I woke up today in a place I no longer recognize.
I was born in 1960. Growing up during a tumultuous time of war, assassinations and cultural upheaval felt like much was changing, yet it always looked like the United States of America. We were not perfect; some wanted fundamental progress, others did not really want anything changed. Yet we reached as much as we could, and lived in an assurance that we had the Constitution to protect our country and show the way for the world, however imperfect we were. Seek justice and treat others as you would have them treat you. We were not sure where we would get to, but we had that great document and the rest was up to us.
The music was great then. Inspiring, new, breaking barriers in attitude, social justice, protest, sound. If art is the way to spread a message, music is the message that vibrates with harmony and the shared experience of singing together. We need connection, and that at least is something that has not been broken (as have our laws and rights as established in the Constitution.)
Yet when I look at myself in the mirror, take measure of myself, the land where and when I live does not look familiar. Each or our rights in the Constitution are systematically being wiped away by the very government we elected. Hell, they are attempting to wipe away our very lives, shooting citizens down in the streets and then serving up platters of lies about who they are.
The whole of our government and it’s offices have abandoned everything we have stood for, have stomped on our national compass, have betrayed by word and gesture our closest friends in the world. They have even given the act of seeking a good life, a dream in America, a bad name. My family just three generations ago took the leap and came here to seek the dream of America. But today I don’t even recognize this country.
So I offer my art, a portrait of a man looking in a mirror, looking both inward and outward. You see him, and he only recognizes his own face. The rest looks unfamiliar.
