Last night I went to this:
A fantastic event with various speakers talking about the things that inspired them and made them who they were. As I strolled through town afterwards I racked my brains thinking of what would have made my list. Everything from the mundane to the grand; the world changing to the pointless and the vast to the tiny ran through my head. I was seeking inspiration to work out my inspiration. Oh irony.
Inspiration is everywhere around us and nowhere in between. It’s that feeling that makes all the hairs stand up, that transcends you from the tube, the train, the cinema, the couch to a place where you realise what being human is all about.
I’d hate to label it. To say that it’s quantifiable - that I could find inspiration if I just looked for it. That would be mundane. You can’t set yourself up to inspired. Well you can but it’s not the same. The moment you first heard that song, saw that film, met that girl – that ecstasy cannot be recreated. You can’t say ‘I’m going to Paris to be inspired’ – it’s too contrived. It defeats the object.
But you can remember being inspired. And you can remember what inspired you. What moved you in a way you’ll never, ever forget. That’s the difference between nostalgia and memories. Nostalgia (and I should be quoting another source for this but I can’t for the life of remember where I heard it) literally means pain from an old wound. When we talk about nostalgia (oh I’ve remembered it’s from Mad Men – cheers Don) it’s referring to the wound in the heart created by that memory. Re-visiting it is re-opening that emotional wound.
So inspiration can come from memories. But the nostalgia is what happens when the inspiration fades and is perhaps most powerful emotion of all. So while I can’t say that I know what will inspire me in the future, I know what inspired me in the past – because the wounds will stay open forever (or until I become a hardened old bitter man – close race).
So things that inspired me in the past, that moved me? That made stop think, change my life, the way I think, fall in love? Too many to mention – almost:
Por La Cabeza.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JAKjXHctkGw
Famous for its appearance in Schindler’s List, this piece of music is stunningly moving, captivating, charming, alluring and sexy. It moves all over the place in a short space of time, wandering along filled with passion and intensity.
Interestingly, it seems sampling began in the 1930s, this melody borrowing heavily from Mozart’s Rondo to great effect (take note Eminem – I heard your sampling of Hathaway - it’s pathetic. What happened to you?).
Por La Cabeza is a song about the story of guy with a horse racing addiction entwined with women troubles (it never rains…). I’ve no idea when I first heard it but a little digging online tells me that its 2 composers died side-by-side in a plane crash in 1935 – adding even greater poignancy to the drama.
Tezcatlipoca
Twitter’s great. Don’t care what anyone says. My friend at work tweeted this link:
One man animated and produced this, marrying animation with classical music ala Fantasia (in this case Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake). Watch in awe. It’s a beautiful story, with a soundtrack to match. I’m responsible for about 100 of its YouTube hits. Engrossing does not do it justice.
American Gods by Neil Gaiman
I read this book a year ago and I haven’t stopped thinking about it. It’s not Tolstoy but it’s a wonderful, evocative story about human gods and an anti-hero caught up in a universal conspiracy. As an aside I haven’t spent much time in the States but this book made me yearn for places I’d never been. It’s romantic, wistful and brilliant.
Hampstead Heath
Vast, vast acres of woodland, hills, lakes and paths in north-west London. It’s incongruous to its surroundings but its mystery and intrigue is incomparable. Running through it as the sun rises or sets is as cathartic a process as you’ll find in this town.
No comments:
Post a Comment