WEEK 11 | City Blues: Chicago - Long Distance Call

It seemed that quite a few of the people in the class considered Long Distance Call to be more of a sweet song, a song that expressed the difficulties of having a long distance relationship and the importance of communicating with each other; but I did not see it that way. In fact, I did not think the song was sweet at all. It was very humanizing, expressing the basic need of reassurance, something - a bit of hope - to cling on to, when talking to someone who has meaning to you. This man just wanted his attention, his love, to be reciprocated but instead

it was met with "another mule kickin' in your stall." 

Unaware of the meaning that the last line of the lyrics, I assumed that that the phrase had something to do with the woman talking with another man. After I looked up the meaning, the tone of the song shifted quite a bit.

 

<< "another mule kickin' in your stall" = your significant other is having sex with someone else; being cheated on >>

This bothered me. This whole song bothered me. I could relate to the man and yet his foolish hopes enraged me. The overall feeling of the song reminded me of my past long distance relationship.

Those few phone calls you get mean everything and nothing at the same time. Talking on the phone exhausts me, I try to avoid it as much as possible. Love wanes when the person on the other line does not seem to reciprocate your interest. It was just too many memories, lost

dreams and hopes, and so much time wasted on a call that probably meant close to nothing in the grander scheme of things. I am not sure where this rant is taking me but it is brewing a foul reminder of why I felt so trapped by a single phone call.

My idea for the song was to represent a call in which the receiver hangs up on the caller and lets the phone just drop, alluding to the phrase "dropped call." The flowers growing out of the speaker end of the phone are broken in the

stems, indicating that the callers sweet words and promises where broken by the receiver's reluctance to accept them. And lastly, the accident that probably made the biggest statement on the painting were my fingerprints. The wash I initially laid had not dried completely when I decided to handle it, leaving finger prints everywhere. Immediately it struck me that my fingerprints could be interpreted as the dirty fingerprints of the man that was touching the woman all over.

In the end, the piece came together, but the tone that I wanted to represent was not as poignant, dark, and repulsive as I wanted it to be. It was caught in limbo of my fancy turning to brighter colors but my intentions retaining the overall form of the images I wanted to be represented. It is ironic, though. I am as disappointed and repulsed by my rendition of the song as the song itself. Maybe it was not my skill that lacked in this painting but my disgust that overpowered my capability of making it a stronger piece. The feeling I register when looking at my work is the

same as the feeling I register when listening to Long Distance Call: I no longer give a damn.

Hear my phone ringing

Sound like a long distance call
Hear my phone keep ringing
Sound like a long distance call
When I picked up my receiver
The party said 
"Another mule kickin' in your stall"