A conversation with John Harrison

Transcript from episode twenty of the Good Folk Podcast.

VICTORIA LANDERS: Hello, folks. My name is Victoria Landers and you're listening to the Good Folk Podcast. If you don't know me, I'm the podcast producer here at Good Folk, and I'm thrilled to introduce to you today our latest guest, the wonderful John Harrison, a musician based here in North Carolina.

From his early days drumming in The Comas, John has grown into a consummate veteran of the N.C. scene. Between stints as co-songwriter and bandleader in North Elementary he’s carved out a prolific visual arts portfolio, and regularly shows in galleries around the Triangle. As one of three founders of the collective label, Potluck Foundation, he helps shepherd a far reaching community of musicians who consistently turn out quality releases. If that wasn’t enough to keep one person busy, he’s also recently taken a swan dive into improvisational electronic music as one half of Tacoma Park. Yet, like some kind of time warping wizard, John regularly manages to turn out releases as Jphono1 both solo and with his pals. It is in these two modes that John Harrison explores his sonic space. At once as a solo astronaut galloping on horseback through some stellar landscape, and also as the leader of a crew of heady pirates sailing dusty vinyl seas.

The solo releases of Jphono1 show a tinkerer twisting and warping the expectations of what a pop song should be. Early Jphono1 albums are a head trip of tracks that blend banjitar ragas with drum machines and synth fueled space explorations. Drums and fuzzed out guitars mingle with back porch picking, and songs stretch past their pop confines into instrumental explorations. Melodies twist and turn through loping loops then dissolve into the ether. At other times, like on “Loblolly Boogie,” John sheds some of the experimentation and decoration in exchange for air and clarity. Like the titular tree, the songs on “Loblolly Boogie” stand tall and let themselves be swayed by the atmosphere, giving you space to meander among them. This sense of patient exploration is what really ties the Jphono1 solo experience together, both on stage and on record.

If Jphono1 solo is patient and mindful, then records with the band are ecstatic and expansive. With trusty friends by his side, John illuminates and elucidates inside-out songs with succinct riffs and rhythms. The Jphono1 band turn up with a bit more grit and less concern for stylistic constraints. They can vacillate between jazzy passages, Latin-inspired percussion breakdowns, krauty riff rock, and giddy mushroom high hooks. As the band has spent more time playing together, they’ve become more comfortable stretching out their improvisational legs, and the tracks on “Parliament”, "Rectify Mercy" and "Invisible Futures & Make Believe Pasts" reflect this jammy bent. Some songs sprawl well past the five minute mark, and become their own little world. The length, however, doesn’t come across as indulgent. Instead it sounds like a group of musicians who trust one another enough to know when to let it ride. Whether live or on album, it’s clear that the Jphono1 band are as excited about having fun on their journey as they are about finding their destination.

Here’s to celebrating that journey. I hope you enjoy this conversation. 

Photos from John’s Instagram account.

SPENCER GEORGE: I am in a very small niche program but we have a degree in folklore and so that's what I do. 

JOHN HARRISON: That's wonderful. 

SG: Yeah. I study specifically climate change on the Southeast coast and how we can use narrative and storytelling as a way to process and reckon with that. But in my spare time I run this project, which is also a large part of my thesis work. 

JH: I love that. That's wonderful. 

SG: It’s very fun. And I get to connect with all kinds of cool people such as yourself. So, John, I think my first question that I have for you, if you're okay to go ahead and get started?

JH: Yeah, let's do it. 

SG: Tell me something true about yourself, either in this moment or throughout your life.

JH: Oh, my goodness. True. I exist. I'm here. As far as I know, that's true. I've always been attracted to creating things. That's a true statement. 

[Pauses]. Great question. I like to think that…you know, relationships are very important to me. And that's something that's been a focal point my whole life as a kid. Sort of a social individual. It's a spectrum, but I draw off the energies of others. So I like to have relationships that work in that way. 

SG: I think that's very well said. And where is here for you? 

JH: I live in Carrboro. I have a house here with my wife and cat. We've lived in this house for about ten years. Very lucky to walk to Weaver Street and around town. But I've lived in the Carrboro and Chapel Hill area for about 25ish years or so. Grew up in Matthews. That's right outside of Charlotte. Then I spent some time in Wilmington, where I went to university, and came here around ‘97. 

SG: So you're a native North Carolinian? 

JH: I am. I've traveled a bunch, and I love to travel, but North Carolina has always been my home base. 

SG: And was there anything in particular that kept you in North Carolina or kind of drew you back, or did you ever think about leaving the state?

JH: I never really gave it much thought. I think it worked for me. Everywhere I went, again, I had relationships and friends and a community that I liked, that I felt connected to. So I guess in that regard, I never felt the need to leave. 

That being said, I travel a lot because I like to see other things and meet other people, and my friends would move away. I'd love to go visit them. New York is a really obvious example on the East Coast that that happened. I’ve been in bands where the band moved up to New York, but I didn't want to do that. But I would go visit. And of course, playing in a lot of cities around the U.S. You get to visit a lot of places as well.

SG: I also spent some time in New York and I'm from North Carolina and have traveled all around. And there's something really special here, especially in the art scene and by far the music scene—which I do want to talk about your own role as a musician and in the music scene—but I think I would love to start, since you are so connected to the Carrboro music scene and you've been here a while, to watch it change in the ways that it has. How would you describe the Carrboro and Chapel Hill music scene and what does it mean to you?

JH: Well, I'll start by saying it means everything to me. This is what I love to do and this is the area I'm in. So that is the community. That is the scene. 

I think we're very lucky, fortunate. It’s a lot of creative people doing a lot of creative work both as musicians or artists or creators, but also just the infrastructure, such as this podcast or all the radio DJs and the local college stations, the venues, but with DIY venues as well as. You know, the businesses. So it means everything to me. What was the other part of that question? I'm sorry. [Laughs].

SG: No, I think that's a perfect answer. The other part of the question was what are the ways in which you've seen it grow and change in the time that you've been here? Or how would you explain it to someone who is not from Carrboro or even from North Carolina?

JH: You know, I’m not sure that it's changed fundamentally at all. And I say that as somebody who— you know, for people who came before me, anything that I'm contributing now as somebody who can help facilitate things in our community, I learned by watching other people do that. It's not like I invented it. I learned from all the artists and people who did this prior. 

So I don't think it's changed fundamentally at all. I think it's just been passed around. And I hope that that's a lot of what I'm currently doing. Like, you know, this is something I learned, and I'm just passing it along to the best of my ability. 

And of course, I think every person who gets involved, they're their own unique person. So I think that that's the important part of that, is everybody brings what they have as their own human being to the process, which I think is the asset. I mean, that's the important part of it. Once you have these ways navigated, once you learn sort of the ways to navigate the community, it's sort of what you personally bring to it. And I think that's what's unique to every person who contributes and becomes a part of the music scene or the arts creative scene. 

SG: It's like we often think of communities as these really important things, and we talk about, like, the music scene, right, or the way in which this group has kind of changed an area or a genre. But really what it is is it's a bunch of individuals bringing their own unique experiences and perspectives and styles into that scene. And it wouldn't be at all the same without the individual influence, which I think is a very interesting perspective based on a lot of what we talk about on this podcast, which is community. But the idea that at its core, community is individuals. It's just individuals learning how to work together. 

JH: Yeah, I couldn't agree more. Fundamentally, community is just people and how they communicate and work together towards a space that can be afforded for a myriad of creative situations for people. And I think the more people involved and the more unique perspectives, the stronger that becomes— that space that's available for whatever is made in the space. It's just having the space for that to happen. 

SG: It's creating and finding the space and then also bringing the people together who make it the space. Because I think you can have all the space you want, but if there's no one who is making it up, then what's the point? 

JH: [Laughs]. Fair enough, you got to do something with all this space you’ve made.

SG: There are lots of people who just have the land and have the space, and they're not bringing the people out together. So it's playing that role of both kind of the organizer and the artist, which I ramble on all the time in this podcast of, how do you do both and how do you be both? And so many of the people we attract really are, and you are in a great example of that. So we'll get into that in a second, but go ahead. 

JH: No, yeah, no, I think that that's absolutely true. I don't know. At least for me, it's not like… first and foremost, I'm just someone who wanted to create. You know, be a musician, write songs, play with other musicians. I also paint and stuff. I didn't really think about myself as beyond my own sharing of my sort of artistic output. It was more. 

But over time you see where there's space and opportunity to do more things for a couple of reasons. I mean, one would be nobody else is doing it for you, you just got to do it. And then as you learn sometimes— I've definitely had opportunities where somebody would say, we can book shows for you or have a booking agent or something. And when I've dabbled with that situation, it's like, well, I can do it better for myself than someone else. And it's not their fault, they just don't know me and I know what I want. After you learn some skills about how to navigate within that world, really it's hard to find somebody who can do it in a unique way that you would want it to be done for yourself.

SG: How do you navigate finding community when you are truly an individual and you make that effort to understand yourself in that way—which is a difficult thing to do, so I commend you for it—how do you navigate then, finding the people who are going to be kind of your co collaborators or finding other people who might be able to understand you in that way?

JH: Well, like being in a band— from an artistic viewpoint, I have to have some sort of relationship with the people that I'm surrounded by. That's positive for both of us, and that takes a while to learn. You’ve got to learn what you are and what you want before you can figure out what works with you and that environment. 

I think in terms of working with people—like, for instance, Potluck, the record collective I run with people, we just were all in bands and wanted to do the same sort of thing. So it's just sort of connecting with folks that you relate to that works. 

And nothing's forever. Like, sometimes those time periods are short or sometimes you find the collaborators or organizers that you work with for a long time because you've learned each other. Like any any relationship.

SG: There are people who are for periods of your life. I think that's it's a hard truth, but it's an important one. 

JH: It is important. It's taken me a long time to understand that. Again, relationships are important to me, so I'm always sad when something runs to its endpoint. But I've also learned  to be grateful for the time that I had that situation. 

It’s sad, to your point, especially if you're somebody like me who values relationships. But you have to make sure that you're maintaining your mental health and what's good for everybody involved. 

And that doesn't always mean forever. In fact, it would probably be weird if it did. You only have space for so many people. So I think depending on your interests and where you're at in your life and where other people are when they align up, that's a really magical thing. And that's just not forever and that's okay. 

SG: And I think that extends to all kinds of relationships, especially creative and artistic collaborations. This feels like a good point to transition into your role as both a musician and as an organizer. So I'd love to start, I think, with your work as a musician and then definitely we'll delve into talking about Potluck, which is just an incredible thing that you do.

JH: What was the question? [Laughs]. I'm so sorry. 

SG: You are all good. We were all just saying when we got on, it's been a very long week. I would love to start, since you are both a musician and someone who works and organizes a lot of musicians, I think I would love to start with your own role as a musician and how you got started with that and a little bit about your music. 

JH: Okay, yeah. My earliest memories as a child was listening to like a transistor radio beside my bed and I just was fascinated by all these sounds and things that came from otherworldly places, seemingly. And I think from then on just attracted to music and sounds I would hear, even like taping theme songs to TV shows and just wherever there was music and sounds. 

I didn't really grow up learning an instrument or anything like that, but we had a piano in our house and I would sort of play it. I think I had a couple of lessons but they didn't really stick. Then I wanted to play drums really bad. I was fascinated by drum beats and rhythms and things. I had to take a test to join the band in 6th grade or something in middle school, and I did terrible on the rhythm test and did great on the melodic test. So I couldn't play drums, so I was not happy, but I played trombone. But that was great just to be involved in that way. 

But by the time I was in high school, like, rap music was kind of big from my age, like Beastie Boys and Run DMC was kind of what I grew up with. And I didn't realize at that time that those were, like, samples. I didn't know what it was. I just didn't know I liked the drum beats. I didn't realize it was, like, Led Zeppelin and all this stuff. 

So that's really what made me want to play drums, is that kind of stuff. And then when I went out in high school, I sold my baseball cards and bought a drum set and just sort of taught myself how to do all that stuff. 

And then being a drummer, you're playing with a lot of great songwriters and people who are good guitar players and bass players, so that stuff's always sort of around. Being a drummer, I was very fortunate to be involved with some songwriters who are very good at an early age, and you're sitting there playing the songs with them. They're their songs, but you learn how to write songs in that capacity. And then somewhere along the way, I just wanted to create songs. So I kind of got behind the drum kit and started writing songs to the best of my ability at the time. And still I guess I'm doing that. 

SG: Could you tell us a little bit about the music that you make now?

JH: All right, so Jphono1 is probably the thing I do the most now, and that can be a solo venture, which it really can be anything I want it to be. A lot of it's acoustic, finger style picking with a lot of improvisation loops and things. But like on recording, that's a live show recording, it can be filled recordings meshed with drum machine, sort of like lo-fi, hip hop, instrumental type stuff like all in one album. I kind of don't confine myself to one type of record, I guess. 

But it's also a band. I understand it can be confusing. It's also like a rock band. It's currently like a three piece, but there's also some jam band tendencies towards that stuff. Yeah, that's that. 

And then I have been in what a lot of people would say is like an indie rock band for… we're coming up on our 20th year. We're not very active, but we are going into the studio the next couple of weeks to record another record and that's called North Elementary and the band's been around for a while. 

And then Friday—well, I don't know when this is coming out, but on the 21st—I play in a duo called Tacoma Park, which is an improvisational electronic guitar band with my friend Ben Felton.So those are currently the things that are happening musically. 

SG: And how did you find the people that you work with on a lot of these projects? What brought you together? 

JH: Yeah, well, Jphono1, sometimes it's just me, but when I worked with other people, they've been people I've been—like some of them were past North Elementary members. Other people just, you know, you've been in the music community for a while, you just have other people you can ask to play with you. That's just the benefit of being in the same area for so long. 

Ben, who I play in Tacoma Park with, was just an old friend and he was sort of doing what I was doing with the solo Jphono1 stuff. We were both independently doing a lot of improvised music and we wanted to do it together and it just worked. North Elementary is an interesting band, again, coming up on twenty years. There's no original members in there now, but the band is currently the people in the band. We've been playing together for like, ten years or something. Like, one of the members was in a band and they opened up for us in Alabama, like in the mid-2000s and she ended up moving up here and now she's in North Elementary.

Art and music is a crazy world if you're in it long enough. It's seemingly bizarre, I think, to people on the outside looking in if they get to hear some of these stories, because you know, it's not like something you plan, like, for this person that you played with in the mid-2000s in another band to all of a sudden live in your community and then be in your band. Well, it's not my band, but be in the band with you.

SG: I completely agree with it. I think in a lot of ways, being in the arts asks you to… it's the suspension of disbelief, where you really have to just say, I don't know how this is going to happen, I don't know what this connection is going to be, it might be nothing. But even just getting rid of the idea that it has to be anything and just connecting with people and you never know where it's going to lead. 

It reminds me of— the two things that were coming to mind as you were talking about. Number one, that art can be whatever you want it to be, which I think so many of us subscribe to certain styles or genres or scenes, and then we forget that art can be whatever we want it to be. It can change at any point. 

And also the idea that art is this form of magic and it's almost— you described it when you were a kid as like the radio was a portal to another world. Right. Art gave you access to something that you didn't previously have access to. And to any artist, I think, for almost all of us, it's that experience when you're young and you realize this is a language that opens up a whole different world, and I want to be a part of that world, which is a really powerful thing. 

JH: No, you've described my ramblings really concisely. You're absolutely right. 

SG: That's what they pay me for. 

JH: Yeah!

SG: [Laughs]. They don't pay me. 

JH: [Laughs]. Same. I think one thing that you just said I think is important. You have to be open, and you have to be open to the unknown and you have to be sort of welcoming of not knowing how things are going to connect. I definitely subscribe to the idea that everything is connected, but you don't always know how or why, but it's just sort of a feeling.

But I think you have to be open. I’ve just had too many experiences with playing music and being around other creative folks that are just… yeah, they seem magical when you look back. If you're just sort of in the moment of the things, you're just navigating by instinct about where you want to be, what you want to be doing. And then, for instance, playing in all these bands I just described, and even within Jphono1 just having a crazy bandwidth of jam band to American primitive style picking, to field recordings to lo-fi hip hop. 

I mean, it doesn't do great for branding or any of that kind of stuff, but it's just not where my focus is. And I guess my hope is that there is just some thread that makes sense when you put a body of work together because you don't make the same thing over and over. Or I don’t. That sounds terrible. 

SG: It's like you want your art to be continually growing on itself, which means you can build on certain themes. But I agree with you. Like, I don't want every book—I'm a writer—I don't want every book I write to sound the exact same or to be the same thing.

I'm glad you bring up the branding piece here because I think there's so much pressure if you're a young artist, especially in the age of the internet, to figure out what is it exactly that I'm going to say and how can I just replicate that and brand myself over and over and over? And from what I know of you, you are someone who it seems like escapes that level of branding, and I'm wondering if you have any advice to young artists or how to navigate that piece of it. 

JH: Well, I can really only speak for me, because maybe there are ways that that can be a truth for somebody. I don't know. Especially if commerce enters the picture and stuff. But to your question for me, I can't expect anyone else to get excited about anything I share if I'm not excited about it. So I don't really know where that's going to take me. 

And my trust isn't usually in— it’s never in whatever the outcome of all this is. Like an album or a song or even like a decision within a song. Like my trust is in a process. The process is the part I'm really addicted to and attracted to because that process is the magic for me. I don't know where it's going to go always, but I trust in it. And the more I do it, the more I really lay into it because to me, only whatever I view as satisfying out of all this type of stuff is found in that process. 

This might sound weird, but sometimes I'm surprised by what happens when it's time for me to share with people, like an album or a painting. I'm almost a viewer like they are, or anybody who who sees it. And again, that's just my process. I think for as many people as there are, there's that many ways to do things and to do it legitimately. I don't judge others. I can only speak for me. 

SG: I had a professor in college once who told me the best way to make art is to just follow your obsessions and not worry about the end product or where they're going to lead you, but just be in them. Which, yeah, I agree. In my own experience, I'm working on a novel now that's getting ready to go into its fifth draft. But it started because there was this one tree that I was obsessed with on my drive to work, and then I spiraled down a rabbit hole of that. When you think about things in your life that maybe some of those obsessions are things that inspire you, are there any that come to mind? 

JH: Well, you brought up trees. I did a whole EP just— I have trees in my backyard. They're loblolly trees. 

SG: Okay, so my obsession is loblolly trees, and I'm writing about a loblolly pine tree god. So, John, we're going to have to talk off the record.

JH: Well, we can talk on the record. You need to listen to the Jphono1 EP Lolbolly Boogie.

SG: I'm so excited.

JH: And I worked with my friend Kevin Clark. He's a photographer, and instead of a CD, it was a book that came with a CD. It exists, but you can't get it unless you know somebody or whatever. But yeah, when the winds calm and things in my backyard, they obviously I mean, they're the coolest trees. 

SG: They're the coolest trees. Vic is sitting here smiling. I say this all the time, and nobody appreciates it. Everybody loves the longleaf. And I love the loblolly. They're the coolest trees. 

JH: They're so great. And they're found on every continent. Well, I don’t know about Antartica. But because they grow so fast, countries and people use them for telephone poles. They just wouldn't in general, because they grow so fast. Like, when I was in Costa Rica, and it's crazy how many loblollies are there, and I asked about it.

SG: And they grow in multiple environments. 

JH: Right.

SG: I'm working right now on a project where there's loblollies growing up out of the sand on the beach, which is, like, mind blowing to me. 

JH: They’re hearty.

SG: And we live here in the hills, and they're just everywhere. If the loblolly has one fan. It's me and John. 

JH: Yeah, no, I wrote— I mean, the songs aren't about the loblollies, but it's just sort of… 

SG: I'll play it at my book release party one day. We'll have it as background music. 

JH: [Laughs]. Yeah, they're great. So when I look out my backyard, it's winds blowing, they're dancing, and I just would call it the boogie. And it just sort of like… that thought I got obsessed with. I wrote a haiku about it and all this stuff. Then they turn into this batch of songs. 

And it's not like the songs are about a loblolly tree. But that's where the process led. And to me, that is everything. Like, that's just an example, but like, that is everything. I mean, you know, and it consumed me in a good way. Like I really thought about it and it makes you appreciate things. And for me, it makes me be more present just in my own life.

SG: I'm just hung up on the loblolly here and I'm so excited to listen to this. But I really love the way that you talk about almost like being consumed by these things that you can't get out of your head. And there's this idea in so much of the art world that you're going to be consumed by your art in a really negative way and that that's often going to lead to— you know, there's the myth that most artists don't end up happy. 

But the way that you're talking about it is, be consumed by your art, but let that lead to intentional practice and paying attention to the world around you and finding community, whether it's with the loblolly trees in your backyard or with the other people who inspire you and who work with you. Which I think is a really beautiful way to flip that common perception of artistry on its head. Of, sure, be consumed by your art like delve into your obsessions left and right, but do it in a way that allows you to live a life with it too.

JH: Oh yeah, more than—again, I can only speak for myself. Other people might have to do more suffering or something. But no, to me it amplifies existing. I am constantly wishing for obsessions. I want those. I try to create my life so they present themselves, always. And at this point they do. Like, I'm endlessly fascinated by existing.

SG: I think that the main role of the artist is to be fascinated by existence and to take that fascination and put it into a language that can be shared. That's how I think of my role as an artist—of like, what are these things that I'm opened up to and that I feel some sort of connection with and how can I make that a connection, that I can share it with other people? 

JH: Yeah. When I was younger, I did stuff because it felt good to write and create. It is interesting as I've gotten older, you think about what you're actually sharing and why and your intention. 

I feel like I certainly have more intention in the work as I get older. And I think that's because I understand myself as a person more as I get older. That's just honoring just where I'm at through all the phases of being creative. 

I don't think I was lacking anything in my teens and 20s. You only know what you know. You’ve only lived, like, 16, 18 years. What can you know? You might not know why you're attracted to a thing. And that's okay. I'll go to my grave not completely understanding why I'm attracted to stuff, but that doesn't really matter. Understanding it's just like sort of honoring that situation. That works well for me. 

I do like when I get to the point where I can share something, an album, painting or whatever, and of course, my hope is there's a connection to it, but I also understand that it's almost sometimes like, you're just this person connects with it. They're my people or whatever. It's not like everybody's got to dig it. You're just looking for your people.You're figuring out sort of what wavelength, at least in that time, somebody might be with the thing that you're doing. 

And I find that awesome. I still get excited when somebody buys an album or painting. I'm like, holy cow, somebody wants this in their life, or whatever. I definitely don't take it for granted in any way, only because I'm on the other side of that too. I buy art. I buy music. I love both sides of it because I want that connection. So I feel like having an understanding from both sides is wonderful, actually. 

SG: It's like the craziest feeling in the world, especially when you do get to that point of feeling like you really know yourself and making art out of that, sharing it, and then realizing that other people want to know that version of you—or that might be the most true version of you, and other people want to interact with it. 

It still blows my mind that people listen to this podcast and connect with it and reach out. And I think all art really is at the end of the day, is figuring out what your obsessions are and the things that feel true to you, finding a way to communicate them, and then just putting it out into the ether and seeing what happens. And most of the time, that often leads to connections beyond what is even imaginable for any of us. 

JH: Absolutely. I mean, you only have control of so much and really very little, but you can control what you do and you create and sort of your attitude, you know, how you intake information. Adjust it in yourself and then process it back out. You have control. I can't control what people do or do not connect with stuff. I'm happy when they do, and I hope I never hear from them if they don't. [Laughs}.

SG: I love that. You mentioned earlier that as you get older, you are kind of uncovering some of the intentions to bring to your work. And I think there's a couple of really important things I want to touch on, which is that, number one, the idea that you have to have empathy for your teenage self who maybe didn't know what those intentions were. Like, I can recognize why did I go through all this suffering for all these years for no good reason? And also know that I wouldn't be doing what I am today or the person that I am today had I not been through that. 

I saw a tweet not long ago and it was like, all you want in life is to make your fourteen year old self hate you, but your twelve year old self really proud. And that's how I try to live my life, of like, yeah, teenage me would be very confused, but child me would be very happy. I’m thinking about the intentions that maybe I had an inkling of as a young kid, somehow talked myself out of as a teenager, and I'm now kind of uncovering as an adult. But what are some of the intentions that you bring to your work now? It’s a tough one.

JH: Well, I mean, I actually just try to have intention. It is weird because there's this crafting element to doing creative work where I do it every day, whether I want to or not or whatever. And I like that. I’m drawn to that. But then there's this other part. It's like well, now, because I realize if I have the crafting element mechanism in place, then when I have something that I want to have intent with, the mechanism for that to exist is just have it. It's there. 

So it makes it easier to involve myself with the magic of whatever is motivating me at the time or whatever I'm into. Most of my attention, honestly, is really just to share as much of myself as I can. And I hope to be more vulnerable. I feel like I've always been an open person, but I really strive to be a more vulnerable person. I think there are some differences.

Like, for example, lyrics I write are cryptic, but I'm not talking about my dog and pickup truck and going to the football game or whatever. There's nothing wrong with that if that's your thing. But maybe I'm saying something. But then a couple of other lines later, it's sort of buried in something else. And I don't know, I wonder what that's about sometimes and why I wouldn't just say a thing. I don't know, I'm kind of rambling at this point. My intention is always to be present and try to honor what I'm feeling and really am trying to be more vulnerable. It's all my art. And that takes a lot. That takes a lot to do. 

So much of what we're talking about is just a way to exist as a person. And you happen to be somebody making art or making music. But I guess being present in my own life is sort of where I usually land with stuff and whatever artifacts happen in painting and music through that line of thinking is where I spend most of my time. I've definitely done interviews and talked to people. I really am always writing the same subject matter, which is just being present. 

SG: And that's what we're all about here at this podcast. But I completely agree on the difference between being open and being vulnerable. I think that's something that took me a really long time to learn because I would go out into the world and I'd say, well, I'm open. I'm sharing all my truth, right? I'm letting you know all these parts of me. I might have been open about that and being open about sharing like suffering and pain and sorrow and all the difficult things, but I certainly wasn't vulnerable enough to actually make any kind of real connections with people out of those or allow myself to be critiqued in any kind of meaningful way. 

I think we approach the world where a lot of us are willing to be open, right? We're willing to share, but we're not willing to receive. And that in my mind is kind of the difference between being open and being vulnerable is—they have to go hand in hand. And I think in order to find real community and real connection, you have to be willing both to be open enough to share who you are with the world, but also to be vulnerable enough to receive that kind of love and connection back, which is really, really hard to cultivate, especially in today's world. 

That's what we are at Good Folk. It's believing there are good people out there, that I can be one of those good people, but there are other people out there too. I think they have to go hand in hand. 

JH: Yeah, I agree with all that. Being vulnerable is certainly more difficult for me. 

SG: I have no good advice on it. 

JH: I strive to be better, because I think a lot of times in art I'm attracted to the vulnerability, at least how I interpret it, is really on the surface. I think that's incredible. And I'd like to be capable of making that type of art.

SG: I think I can look at my own life and recognize that the community piece, which is what I felt was lacking for so long, did not come in until I was willing to be as vulnerable as I was willing to be open. 

JH: Yeah, it's so interesting. It almost can just appear by people who are even unplanned. Like, just from people striving to be better artists themselves. They just navigate towards each other and it's hard to be disingenuous. And when there are things that don't pass one another, it becomes pretty obvious once you've tapped into that yourself.

It doesn't mean there shouldn’t be space for people to grow and stuff, but your tolerance for acceptance of things that aren't in the best interest of your own art and your own community become evident pretty quick to navigate those spaces.