Doing a remake? Do not be true to the original story or characters, here's why? A lesson I learned from Picasso.

Doing a remake? Do not be true to the original story or characters, here's why? A lesson I learned from Picasso.

As an opera composer, who has focused on pioneering "Video Opera," which I've meme'd as "VideOpera," I am always considering various collaborations, and or keyword, marketing realities. One concept is the idea that on occasion taking original ideas I have, and realizing that some form of public domain work or character may serve as a marketing advantage, causes me to dash the new original idea with a bit of the public domain.

Proudly, this results in a new work that is ideally untrue (in most cases) to the original source material, and in some cases may even oppose it. I once thought this was a problem, then there was this visit to an amazing art museum which just happened to have Picasso, and a host of other masters on loan the day of my visit. The exhibit contained works by Van Gogh, Manet, Monet, and the league of French Impressionist masters. Meanwhile, the rest of the museum's exhibits were all full of stellar, spectacular works of art in every room. It was the Palace of the Legion of Honor, after all, San Francisco.

So we were in this circling train of people. It was odd to come before a Van Gogh and feel the need to keep moving, at least slowly because there was so much other "fine art," to see. I mean there were some of the greatest works of art in human history and there was very little stopping. Slow moving, yes, but actually dead stops of admiring stares, largely no. However, there was one work, out of place with the other works which brought the most refined intellectuals to a dead stop that held them in a state of pondering for minutes on end, to the point where mature, pillars of the community had to be politely addressed by security to continue moving slowly, yet even then, there were pauses of rebellion from all, including myself.

"Why is this happening?" I thought to myself. The answer did not come to me entirely immediately but eventually I realized what I can demonstrate in this metaphorical examination of the phenomena.

Imagine you have asked me for piece of blank, white paper. I turn around towards my paper supply and hand you ... a blank piece of white paper. Done. It is over, all thought interaction is complete upon the moment that you receive exactly what you expect. The event, beyond the polite gesture, is forgotten and any significance of the piece of blank white paper is completely a failure.

Now, imagine you have asked me for a piece of blank, white paper. I turn around, towards my paper supply and hand you ... a sand colored, Sumerian writing tablet made of sandstone. It is half covered in Sumerian markings and laying at its center is a tiny hammer and chisel.

What has just happened. Obviously you have stopped your train of desire based thought. You have come to a pause of speculation, and then (marketers and creatives take note) audience interaction has occurred as the receiver becomes the grantor of the following question, "What is this? What am I supposed to do with this? Is this a joke? My God, this is Sumerian, I love this, is this real? My God, this is not what I was expecting, I hate this? Can this be real? Where is the expected? Now I'm looking at this and thinking about it and three months later I still recall the event. Especially when I see sand, or a story on ancient cultures, or reach out to grab even a plain piece of white paper from my printer paper's cache!"

♫ The American Goldfinch: “Our First Meeting and Conversation with King Carduelis Tristis and his Court.”

The American Goldfinch: 

“Our First Meeting and Conversation with King Carduelis Tristis and his Court.”

©2013 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

    After being blessed by the company of You and Yours, I longed for our collaborations and various discussions on a wide array of subjects. Each of such discussions brought wonderful justifications to the feelings I had always previously held in regards to the overall way of things. The mere existence of You and Yours was to me a verification that there were many better ways to attend to many of life’s various issues.
    One day, while on a walking discussion with You and Yours, we came to a clearing in one of the forests upon our newest estate’s grounds. Simply being within the space of the clearing caused us to feel exceptionally beauteous good feelings. The clearing was hewn entirely by the unperturbed progression of nature. Yet its appearance seemed to suggest that there was some form of additional purpose to its courtyard-like design. The rich black earth seemed like a carpet which was surrounded by furniture in the form of mostly large gray stones of individually unique shapes and variances in size. Grand walls—columned with evergreen trunks—stood like pillars holding up the open skylight above the enchanted clearing.
    As the sunlight reached down through the skylight, it made the illumination of the mobile diamond fortress, which in my possession you traveled safely within, its first priority. Through such an endeavor the light of the sun was multiplied and transformed into shimmering tones through which you emerged to a height and volume noticeably more similar to that of my own. Upon this, we were joined by a choir, rich with audible and visible magnificence. The arriving choir consisted of the American Goldfinch in respectable numbers. Though only those humans abiding by certain parameters of Ahimsa could see You and Yours, in your enchanted forms, it was obvious that the gilded birds could see you as clearly as they could the indestructible beams of sunlight that leaned against the atmosphere between heaven and earth. Their adorably curved heads moved about like ballpoint pens drawing angular shapes as they tracked each of your flickers, flashes and changes in position. Some amongst their leagues hopped after you, and took short flights to keep up with You and Yours walked in a circle admiring the enchantments of the clearing and all of its miraculous design elements.
    Suddenly the American Goldfinches organized themselves into a circular perimeter about the open center of the clearing. The center of the distant sun backlit a flickering silhouette which played with the light emanating throughout the clearing. You and Yours placed your hands upon my shoulders and good feelings radiated from us and everything in our midst. From the sun formed silhouette above, there descended another American Goldfinch arriving in singular fashion. He brought with him a uniquely noble and important aura which coincided with an additional phenomena resulting in the most inspiring and startling of surprises upon my consciousness . Suddenly, all of the American Goldfinches gathered there were as easy for me to understand as the vernacular of the surroundings most familiar to me throughout the dominant percentage of my conscious physical existence.
    From the crowd, of the brilliantly colored birds, came the most lovely of communications escorted gently into my ears upon translucent tones: “King … Oh, it’s the King, our King … Make way, make way.” they said. These and similar statements, billowed forth from the crowd of the American Goldfinches gathered there in the woods, and became pleasantly and instantly apparent to me. Their utterances of respect were clearly devoid of the tone of forced requirement. It was evidently clear that the league honored their king through desire.
    I sought the eyes of You and Yours and in silence we agreed upon the wonderment of the occasion. One miracle led to the next and thus there came forth the grand addendum to the glorious events of that day. King Carduelis Tristis—as he later became known to me—walked forward and addressed us directly, and we understood his every word.
    “Welcome fellow royals. I extend our gratitude for your honorable visit to one of our many courtyards.” he said.

King Carduelis continued:”What brings you here to this courtyard which we share with the Alces, the Bos Primigenius, and other select associates.”

Between the King’s words he would respectfully transition his gaze upon each of us, letting us know that he considered us a highly important audience to his communications. I also believe that he admired our appearances in the same manner that we admired his and the other highly attractive American Goldfinches which stood as his loyal entourage.

I spoke in the same respectful manner I would utilize to address any worthwhile monarch: “Well Sir, first off it is an honor to be in your company. Regarding the nature of our visit, well, we are here as the result of my fortune within the kingdoms of men, through which I have been bequeathed the ownership of this estate. Yet, I desire only to care for and nurture this space which is not only mine, but yours as well.”

The Kings court of American Goldfinches reacted verbally to my statements: “Oh my that is wonderful … splendid … he and those with him are fine sharers … caring, and considerate.”

“Splendid.” said King Carduelis Tristis. “My feelings are certain that you are an ally, welcome amongst us, both you, and You and Yours.”

The King offered each of us a humble nod of acceptance to which we gladly returned in like fashion.

I had temporarily set down a small satchel, which contained my journal. It had slid to the open end of the carrier and had its pages gently breeze blown open to one of my most current operatic compositions, which was then a work in progress. One of the maidens of the King’s court began analyzing and studying the pages, which the journal had fallen open to. The page under her observation contained various gestural sketches, texts and musical notations, in light grey tones of exploratory pencil strokes. I recognized she was a maiden in her King’s court, as opposed to a knight or other form of male American Goldfinch, as her colors were softer than the King’s bold yellow-gold coat.

“Sir,” she said. “Will you complete … this one?” A feather tip of her outstretched wing pointed to a sketch.

“I certainly had planned to,” I responded, “however, the lyrics have not yet come clear to me.”

“Oh,” she said. “It is because it should simply be ‘La,’ and then ‘La-la-la,’ again.

I paused to look at You and Yours to see nods of agreement with her claim, and suddenly, I knew the suggestion was correct.

“Of course,” I said. “To rise above the limitations of mortal languages, ‘La,’ and then ‘La-la-la,’ again. Of course, why was that not clear to me sooner?”

The epiphany arrived in an envelope of good feelings and King Carduelis Tristis was imbued with great pride at the unanimous admiration for his court maiden’s well received advice.

“Yes,” said the proud king. “I am surrounded by brilliant and beautiful maidens, am I not.”

“Sir, thou art so.” I replied with a slight bow and a respectful nod of agreement.

The King became pleasantly distracted by something in the distance and then said: “New friends, my court and I must attend to another matter temporarily. Thus concludes our current first conversation, please assure me it will not be our last?” he said.

“The first of many, most certainly.” I replied, along with a shimmering layer of agreement vocalized by You and Yours.

With hops, skips and jumps, the American Goldfinches took to the airs above our newest estate. Their energy and enthusiasm was positively contagious and enlivening. You and Yours then asked to return to the interior of your Diamond Fortress to which I gladly obliged in the assistance of. Through the woods and mist of miracles we went, upon the winding and inspiring walking paths of our enchanted new estate. All the while I was considering where the “La’s,” and “La-la-la’s” would go upon the staves of my next operatic composition, which was enthusiastically a divine collaboration with You, Yours and the American Goldfinch.

Additional works by Marcus James Christian (pseudonymous as Marcus Unlimited) are available through:
    http://www.youtube.com/user/marcusunlimited
    http://marcusunlimited.org/
    and Apple iTunes.

The Fair Horned Caribou March in Allegiance. Lyrics, libretto, a poem.

The Fair Horned Caribou March in Allegiance
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

The fair horned caribou march in allegiance.
With a direction of purpose they ascend towards the Northeast.
They send friendly nods our way.

Somehow, from their herbivorian chatter,
we ascertain an invitation:

 "To the caverns, to the caves!" 

say the caribou.

Are there caves and caverns on this, our recently acquired estate?
Its grounds are grand, for certain, yet ... caves, caverns?

Overlooking the caribou - from a raised set of small hills, we tag along.
The caribou have made us adopted members of their exodus,
to the caves, to the caverns.

From several angles the entrances cannot be seen.
Yet,  the caribou know - and with them, we go:

Into a chamber within the great stone,
its innards shine of sparkling blue light.
For it is rich with gems and cataracts of pure, fresh, water.

{pura aqua dulci}

Dark Grey Shadows Hover Hand Shaped Over Black Sands. A poem.

 Dark Grey Shadows Hover Hand Shaped Over Black Sands. A poem.
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

Dark grey shadows hover hand shaped over black sands.
You emerge from the center of whirl winds.
In the visible distance, a form looms.
A castle stands within the sun's circle.
Your footsteps emboss the ancient black sand.
The sound of gulls spins through the ocean air.
With a thought you lift into the cool air,
and drift swiftly to the castles entrance.

The castle door hinges sing high pitches,
as the new royalty saunters inward.
Long arms of light reach in through the windows,
pointing towards a descending stair case.
These are the treasures you came to reclaim.
Use the tool of wealth to expand the good.

You May Wish to be Acquainted with My Ideal Self

You May Wish to be Acquainted with My Ideal Self
©2012 Marcus James Christian, marcusunlimited.

You may wish to be acquainted with my ideal self.
I assume this is so because he is everything that I wish to be.
Perhaps that type of person is appealing to you,
Lord knows, he is to me!

I envy my ideal self for many reasons.
I envy my ideal self because:

he regularly receives excessively generous commissions,

to compose operas.

and when my ideal self speaks of writing a book,

he receives 6, 7, and 8 figure advances.

Not only is my ideal self a vegetarian, he made "those" movies,
which experts say single handedly pushed that peaceful agenda,
into its maximum velocity, towards global success.
I also admit to more childish forms of envy towards my ideal self.

I also envy my ideal self because he owns and drives:
a Bentley (Rolls Royce)
a Ferrari, and a Lamborghini (both custom.)

I like how when he is asked about having such cars, he says it is more of an "art" thing,
as opposed to, y'know, a "status symbol" type of thing.