, like with MUSE, Prince and Iron Maiden. Maybe it’s because I’m a dork of a Rush fan (I confess). Maybe it was the uncanny ability of a band to translate every last ounce of their studio vibe and then some, like Coldplay (with the benefit of backing tracks) and Radiohead (without). Or maybe it’s hearing someone open their mouth and pour out their soul on stage, like they were made for that very moment in time. Patty and Damien fall into that category; their shows simply moved me.

A college professor once told me that God and music were the only two things that are transcendent. I’ve thought about that quite a bit since then, and while I’m still not entirely sold on the statement, I do believe both God and music to be transcendent. Both have the ability to seemingly tear through your consciousness into the very cracks of your being, connecting you to life across the physical, emotional and spiritual. Both can seemingly explain things we don’t understand, even though we could never really understand how. I remember the first time I actually felt the physical presence of the divine; I remember it well and feel it to this day. And while a different experience, I remember the first time I really listened to Aaron Copeland—it sent shivers through my body and brought tears to my eyes. Sometimes I believe God gave us music to give us some tangible glimpse of his divine nature and its presence in all things; the beautiful, ugly, tragic, joyful, angry—it’s all there.

All of the shows above moved me in some way. Each was a clear reminder of the transcendent power of music and its ability to wreck you, though each accomplished it differently (even Iron Maiden, believe it or not). These shows were worth twice the price of admission, and I am honestly grateful for them.

There is one more concert that needs mentioning. It is probably the best concert I’ve ever seen and it happened in a cafeteria with no lighting and no giant stacks of speakers. As a junior in high school, a friend took me to a local college to watch Phil Keaggy perform. I only knew him by name and that he played Christian music—I was expecting something better suited to a Sunday School class than a concert, but I went anyway. For the next two hours, I watched a man alone with his voice and guitar completely destroy every misconception I had about who he was and the world he came from. To this day, it was the strongest yet most humble display of skill and talent I have ever seen. That night, in that cafeteria, I heard God like I had never heard him before, bouncing off the walls in tongues of wood and steel.

A few weeks back, I was playing a gig where the lighting guy asked the band about some song cues to which he could pair some lighting effects. With regards to his plans, he said, “I am going to destroy the crowd with light.” Simply awesome. The band then jokingly said we would, in-kind, “destroy the crowd with sound”, and while I wish we had been capable of such awesomeness, we were not. Since that night, I have been thinking about that concept and what it would feel like to just be totally immersed in a wave of sonic energy to the point I felt exhausted and humbled by it. Now I know.

Monday night, I went to a concert by a band named MUSE. For those of you who are not familiar with the band, they are a modern rock trio from England, famous for aggressive, technically advanced science fiction Rock N’ Roll—sort of a Led Zeppelin for the 21st century. This was my third MUSE concert, but the band has increased in popularity—thanks to an opening spot on U2’s last world tour.  The staging, light show and audio were epic in every possible way. The band opened on a series of three elevated platforms, sandwiched between massive 360º LED panels, and from first note to last, they were larger than life. Simply put, the show was one of the best combinations of performance, talent and energy I have ever seen. I was destroyed by sound in the best way possible.

This got me thinking about music as an experience. The massive production of the MUSE show certainly played a roll in my enjoyment, but I’ve been to a lot of concerts, many without the benefit of giant LED walls and rotating drum risers, and have been just as enthralled (though maybe not as tired). Now I’m wondering what these experiences have in common.

I’m going to dig into this a little deeper so come back tomorrow and check it out. If you like, we’d love for you to comment on your most engrossing live concert experiences.

-Whit

The Academy Awards were held last Sunday night.  This is a night when people all over the world tune in to see who the academy deems “best.”   There are awards for almost every category imaginable from technology to music to script writing/adaptation.  I, like many teen/middle age girls/women, like seeing the “movie stars” all together in one room.  The fashion.  The ego.  The botox.  It really is a spectacle.

I usually get caught up in cheering for my favorite film to pummel all of the other worthless ones.  But this year was different.  I have only seen a few movies in the last year and out of this years nominees, I did not have a favorite.   This granted me a new perspective.  I just watched neutrally.  And my thoughts went from, “it must be amazing to win an Oscar!” to “what is it like to work so hard, be nominated, then lose?”  Well, it all depends on your definition of…

Success.  Recently, I have been learning that how we define success has a larger impact on our lives that just about any other definition.  For example, the question: “did you have a successful day?”   For someone with a terminal illness, success is seeing the morning.  For a CEO, it’s profitability and productivity.  For a person serving meals at a homeless shelter, it’s one less person that will go to bed hungry.

It is not my intention to insinuate that certain definitions are right and certain ones are wrong.  But many times the way we define success in our hearts doesn’t end up being the way we define it with our lives.  Too often my definition involves what others think about me or my actions.  In the case of the Oscars, do I realize that just being nominated is an honor that most (99.99%) will never know?  Or do I dwell on the fact that I was not chosen?  Am I only a success if I win?  Whose approval am I trying to win?  Why do I care?

As an artist or creative or human being, our definition of success is enormous.  My question for you (and me) is: what’s your definition of success?  are you staying true to living and working in that?  how can we stay there/get back to there?

Good luck…I’m right there with you…

-lewis

This week, I’ve taken the time to reflect on the struggles of patience, while also embracing the beauty found when slowing down.

Today I want to share with you two albums that have helped me embrace the act of slowing.  The first is Brian Eno’s “Music for Airports” and the second are two pieces from Arvo Pärt’s composition “Alina”.  A little background:  Brian Eno is an artist, composer, producer (known by many for his production contributions helping shape the sounds of artists including U2 and Coldplay.  In addition, Brian Eno also has a history in multiple genres (pop/rock/classical) known as a fore-father of the ambient music genre.  Arvo Pärt is a German composer known for his contributions to the classical genre of music known as minimalism.

Both of these albums are instrumental, and both move very slowly.  Each album focuses on less notes serving as a meditation on these few notes (as opposed to music that is continually going different places).  The peaceful resonance in these albums take me to a place where I begin to enjoy being still and embrace slowing down.  These compositions help me acknowledge the importance of the space between two notes and resonance of sound.  When listening to these albums, I find that patience can actually be an enjoyable experience.

So when you have a moment, take some time to hear several of these pieces.  You don’t have to hear the whole album at once.  Just be still and listen for a few minutes.  It’s my hope that you are able to find the joy of slowing down and the peace found while patiently listening to this music.

Have a great weekend!

-jonathan
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If you read yesterday’s post, you know that I recently watched the film Into Great Silence, but was not too successful in my viewing of it.

Here is the trailer just in case you missed it yesterday.

Today I am going to address the two questions I left when finishing the last post.

Why was it so difficult to sit still and observe the monks of the Carthusian Monastery?

I think the answer to this question is simple and obvious, and my guess is that many of you will identify.  It was difficult to sit through this film because I have difficulty with the discipline of “SLOWING”.  It doesn’t matter who you are or what you do, patience is a task that is usually required in your life.  For me, the past year has taught me many lessons about patience.  (In fact,  a few months ago, I wrote another post visiting this topic.)  I am thankful for these lessons, but nevertheless, I still struggle waiting on a red light, or wanting my last hour at work to finish in warp speed.    I want my food fast,  and my internet hi-speed.  I can give you the cliché answer saying that society shapes our worldview, leading us to oftentimes neglect patience and long for expedience.  But, the bottom line is that I became really excited when I found an iPhone app where I could order prescription medicine from my phone without having to take the time to call the pharmacy.  Do you identify with me?

So did I completely miss the beauty of this documentary?

Fortunately, the answer to this is NO.  While I had many instances of distraction in this  film.  I did have several moments of profound observation.  Watching this film, I was struck by the natural beauty the monks had surrounding them: the untrampled snow, the soft natural light that filled each room of the monastery, the quiet content of the faces of the monks, slowly and patiently performing each day’s tasks.

One of my favorite things I enjoyed was the way the silence of the documentary allowed me to reflect on each sound happening in each scene:  the movement of feet, the air moving outside, the resonance of the bells and echoes of the monk’s chants.  These are things I would usually overlook in my busybody day.

So, in summary, in the midst of distraction, I believe this film reminded me of something very important:  Patience, the act of waiting, the process of slowing down, can actually be a wonderful experience filled with quiet grace.  I was reminded to not just to enjoy the notes of a song, but to enjoy the space between each note.

As a creative, how can we use the act of slowness and patience to our advantage.  How can we use the space between notes to convey truth and beauty?