To be or not to be…but at what cost? It’s almost inconceivable the lengths that some artists & entertainers feel obligated to go to keep themselves in the headlines. The prioritization of fan base over God, family, morals, and over just plain ol’ fashioned common sense is an example of that remarkable distance. I think it’s important to understand the premise of letting a character that’s been created for fans drown out who you really are. One easily can become a zombie, while the people who love them waste away looking for the sea salt. It becomes so easy to sell your soul to the entertainment business while creating an illusion of grandeur. Hence, this painfully obvious thirst for relevance that completely overshadows sensibility. Thirsty much?
When I started in this business over 14 years ago, I was a stylist (fashion) for many well-known artists both upcoming and platinum selling, I never imagined the atmosphere would become this cloudy or eerie. I was trying to define the images of young hopefuls who thought “my way” would set them apart from the masses. Often dorky and clunky, trying to find themselves in defiant color schemes, wrongly combined textures and overworked fashion techniques. Although, consumers see the finished product but are remiss as to what goes into the development. It isn’t always a graceful process. Silly belts, headgear and nervously popped collars often highlighted a level of awkwardness in identity. I’ve watched boys become men and helped boys become men. Yet this identity crisis that hovers over much of the entertainment world is like a crimson cape of insecurity as does this obsession with being “hot” and having “followers.” While fans fixate over the lives of their idols, some celebrities have become slaves to the persona that has been created for them but rarely has anything to do with who they are. Shock value. Publicity stunts. Peddling relationships like a vagabond for a few hundred double clicks on their fans favorite blog sites.
Who are they really?
Some of your favorite artists were born into the industry or should I say “grandfathered” into it and never got the chance to figure it out. Driven by vicarious dreams of demanding managers/labels, artists are a “what” not a “who.” Their “what” is the gross, their “who” is the net. Artists get whatever is left of themselves after the world takes its share. It all reminds me of a scene from the film “The Devils Advocate” where souls were sold for money, class, and status.
The mirrors have definitely become smoky. So much in fact that it makes it hard for one to decipher reality from the facade. Is it Live or Memorex? Even the public should recognize the #FF (fame fanatics) who go to such great lengths to garner attention ranging from publicity ploys, outlandish stage outfits, sex tapes, head shaving, public grand standing, picture leaks and throwing tantrums. From vintage concepts of dating shows in hopes of finding a soul mate (huh? #wheredotheydothatat) to trying to hit Billboard Charts by any means necessary. Surely, the fans know better than to think what flows from “the pen” of any writer embodies the details of another human’s deepest and true desires. Sadly, men singing about love, politics, marriage, children or anything genuine and benevolent equates to album sales flop, mundane chatter and waning popularity. It takes a song about disparaging all the aforementioned just to get accolades and spins on the radio. Unlike a mathematical equation the negative induces the positive. The need to placate fans puts artists at their mercy, leading to maniacal decisions. But I guess desperate times call for desperate measures. I digress….
Nowadays some artis
