Recovered Glimmers in the 21st Century: Emotional, Authentic, Uncensored
“I think that pop music in general sometimes like to keep things a bit more hidden, and, you know, you censor and you polish to make it fit more people or to not be too vulgar or make sure of, ‘Can this really play on the radio?’ And I like not doing that.” — Tove Lo, Swedish singer and songwriter.
Besides blasting on the radio, music is shared visually through videos. I love music videos because they are simultaneously visual art and aural art. The different channels through which this art is transmitted and the ways that those channels limit the scope of the art interest me. For example, when MTV airs videos, it censors the content to the point of deleting entire scenes that are deemed inappropriate and stitching the videos back together in a way that eludes the viewer. In much the same way, “LIVE” televised award shows are delayed for several minutes to allow the producers to catch and to beep out all the bad words. I recognize that all of these networks are adhering to broadcast laws that curb profanity, but who is to judge what is profane?
Artists tour because their own concerts are the only legitimate space where they can portray themselves completely without anyone shutting them up and distorting the meanings that they put out. Streaming services like Apple Music and Spotify fascinate me. They stamp material with the explicit sticker: BEWARE. Suddenly, in private one can absorb all the explicitness that was eclipsed in public. Some tension revolves around the public sphere. C’mon, what’s the point of censoring our senses if the uncensored will reach us eventually?
Once released in the late 1960s, the Sony Portopak was revolutionary because it wrenched power from large corporations that controlled the media and disseminated that power to regular people, allowing them to produce their own videos on the go. The recent project from my favorite singer Tove Lo embodies that push back against established norms. Her short film “Fairy Dust” strings together multiple music videos which are linked by dark, eccentric dialogue, confronting a part of the human condition that no one likes to face. (I recommend watching it on YouTube; it’s great and powerful.)
Speaking of YouTube, it initially removed the video for violating sexual content policies. Tove responded to that allegation with a tweet: #imnotevennaked. Although the film ends with two minutes or so of her lying on a bed and masturbating, she touches herself with all of her clothes on and keeps everything as PG as possible. In essence, we’re all sexual beings. Sex is natural. There’s no harm in expressing it healthily. The following is one of my favorite quotes from one of her interviews: “Everything that has to do with sex is somehow… it’s the best thing in the world, and it’s still the one thing people don’t want you to talk about.” Tove Lo’s album is called Ladywood (a very cathartic listen), and the album along with the accompanying video symbolize female empowerment and embracing sexuality. YouTube later re-uploaded the video but placed it behind a login to verify that viewers are over the age of eighteen (censorship at its finest).
Tove Lo plays with her body as did Cuban American artist Ana Mendieta. Ana’s earth work testified to the beauty of the autonomous, female body at full potential. On the other hand, her glass work acknowledged the distortion from imposition.
In our patriarchal society, men have always been able to express themselves however they want, but when a woman tries to express herself freely, society questions her. A dominant mindset prevails: if a woman shows herself off, it’s solely to please a man. Fact check: that’s not always the case. The opposing culture asserts that men are not the catalysts of all decisions. Tove’s not aiming for airplay or to satisfy a male audience. Her upfront video would never get on MTV, but she’s fine with that because she’s taking control and releasing what she feels connected to: “I do whatever I want. If I wanted to be bigger, I’d have to be more polished, but I wouldn’t be happy. It’s my choice… there’s so much more to me than the vagina stuff.” Her message, especially for women, is to let go of expectations and to craft your own path — just do it yourself.
Tove Lo mentioned that she self-funded this entire video project: “Pretty much pawning my apartment for this video.” She had a vision and did not let anything prevent it from coming to fruition. This is interesting because she is signed to a major record label that has lots and lots of money. So why didn’t her label invest in her art? I guess because it saw her artistic expression as controversial and didn’t see the value of it — an example of a corporate giant suppressing art by limiting artists’ freedom in an attempt to push them into a mold. This action is highly reminiscent of pre-Portopak times when influential institutions decided what flowed into motion. Tove Lo’s jump over the heads of mainstream entertainment executives reflects post-Portopak liberation.
If you take a close look at the scenes in her video, you’ll notice that she’s not dolled up and shimmering like a typical pop star. Her makeup is bare, and her hair is messy. She mentioned that she’s not concerned with the unattainable; she’s concerned with the human. If that means less views, so be it. Maybe that’s what’s bothering her label. Because views make money, few impressions aren’t worth the investment.
The way Tove Lo rose above the hindrance calls to mind the work of The Lab, an experimental art and performance space in San Francisco’s Mission District. Most of the time, artists have to believe in themselves first until they get other people to believe in them as well. The Lab makes the journey easier by providing support from conception.
It has come to me that there are different countercultures: ones that we choose and ones that have chosen us. For example, being a woman or gay in a society that doesn’t value either is different than choosing to forsake clothes in a society that values fashion. Therefore, the different countercultural movements carry different weight depending on the choices that are available to its insurgents. Tove Lo’s status as a woman who’s embracing feminism and breaking barriers for the cause makes her a prominent figure.
Another musical and visual artist who I greatly admire and who amazes with the unconventional is Lana Del Rey. In the trailer video for her forthcoming album “Lust for Life,” the monologue transpires like this:
“In this town an artist really needs a lot of space when they’re trying to create something special: a place to cultivate a world of their own far away from the real world that surrounds them… When I’m in the middle of making a record, especially now when the world is in the middle of such a tumultuous period, I find I really need to take a space for myself, far away from real life, to consider what my contribution to the world should be in these dark times.”
The point that I have been attempting to make centers around artistic process. An artist requires distance to create far from the societal forces that may undermine and manipulate that creativity. The artist can gain a new perspective on a particular development in society and figure out how to work around it or with it, even proposing a new perspective for everyone else. For example, in the current political reality where society seems to be heading backwards in history instead of forwards, many people despair, but I take Lana’s album to offer resilience as if to say, “By yearning to live we can change how we experience the world.” An artist’s dream can inspire everyone else and provide a way to cope with a problem.
When people talk about their dreams, the prevailing connotation is selfish motivation and desire. I dream of owning a luxury apartment. He dreams of winning the lottery. She dreams of becoming the CEO of her own company. However, such dreams do not characterize all. In these instances, we overlook humanitarian dreams — world peace, equal rights, love — that in essence are neither selfish nor immoral. When we sleep, many visions that we have no conscious control over conjure within our heads, implying an irrational quality. However, similar visions can consciously materialize within the scope of imagination and introduce us to new artistic and technological endeavors filled with meaning and utility — a contribution that is totally coherent and rational. We are not taught how to dream, how to question the status quo, and how to step outside the box: we must learn all those ropes independently.
This reminds me of an article that I read on creativity by Ulrich Kraft. In it, he says that “schools place overwhelming emphasis on teaching children to solve problems correctly, not creatively.” I relate to this because I have uncovered my most creative side on my own time outside the classroom. The article goes on further, “But creative people can free themselves from conventional thought patterns and follow new pathways to unusual or distantly associated answers. This ability is known as divergent thinking, which generates many possible solutions.”
Dreamers and creators, for example, Tove Lo and Lana Del Rey, yield experiences and conversations that are quite transformative for the beholder, diverging from routine reality. Their work is a shock to society, a counterculture, an opposition, that frequently invites a side-eye.
Society often tries to curb the influence of these dreamers because, as I see it, it is collectively jealous. Not everyone has the capacity for phenomenal creativity and thus power. Everyone wants to wield power, but not everyone can, or at least, not everyone thinks that they can. Homogeneity and accepted norms carry limited power. Uniqueness leverages great power, so in a way it is viewed as a threat — a mighty threat, indeed.
