If you haven’t heard about Amanda Palmer’s soon-to-be-released album (Theatre is Evil), you’ve at least heard about her Kickstarter that raked in more than $1 million dollars.
Since the Kickstarter ended (for which I am a backer, as I’ve supported every project Palmer has spearheaded since the Dresden Dolls), she’s Tweeted and blogged about how she’s spending the money, and we were treated this week to a look at where some of the money went — an amazing stop-motion video for the song Want It Back, which Palmer released a few weeks ago (you can get it and two other songs from the forthcoming album on Palmer’s site — amandapalmer.net — for as little as a buck).
But stop-motion does not do this video justice; stop-what-you’re-doing-and-watch-it is probably a more apt description. Watch it and marvel.
(Click the picture, stolen from a recent Amanda Palmer Kickstarter update, and credited to Kat Weir. At YouTube, you’ll have to sign in to verify your age.).
I had listened to Want It Back a dozen or so times since downloading it, but the song has become something more than it was yesterday; it has become something to not just want back but to want. Because inside this video — at least I think inside this video — is a love note I’d very much like to have written, probably with the same kind of ink used to write on Palmer’s body.
Promises of white sheets on which we’ll write lyrics and poems and draw black hearts that look like red hearts in direct sunlight. And books in which we’ll leave each other notes, and hardwood floors with knots and cracks, under which just may be a secret compartment.
Graffiti, a lot of it, stories being told and re-told, words being written and covered and re-written, trying to get it right but not needing to get it right because the it won’t even matter.
And somewhere, an anchor; somewhere, something to call home.