Singing the Praises: A Short Album Listening Party

If I had to define this album in one word, it would be 'gratitude'. The four songs within embody the all-encompassing nature of the feeling of gratitude, which can and should be pointed in as many directions as a person wishes. My own gratitude encompasses things like Bellingham ('All Yours'), the beauty of nature ('Calling Me Home'), the growth of love ('Good Times With You'), and the future ('New Day'). The second song in particular, 'Calling Me Home', is emblematic of the universality of gratitude and of human nature, taking inspiration from Walt Whitman's poem 'Song of Myself'. My original reason for doing this project was self-expression, but I was challenged to take it broader: Why? What's the point? Where's the usefulness for others beyond my own personal fulfillment? I have two answers to that question, the first of which returns to the theme of gratitude. Gratitude is universal, and so I tried to make the lyrics to my songs as universal as possible, so anyone could listen to them and think of what they're grateful for in their own lives. The modern world is incredibly fast-paced, and we are often not afforded the time to take stock of our own gratitude. With these songs, I wanted to give people the opportunity to get into a headspace of deep personal reflection and live a more intentional future as a result. The second answer to the 'Why?' question is that I wanted to make art that was completely and totally earnest. Earnest art challenges both the creator and the observer, asking them to be vulnerable enough to accept something genuine. I became more aware of the power of earnest art when my mom and I went to the Seattle Art Museum last fall. There were a couple of traveling exhibitions there at the time, including one by Alexander Calder, a 20th century sculptor and artist famous for his hanging kinetic mobiles. These mobiles are often large and feature bits of metal hanging and balanced by rods in such a way that they can move, often without being touched at all. As I observed those mobiles at the museum that day, my first response was to be cynical. I wanted to make stupid jokes about the art and tear it to shreds. But, in a conscious moment of self-reflection, I told myself 'No. You're here now. You have a chance to observe this art. Don't let your snark get in the way of trying to find genuine meaning in this work.' As observers of art, I feel that we often associate earnest art with naivete, and I believe that to be a mistake. I realized later that my cynicism was a defense mechanism. I wanted to protect myself from being vulnerable enough to take something completely seriously. With this capstone, then, I want to sing the praises of completely earnest art, challenging both me and my listeners to embrace that vulnerability in the best way: head-on.