Happy Sunday. As I write this we're on our way home, having had the loveliest time visiting family in St Albans, which is just what the doctor ordered after an eventful week of gigging and writing.
On Saturday, the sun shone as we strolled through the city markets as the scents of assorted foods, coffee and wares wafted through the air. We had a wonderful Mediterranean-style dinner and spent time decompressing afterwards. The following morning, we mooched around the city centre, visited the museums and other cultural heritage sites around the city, and treated ourselves to some lovely snacks and drinks.
Now, with the benefits of a refreshed mind and body, I've been reflecting on some of the ideas I came across this week. There's one that stands out to me, perhaps due to its timeliness and relevance over the past few days. It is the idea that art – and the practice of creating – is inherently hopeful. I came across this a few days ago courtesy of a podcast conversation during which author and poet, Maggie Smith talked about how each piece of art is like a message in a bottle.
I've previously written about how art captures a time, a place and an emotion. I believe this applies regardless of the art form. Each song I write is rooted in a sentiment felt or expressed at a particular time and place. The same is true for the stories and books I write. The flip side to this – what I'd call the creation side of this equation – is that on the other side – the consumption side – you never know the who, the when, the where, and the what. In other words, you almost never get to know who might interact with the art you make, when and where they might interact with it, and what impact your art might have on them. Almost never.
At a gig I played recently, I shared a song I wrote a couple of years ago, and I introduced the song by telling the story of how it came about. When we were planning our wedding, my wife and I decided that we wanted to write our own vows. This seemed like a good idea at the time, and in hindsight it was, but when we had the idea, my plan was to extemporise and go with the flow on the day without preparing much in the way of written vows beforehand. This was until we realised that the registrar had to have a written copy of the vows a few weeks before the wedding, which meant I had to write them. Not what I'd planned, but not the end of the world. After all, how hard could it be to write a pledge to be delivered to the love of your life in the presence of your closest family and friends?
Harder than I'd anticipated, it turned out. For days, I struggled to articulate my feelings, staring at blank page after blank page as I agonised over what to write. Then one day it hit me. I realised I'd written several songs about the woman I was marrying, and I never struggled to articulate how I felt in song form, so why not approach the vows with the same mindset?
I decided to treat the vows as if I was writing a song about what our relationship and our marriage meant to me, and that's when it clicked. I ended up with a song called First Day of Spring, and a portion of the lyrics constituted the vows I shared with the registrar and delivered on our wedding day.
Having shared this story and played the song at the gig, after my set a couple approached me to tell me how much they loved it. They shared that they were getting married in a few weeks, and asked if I'd be willing to perform the song at their wedding. I told them it would be my honour to play a small part in their special day.
And that day is imminent. This is the sort of priceless interaction that reminds me of why I do what I do. This is the sort of feedback that fuels my creative engine, fills my cup and keeps me going. The idea that something I wrote for a once-in-a-lifetime event a few years ago can leave a mark on someone else is truly spectacular. Through this lens, First Day of Spring, and other songs and stories I've written serve as messages in a bottle, floating on the waves around the vast ocean of life, waiting to be delivered to someone, somewhere, perhaps just when they need it the most.
My new album, Hope on the Horizon, is out everywhere now. Not a fan of streaming and want to support my music? You can download a digital version or buy a CD now here. Thank you for listening, spreading the word, and reaching out to share your thoughts. I appreciate it. Have a great week.