On Tribalism and What Art Really Is and Does

On ART: I saw this live in early 1971. It was a huge and shattering experience. I think I lay in my bed for two days afterwards staring at the ceiling. When I got up, I cut my hair like Hanoi Jane, packed up my expensive clothes, studded a pair of used bellbottom jeans, borrowed my Daddy's insulated undershirt, and then went out and joined a bunch of Vietnam War protesters in Memphis. Shaking my head here. But it's true. I got expelled from school twice afterwards. One of my teachers cried when she saw me, every time she saw me from then onward. One teacher became my only support system for two years. But in this moment, I never felt so liberated in my life. And ever since, I've been living in conflict with my environment. The thing I know now, is that I was right all along, even when I thought I was wrong and doubted myself, even when others told me so, even when I went back to things I should not have. I was so literal, this almost destroyed me mentally. And I had no one to talk to about it until twenty something years later when I asked my Daddy for $800 so I could visit one of the smartest therapist in the city of Memphis and talk for forty minutes. Believe me, when I say, I went to this man with a notebook full of scribbles. I am writing this, because the hardest things that any one person will ever do in their life is leave behind the traditions and values of their environment and family and create their own, be it religion, politics, or just local culture. Joyce Carol Oates writes about this all the time. Most people, even brilliant and emotionally sound ones, will never do this. Do we all have to do this? Well, that's debatable. Some people feel that the culture of their environment and family is the best thing ever, that there is no need. I see this in my Facebook feed every single day I look at it. Traditions are valued and nurtured and spread from one generation to another. This is how we ground ourselves and establish identity. But it is tribalism. Too precious, it creates the biases that filter our perceptions and even alters reality. I'd say religion can do this. So can shared beliefs about race, politics, masculinity, the roles of women, sex and sexual identity, the relationship between humankind and nature. The inability to see past our own tribe and traditions is a core problem with our species. But going forward, the future will belong to those people who can. It may not come to them like my beginning, simply reading books all the time and then one day, watching a rock and roll band do something that still is seen as way ahead of its time. The early Grand Funk Railroad was part grunge, part punk, and something very unique. This song went on to be of great value to those soldiers who caught those last flights out of Saigon before the city fell. 

Art is what transcends our tribe. It's what makes a Bob Dylan from a pop star. Art is not something that has rules or that is dictated or organized by an editor or painting teacher, or even a math professor. It is the 'thing' you create out of your own bidding. And while it can make a nod to your influences and tribe, it is never dictated or manipulated by it or other people. Creating good art is the moment of personal responsibility and true autonomy. It will challenge the status quo, often disturb, and perhaps even change people and alter their lives. Art is all about intent and a kind of gutsy form of communication. It's often painful and risky. The people who create art like this have always been the ones to move civilization. It may be a song, or a poem, a painting, a math problem, a performance on a street corner, and yes, even a business of some sort. But it will be art. Art is not about the tools we use. It is about how we use them. Art does NOT look back or hold on to a tribe, it reacts against all that, it violates traditions and creates something new and original. It is just as likely to get negative reviews as it is positive ones. Sometimes it is totally misunderstood for generations. Art is the soul of humankind. That is why I lay on my bed for two days, disturbed, floating, my sense of identity shattered to pieces. And even at my age, I am still trying to gather the pieces up and glue them in a suitable form. Art is ongoing. It's never finished. I am thinking right now, that simply living day to day can be art, too, if attempted. Art is not a job, but it is work.