EXCERPT FROM SARA’S JOURNALMay 3, 1999
Calle Conde de Barajas, Seville
In Search of Sunshine
Matthew has never been to the Mediterranean and he hasn’t come all
the way to the tip of the Iberian Peninsula to miss the opportunity. Besides, don’t
the women sunbathe topless in these parts?
I haven’t the heart to tell him that the Costa del Sol is
chalk-full of steak and kidney pie eating Brits, way beyond the age of toplessness, pink
sausages exerting nine irons and pitching wedges. After the "best coffee of his
life" he and David buy a road map. Matt hits the sporting goods store and outfits
himself in the football uniform of the Spanish National Team.
Matt has an uncanny knack for directions. He’s successfully found
his way back to La Carboneria. Now he finds the tapas bar I have chosen.
Sitting at the street, with sangria and steamed baby clams, tiny lamb
chops and shrimps in butter and garlic, the discussion stabs around art and songwriting,
the recent commercial success of the band, guns and violence, the music industry, art that
inspires and what one chooses to express and why. Matt likes to write lyrics about his
suburban upbringing. He’s got some hard edges and a loud, stinging voice. David fills
it out with sophisticated, musical guitars and keyboards. The two other band members
– the bassist and the drummer – have stayed behind in Vancouver, taking a break
before summer touring.
Now I’m unexpectedly weeping. Nothing much, just the broken dam of
a week of sudden social responsibility. This conversation is tearing at something
sensitive – the artist’s job. Romaine Rolland said it’s the artist’s
job to create sunshine when there isn’t any. I know this is not everything. One makes
what one knows. Jackson Pollock said painting is self-discovery, and that every good
artist paints what he is.
Now they’re onto the topic of Marilyn Manson and other exploitive
bands. I can pull myself together because we all agree about the guise of Devil worship as
the worship of the almighty dollar.
David and I agree. Each day of survival doing what you truly love is a
day to be thankful for. This year he turned thirty. His record went Platinum. He’s
hit a milestone with inspiration and perspiration. It’s excruciatingly hard work, but
worth every moment because every moment is motivated by love for the activity.
This morning they throw some clothes together and roar off towards the
coast. Here I sit, alone again, with Rich and his parents touring near Granada and the
Rock Stars off in search of turquoise water and other delights.
