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Youth's silent rebellion in Let the Wind Carry Me, the juxtaposition of innocence and experience in Both Sides Now, and the suburban frustrations of The Arrangement are messages from a modern Isadora whose life is a litmus for the innocent and imaginative. "Joni exorcises her demons by writing those songs," says Guitarist Stephen Stills, "and in so doing she reaches way down and grabs the essence of something very private and personal to women."
He is right, but Joni is no hearthside poet for women only.
Isolation, responsibility and success are recurring subjects in her songs, many of which inductively focus on a part of society. Big Yellow Taxi's Malthusian look at the environment and Free Man in Paris' harried-executive portrait lead to larger conclusions about basic motives and drives.
Joni Mitchell's own strongest creative impulses come to her in a somewhat unusual way. She deeply believes in a male muse named Art, who lends her his key to what she airily calls "the shrine of creativity." Her relationship with him is easily the most serious and enduring thing in her life. "I feel like I'm married to this guy named Art," she whispers. "I'm responsible to my Art above all else." Art rules, and when he calls, Joni will abruptly leave parties or excuse lovers.
Sometimes she retreats to a sparse stone house north of Vancouver to paint, write and roam naked on the surrounding 40 acres with Art. It is not a relationship an earthling can easily crash, and Joni concedes that she will probably never marry. "My family consists of pieces of work that go out in the world," she smiles. "Instead of hanging around for 19 years they leave the nest early."
Joni's own childhood began in the rolling Alberta foothills at the edge of the Canadian prairie. It was a land of mirages hrough which she often moved with her parents—a former schoolteacher and an R.C.A.F. officer turned grocery-store manager. By the time they finally settled in Saskatoon, the rugged beauty of Saskatchewan had given Joan Anderson the inspiration to become an artist. With money earned as a waitress at a coffeehouse named after Folk Hero Louis Kiel, Joan bought pens and ink. She also taught herself the baritone ukulele. But her attentions soon turned to rock 'n' roll.
A toddler's leash had restrained her childhood exuberance, but Myrtle Anderson did not know how to stop Joan's postcurfew carousing or curb her iron spirit. Says Joni: "It was then and still is a constant war to liberate myself from values not applicable to the period in which I live." At 19, after a brief try at art school in Calgary, Joan decided to become a professional musician. Too poor to join the musicians' union, she floated around Toronto until one night she met Chuck Mitchell, a cabaret performer from Detroit who was appearing at the Penny Farthing. She was a prairie-fresh girl who sang a strong yet ethereal soprano and stitched up her own pantsuits. He was a music professional seven years her senior. One month later they married.