I'm Not There

I saw the Dylan flick, "I'm Not There" last night with my friend Virginia. Loved it. It was beautiful and brilliant.

There is an ongoing theme, among many, of whether the main character -- I don't think it's necessarily accurate to say that it's Dylan -- really CARES about anything. They ask whether he once cared and no longer does, or whether he's just an imposter.

I'm not sure Dylan himself knew the answer. But is it necessary for the artist to care? Is it even necessary for the artist to have a message? We can look at Dylan, or any other artist, any other troubador, as a messenger. He or she is a creator, but the message doesn't have to come from the soul of the artist. The artist can be the conduit. The amanuensis, the photographer, the mouthpiece.

I discussed the film and such topics with V until 1:30 AM last night at Cafe Esperanto, on McDougal Street, Dylan's haunts when he hung out in the Village. And I rode my bicycle through the cold quiet streets with a feeling that Dylan felt, and probably still feels more like a messenger than the philosopher. He certainly wanted to rid us of the notion that we should follow him.

This morning at the Writer's Room, discussing the very issue with my fellow writer, Manjula, it occurred to me that not only is it not essential that the writer, poet, artist have a message to tell, it might be to the benefit of all if the artist tells that damn story and gets it over with so that he or she can get on with the art. Our own story might well be getting in the way of the messages we have to convey -- the other stories in this world, no doubt more important than our own, that need to be told. Stories that need us to tell them.