Ben - a Post for Dads' Day, Juneteenth, & Queer Liberation
It's exciting to think our stories of liberation are visible in commercials, on T-shirts, holidays, and with doctored profile pics. But I wonder: is commodification really liberation?
In my work as a consultant, I have had the opportunity to edit, ghost write with, self-publish, and coach many authors working on telling their stories. In early 2020, I decided to write a reference book with all the info in it for anyone interested in writing and publishing. One of the stories I shared in the book came to mind this week as I started seeing more and more Queer and rainbow flags everywhere (I mean, everywhere), and then Juneteenth being declared a federal holiday. On one hand, I feel elated at the possibility that this month, people may be learning about Queer liberation, and the history of the abolition of slavery in the U.S. and the emancipation of enslaved people across the U.S. But on another hand, I can’t stop wondering if people are really learning (and hopefully, changing), or if we just look like we’re learning (and think that’s enough): If Queerness is embroidered on a hat or pin or t-shirt for sale and I buy one what does it mean? If there’s a special “Juneteenth” buy-one-get-one giveaway and I grab that deal, what does it mean? If you can photoshop something on your profile pic, or give somebody a day off all to support your brand (yes, the United States is a brand)…is this really learning? Is commodification really progress? So, because all of this is happening, and it’s father’s day, I share with you today’s Unfit to Print: a mildly updated excerpt from What Are You Waiting For: Seven Steps to Help You Write & Publish Your Book Now.
Ben
One of my favorite things to do when I am not writing is to create tiny paintings of people’s pets. The canvas size is about two inches by two inches. I use acrylic paint. And I always select the beloved pet of a good friend. These are usually pets I’ve met, sometimes not. But always the paintings reflect not just my or the owner’s relationship with the pet, but the pet’s personality. I really enjoy making these paintings, not simply because painting is fun, but also because when my friends see their beloved in paint, it makes them happy. I always give the person the painting, and keep a photograph for myself. Every gift requires a receiver (and every book, a reader…), and that’s what you call a relationship.
One time, the spirit moved me to do a painting of my dad’s dog. I think my dad was one of those people who loved animals more than humans. In fact, he used to talk to me about when he would die, he’d go up to heaven and hang out with the MOB: Michael, Oscar, and Ben, our three family dogs, in chronological order. We also had a dog named Daisy, but she was a very early family member, gone too soon, and was not one of the family dogs my dad usually referenced. But you know, Da MOB works nicely, so I will include her here. My dad passed away in June 2018, and I have no doubt that right now, he is up there hanging with Da MOB.
I made a tiny painting of Ben for both my mom and dad. But complicated lives being as complicated as they are, Ben, who had been my mom’s dog, had taken a special liking to the "ham" that fed him and walked him more. One of my dad’s daily errands was a visit to the local Stop & Shop for a half-pound of shredded Polish ham, or a flip top can of Dinty Moore beef stew: Ben’s dinner. When it comes to dogs, not much can compete with meat (see the film As Good As It Gets for more on that…). So, Ben became my dad’s dog.
Ben was a nervous dog. My mom rescued him from the pet store at the Holyoke Mall at Ingleside in the very early 00s during a particularly hard time in her life. Ben had some serious personality issues. But Ben, as many pets, was a central part of my mom and dad’s later life together—playing the role of both life boat and buffer—so I made a nice tiny portrait of Ben for them. I showed my mom and she loved it, said, Go show your father! I walked into my dad’s little room and handed it to him. He stared at it for a while. Then he said “You made this?” And I said, “yeah.” And then he said “kid, you’ve got so much talent, you really ought to do something with it.”
I know it was probably a compliment. But I couldn’t help hearing its backside: that I had done nothing with my talents. I stood there wondering, what should I do? I mean, isn’t this—making the art and giving it to my folks—doing something with it? What he clearly meant was “why haven’t you monetized this?” At the time, I was still youngish, and the full focus of my relationship with my dad was on me getting his approval and admiration. I wondered, why haven’t I monetized this!? Perhaps the joy of making and giving simply wasn’t enough. Maybe my dad was right. I had bills to pay after all—at minimum, acrylic paints to purchase…
So, I built a website, created order forms, invented products around the paintings (for a few bucks more, your painted pet on stickers and cards!) and I spent a lot of time hustling to build a business around these paintings, for the sole purpose of monetizing it so maybe I could afford paints and the cost of the website. Or, if the business really took off, I wouldn’t have to have my “day job(s)” anymore. Meanwhile, in all that time of building the “virtual” business, I hadn’t painted a single painting. Obviously, I hadn’t given one away, either. And those two things were the only reasons I ever painted pets—and found joy in doing it—in the first place. The meaning I had originally sought with this creative act—in this instance, a closeness with my mom and dad—had been broken to bits in one swift, sentence brought to you by the capitalist mindset.
So, I shut the “business” down. Which isn’t to say I don’t make paintings anymore—I do. And it also isn’t to say that all art, or anything creatively made should just be given away, free of charge. Artists should be able to do whatever we want with our work, and the decision we make (to give it away, or sell it, or share it, or ask for support for it) is ours, and those who receive our gifts, alone. Capitalism should never be given the power to determine the seriousness, goodness, usefulness, beauty or value of anyone, or anything. Ever. It’s a surefire way to kill a beautiful thing.
—MF
Excerpt from What Are You Waiting For: Seven Steps to Help You Write & Publish Your Book Now.
Ben - a Post for Dads' Day, Juneteenth, & Queer Liberation
Couldn't agree more!