Diary Entry 1- An Artist's Anxiety, Obsession, and Armor

I'm asked often by others what it takes to be a good artist or actor. I often do not know how to respond. Sometimes I simply say Rhythm or Integrity or Eagerness. That's true but for many artists, including myself, it is that and more.

I often overthink. I ruminate on topics, minutia, perceptions, and outcomes.  This can be a blessing or a curse for artists. I certainly want my work to be received well and for it to be a positive force in others lives, but I often am worried about the way it will be perceived and if the messages will translate. There is also the fear of watering it down for the masses. Many of these fears are further concentrated because of how I have navigated this world as a Queer Black Man. I have often shrank myself for safety and sacrificed my personhood and voice to placate people. I tend to play the role of observer until I am ready to switch to messenger. Perhaps that's why storytelling appeals to me so much, but it again there is that fear of how I'll be perceived and what will happen to me because of it gnawing at me.

I have learned in the last few years is that the role of the artist requires a sort of detachment to the way others perceive it. Putting that lesson into practice is an everyday effort. Comparison is the thief of joy and social media can be its accomplice. It is so easy to get discouraged by how many people engage with it or by people comparing your work to others. An artist's success or importance is not purely measured by how many people like what they have created nor is it a hint of how relevant that art will be.

What does reflect the importance of your artistry is how committed you are to it as well as how deeply others are able to connect with it. There is nothing wrong with art for the sake of art. There is nothing wrong with art that has themes and messages to decode. There is room for both in the gallery of life. However, my influences and role models have impressed upon me a need to strive for quality and excellence-- I need to feel something, to be moved by it. I need to spend time with my craft, whatever it is. 

It's a good thing I feel that way. Upon discussion and reflection with some of my fellow creative professionals and volunteers, for every minute of performance you see, there's about two hours (give or take) of practice and rehearsal that went into that performance. There's the process of learning the material, figuring out the blocking and direction, drilling it repeatedly, practicing outside of rehearsal, tech rehearsal, and costume fittings all to consider in this process. This obviously varies depending on the style of production and the level of intricacy, but a well constructed effort of professional and well rehearsed performance requires devotion, exploration, and borderline obsession. There are gems if you are willing to take the time and dig for them.

Sometimes that's the blessing of obsession. You learn things about yourself when you spend time with your craft. Your artistic process becomes more clear and you see your strengths as well as your flaws. Then, you take the two and wear them proudly. The consistent commitment to the process can give you an appearance of being perfect and effortless during even the most vulnerable moments. It's the gilded armor of seasoned and earnest creatives.