You can not stand under my umbrella

It seems that I have been coming into contact with pieces of art that depict “the artist” as this tortured figure. Although I don’t think this is a new realization, but rather I have just been reminded of the “starving artist” stereotype through pieces like “How to Become a Writer”. Lorrie Moore gives the humorous depiction of a young woman (Frances) becoming obsessed with writing, which causes her to embark on a heartbreaking life to make her a better writer. I think Moore makes a great point. This idea is especially relevant in a city like New York that is full of “hipster doofus” (nod to Phil Herring) characters. Tragedy does not equal good art. I’m sorry, I don’t care if your grandmother died the death of deaths, which could be dying of starvation while listening to “Umbrella” by Rhianna (to be honest I don’t know if she would die of starvation or she would just ask her heart to stop beating to avoid the pain of hearing “ella, ella, ella, eh, eh…), it still doesn’t make you a good artist. Writers need to know how to write. They need to understand the language they are writing in. The way a sentence is structured. They need to be someone who is a good scrabble player (or at least know good scrabble words).

What has happened is that the iGeneration has become so lazy that the idea of mastering a craft just seems like to much effort. Walk into a museum and see a canvas painted one color, green. Does anyone think this painter is just sitting in his room counting the money he made and snickering to himself? Look at the proliferation of bands and artist that make all their music using Apple’s Garage Band. Lets look at the check list for things needed to make music this way. An Apple computer. Check. Now if you were me you would see the cursor blinking on my computer screen because there is nothing else needed. You don’t need to know an instrument. You don’t need to know anything about music.

Somewhere along the way (maybe with all these technological advances) we have replaced craft with tragedy. Its not really anyone’s fault except our own that this has happened. We all love a tragedy. In music, we all love a sad song. Meet Joe. He is sad and is sitting in his room. He will most likely put on a Dashboard Confessional record and think to himself, “These songs tell the story of my life!” Meet Joe a year later. Joe is happy now. He is still in his room and wants to listen to music. He puts on the same record, and thinks “Thank the Lord I’m not this guy!” All can enjoy those tear jerker songs, but not all can enjoy the happy ones. When I’m happy, sure I will put on a good time song, but when I’m sad it will further push me into the realm of gloominess. Its demographics…that’s it and that’s all.

This point is made in the text by Moore’s clever presentation of Francie living a tragic life and not amounting to be a better writer. So if life’s tough don’t think you will be the next big thing without actually learning how to express the fact that used tissues litter your bedroom floor. I mean I guess you could try writing a song called “Tissues”. Here is your hook “Tissue, issue, issue, issue, ue, ue…”. On second thought I like my grandmother.