There’s a helpless joy I feel whenever I hear song I loved in high school. I sway a little on my feet like the female lead in a romance novel. I mean to say I swoon.
Reading The Art of Asking had the same sort of effect on me, not only because I remembered how much I loved the Dresden Dolls back in the day but because I remembered how cool Amanda Palmer is.
She is brazen and unapologetic, sensitive but unafraid of her audience. Full disclosure: she’s so cool, I thought reading The Art of Asking would grate on my nerves. I thought, a little meanly, that Amanda Palmer was a bit of a try-hard, just like all the cool kids in high school who used to wear all black and smoke cigarettes and dress effortlessly from the thrift store.
I’ve seen the TED talk that inspired the book (or, at the very least, inspired publishers to give Amanda Palmer a book deal), and I liked it, but I failed to see how it would translate into a book.
Palmer makes it work by turning it into half memoir, half art-as-business manifesto. And often The Art of Asking is uncool: it reads like a sentimental blog post that had been professionally edited, full of stories and scenes and life philosophies. Palmer’s discussion of what art is was refreshingly not cool, as it stresses collectivism over elitism, the transactional nature of art: “Collecting the dots. Then connecting them. And then sharing the connections with those around you. This is how a creative human works. Collecting, connecting, sharing.”
This book isn’t really about Kickstarter albums, or couch-sharing. If anything, it ends on a note encouraging a return to patron-based art consumption. (See: Patreon.) Which is something to think about–maybe instead of worrying that the internet will kill art because there is no way to attach monetary value to it anymore, we can change the way we determine that value and give of our own accord. We can help and be helped, guided by our own human determination to collect, connect, and share.
Overall, I enjoyed The Art of Asking more than I thought I would. Amanda Palmer is still cool (or weird, however you look at it) but she’s also much more. I didn’t really need to hear all those stories of Neil Gaiman trying to flirt, though.