Reminders/advice for myself (and other artists I know)
- September 26th, 2011
- Posted in Commentary
- Write comment
More than ever before in my artistic life, I have been asking myself what it means to live as an artist – not work as an artist (that is an entirely different question) – but how should one live?
When starting a project I always let the people I’m working with know a few of my ground rules:
1. Paid work is important. If I’m not paying you upfront, we need to keep your boss happy – please don’t sacrifice your livelihood for a project – don’t commit to a rehearsal or project if you are going to endanger your paid job (unless you want to/need an excuse to escape)
2. Family and friends are important. They are the ones who know you before and after your show (they hold in them, who you are ong term) plus they remind you that there is more to existence than creating art. Don’t forget birthdays or anniversaries – don’t neglect the people you love or who love you.
3. Nothing is a waste of time. If you are excited or worried about the show, call me. We can talk about anything and everything. No need to suffer in silence. Also if you are brimming with enthusiasm, don’t pretend you’re not. Share what you think and feel – during making a work nothing should be wasted, everything informs what we are making.
Perhaps this sounds a bit glib… or obvious… perhaps it is, but sometimes I need to remind myself that it is important to be able to function as a person in society, in while making art.
One director I know told me once that directing for him feels like an impossible harnessing of all the elemental forces in the world, that it feels like an exhausting torrent which is going to leave him tattered and empty.
I don’t feel like that at all.
When I’m directing I feel like all parts of me are glowing, lit up like a dance floor. Yes, I feel adrenilin, but it’s not panic – like going too fast in a car – like eating something you’ve never tasted before – like being surprised by the depth and power of thunder and then feeling the first few drops of rain. It feels thrilling – it feels like love.
I am still trying to find balance in all that I want and do and want to do. My process for making (and living) is still a work in progress.
Here are some extra points I like to remind myself of:
* Just because you’re not in a company or collective doesn’t mean you’re not part of a community.
* Take time off.
* Loving, being in love and being loved will not and does not destroy talent
* You’re allowed to be entertained by things that aren’t high-art
* There will never be a point at which you’ve “made it” – this is a forever pursuit – and as soon as you’re resting on laurels you’re irrelevent.
* Make it, don’t just talk about it.
* When in doubt, be generous.
* The biggest lesson that we can learn from Shakespeare it is that pride comes before a fall.
* Art is not a meritocracy.
* An important part of being a brilliant artist is not being an asshole.
* Don’t shit on the country you’re making art in or for – it lowers your self-esteem and the value of your work.
* Don’t like it? Don’t do it.
* Don’t be afraid of other people’s opinions
* Acknowledge good work – and promote other people’s practice -it’s exciting to share quality. Don’t be jealous. Their success doesn’t make you less talented.
* Play the long game.
* Never underestimate the power of panic. (or pride)
* Nothing lasts forever – not even failure – so what have you got to lose?
* Be kind, be interested and listen closely – you never know who someone is about to be or how they can affect your life.
* Don’t take it to heart, or yourself so seriously.
* Everyone has a bad day, even artists, so don’t be so hard on yourself.
Very wise words, Gus. Am struggling with the same issues myself at the moment – how to live as an artist, and, more importantly, how to live HAPPILY and CONTENTEDLY as an artist. When it all gets too much, I have to remind myself that I got into the arts because I love theatre. And I should keep doing it because I love theatre. If I’m making myself miserable by doing something I once adored, there doesn’t seem to be much point in keeping up with it. I should just get a job I don’t like and earn enough money for theatre season subscriptions and leave the stress and the worry and the angst to others.
This is great, Gus! I’ve been thinking about this lately too.
Hey Jenny – Great to hear from you (I have been following your adventures in art and I must say I’ve been very impressed and inspired by your journey!)
It never ceases to amaze me how hard artists are on themselves. It also never ceases to amaze me how the arts attract some of the most intelligent, ambitious and interesting people – who could easilly sit in high-paying jobs eating complimentary muffins in meetings – but who instead choose a life which could make them very poor and paranoid.
Art is a lifestyle not just a job and the hugeness can be overwhelming. The pursuit and task too inexorable, too complex and never-ending. The effort required is mammoth.
But as my mother would say when I was in highschool and the task ahead seemed unconquerable: “How do you eat an elephant? One piece at a time.” (Sometimes I would respond through my fat, gooey tears “Um… with my mouth…?”)
Oh Bellamy – Thanks!
Do you also sometime fantasize about being a florist? I do. It’s a job that has a lot of the same elements of theatre –
1. Creating something for people look at.
2. Flowers are transient and will die.
3. You can make it with your hands
4. If you are a posh florist you can wear black (especially a black apron).
5. You work with pretty people (I’ve never met an ugly florist)
Ah this is good chicken soup! X
Ps I was recently merrily about to do a florist course but then I realised what time the flower markets open …
Hey Emily – and THAT’S where being a florist may be a great job for me… I’m an early riser…. so florist or baker would suit me fine…
I smiled the whole time reading this….thanks Augusta.