What is a MODERN ORPHAN?
Wednesday, July 1st, 2009
Dinner and a drink.
“I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip.” – Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho
The arts have been all but abandoned. Society as a whole does not care anymore, despite small pockets of resistance in major cities. [I like to call them outposts.] Music is discardable, it isn’t meant to move you to that near-orgasmic point of no return. There are more poets than good poetry. A few foggy, out of focus snaps post-basement party: PHOTOGRAPHER. Auto-tuning, a dye job and some sampling: MUSICIAN. Or worse yet “I have a pen, some paper and a small understanding of language.” In other words: POET.
It’s discouraging. Poets were once respected. Hell they were hired by nobility to be live-in scribes. Why? Because they knew that they would die but their legacy didn’t have to. They’d pay thousands of dollars for painted portraits because those are the things we look at today, in the year 2009. Our history was handed down through song. Now, in the heat of the 2000’s, when everything can be recorded on a cell phone these things are rapidly decreasing. Like the lost art of wine appreciation, dressing up, brandy after dinner and ascots–art has been reduced to something of the past. I’ve met people who have no idea who Shakespeare is, or what he was “famous” for. Gum-popping boys and girls who’ve never known [and quite possibly don't care to know] The Great Gatsby, The Bell Jar or The Scarlet Letter. Scroll through their iPod shuffle and you’ll see no mention of musical revolutionaries like Bowie or Black Sabbath. The beauty of Leibovitz or Warhol. This is the Information Age. Use it. Abuse it.
But. People. Just. Don’t. Care.
There was a time when artists were considered the top of the food chain, capturing an entire culture in song or on canvas. Poets were envied for their ability to do what most cannot–carve an emotion from written word. Throughout history many of the first things banned during wars and times of crisis were books and paintings. Censorship in the arts is no secret–and there’s good reason. Because we immortalize and demonize, observe and report; in short we are scribes of the universe, no matter our medium. Now we are left to fend for ourselves in an ever-increasingly jaded society. We are not respected but mocked, not admired but ignored.
But to any of you listening, I promise, we’re bringing that sweet magic back to life. One word at a time. This is my mission, my statement of intent. And I intend, oh yes, I intend.
Now all of you have a name. One large blanket to huddle under when the rain comes, because, I assure you, it will come. To art makers and art appreciators–a home, where you once had none in this steel-encased society, this gimme gimmie mantra ringing in our ears.
We aren’t nameless anymore.
We are modern orphans.
Through art we all can be immortal. We haven’t forgotten that–they have.
What is a MODERN ORPHAN?: Sexy, edgy, poetic, sleazy, used, abused and overdosed–loves live shows, late nights and DIY. We support independent art abandoned by society. We are slaves to excess and the exploration of human vices and capability.
Motto: No regrets, only excess.
Mission: To bring back the Byron :: Poets are once again rock stars.
