Yesterday morning I was listening to the song “Grace Is Gone” by the Dave Matthews Band in the car on my way to work. That got me to thinking about how musicians are often asked about the meanings of their songs and how Dave has said that “Grace” in the song is not a woman but a state, as in a state of grace. This may be Dave’s interpretation based on what he was thinking when he wrote the song, and it remains a valid interpretation if you are looking for the artist’s motivation, but once a creative work is put “out there,” the original artist’s interpretation is no longer the ONLY valid interpretation. Every person who hears a song, every person who reads a book, every person who looks at a work of art, gets to interpret it exactly as he or she wants to through the lens of his or her personality and life experiences.
I ran smack into this personal interpretation a number of years ago when I displayed a piece I had woven in an art show. The weaving, a two-sided, reversible, green and white fabric, shows what in my mind is a soul – any old soul, not a particular one. When the piece was on display, a woman pointed to it and said to me, “Oh, it’s Jesus!” Well, um, no. Jesus wasn’t on my mind while I was creating it, but then I realized that her interpretation was exactly right for her and gave her an emotional investment in my art. The art no longer solely belonged to me. And I was okay with that.
“Grace Is Gone” no longer solely belongs to the Dave Matthews Band. Too many people have been inspired and affected by the song for the band to stake this claim. I, for example, have used the song as inspiration for one of the stories in Greenville, and Grace is no longer a state, she’s a woman, which is what I pictured when I first heard the song. (Young Son #2, however, took Grace to be a state.)
All of this mulling over the song brought me to a vision of book manuscripts sitting quietly in drawers, unpublished and unread. I wonder if part of the reason they remain in drawers is so that their creators can hang onto them, to keep them from entering the wider world and thus risk “misinterpretation” from the perspective of their creators. Because, once your creation is “out there,” it’s not yours anymore.
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August 8, 2008 at 8:45 am
Joy
This is so true. Everyone looks at things so differently. A song, book or art. I’ve looked at art and thought “what the heck” and someone else sees something completely different. I hadn’t really thought of it this way. Songs are so funny. To hear the words and think of something and then talk to someone else and they took the song a completely different way.
This is a good one Mary.
August 8, 2008 at 11:51 pm
Reeva
Your thoughts on this remind me of The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand. Have you read that one? It is one of the most thought-provoking books I’ve ever read. Even if you don’t agree with her philosophies, she makes some very interesting arguments about art, public appreciation of art, and artistic ownership of one’s work. In your post you talk about song lyrics and writing, but Ayn Rand tackles architecture, a medium in which personal artistic impression and public acceptance truly clash. I mean, one can’t hide a building away in a drawer
“Misinterpretation” of one’s work is a scary prospect, I agree, but I’ve read interviews with lots of prolific and successful artists (specifically, I’m thinking of Tori Amos and J.K. Rowling) who have embraced the different interpretations of thier work. Granted, if you’re J.K. Rowling, you can go on national television and correct some of the public’s false impressions, but I think that’s probably the exception rather than the rule.
I think it takes a lot of courage to submit one’s work for public consumption. Not only do you open yourself up to criticism and “misinterpretation”, but you’re also forced to let your creation go. Like you said, Mary, once the work is out there, it no longer belongs to you. I guess that’s the risk you take.
Great post, Mary!!
August 9, 2008 at 9:09 pm
woowooteacup
Thanks for the positive comments, Joy and Reeva.
I have not yet read The Fountainhead, Reeva. I’ve hovered around it at the library, but haven’t worked up the courage to read it because it seems monstrously deep. Your comments have my mind going off on additional tangents. When you mention architecture, I think of a new public building going up in a city near mine and the brouhaha that surrounds a functional piece of public art that has been installed on/near the building. The piece is fabulous in my opinion and it’s being used to conceal some sort of air circulation unit or something. Many people hate the work, although what I think they really hate is the idea that public money paid for the art. In Minnesota, we have a one-percent for public art law that allows for one-percent of the budget of a public building to be spent on art for that building.
As for potential false impressions, I can see where J.K. Rowling ran into this with the Evangelical Christians who freaked out about her books, claiming they were filled with witchcraft. My daughter has a friend whose parents won’t allow her to read the Harry Potter series for this reason. That’s not the sort of misinterpretation that creative people want to have happen with their work, but happen it does and it can be incredibly tough to do damage control. That’s where the “letting go” comes into play. Creative work is very much like having children. It comes through you, but you don’t own it. You’ve got to let it have its own life.