Food for thought

Here's something to consider:

Look down at your clothing. What are you wearing? Does it fit you? Is it comfortable? Did you think very much about it before you put it on, or like me, did you just pick the first items that appeared to be clean? Even if you took elaborate care and thought in choosing every item you wore- making certain your shoes offset your shirt just right, and so forth- here's something so simple and obvious that it probably never even occurred to you at the time: Every garment you are wearing was most likely made by another person. There are of course rare exceptions to this statement, but chances are even if you have made every item of your own wardrobe, it is unlikely that you also harvested the raw material, processed it, dyed it, and wove it into a cloth. These activities were all done for you by other people who you will, in all probability, never meet.

They might live on the opposite side of the world, or two houses away for all you know. Now think about the hundreds and hundreds of items you use every day, from the tools you use, to the food that you eat, to the place where you live. Every one of these things represent a moment in the life of another living person with thoughts, loves, and dreams like yours. They each have friends and family as well. They made these things for you. They most likely never knew or cared that the thing they were doing in that moment was for you. Whatever their reason for creating the object in question whether it was an exquisitely crafted piece, made with the joy of a crafts-person, or the cheapest piece of mass produced garbage produced at the end of a long shift, somebody made these things. Each and every life in this society is utterly dependent on the work of anonymous others.

If you met these people face to face, what would you say to them- The person who designed your computer, who harvested the cotton for your clothes, or made your favorite cup? Would you want to thank them, or offer criticism? What if you discovered they were the person you cut off in traffic, or the guy you smiled at in the street?
Would this change anything?

Here it is, the fact that is so massive, that it is nearly impossible to see . It is as easy to take for granted as gravity or oxygen and just as necessary for our survival:

We are all, in the most real and tangible sense, connected to every other human life on this planet. Our actions, for good or bad change the world around us in ways we can never comprehend. Regardless of belief or politics, Each and every person is an important part of our world that helps shape it into what it is, regardless of whether they understand that or not.

Taking this into consideration, don't we owe every person we meet a huge debt of gratitude? Isn't it our duty to, at very least, be kind to one another?

Under this light, the highest human aspiration would be to make the world a better place for everyone else in whatever way we can.  

...and sometimes I get cranky and wind up writing Letters to the Editor

Published in this weeks edition of "Hometown Oneonta"
(The Daily Star wants it to be 177 words shorter)

During the course of my apartment hunt, I was recently shown an apartment with a hole in the ceiling large enough to fit a dining room table into. The owners of the building treated the fact that the tenants of the apartment upstairs may at any moment become roommates with a blasé indifference that needs to be seen to be properly admired. They assured me that the obvious massive structural damage was no problem and could be patched up and ready for me to move into by tomorrow.
The truly astonishing thing about this story is not merely that it is perfectly factual and presented without the slightest exaggeration, but that the landlords in question were actually willing to rent Non-Student Tenants.

A person like myself who has been searching for less than a year might actually stand a chance of finding a place to live here.

This sort of thing must be stopped!

Oneonta, as you may know is in the midst of a severe housing crisis. Of all the apartments here, a mere 97% of them are made exclusively available for student rental.

Clearly this is not sufficient. All local rental units must be converted to student-only housing without delay!

Unfortunately the landlords of this town are forced to contend with a persistent population of non student renters, who, with their unreasonable demands, are far from ideal tenants. These are the sort of tenant who will actually have the audacity ask for their security deposit back, request to be allowed to keep pets, and worst of all demand to live in the kind of conditions where the SPCA will allow animals to live. Our poor landlords are virtually powerless against this outrage. The rules governing rental housing in our beloved town are so hard on landlords that they may occasionally consider obeying them! Some are left no choice but to rent to so-called “Young Professionals” (which we all recognize as a euphemism for things like:“Adjunct Professor” or “New Family”).

It is essential that the town council do everything that they can to eliminate the subtle menace of these adult renters from gaining a toehold in our beloved town. If we allow such undesirable persons to find a place to live here, they may eventually buy houses, start businesses in our precious vacant storefronts and disrupt the cherished Status Quo with completely unwelcome prosperity. I urge you, Citizens of Oneonta, to do everything in your power to prevent this dangerous element from making their homes here. Keep our rents high and standards of living low! Make sure our younger population stays transient and do your part to prevent terrifying change from taking root. We must do everything in our power to prevent any potential of a population increase.

Only by taking definitive action against this menace today can we keep things exactly the way they are!

John Ryan
Oneonta?

Save The Arts! An Open Letter to The Upper Darby School Board

The school district I attended is planning to cut it's arts and physical education programs in a shortsighted attempt to save money. I think that this is an absolutely devastating and foolish decision. Everything that can be done to prevent this should be attempted,  Please do your part and sign the petition Here. I wrote the letter below to express just how important this issue is. I regret that I cannot be more personally involved due to the fact I no longer live there. Please feel free to forward this to anyone you feel needs to see it. I know I plan to.

Dear Upper Darby School Board:

    You have recently announced plans to cut funding for the arts in your schools, effectively eliminating them. While this may provide you with short term financial benefits, I believe that the consequences of this action are greater than you could anticipate I am writing to encourage you to reconsider. I work as a professional puppeteer who tours throughout elementary schools all over the country. I therefore get to witness the impact the arts have on the lives of children. Unfortunately for your purposes, these effects are not easily quantifiable. How do you measure laughter or inspiration? Unlike most other subjects, the nebulous benefits of arts education are notoriously difficult to gauge. Fortunately, as both a professional artist and alumnus of you school system I am into the unique position to provide you with some statistical information.

    According to The Pennsylvania Youth Suicide Prevention Initiative's website (PAYSPI), an average of 1300 young Pennsylvanians take their own lives. I can state with absolute authority that in the period between 1986-1993 that, because of active participation In Upper Darby's arts programs, at least one less young person cut their own life short.

    Some well meaning adult told me during my senior year that someday I would look back on my high school career as the best time of my life. They were not at all amused when I responded by jokingly requesting to be shot. This was typical of my attitude towards school, which I also recall comparing to a minimum security prison. I was an introverted and socially awkward student, combating clinical depression and the added social stigma of having been classified as “Learning Disabled”. I was relentlessly bullied by my peers for being “weird” and “different”. The overall result was that I was one of those students that are the bane of a teacher's existence: a reasonably bright student who refused to apply himself. I was miserably unhappy and contemplated suicide often. I even made a few attempts at it.

    When I tell you that participation in several excellent arts programs, including Summerstage, Marching band, and various visual art classes, saved my life, I am by no means exaggerating or employing hyperbole. Learning that I had some aptitude for drawing and theater gave me a focus and sense of purpose that I couldn't find in any of my other courses. Through these programs, I found that I was no longer alone. I met new friends who showed me that would never fit in with the mainstream, I was funny, talented, and likable. I learned to cherish my “weirdness” as a manifestation of my creativity. I clung to the arts like a life raft. I auditioned for every production I could and began to spend lunch and study hall periods in the art department whenever the understanding faculty would let me. I found something to live for. Through persistence and hard work I developed my abilities to the point where I was accepted to a good art school. Today I am a living example of a very different statistic: I am one of the 5% of art school graduates who work in their chosen field.

     I hope that when it comes time for you to make your final decision, You will consider my story. Arts programs can actually save lives. I realize that my experience is not typical, but consider this: while they may be in the minority, there are others out there like myself who need the arts programs on a fundamental level. Their lives are worth saving. Mine certainly was.

John A. Ryan

Puppeteer and Sculptor
Upper Darby High School Class of 1993

Recovery

       Exactly one week ago after meeting a significant deadline, and entertaining  friends at what i think was a pretty good party in my home, I was truck by two unusual pieces of fortune. The first being that shortly after the last guest departed and I could finally relax and turn in for the night, my immune system also decided that it had earned a well earned break and let a particularly virulent stomach flu through it's defenses unchallenged. I will due the reader the small courtesy of not describing this in any greater detail than to say it was notably worse than any travel ailment I have ever contracted. The second piece of fortune was that after a lifetime of abuse at my hands, my laptop had come to the conclusion that it had done it's last noble duty and shut itself down permanently (my adversarial relationship with modern technology is near legendary).  So there I was, laid up for three days unable to eat solid foods and with no electronic means to distract myself from my discomfort. Honesty compels me to admit that at the time I was not feeling particularly lucky at the time.

        I did what all sick people do when there is nothing else to occupy their time. I slept, drank plenty of fluids, read, and thought. I thought about how much I enjoyed getting lost in a good book. When was the last time I had done that? I realized that I do not draw very much anymore either. I had gotten a laptop to write with and instead I spent most of my time basically channel surfing from video to puzzle game to mildly entertaining website. I have wasted countless hours of my precious and finite life doing this! Meanwhile the back storehouse of my mind was piled high with ideas for any number of projects and stories that would be perfectly usable with just a bit of work. Instead of putting in the effort required when I came across one of these artifacts of thought. I would sigh, mutter the word someday under my breath and go back to exploding colored orbs on a screen. I was behaving like a man who was given a treasure map and used it to patch the hole in the roof!
         I looked at my lifeless computer on the floor with it's jaunty checker-cab paint job (The friend who sold it to me neglected to mention that it was yellow until it was too late. I had to fix that somehow. I always sort of liked the results). I thought about what was stored on it. If I could turn it on one last time, it wouldn't be links to the network of distracting websites I would rescue, it would be the story drafts and artists statements, and various photo files  I would try to preserve. Maybe some of them weren't very good, but dammit they're mine, truly mine and I want them back!  (Another friend assures me that I should fortunately be able to save most if not all of these). My life was being frittered on trivialities. How had I permitted this to happen?

     As I regained my health, My sense of perspective recovered with it. As soon as I could manage I erased my access to those games that were all too easy to spend a day playing and brought nothing productive into my life. I grabbed a notebook and sketch pad from a nearby table and began to flesh out one of those thoughts that had obsessed me in a minor way for years. I did not complete it, it may be years before I can. I have at least made a good beginning and this is sometimes enough to be going on with. For now I am reading more and enjoying the slow meticulous work that must follow the first rush of a new creative venture, rediscovering the simple and easily forgotten truth that to walk a great distance, you must travel one step after another. I can proudly tell you that probably the most time I spent in front of a screen since last week  has been writing this entry. Once I saw my bad habits for what they were and what they cost to maintain, it became very difficult to contemplate returning to them. If the circumstances that led to this minor epiphany are not in retrospect extremely fortunate, then I do not understand what luck is!

Hearts and Minds

The battle is as old as humanity itself. It has raged on virtually unceasing since our species could first ask "Why?". The problem is, the fight is rigged. 

In the battle between the Brain and the Heart, the Heart never fights fair and the Brain can never understand this. The Brain follows a strict code of conduct and expects it's opponent to do so as well. The Heart changes the rules and tactics as it goes to suit it's needs. The Brain lines up it's troops in orderly formations thinking time and again that reason will win the day. The Heart only acknowledges reason when it can use it to it's advantage. It takes hostages, ambushes with emotions and lays siege to thought.The Brain has elaborate strategy to minimize damage where the Heart is willing to sacrifice anything for it's cause, even itself. It fights like a true believer. The Brain negotiates and bargains. The Heart makes threats and demands. The Brain can surrender with grace and accept defeat, The Heart sulks and throws tantrums. The Brain is straightforward and honest in approach, the Heart, devious and manipulative. Facts and Logic melt like sugar before the flamethrower of  "I WANT!".  It seems the Brain can only achieve any form of victory when it's nemesis finally comes battered and exhausted  to plead for mercy and help to extract it from the trap the Heart has built for itself and cannot get out of alone.

Shameless Self Promotion and some musings On the Business of Art

      People have asked me  if, given that art expresses something personal about the maker, whether I find it difficult to sell. Don't I become emotionally attached to the piece? My answer is that I have very little difficulty with selling my work for the simple reason that I enjoy regular meals and sleeping indoors.  It is true that each piece I produce reflects some aspect of myself, sometimes in quite surprising ways, and that a part of the creative process is to fall in love with your project. I view the process of art making as an adventure filled with pitfalls, surprises, and wonderful discoveries. the actual finished piece is an artifact of this voyage. I am fond of them because they show where I have been, but ultimately, I do not need to posses them to remember. If someone else wants something I made, I am more than happy to part with it, for a fair price. If there's an item that I'm particularly attached to, I just make it more expensive!

Which brings me to the Self Promotion bit. After about a year of sitting fallow, my Etsy shop is now active. Here are the items that I have put up for sale so far:

... And here is an exclusive preview of the next item to be posted. I posted it here so that you could be among the first to see it....Because I love you!

(Thank you for checking out this post. If you don't wish to read a detailed belligerent rant about the perils of trying to make a living in the arts, here would be a good place to stop reading, although I do think I got a few funny lines in.)

  One of the most harmful false beliefs about the creative lifestyle, nearly as bad as the necessity of suffering (That is a whole separate rant that, at the moment, I won't subject you to!) is that artists are and should be divorced from mundane concerns. To be pragmatic and businesslike is somehow looked upon as selling out and not being true to your creative nature.  I have come to have a very definite opinion about the role of professionalism in the Art World. I firmly believe there ought to be some. I have the good fortune to count many talented successful artists as friends.Far from being divorced from reality, they are uniformly practical and professional. Working artists generally can come up with inventive business strategies, money saving tricks and innovative promotion techniques that would make a marketing department sit up and take notice.  They need to in order to survive . The sad truth is artists need to function in the real world. There is no bohemian exemption available on the federal tax forms. The phone company doesn't look at your occupation and say "because you work to find Truth and Beauty we're going to give you free service and a coupon for an  ice cream sundae." In fact the opposite is usually true. You find yourself constantly having to convince people that what you do is actually work. Non-profit Arts organisations are constantly trying to get you to donate a piece for their charity auctions or badgering you to pay them membership fees on the premise that they just might get you a show later on where you just might sell a piece. Casual acquaintances slyly  hint that they would love to own a piece of your work and then act as though you've mortally insulted them when you quote your selling price instead of just offering to give it to them.

Try this little social experiment next time you need to get your car repaired: Inform the mechanic that you drive a lot and know a lot of other drivers. Tell him that working on your car would be a great opportunity for him to showcase his abilities and could open a lot of doors for his business. Explain to him that because he enjoys working on cars so much anyway, and because of the amount of future work you could potentially drum up for him, that he should repair your vehicle for free, or at very least give you a really big discount.
 Now duck.
 There will be a rather large crescent wrench flying towards your head by this point.

Every artist I know has heard many different versions of this exact same argument over the years. Even more remarkably, none of them have ever been charged for assault.