On Sports as Art

Since my last post touched on the ugly side of competitive sports (giving folks all sorts of fodder for the "violence" of football, specifically), I figured it was long past due to finish this post on Sports as Art:

I know a lot of "artists." I'm friends with published poets and produced musicians. My roommate is a professional dance and drumming instructor. I work at a summer arts camp, and am subsequently friends with successful photographers, filmmakers, dance choreographers, and painters.

In my personal life, art plays a major (maybe the major) role: I write, I create original music, I draw and dabble with painting. I am interested in dance, and I try to learn about every genre of music. Art is very important.

And yet, somehow, in all of this, one major form of art remains unmentioned. In my many conversations with artist friends and the artistically-inclined, one huge section of artistic endeavor is not only unmentioned, but noted with contempt: athletics. Competitive sports.

At this point, my readers are probably feeling similar contempt - how are sports a part of the artistic family? Sports are overly-competitive, overly-macho, and violent. It is insulting to think of sports as the same as art -right?

Obviously, I disagree. So much so as to say that it's insulting and degrading for "artistic" people to so readily dismiss athletics, their value, and their aesthetic beauty.

For those who truly understand sports and immerse themselves in it, true grace on par with the most well-known dancer is seen every game. Athletes perfect their movements and body control just as much as dancers. In fact, athletes must be more perfect, due to the unpredictable nature of their art, and the need to constantly adjust and improvise based on the actions of the other artists on the field (or court, or rink, or whatever). Those who cannot see this are no different than folks who can't see anything more than a bunch of colored dots on a canvas by Matisse. It takes exposure and understanding to appreciate the subtle beauties that most people miss. Symmetry and synchronized movements can be derived from every play - just as with a dance troupe's performance.

On top of the physical beauty of the games is the mental aspect. Athletes hone their minds to be able to read the slight muscle twitches and movements of their opponents, so they can adjust accordingly. They must strategize and think steps ahead in the same way as a chess master. They do one thing at the beginning of a game to set up their opponent for a play or move not to be performed until an hour later. They see the way the person across from them orients their bodies, and they know what they are about to do next.

Participants in sports know that playing can put them in "the zone" (or a state of "flow" as eminent psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls it) - where focus is so perfect that time slows down, everything else disappears, and we achieve almost supernatural abilities to read other people. This is the exact same state achieved in the midst of intense artistic creation (I should know, as the only comparable state to how I feel when making music comes on the football field). Hunger, sadness, pain - all are swept aside during the minutes (or hours) of flow. It's a state of mental clarity that can only be equated with meditation - and its positive mental effects are the same.

And those who challenge the "overly-competitive" nature of sports are fooling themselves - do anybody but the most "competitive" artists succeed? Can anybody be a successful artist? Of course not. To reach mastery, you must be driven, and motivated, and work and practice all the time. And, in the end, the only way to achieve "greatness" is to be "better than" so many others. And art hardly teaches people to work well with others and recognize the inherent value of different skill sets and different levels of contribution to an overall goal.

Speaking of work, traditional art and sports echo each other in this way: innate artistic and athletic ability are often assumed of the most successful in either field. And yet, none of those people would ever claim that they didn't work their asses off, practicing constantly, to reach their goals. Those people know better than anybody else that you can always get better - they are the ones who didn't give up with recognition of that fact.

And violence? Have the sport-haters ever looked at, or listened to, the greatest works of art? Rembrandt's "Anatomical Lecture." Francisco de Goya's paintings ("Cronos Devouring his Children," for one). Symphonies based on battles and wars. East of Eden and a million other great literary works with violent depictions. The strongest emotions bring on the most beautiful art, and there is a definite beauty to the controlled physical aspects of many sports.

Folks will argue that the traditional arts use violent depictions to demonstrate their wrongness - but, as a football player, I was always taught proper technique so I didn't hurt myself or other people. When somebody gets hurt on the field, we take a knee out of respect, and we applaud their health when they get up. Never is it about hurting another person. People get physically hurt, of course, but it is just as accidental as the mental pain that graphic depictions in art can (and do) readily cause.

Creative expression? Ever know the feeling of pulling off the perfect play? Emotional expression? You should have been watching Bret Favre play the week his father died. Or teams dedicating a game to a teammate. Some of the most beautiful things I have ever witnessed.

So why do I feel this need to defend competitive sports in comparison to "art"? And why am I even writing about it on a race-focused blog?

Because the disparate opinions on "the arts" and "sports" are absolutely based on social constructions of race and class.

Who are the most famous painters in the world? Composers? Photographers? Authors?

People's personal opinions will differ, so let's adjust that question: what is the race of the most famous "artists" in the world?

Ooh . . . starting to see where I'm headed with this?

If not, here's another question: what is the race of the most famous professional athletes in the world?

I'll give you a hint - the majority of those answering the former question are very likely white. A large proportion of those answering the latter are probably African-American (or other minority races).

So I ask again - why do people have such differing opinions on "the arts" and "sports"? When people talk about the "savagery" or "violence" of a sport like football, what sub-conscious associations are going along with that? When they talk about the "beauty" and "perfection" of a master painter's work, what associations go along with that? When people consider art more "important" than sports, what social constructs are they upholding?

I work at an arts camp in the summer, and I don't know how long I've battled with the artists about having more physical activity at camp. Not just for the health of the campers, but for the messaging we give them if we denigrate physical competitions at the expense of sports. Because, for our kids of color, there are no (or very few) role models that reflect them in the art world. But there are many in the sports world. So when we tell them (flat-out or more subtly) that "art" is more important and that sports are frivolous or unimportant - what are we telling them about their role models? What are we telling them about the most successful people that look like them?

And I'm tired of it. Because, as an artist who loves sports, I see the value and importance in both. And I see how they are one and the same. And it fills me with frustration and anger when otherwise-well-meaning artists start downplaying sports when interacting with kids of color. Or when youth workers, who claim to value their kids' cultures and that they are "open-minded," do not even put in the slightest attempt to give sports respect or value in this world.

And I'll tell you - sports (football, specifically) gave me an outlet as a kid that did more for me than any art could at the time. Sports gave me confidence that art never could. And sports kept me out of trouble in a way that dabbling in art absolutely could not. It also gave me role models who worked hard and gave back to their community. My coaches were mentors and teachers. The artists I knew/heard of? They all did drugs, drank too much, womanized (or the female equivalent), and died at a young age.

So which is more valuable? These days, they have leveled out more. Now, I am as likely to immerse myself in expression through music and writing as on the playing field. And that's how it should be - equal. And important. Because, when it comes down to it - there is no difference.

Art. Sports. One and the same. And supremely important in this world.

On Race and Class Through Musical Culture

Saturday night, I went to a classical guitar performance (Eliot Fiske with Angel Romero, for anybody interested). The show was held in an old church with two levels of seating - a perfect scene for two masters to play Spanish-influenced classical music on the guitar.

And it was one of the better musical performances I have seen in a long while. Not only were the two musicians playing at the highest level, but they also seemed to be honestly enjoying the experience of performing and playing together. My emotions constantly pinballed between amazement (what I call "holy sh--" uncontrollable awe) and a sense of fun, musical joy throughout the whole two-hour show, and I came out of it inspired and lighter on my feet.

In fact, I am currently searching for some Spanish-style classical guitar pieces to sample for some of my own creative expression.

Of course, I couldn't help but notice the make-up of the crowd at this particular performance: predominantly white, middle-to-upper class, 40s and older, dressed elegantly. There were a number of Asian folks, some possibly-mixed folks, but not a SINGLE black face in the crowd.

And there's nothing new there. Between the price of the ticket ($30 a pop), and the cultural associations of classical music, I wasn't really expecting a bunch of young folks of color to be there.

But, oddly enough, it wasn't really who was there (or not there) that struck me the most. Instead, I kept thinking about how the crowd behaved throughout the performance.

Basically, the performance alternated between complete silence (and stillness) of the audience while the music was being played, to controlled applause and murmuring in between. Again - exactly as expected.

But, for some reason, it felt really odd to me this time around. Because the thing is - the type of guitar they were playing was far from "traditionally" passive classical music. The Spanish flavor (specifically the Flamenco influences) infused their playing with a penchant for dramatic flourishes, a bit of showing-off, and emotion. Energy was interspersed with a catching rhythm and bursts of jaw-dropping feats of ridiculous guitar aptitude (I can't even begin to describe the crazy sh-- Angel Romero did with his guitar). Half the time, I had to catch myself to keep from yelling out loud or nudging my friend (A.) and saying, "Did you f-ing see that!??" It was sick. In the good way.

And that's the crazy thing. The overall feel of this show (in terms of the actual performance) reminded me more of watching a b-boy battle or hearing a ridiculously-talented emcee flow to an equally-talented dj's beat than a "typical" classical performance. There was just so much energy and bravado.

And yet - the crowd just sat still and silent, waiting until the end to applaud (loudly, but still seated - and just clapping). When the whole show was over, the crowd got a little livelier, but it blew my mind how strict cultural rules can be. These two men were blowing the lid off the place, and we were all just sitting there (myself included).

And it seemed such a perfect example of cultural norms in action: the generally white, (but more importantly) upper-class mentality of controlled emotions versus the generally PoC, (but more importantly) not-so-upper class mentality of let it out and be heard.

I mean, to sum it up - folks were just sitting around, getting excited, but holding it in and waiting their turn to show some appreciation through controlled clapping when - I felt - we all should have been screaming at the amazing parts and stomping our feet to the rhythmic parts - maybe even dancing a little bit.

And I know I wasn't the only one. I could see the physical reactions from the folks around me at the "oh-my-f-ing-G did he really do that!?" parts - and I wasn't the only one that wanted to say something. I heard the excited murmuring after each piece, and I knew I wasn't the only one who wanted to be a little bit louder. I saw bodies rocking a bit to the rhythms - not just mine.

But none of that happened - because of the cultural rules of watching "classical music." The same rules that say the ticket price must be exorbitant, and the dress code is formal. The same rules that implicitly make folks of less means (and of color) feel out of their element and keep them away.

Because it's not just hip-hop fans who let loose - any loud-ass rock show will be filled with screaming fans. In fact, I bet everybody in that church with me at the show has also screamed their heads off and moved their bodies at a different kind of musical performance in the past.

Just not there. And it makes me wonder - how did this come about? Did everybody used to respond to music emotionally and loudly (as seems most natural) until the upper-class tried to distance themselves from the "peasants" by acting differently? Did some group of Free-Mason-esque Illuminati sit down and draft the "rules of upper-class spectating"? Did some upper-crust Freud-disciple decide that "controlling one's emotions" was most "civilized" and then adapt that to every aspect of their world? Did white folks see how folks of color did it, and then change their own rules to make sure that they acted noticeably different - and make it easier to exclude the PoC?

It just makes me wonder. Because how we all behaved at that show was so unbelievably unnatural, and yet it was completely unsurprising at the same time.

Just like the ridiculous "rational" behaviors people demonstrate when confronted by race.

Expected. Normal. And so totally insane.

On "Conscious" Music

I pretty much only listen to hip-hop these days. The music I write leans more heavily towards hip-hop sounds. And my lyrics? Definitely based on a hip-hop flow.

But it wasn't always this way. In fact, it's only in the past year or two that hip-hop really took over my musical tastes. Before that, I was one of those "a little bit of everything" people. A little longer before that, and I would have said that "indie rock" was the most represented genre of music in my collection.

So what happened? Well, basically - I was politicized. And then I started really listening to lyrics. At that point, I was left with no option - it was get inspired and hear something worth being said, or settle for "loves lost" and interesting instrumentation. I chose the former, of course.

Because Portland has knocked the apathy right out of me in regards to politics. It's something about being in the whitest city in the country, surrounded by self-proclaimed "liberals" that causes a person of color to really start seeking out something MORE. To actively start looking for friends that run a shade darker than the omnipresent majority and are conscious of what's going on around them. Seeking white friends who are willing to acknowledge their own privilege and ignorance. And to look for a place or state of being where those things are the norm, as opposed to how the rest of life in this city can be.

And that led me to hip-hop. Or, more accurately, led me into a specific sub-set of hip-hop culture closest to its roots. The political brand that has come to be known as "conscious" hip-hop. Of course, that name is applied broadly, and I don't exactly agree with all the various artists that people call "conscious," but we'll move past that for now. The point being that hip-hop was the only genre of music that seemed to have something to really offer me when I was looking. Something for a person of color frustrated with a world dominated by white folks (or at least a white world-view). Somebody looking for the calming deep breath that being around other folks of color could provide.

And it makes me wonder - was there anywhere else to go? Now I'm more than happy with where I landed (and how that has been working out for me, artistically and socially), but I wonder if other genres could have offered me something similar. And I don't really know.

Because I'm not aware of too many other "conscious" forms of music. I wasn't alive for the punk scene of the 80s. Bob Marley has been appropriated by the very middle-to-upper-class white folks that he was originally fighting against. All the gods of the blues are dead, and their music has been appropriated, run-over, or put on the back-burner. John Lennon is dead.

So is there anybody else out there? Do white rock singers really only care about how depressed they are? The Dixie Chicks drubbed up such back-lash and press when they got a little political - but is that because they were the exception? What they said was a drop of water in the ocean of conscious hip-hop's messages, so did people care because it was so uncommon in the world of white music?

I want answers. I'm curious. Is there "conscious" indie-rock? Are there underground, struggling political rock lyricists fighting the good fight? If I knew where to look, could I find Asian-American singers with something real to say to mirror the Blue Scholars or Native Guns? Is there a stage in that setting where I could stand up and say what I often NEED to say and get a positive reaction?

Are there musicians outside of hip-hop that can speak to the politicized (i.e. aware) me?

This is the question I ask my new batch of readers (now that I'm really getting a lot of them coming through). And if the answer to all of these questions is a resounding no - then my back-up question is: why? What keeps that from happening (even in a small way)?

Music is an interesting social phenomenon, and this is likely to be just the first of a series of posts examining the politics and psychology of musical tastes. I hope to learn a lot from my readers in this regard, and I'm looking forward to it.