Icarus Arts 1 draft.

(I write to make sense of what I feel, and partly to defend the way I wrote the song.)

A friend relayed to me that my song, Icarus, was studied in a UP Diliman Arts 1 class today. I was also told that two people from the class did not like The Ridleys' iteration of Icarus. I find no problem with this. It's good that you know what you like and don't like. I imagine that these two people didn't like the song because it wasn't "faithful" to the original story. If I had known that this song would be evaluated based on its faithfulness to the original Icarus story, I would have changed its name. Maybe to Musee des Beaux Artes, the W.H. Auden poem that inspired the song in the first place. But that would be too hard to pronounce. It's also possible that they didn't like the song because it was sloppily written, something I would like to apologize for. I was writing more with my heart than with my head. Maybe they didn't like the overt Christian themes, which could have discussed more subtly. The "prints in the sand" referenced proved to be corny later on. Nevertheless, I'm flattered that my song would be studied in class, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to share the stories behind my songs.

I'm here to understand how people perceive the song, and also to be understood. What I'll do now is to give you an idea of what was going on in my head, and in my life, when I wrote this song. I want to share with you how rewriting the story of Icarus helped me deal with the personal challenges I faced, and how it has helped others, too.

The Ridleys' "Icarus" was written after I saw Pieter Bruegel the Elder's painting of Icarus sinking into the ocean. I thought to myself, "This speaks to me," or, to put it more colloquially, "He's literally me." Suffering the consequences of one's actions is a story I'm all too familiar with. Seeing him drowning alone while everyone around him was too busy to notice reminded me of the nature of suffering. Nobody likes tragedy. It's more comfortable to look away.

I've had my fair share of regrets. For one, I studied in UP Diliman. Why? I have no clue. I spent four years feeling stupid and inadequate, choosing not to attend Univ Grad out of shame that I could not yet articulate at the time. In UP, I experienced so much loss. TRIGGER WARNING: One friend in particular, who may have carried a similar shame that I did, ended his own life. This gave me an idea that maybe I should do the same. In the song, I write, "I set my mind on ending my life- long dream of being happy. There's nothing left to lose when you're standing underneath the noose." I had many reasons to feel ashamed about my life, reasons I can't talk about now because none of us would feel comfortable. But I think you guys could understand what I felt. Maybe you carry your own guilt and shame that you can't talk about. (And that's perfectly fine.) Like Icarus, I know that I was to blame for my own downfall.

When I wrote "Icarus," I wasn't thinking about how to faithfully represent the Greek myth. I would even challenge that there is no "faithful" way to present Icarus, because there is no such thing as a "canon" Greek myth. Every poet has his own version these stories - stories that are meant to speak to us personally and help us make sense of our lives, hopefully so we can live them better. To me, stories are not set in stone; they can be rewritten. So, by rewriting Icarus' story, I wanted to find reassurance that the same could be done for my story.

This was easily done in the context of The Ridleys' 2nd album, Until I Reach the Sun, a title based on one of my songs called The Prodigal's Anthem. This song, obviously, was based on Jesus' story of The Prodigal Son, a story of redemption. The album was also inspired by four paintings of Pieter Bruegel the Elder - one of which I already mentioned earlier. These paintings are "The Fall of Icarus," "The Blind Leading the Blind," Paul's Conversion," and "The Tower of Babel." All of these paintings have messages about redemption, something that I felt I needed when I wrote these songs. It was in the context of this album that I rewrote Icarus' story, from a tragedy to a story of redemption. It was the Christian in me that wanted to save Icarus, looking at him with eyes of love and thinking, "Maybe he survived the fall. Surely, he could survive the fall."

If we look at Ovid's account of the story, we'll find that there was another person who looked for Icarus. That person is none other than his father, Daedalus, who cautioned him against flying too close to the sun, wishing only for his freedom. The character of Daedalus, the heart of a father, made it easy for me to correlate the Icarus story with the Parable of the Prodigal Son. What if Icarus survived the fall, the same way The Prodigal Son survived his, and longed to be reunited with his father?

The lines about Icarus, The Prodigal Son, and myself become blurry. This song definitely has its flaws as a retelling of the Icarus' story. The idea of a redeemed Icarus may defeat the purpose of the original story. And yet the idea of redemption gives me hope. The idea of rewriting my own story gives me hope.

My listeners are people who, in their own ways, have flown too close to the sun, testing their limits and experiencing the consequences of their actions. I won't pretend to know their circumstances, but I do know we have this same desire to rewrite our story. We want another chance to fly again and do it right this time. That's one of the reasons I jumped at this opportunity: to participate in the academe as a way of redeeming my wasted college years. I'm thankful for the opportunity. This message of redemption is also what motivates me to keep writing songs and compiling albums. If I don't do it right the first time, then at least I can try again.

In summary, The Ridleys' version of Icarus was never meant to be a "faithful" interpretation of Ovid's Icarus. Instead, it is a personal reflection on a poem inspired by an artwork inspired by Ovid's "Icarus and Daedalus." Ultimately, it is a song about myself and my own experiences, named "Icarus" for convenience. Aspects of faith and redemption come out in the song, overriding the Icarus story, because it is part of an album about The Prodigal Son. The main message of The Ridleys' Icarus is that stories can be rewritten - that is to say, that our mistakes don't have to be the end and that redemption is possible. I hope this has helped you make sense of the song and encourages you to reflect on how art can inspire us.