When I write these blog posts, I work very hard to not be prescriptivist, that is, I seek only to share my opinions while not making the assumption that I'm right about everything. What you're about to read is a simple request from a vocal performance artist. I don't like reading those lists in people's blogs that seek to establish rules for how we should behave in certain situations. Social protocol is fluid and, as Tolkien wrote through the mouth of Gildor the elf, "Advice is a dangerous gift, even from the wise to the wise, and all courses may run ill.
When you come up to me after a performance, please feel free to tell me that I'm skilled, that you liked certain things, or anything specific, but I have a request, and it is the following:
Please avoid the "T" word. The "T" word gives artists a sense of entitlement, like, of course we're doing this, we were built to. Really? The thousands and thousands of hours that we've spent working on technique, checking out other people's work, thinking about what matters in the world and how we can apply it to what we produce... Please don't tell me that I'm talented. If I critically review my work and see lay people doing what I do but I can't find it as pleasing or meaningful as what I do, there's a darn good chance that I know that I'm "talented", that I have something that some people will never have. But, you can be darn sure that I'm going to try to teach people everything that can be taught.
You know what the other bad thing about "talent" is? It's that there are things that can be done on sheer talent, but I've watched enough karaoke to understand that what the lay person relates to is not talent; it's heart. I was a very unskilled baseball player; I couldn't hit worth a darn, had average speed, and my depth-perception issues made fielding difficult (I can throw, but that's another story.) But, I gave it my all because I loved to play. That's what I look for at karaoke. Some can sing the right notes by "talent" alone (mostly... tuning theory tells us that what some people think is in tune - the perfect-pitchers - would sometimes serve to communicate better if the pitches were higher or lower relative to the other notes in the chord. But, I digress.), but there's so much more to a performance than just doing what can be done by talent alone. There is a woman who sings karaoke where I go every Friday who is my favorite karaoke singer of all time. She always starts out with the same song, Journey's "Open Arms". She goes up there, closes her eyes, and does the song almost exactly the same way every single week. Does she occasionally sing a note a little bit under its correct pitch? Yes, about once or twice during the song. But, she feels that song in a way that I can't even understand as it's so obviously personal. She sings with more soul in those 4 minutes than some karaoke singers, these "talented" people who just go up there and imitate the original, throw blind energy with no subtext into the song, and sing the notes perfectly right probably have done in their entire life. I'm not criticizing them; it's karaoke; do what you want. But, is this woman "talented"? I'm not sure. It's hard to tell. But, her performance is so raw and so powerful that I love witnessing it every week. The woman makes art. As artists, many of us want to reach people. I hope that, someday, I can find some way to reach people the way that this lovely person reaches me. And it's got nothing to do with talent.
I can't speak for dancers, martial artists, or visual artists, but all of the stretching, diet-watching, and at-home practicing that the kinesthetic folks do and the re-doing, scrapping, and constant mistake-making that the visual folks do makes me think that it's probably similar for them.
So, please, don't tell me that I'm talented. I already know that. I've done a lot of work to build my skills and done a lot of soul-searching to have the courage to get up in front of people. I'm an artist, that is, I'm curious, I want to connect with others, and I want to create things. Learning about you and having a brief moment with you after a performance is one of the best parts about being an artist. When you tell me that I'm talented, that makes it all about me. Please don't tell me how talented I am. I appreciate the affirmation, truly, and I know that you're trying to make me feel good. You've succeeded, so thank you. But, next time, tell me how you felt. Or just say thank you. Or give me a hug or a handshake or a thump on the shoulder. Tell me what your favorite part of the show was, even if it wasn't anything that I did. Meet-and-greets after shows, cheering after a karaoke song... these types of things are why we do what we do as artists... we have something that we want to give to you, to show others that something matters. Let's communicate in ways that we can all understand.
Yours in harmony, Michael.
No comments:
Post a Comment