Showing posts with label punk music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label punk music. Show all posts

Thursday, August 5, 2021

WALTER STEDING: Essence of an Artist [1983]

Text by Julia Masi / FFanzeen, 1983 / 2021
mages from the Internet

WALTER STEDING: Essence of an Artist [1983 Interview]

This article was originally published in FFanzeen, issue #11, dated 1983. It was written by Julia Masi.

Currently, Walter Steding is a painter and actor who writes film scores and is in the group Crazy Mary, based in New York City where he resides. This is a companion piece to one Julia wrote in Issue #10, reprinted HERE. – RBF, 2021 

 

His special loft on the Bowery is littered with the canvases of his labor. Portraits of pop-culture aristocracy, like Andy Warhol and Deborah Harry, sit on the chairs and sleep on the floor. A painting of a bright blue chair rests against the wall. The furnishings are sparse: a table, his synthesizer, and a clock. In the corner, he’s sectioned off a rustic little bedroom, so neat and compact that it looks like it was built for a movie set, furnished mostly with things he’s found in other people’s garbage.

Simplicity is the essence of Walter Steding’s style. His music and his art, like his loft, are uncluttered. There is a child-like wonder in his work. Some of his paintings show cheekbones or eyes much wider than God would mercifully bestow on anyone. And his songs and performance style are as unpretentious as entertainment can get. Yet, there is great sophistication in how every line, note and color is calculated to transmute his feelings.

“To be a musician and live on the Lower East Side, there is a kind of feel about society, about the way things are. Graffiti artists or whatever, there is always a movement that suggests how people are. That’s always the way it is with art,” comments Walter. “The paintings come from the same kind of thought that I live and experience what is happening. I try to express the way things are through the music and the painting so they’re similar in the sense that I see colors. Like green – a typical industrial restroom color. It really doesn’t say much, but in not saying much, it says a lot. And the same thing with my tunes. I try to keep them really simple. I work with a really simple formula. Even though the format is simple and I only use a few colors it’s the combination of those colors that create the music. Maybe I just use the standard 4/4 beat, but it’s what I apply to that.

 

“I’m painting portraits but I’m not painting portraits in the same way as (John Singleton) Copley (d. 1815) or any other great portrait painter painted because they wanted to create a likeness. I’m painting portraits in an era when photography has existed for almost 100 years. And it’s easier to take a person’s image and have that image reflected on chemicals that separate various tones of light and create an image instantly. Then why do a portrait? It’s much easier to take a picture. But what I am is a portrait painter working with paints in the year 1983, and that’s what it is. It’s me, the portrait painter. It’s not the portrait itself. The painting is insignificant compared to the fact that I’m doing it. And by the looks of my paintings, that’s immediately revealed.

“I try to make it look like there’s a background. There’s no portrait there then – flash – someone is there! And they are portraits that you can see are done after the invention of photography to help me get a likeness, but I really work from a mental perspective or how a person would appear.”

Actually, Walter doesn’t even need a photograph to create a mental image of a person. He has that special kind of sensitivity that gives you the impression that he can read a person’s face as easily as he can read a letter. And when he reads letters, he absorbs every detail and nuance of a person’s personality so fully that he’s able to create a convincing character on canvas. Some of the faces in Walter’s exhibit at the Semaforte Gallery last Spring were inspired by a box of letters that he found in the garbage. Some of the letters date back to the early 1800s. Most of the correspondence in between three men – Jordean, Matheson and Dent – the families who set up the Hong Kong Shanghai Bank, the institution that, in this day, sets the standard for gold prices in the Western world. These letters document the beginnings of our economic system, the common market, opium/slave trade and economic crash.

It’s doubtful that anyone who has attended Walter’s exhibit really knows exactly what Jordean, Matheson or Dent looked like, but Walter’s images are so strong you believe that they’re accurate.

 

And just in glancing around his loft you can see what he’s learned from the letters and get a clue to his perception of the evolution of America’s society.

“In the olden days, even though you didn’t have any dollars, you had opportunity because you could go out West, meet some savage Indians and give them trinkets for furs and sell them and get cash for it. And if not cash, you could take those furs to a foreign country, like in China, because furs became fashionable, so they could take those furs and trade them for tea. And then they could take the tea and bring it back and sell the tea here.

“People came to this country with nothing, like John Jacob Astor and Steven Gerard and Vanderbilt. Individuals who could actually go out and make a fortune.

“In today’s world, an individual can no longer go out into the wilderness and start a trade. It’s all tied up by those original families who have kept their money and survived the crash, ‘cause they never had it to lose in the first, since they were the ones who were causing the crashes. Today, for anyone to accomplish any achievement monetarily, the only thing you can sell is a kind of software, and that’s selling an idea that’s selling yourself. You become a famous actor. You become a famous pop musician. You can start from nothing and make a lot of money. But you can’t go into the world and dig up Uranium and convert it into nuclear energy on your own. You have to have a whole team of physicists and a whole complex of other people. The only way you can do it today, the only field, is this kind of mental activity.”

In the not-so-distant future, Walter worries that history will repeat itself. When he reads the daily newspapers, he often notices how certain events are similar to situations cited in the letters. For instance, a recent report claims that the U.S. government will be printing more money to counteract inflation. When this situation was tried in the past, it had quickly led to an economic crash. He feels fortunate to have found these letters and to have learned so much from them.

“Because I have this knowledge, I see my position as being a communicator, even through my music. My music is part of my art. It says on my contract ‘recording artist.’ It doesn’t say ‘pop star’ or anything like that. It says recording artist because that’s what I am. I write all of the songs. I produced them. I carry the records on my back and take them to the stores. And what’s in these songs is what I feel. What’s in these songs is a kind of message. They’re not saying ‘Let’s revolt’ or anything like that. They’re saying, ‘Let’s have compassion for one another, ‘cause we’re all in this together.’

“That’s why I don’t want to stand up there and create an antagonistic mood. The whole punk thing was great because it made its statement, but now let’s definitely go on. You have to find compassion for your audience.”

If there is any gift Walter could give his audience, it would be “non-violence. Just getting along with each other. There’s always a way for people to become one with their environment or nature or whatever.

“I always try to be close with nature. I make sure I get in the woods.” His basic philosophy of life is “not to believe in anything except what exists. It’s not my will to believe anything. Whenever you say, ‘I believe,’ you don’t believe. Because it’s not your will to believe anything. It’s your position to accept what is correct. And then you leverage your mind open for that source to come direct and without your will interfering.

“It’s when you start to think that these ideas are your own, that’s when they stop. What I do, I don’t feel is my own (ideas). I like to get ideas out and perpetuate. Let someone else take over. Just set it down. I feel that there is a never-ending source. The more things that you can express and you put out, the more ideas you will get.

“I hope I can paint now, and if I get discouraged with the painting, I can be a writer or play music.”

 

Saturday, February 25, 2017

Review: 50 Years with Peter Paul and Mary


Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2017
Images from the Internet

50 Years with Peter Paul and Mary
Directed by Jim Brown
Pop Twist / MVD Visual
78 minutes, 2014 / 2016

Most people I know who arrived at the punk movement came from either a rock (MC5, Stooges, KISS) or artistic (Velvet Underground) music background. For me it was different than most, as I approached from a folkie background (influenced in large part by my cousin Marc when I stayed Summer weeks with my Aunt Elsie and Uncle Al; also the summer camp I attended in the 1960s was an anti-war folk bastion), from the harsher Phil Ochs to the mellower Peter, Paul and Mary. If you think about it – and I’m not the only one who made this observation, though I came to it on my own – punk is ‘60s folk that is just “faster and louder,” as the Dictators might have put it. They are both guitar-based, minimalist, and often had a sharp, politically honed-edge. For example, take Stiff Little Fingers’ “I Don’t Like You” and compare it to Dylan’s “Positively Fourth Street.” Or Towns van Zandt’s “Waitin’ Round to Die” and the Heartbreakers’ (or Ramones’) “Chinese Rocks.”

That being said, I still retain my folkie roots, as do a lot of punkers; ever notice how many hardcore singers have come out with singer-songwriter-style solo efforts? I would argue that Johnny Thunders’ “You Can’t Put Your Arms Around a Memory” is a great folk tune.

I’ve never seen Peter, Paul and Mary (PPM) perform live. However, I did see Mary Travers twice at the Bottom Line in a very short time span in the early ‘70s when she was promoting her solo LPs, and a private performance by Peter Yarrow at/for the Anti-Defamation League (ADL) in the late-1990s.

This documentary has been airing on PBS during fundraising periods since it was released, and is a huge draw. I kept missing most of it (due to its lengthy interruptions thanks to the GW Bush administration’s financial raping of the NEA funding, which the present “administration” promises to annihilate…but I sadly digress…), so as  I’ve seen bits of it here and there, I was so happy to be able to finally see it in its entirely.

Just as Judy Collins was a major contributing factor for the success of Leonard Cohen (d. 2016) by covering his music such as “Suzanne” before he was famous, PPM did the same for Dylan by doing his “Blowin’ in the Wind” and “The Times They are A-Changin’,” among others of Bobby’s works.

The documentary makes quick work of their origins, which happened thanks in large part to their future manager, Albert Grossman (d. 1986), matching them up in the early Greenwich Village folk scene. But Yarrow correctly comments that when they all got together, it was not only a unification of harmony, but each voice stands out on its own personality (as I would posit was equally true of the Mamas and the Papas). This is evidenced in a clip of them performing an incredibly rousing “If I Had My Way,” shortly after the release of their eponymous first album, which went to Number 1 on the folk charts, and hovered around the Top-Ten for the following three years.

After their first three albums, there came a shift in the group that was a cognitive dissonance, or more accurately an awakening of consciousness. Much like Dylan’s pivot at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 when he went electric, for PPM it was performing at the Civil Rights March on Washington where they performed “Blowin’ in the Wind.” In present culture, they may have been seen as white interlopers on a black movement, but they were accepted then as the march needed to be an inclusive one at that point in time, which changed their direction to social activism, affecting every aspect of the group. Sure, some of it was there already, as it was throughout the folk scene, but it went from part of their sound to the focus (or locus) of it.

This is an unusual documentary in its approach to the subject(s). First of all, with the exception of some background on Mary pre-PPM, there isn’t much about their backstory, or again, even much attention on their formation, for two reasons: first of all, it’s what they accomplished that’s more important than how they first laid their eyes on each other. Yarrows succinct definition of their earliest period in an interview from that time (to which I referred earlier) is all that’s really needed to be said. Also, due to time constraints, this film would either have to sacrifice a bit of story or the music, and I’m grateful they picked to include the music instead.

This brings me to the next point, which is the music, of course. What we get to see are not merely snippets, but rather either most of or all of the songs presented. Occasionally there would be some talking over the instrumental parts, but all the dialog is by the participants, not a narrator. Even though Mary died in 2009, there is a large body of interviews with her on which to draw, so she is well represented. The part of this film that shows her musical memorial is very touching, and one of the guest speakers, Whoopi Goldberg gives a nice and accurate nod to the way she sang, and embodied each lyric.

Most of those interviewed, other than the trio in focus, are the wives (one an ex-), adult kids, and some people who have worked with them, including managers. Even Gloria Steinem makes some pointed notes about how important Mary was as a role model to the folk scene, and even writ large.

The extras are captioning, and five full songs taken from various times in their career.

Not discussed in the film, I have always felt that Peter was the righteous side (he created an anti-bullying campaign this is now worldwide), Paul was the spiritual one (he and his wife travel and sing Christian devotional songs), and Mary was the heart, being the main focus of the group (which is mentioned) because of her sincerity to what she was doing.
                                  
My only regret is that the filmmakers didn’t include one of their best later tunes, “Light One Candle” (which happily can be found on YouTube), and if that’s the only negative that crosses my mind, well, that speaks volumes on how I found this to be an excellent documentary, with a glorious mix of interviews, history, and music.