Halloween Store
Recently I’ve been repeatedly listening to the song “Halloween Store”, by Andy Shauf.
In the song, our protagonist, “Norm”, wakes in the afternoon, realises he needs a Halloween costume, drives to the “Halloween Store”, and sees “You” in the car park.
That’s all that happens. The songwriter seems content to write about any random interaction on this seemingly meaningless day.
Consider the following verse:
I started my car and as I did
I wondered if I’d locked the house
Walked back and found that I hadn’t
But now my keys were in the car
Walked to the car, pulled the handle
And it snapped back, at least, I’d locked one door
Reached my hand through the open window
Pulled the lock, forgot about the house
And drove to the Halloween store
In a plot-sense nothing happens here. You could remove this whole verse and nothing would fundamentally change.
But that’s the point, right?
The song is about these little nothing moments. It is able to focus down on the minute details of interaction, the way the character thinks, and messes up, and moves through the world.
I love art that explores this sort of Mundane Intimacy.
Catto’s Post Office
- It is your birthday.
- You are a cat.
That is the whole plot of the delightful “Catto’s Post Office”, by In Shambles Studios.
Instead of slaying dragons and saving the world, you must content yourself to womble idly through the tiniest town ever rendered in a video game.
You do help people, but only in every-day ways. You deliver post. You retrieve some bread rolls before they burn. You fetch a remote for your aunt.
But really, you aren’t there “for” anything. You don’t have some higher purpose, or ancient quest. You are just there. You are just existing, doing your best, stepping in puddles, knocking over pots, trying to be kind.
Catto, like all of us, is just living their life.
And they are beloved by their community.
And they deserve it.
Singles
Before working on Adventure Time, and creating Steven Universe, the animator Rebecca Sugar graduated New York’s School of Visual Arts with the thesis film “Singles”.
The plot of singles looks like this:
Our protagonist returns to their apartment, begins making a sandwich, falls into the abyss of infinite nothingness, is brought back into reality by a radio announcement, and returns to making (and then eating) their sandwich.
My brain doesn’t always work how I would like. It’s easy, sometimes, to fall into an endless descent of internal questions; What am I doing? What’s the point of making art? What value is this bringing? Why do I do anything? What’s even the point…
Only to be grounded by a phone call, or an alarm, or an appointment, or one of the meaningless ‘dings’ that make up a life.
We often don’t allow video mediums the space for abstraction. Where in a song, or a painting, we can understand metaphor, in film we expect literalism. One of the things I love about short form art is the opportunity to push the abstract, and surreal, without losing audiences.
And in this way “Singles” is able to perfectly represent the utter mundanity of existential despair.
Bless the Telephone
In a dark room, Labi Siffre sings about waiting by the phone for a call from his beloved:
It’s nice to hear you say “hello”
And “how are things with you – I love you”
But very soon it’s time to go
An office job to do
While I’m here writing songs for you
In the piece, Labi draws attention to the weight and intimacy of simple interactions.
We often write stories of love lost and gained and lost again, but, if you are lucky, most romance is pretty undramatic. Day-to-day intimacy, felt between folks who don’t need to prove their love, but still need to go to work.
Labi Siffre was with his partner, Peter Lloyd, for 48 years. When Peter died, in 2013, it was only one year before same-sex marriage was recognised in the UK.
But imagine that, right? Imagine being with someone for 48 years. 48 years of phone calls. 48 years of idle conversation. 48 years of birthdays, and funerals, and colds, and good books, and bad television, and whispers, and shouts, and hours upon hours of silent togetherness.
I’m obsessed with art about nothing.
I’m obsessed with artists who find the hidden beauty in the mundane.
Strange,
How a phone call can change your day
Take you away
Away
From the feeling of being alone
Bless the telephone
Tex Barnes 