Art Is

The wind moving through the trees stirs up an aromatic smell of cedar in the darkness. I can hear the murmur of voices from inside the barn, and a shot of warm light spills out into the blackness of the Columbia, TN night.

Inside, my cousin and music artist Warren Barfield sits on the edge of a small stage. There’s about 100 people in the room, waiting for Warren and I to play. Warren strums a few chords while talking to someone on the front row. The man’s flown from California, to hang out in a barn with strangers during the Christmas season.

There’s some neighbors and family, but most in the room share the same story- coming from miles away to a small barn in the middle of nowhere to sing Christmas carols together.

Without a word, Warren starts the intro to an original song, and the night begins. The little gathering sings together, rattling the rafters of the barn with “Hark The Herald Angels Sing” and “Oh Come All Ye Faithful”. Warren pulls members of the audience onstage to sing and play music. The space feels less like a concert and more like a very close-knit family coming together for Christmas.

Warren is a tremendously talented musician and crowd-worker, and he bends all of his talent toward creating magic for the audience. He’s so good at it, I don’t once think about how good he is at it.

On the break, I step outside. All the stars are shining down bright enough you can actually make out the faint, darker outlines of Warren’s cattle in the field across the lake.

. . .

What is art? What does art look like when living in an age of technological breakthroughs, the latest being A.I. models that can almost perfectly mimic any artist on command?

I just finished reading Makoto Fujimura’s latest book, “Art Is”. Makoto is an artist who paints with precious metals using a painstaking Japanese method called Nihonga. It requires hundreds of layers of precious metals to be ground up and layered on a canvas. The technique might be the slowest and most costly way to create art in the world, at a time when all market pressures push artists to crank out cheap, fast, easy-to-digest art.

Makoto argues in the book that in times when art has been “polluted”, we must focus on creating work that is restorative. In dark cultural times, we must make art that is generational, time consuming, costly to make, provocative, generative, non-dualistic, trans-political, and if necessary, completely illogical to make from an economic standpoint.

Makoto’s biggest strength in the book is he makes some points by the written word, and other points using only the illustrations of his artistic process. He has authority to make bold claims, because he’s made sacrifices his whole life to practice a slower, richer form of art. He has street cred. And it’s hard not to be inspired by the vision he paints.

. . .

There’s a trio of kids onstage with their mom. Mom is strumming an acoustic guitar, twanging out a three part harmony with her kids of “Star Of Bethlehem”. Warren must have known they were killer musicians, and pulled them up onstage. The youngest son glances over, giving me a sheepish grin mid verse.

This is crazy. It doesn’t scale. It makes no business sense. Who ran the profit projections and growth models on the show and gave the green light?

You can’t bring the random talented people you pull onstage around the country, they have lives and careers. You can’t have Warren’s dad spontaneously lead everyone in an old gospel hymn every night, it wouldn’t be spontaneous anymore. Warren could never have the strength to talk to every person in the crowd every night. It just doesn’t work.

It’s special. It’s precious. It’s scarce. It’s impossible to repeat. It’s real human to human connection. Its talent practiced for decades, fostered, cared for, honed, and curated. It’s the dedication to the subtleties of the art that almost no one will notice, but all will feel. It’s slowed down and savored. It’s just the right kind of surprises. It’s trust. It’s serving an audience for a long, long time with integrity. Its vulnerability. It’s refusing to play the short game when the pressure is on. It’s rooted in the past while exploring the new. It pushing the boundaries of what’s allowed. It‘s irreverent to power, influence, and status quo, while affirming the sacredness of past traditions. It’s welcoming to all, but exclusive because few will make the time to enjoy it. It’s costly to both the artist and the audience.

This is what Art Is.