Monday, June 25, 2007
ARTISTIC RANT #1
I had a meeting today with an eccentric English director - someone who has a name in this country and who has worked with a number of famous people. He's also been asked to be a guest lecturer a lot, especially in America, which is where I first encountered him while I was in grad school.
He is a nice man, the kind of person who probably fancies himself a mentor for young artists, and he was kind enough to take time out of his busy life to meet with me. But at the end of our 2-hour meeting in a museum cafe, I wanted to shoot myself in the head.
I haven't indulged in too many moments of abject despair about my (currently non-existent) theatre career since crossing the pond 6 months ago, but today I made up for all that restraint. In the tube on the way home, my mind was a jumble of ineloquent curses and whiny tantrums:
What did this man say that so stimulated the wrathful demons inside me, you ask? I have no idea. Really. Except that he did chide me a bit for being "unfocused", for being interested in too many things, and also for being too effusive, too enthusiastic. "Talk a little slower my dear. Don't try to tell everything at once." And maybe that's all it took - being chided took the piss out of me. It made me feel like I'm an eager-beaver graduate all over again, a newbie, fresh off the bus and dazzled by the lights of the big city marquee. It made me feel like I'm never going to get off the bench and back into the game.
And I can't believe that after all the time I've put in in the trenches - slaving for peanuts in non-profits and schlepping my ass here and there between 1,001 jobs, that I am still not qualified enough, not juiced up or hooked up enough to get the attention of anyone in theatre in this godforsaken country. It's like being in junior high all over again and having to find my clique. Where are my people? Where are the people who, like me, value collaboration above self-aggrandizement? Where are the people who would rather focus their energies on actually engaging with another person than trying to impress them with 120 straight minutes of name-dropping? Where are the people who aren't feeling so protective of their hand-built sandbox that they're not willing to invite the new kid over to play a bit and maybe share the toys a little.
It's humiliating all this selling of self. I sucked at it in the small and relatively low-key pond of San Francisco, and I suck even harder at it in the giant ocean that is London. I think in the back of my mind, I had some kind of ridiculous fantasy playing that in coming over here I could hopscotch over all the facets of the business of making theatre that have always plagued me - networking, proving your value as an artist by affiliating yourself with impressive people and institutions, using others (either literally or figuratively) to get a leg up. I was hoping that I would bump into some people like me who are just looking for space and time to play and people to play with, and that we would dance off together in a blissed-out creative haze.
But that isn't happening. And while I'm certainly capable of scraping some folks together and putting on a show myself, what I want more than anything is to be IN CONVERSATION with some other artists. I wish I could take out a personal ad:
One of the things that I got so fed up with working in non-profit theatre was how slowly things move - you have to fundraise at least 1-1/2 years out for any given project. Your organizational vision grows by leaps and bounds, while your infrastructure grows by dribs and drabs. It takes years for a play to go from the page to the stage, and often they never make the leap at all. Somehow I thought things might move faster here, but so far it feels the opposite. I've been here 6 months, and it feels like another 6 could pass and I would be in the same place - a person who wants to work but who can find no work, a person who wants to play but who can find no playmates.
I have to think the universe is trying to teach me something here. Maybe today's feeling that I'm trying to drive with the parking brake on is a warning that I'm not ready to "go back to work" yet afterall. Probably there is more discernment to be done, to figure out which of my interests and enthusiasms deserves my full attention. Most likely the eccentric English director hit the nail on the head when he metaphorically reduced me to a puppy fresh out of the box. Maybe my legs aren't strong enough yet for standing in this brave new world. Maybe I've distracted myself with work all these years to avoid the fact that I'm still afraid to do what it is that I most want to do. Whatever that is.
I read a book once called Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind - the kind of book you could read over and over and still not fully grasp. The bit I remember is something that I think comes from the Noh tradition - no matter how much mastery you think you have achieved, you must still approach every task and every problem from the perspective of a beginner. That way you will continually refresh yourself by testing your skill in the present moment, rather than repeating yourself or relying on tricks or shortcuts.
That's hard for me. To feel like a beginner. To accept that there is only the long road. Very hard.
But that's how it is today.
Be well.
directing
art
job search
I had a meeting today with an eccentric English director - someone who has a name in this country and who has worked with a number of famous people. He's also been asked to be a guest lecturer a lot, especially in America, which is where I first encountered him while I was in grad school.
He is a nice man, the kind of person who probably fancies himself a mentor for young artists, and he was kind enough to take time out of his busy life to meet with me. But at the end of our 2-hour meeting in a museum cafe, I wanted to shoot myself in the head.
I haven't indulged in too many moments of abject despair about my (currently non-existent) theatre career since crossing the pond 6 months ago, but today I made up for all that restraint. In the tube on the way home, my mind was a jumble of ineloquent curses and whiny tantrums:
Fuck fuck fuck it all. I'm never going to fucking get anything going here or anywhere else. Theatre is beat. This is bullshit. My career is going nowhere. I should pack it up and become a fucking preschool teacher. Fuck fuck fuck.
What did this man say that so stimulated the wrathful demons inside me, you ask? I have no idea. Really. Except that he did chide me a bit for being "unfocused", for being interested in too many things, and also for being too effusive, too enthusiastic. "Talk a little slower my dear. Don't try to tell everything at once." And maybe that's all it took - being chided took the piss out of me. It made me feel like I'm an eager-beaver graduate all over again, a newbie, fresh off the bus and dazzled by the lights of the big city marquee. It made me feel like I'm never going to get off the bench and back into the game.
And I can't believe that after all the time I've put in in the trenches - slaving for peanuts in non-profits and schlepping my ass here and there between 1,001 jobs, that I am still not qualified enough, not juiced up or hooked up enough to get the attention of anyone in theatre in this godforsaken country. It's like being in junior high all over again and having to find my clique. Where are my people? Where are the people who, like me, value collaboration above self-aggrandizement? Where are the people who would rather focus their energies on actually engaging with another person than trying to impress them with 120 straight minutes of name-dropping? Where are the people who aren't feeling so protective of their hand-built sandbox that they're not willing to invite the new kid over to play a bit and maybe share the toys a little.
It's humiliating all this selling of self. I sucked at it in the small and relatively low-key pond of San Francisco, and I suck even harder at it in the giant ocean that is London. I think in the back of my mind, I had some kind of ridiculous fantasy playing that in coming over here I could hopscotch over all the facets of the business of making theatre that have always plagued me - networking, proving your value as an artist by affiliating yourself with impressive people and institutions, using others (either literally or figuratively) to get a leg up. I was hoping that I would bump into some people like me who are just looking for space and time to play and people to play with, and that we would dance off together in a blissed-out creative haze.
But that isn't happening. And while I'm certainly capable of scraping some folks together and putting on a show myself, what I want more than anything is to be IN CONVERSATION with some other artists. I wish I could take out a personal ad:
36-year old over-educated director/dramaturg/teacher/dance-lover seeks artists of any discipline to connect and make art with. I love talking, listening, and brainstorming about the world and where we fit into it. You love long converations over coffee, taking creative risks, and know where we can rehearse for free. Let's get together and see where it leads. Let's dream something up and make it happen. Let's become intimate with each other's questions and then invite some others to chew on them with us.
One of the things that I got so fed up with working in non-profit theatre was how slowly things move - you have to fundraise at least 1-1/2 years out for any given project. Your organizational vision grows by leaps and bounds, while your infrastructure grows by dribs and drabs. It takes years for a play to go from the page to the stage, and often they never make the leap at all. Somehow I thought things might move faster here, but so far it feels the opposite. I've been here 6 months, and it feels like another 6 could pass and I would be in the same place - a person who wants to work but who can find no work, a person who wants to play but who can find no playmates.
I have to think the universe is trying to teach me something here. Maybe today's feeling that I'm trying to drive with the parking brake on is a warning that I'm not ready to "go back to work" yet afterall. Probably there is more discernment to be done, to figure out which of my interests and enthusiasms deserves my full attention. Most likely the eccentric English director hit the nail on the head when he metaphorically reduced me to a puppy fresh out of the box. Maybe my legs aren't strong enough yet for standing in this brave new world. Maybe I've distracted myself with work all these years to avoid the fact that I'm still afraid to do what it is that I most want to do. Whatever that is.
I read a book once called Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind - the kind of book you could read over and over and still not fully grasp. The bit I remember is something that I think comes from the Noh tradition - no matter how much mastery you think you have achieved, you must still approach every task and every problem from the perspective of a beginner. That way you will continually refresh yourself by testing your skill in the present moment, rather than repeating yourself or relying on tricks or shortcuts.
That's hard for me. To feel like a beginner. To accept that there is only the long road. Very hard.
But that's how it is today.
Be well.
directing
art
job search
Labels: Career Anxiety, Creative Process
