Chambers Stevens's Blog, page 3

Your tumblr is one of the most interesting things to read. The way thoughts spill off of each other, it's human and beautiful.

Thank you so much. 

You are too kind.

1000dayshaiku:Day 143:Stream becomes riverwhen current flows...

1000dayshaiku:

Day 143:

Stream becomes river
when current flows fast enough
crossings must be planned.

The Michael Jackson estate celebrated the 25th anniversary of...

The Michael Jackson estate celebrated the 25th anniversary of his mega popular Bad CD by rereleasing it with finished songs that MJ and Quincy Jones decided to not put on the CD. One of the songs is called “Song Groove (aka Abortion Papers)."  MJ wrote this himself. Has there ever been a worst title for a song? (Oh and the song is not much better than the title) Who knows maybe MJ had to get “Abortion Papers" out of his system before he could write “Bad" or “The Way You Make Me Feel". Seems like we should respect him by leaving his demos in the vault where they belong. 

Recently I found myself in Ashville N.C. at the Biltmore...

Recently I found myself in Ashville N.C. at the Biltmore House.

The Vanderbilt Family had exquisite taste.

Though Henry James said they were loopy.

Which probably explains why they had very few writers or artists as friends.

Those damn artists always tell the truth.

One of the things that struck me was a print of a Rhino on the wall.

Well not really a Rhino, more like a space age Rhino.

When the guards weren’t looking - they have this control freak rule that you can use a camera inside the Biltmore - I snapped a shot of the beast and did some research when I got home.

It turns out that the print was by Albecht Durer.

He created it in 1515.

And here is rub…in his lifetime Durer never saw a Rhinoceros.

A friend had described it and Durer did the best he could to get it down.

I think you will agree he got very close. 

Growing up in Tennessee my experience of seeing experimental...

Growing up in Tennessee my experience of seeing experimental theatre was extremely limited. But I read everything I could get my hands on. I would read reviews, articles and books on the directors.  Trying to imagine what the productions were like was impossible.

But now I am in Paris. With a backpack and a tent. And the infamous Robert Wilson is only a 20 mile walk away.

Is there any play that can live up to a 20 mile walk there and back?

Long story short, the production was about two hours long. But the script was only half an hour. So the cast repeated the text as they turned ¼ of the way around. In other words we saw the play first from the front, then the left side, then the back and then the right side.

When it was over I couldn’t control myself. I stood on my chair and booed as loud as I could.

Twenty years later I got to work with Robert Wilson and I told him that story. Surprisingly he didn’t think it was very funny.

Insight

Trying to be realistic is just a way of avoiding the adventure.

I have this friend Tom LaMere.I love the guy. Truly.But he is...

I have this friend Tom LaMere.
I love the guy. Truly.
But he is exhausting.
He reads, watches, listens to more than anyone I have ever met.
And he’s always recommending something for you to watch, listen or read.
A single afternoon with him and he will have given you enough recommendations to take up the next three years.
Exhausting.

Then one day he asks me if I have read any Charles Bukowski.
Now the only thing I know about Bukowski is from the film “Barfly”.
That basically he was a drunk, almost homeless, and he wasted away his life sitting in bars.
Not really my kind of guy.
But it is easier to tell Tom that I would check out Bukowski than have to explain to him why I am not interested.
And then have him go in minute detail about why I should be reading Bukowski.

And anyway it’s a poem.
I thought, it doesn’t take that long to read a poem.
Well it has taken me a decade.
Because once I read one poem I haven’t been able to stop.
And like Tupac’s songs, Bukowski’s books keep being printed.
When he died he left thousand of poems.
Each one a moment of his life.
Each one becoming a moment of mine.
When a man gets a certain age he loses his mentors.
Warriors that have gone before him to show him the true path.
Bukowski has seen the dirt, the mud, the shit.
And he has come back to tell me how to see the beauty in it.

Thanks Tom.