From Manchester, NH to Cambridge, MA – my go-to place of inspiration, is about an hour. The drive passed by quickly thanks to a phone conversation with my son. And now I’m here – French Roast in cup, croissant in it’s temporary brown bag – it’s time to tap into the 1369 Cafe well of artistic waters and transform them into my own. So familiar, the sounds of alternative punk and progressive anger sprinkled with an angelic voice. The scent of brewing coffee and about 20 people who have chosen to be alone in a group setting. Perfect.
I came prepared for whatever direction my head and hands might lead me. Keyboards for an ambient soundtrack, my phone to craft self-reflecting prose. Hmmm . . . I’m pretty engaged by the conversation music set list ringing throughout the cafe, so no need to compete with that. Then I realize words are in order, but I’m feeling the need to write about art, instead of necessarily creating it. And besides, isn’t writing about writing still writing? And if declare it as art, then it shall be so.
Before I continue, is everyone here named Mike? They have called me several times only to remind me their are others sharing my simple identity. But I want to know more about them. Are they also bound by the chains of artistic freedom and inspiration? God, I hope not.
So, why travel those miles and distance to feed my muse? I certainly have created music, prose, articles, etc. from many locations, including Manchester. Does my inspiration not come from within – following me like some sort of ethereal trailer constantly pulled around in hopes of interpreting the ground beneath its wheels? Hmmm . . . we’re getting close here. Might these wheels feel the rhythm and spirit of not only where they end up, but the trip there as well? Can one ever remove their surroundings from the creative process and the resulting art? And how would we know for sure?
Interesting questions. What I know for sure is that I’m almost the same person everywhere I go, but not entirely. Cambridge, Massachusetts Ave, and 1369 Cafe become a part of me when I’m here, and have an indelible influence on my thinking and my art. For that reason, they will always be a home to me and certainly worth the trip – no matter where other homes take me.
MP