The Story Behind Lavafall

Christina Plummer
Jul 1
4 min read

Lavafall into Starry Night - AI Re-imaging of a combination of original works - 2025

The story behind Lavafall into Starry Night; or, Why I Failed as a Writer. As I've noted in previous blogs, I went to University back in the late eighties and early nineties. Mostly, I was direction-less, but I liked reading, writing and art; that's the direction in which I tended to gravitate. Knowing I had little talent as an artist (drawing/painting), I focused my energy on my reading and writing skills. I like ideas, symbology, and imagery the most. I'm a visual person and a visual reader. I have a big imagination, and the things I see in my head seem to be very different than what I experience in reality, which has always fascinated me. Unfortunately, I've always had trouble putting on paper/canvas what is going on in my head. I'm sure I'm not alone - that's just in the nature and the practice of art. Some people are born with the gifts and talents to create beautiful and meaningful works, seemingly, effortlessly. For the rest of us, no matter how many years of practice, training, blood, sweat and tears, a Salieri we shall remain.

I've also always loved music/lyrics. From as long ago as I can remember, music has been a big part of my being. As a kid, I grew up in a house filled with music - The Beatles, The Kingston Trio, Willie Nelson, Bob Dylan - just to name a few albums that were played on repeat. We had an 8-track in the car, several record players around the house; and by my teens, I repurchased many albums on cassette tape... and then on CD. Now, I have re-purchased everything (plus more) on my iPhone music account. I stream Colorado Public Radio - The Indie Channel - every day while I work. Sometimes, I hear a new, awesome song and immediately purchase it. My last purchase was Inept Apollo by Nation of Languages. AMAZING song if you've never heard it. AMAZING artists if you don't know the band, I'd highly suggest getting familiar.

But, what I came here to talk about today is why I failed as a writer. Music ties in, all art in general; I think I'm not alone in recognizing that certain art - whether it's a visual or auditory medium - can touch your soul. What's great about the human experience is our diversity and the world today offers endless art to touch your soul, it's wonderful. At this time in history, we have access to almost every brilliant, genius,... the most influential artists of all time (in any genre) just sitting in our pockets waiting to be accessed. And I do access them. It's humbling just scrolling through Instagram and see the astonishing and innovative art that people are creating today. It's humbling when I read a novel, like The Goldfinch, by Donna Tartt - there are passages in that book where her language just takes my breath away. All the Light We Cannot See is another one, by Anthony Doerr. The story telling in that book ... just, brought me to tears. How, HOW, could I ever even imagine to create any work in comparison? I'm stymied by the knowledge that I could never, ever (not in this lifetime) produce anything of such quality - no matter how much blood sweat and tears I pour into it. Hence, my constant, perpetual go to thought: get a good, decent paying job (with health benefits), dummy. This is why my writing career stopped before it even began, it is what it is.

But, I persist, dabble. Music, good music, with the combination of incredible imagery or symbology inspires and touches my soul. I've blogged about Beck, who is top dog on my list of amazing artists, but here's one I've got in circulation on many of my playlists that has also been quite influential on my personal artistic stylings including Lavafall into Starry Night. The song is Hallelujah, written by Leonard Cohen, but the rendition I love is by Jeff Buckely. I'm not alone, this rendition is wildly popular and featured in dozens of films, maybe popular ad nauseam. I'm not the only one whose soul has been touched by this song. Here is an excerpt from Buckley's re-imaging of Hallelujah:

Well your faith was strong but you needed proof....

And I've seen your flag on the marble arch

And Love is not a victory march

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

"It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah". Sit with these words. Listen to the song. There is such a profundity to this song that words can't describe. You just have to listen to it, really listen. And this is it. This is why I've failed at writing. I just can't put into words, like this music I hear on the daily, casually listening while hiking, sitting at my desk working, cleaning the house, living this banal, average hand to mouth modern life.

Haunted, I am haunted by certain music. I've mentioned before how Beck's music/lyrics haunt me. This is yet another example of how music has haunted me to the point where, despite my lack of skills, I have to express what this means to me. My soul says this:

And when I asked AI to help me re-imagine this drawing, after several attempts, it came up with:

This, THIS is what I'm thinking. It's a cold and broken Hallelujah, baby I've walked this road before, and... I'm tired.

Oddly, I did a similar painting many, many years ago (which I gave to my parents), of man sitting on a drab, modern hotel bed underneath beautiful archaic porticos.