I just returned from a trip to the west coast, to visit my friend Mike Winger. He has been trying to get me to come to San Francisco, the city he moved to five years ago, for about five years now. Now that my schedule is more free than it has been in a while, I hopped a plane and went.

Jump played SF many times, but it’s not easy, especially in midst of a tour, to see anything beyond the venue and a restaurant close by. Mike and I went on scooter tours of most of the entire city, and it’s difficult to describe how beautiful it is. It’s such a well designed, human being focused place… of my favorite cities (which also includes New York, Chicago, and London), it’s obviously one of the most liveable. Like most larger cities, it has all the things you’d want in citified living– great food, lots of opportunities to see and buy things, and tall buildings. But the amazing thing is how the city has managed to incorporate Nature into it’s lifestyle, instead of doing away with it, as most cities seem to. Even Charleston, with its palm tree-lined streets and beaches, has a heavy handed approach to its natural surroundings.
But this isn’t a post about San Francisco. More has been written about that city than anyone could read, I’m sure. Instead, I muse once again about the feelings of frustration I feel upon returning to Charleston. Every time, in recent months I muse… after our amazing adventure in Asheville with Terpsicorps, and now, after being in a city that is obviously not afraid of Art in its many forms. That’s what this blog is for, though, yes? Musings? And didn’t I start this out by wondering whether I’m living in the right place for me, right now?

We’ve worked wonders, I think, with this Cabaret, in regards to Charleston. I know that. People have told us that what we’re doing is vital, and important, to this city. Nothing makes me happier than to hear that. Gosh, if I wasn’t hearing that by now, I’d be gone for sure. I keep going back and forth as to whether it’s my responsibility to stay here, a city I’ve lived in for almost ten years, because every “vital” and “important” artist seems to leave Charleston for “better” places, eventually; or leave, because as an artist I have a whole hell of a lot to learn, and it would be so enriching to be somewhere where knowledge is easier to attain?

In some ways, I’m not old enough to be the person to start an art collective in a town that doesn’t have one. Ten years of being in a rock band doesn’t make you a perfect performer, and the amount I need to learn… what if I could find a place to continue the study, and then come back and shake things up, here?  Like, when I’m closer to forty, or something? When I have even more to write about in a grant proposal?

Because I do love this town, Charleston.  I always will. But it’s like loving someone that you’re not sure really loves you as much as you love them. You keep trying to do good things for them, and sometimes there are some sexy make-outs, but in general you know you might never fully have their full attention. And I’m speaking as an artist, again. I know that Charleston falls in love every day with many of it’s more lucrative and traditional conservative citizens. I’m not jealous. I just want some more love, damnit. And it’s difficult to get it here. I’m not saying that we don’t have support, but I do know that everyone would agree that it’s an uphill battle, and more so than it could be.
Not that I feel like an outcast, necessarily. But artists in Charleston live on the fringe, for sure. Everytime I tell someone here what I do there is a second of confusion: “What? You make art? Here?” That isn’t the case elsewhere. And there is a part of me that is tired of that.

But again, there is a part of me that wants to change that. The pro-active part of me. The didactic nature in me. I just want to make things better, to bring people together, to make a bigger splash. To banish mediocrity. To rule the world, etc. etc. Can I do that from here? Can I make a difference?

The verdict is still out. I’m giving myself a year from August. That means that I will sign another year lease in my apartment. I’ll prepare for what is next… be it the creation of an art collective in this town, one that will sustain all my friends, and bring others to the beauty of my adopted home… or a move, to a place that Just Makes More Sense. Be it San Francisco, New York City, Asheville, or beyond. A year’s time can put a focusing time limit on Matt’s Next Big Thing, and most of the time Matt needs that kind of focusing. I’ll keep you posted on what happens, if you’re interested.