DB: In The Rough

Recently a young woman from the University of Puget Sound contacted me for information about why artists love and are inspired by Tacoma. Her thesis in comparative sociology depended on the answer to this question. “Frankly, my dear … I haven’t the slightest”, I nearly said, but feeling the pressure of my position as an artist in love with and inspired by Tacoma, went upon a large rambling diatribe that ended up sounding something like this:

blah blahb albhalbhblbhahahalbhalbhalblhb me… ME.. hahahaha blahbalbhalbhlabha bmememe. meme. me. blah-blah.

I did not at first, when she left my studio, know why I had said that exactly. After having a few days to explore it, I think I said the only thing I could say. Tacoma inspires me because it reminds me of myself. At the risk of seeming entirely self absorbed, let me try and unpack that a little.

Artists, it seems, need spots. Places. That is to say, they need specific locations that have specific attributes and identities with which they can relate to or live vicariously through. The location that an artist, poet or musician calls home needs to have a quality that they find within themselves. This is why Seattle during say 1987-1992 became the home of what we now affectionately dub the “grunge” movement. Seattle was (admit it) kind of gross back then, depressing and overdeveloped in some spots and rigorously dilapidated wharfy sea-rotten and mildew eaten in others. It was perfect for capturing the depressed and suicidal heartbeat of the milieu of music that bled into the world from there.

The story of Tacoma is what first captured me. Not every artist is going to be attracted to the same story or therefore the same places. However, when I first arrived a handful of years ago the story being told was that of a dusty jewel, discarded by the fancy merchant as common ore, found by the peasant with a special eye for that sort of thing and polished into the perfect jewel for the queen’s new crown. In that story every one praises the peasant for the wisdom to look beneath the surface, and everyone regards the perfect jewel as even more special since it was almost lost to the heap.

I liked this story ultimately because I hoped that it would be my story. Somewhere in me I believed that once I was discarded and rejected, but somewhere out there was someone with a special eye for my sort of thing, and with a little polish, I would be perfect for something really important. A part of me believes that the people who call Tacoma home are willing to look beneath the surface and find the jewel parts of things. Simultaneously I wanted to be the jewel and the peasant with the special eye and set about my business of art-making and songwriting with this as my chief inspiration.

The problem with this story (as many of my more critical and psychically gifted readers may have already ascertained) is that often we as a city or as the jewels lost in it become committed to the dusty rejected part of the story. As the story progresses, that is to say, as we artists are discovered or we as a city are polished into our destiny, we become fearful and unwilling to relinquish our status as dusty jewels.

On some level, I must confess, I am worried that once polished I will lose the favor of the peasant with the special eye. Am I afraid that I will be just another jewel in the crown? Another drone in the art/work world? Somewhere I am getting something from my “in the rough” appeal, I think it makes me special and better than all the shiny happy diamonds that were just found that way in the merchants bag.

Just as Seattle’s grunge gave way to new expressions as the city evolved, so too will Tacoma’s artists no longer be able to dance in the decay of the elks or bunny-hop the potholes as they bike down broadway. As our story progresses, if there is any truth to it, we will be polished and made into something perfect for something special. This change is difficult, as I’m watching the city transform and my expression reflects it (they say art reflects life), it seems that the underdog just isn’t a sustainable model. I suppose that is why I like statements like “Admit it Tacoma, you’re beautiful” or “Visualize Tacoma”, even if I can’t help but feel grumpy about the LID. While I know the growth is good, on some level I resent the change. Perhaps there is some twisted pleasure in getting to be a diamond without having to shine. Contrary to this desire, I have a hunch that it is our destiny to sparkle for the world to see, and around this theory my new inspirations and expressions must revolve.