There are a lot of things to think about when you're navigating a performing arts path. These blog topics will help.
If I asked you what your core values are, what would you say?
If you’re running a company the answer should trip off your tongue. Mission, vision statements, and core values are integral to non-profit organizations. But I would argue that any arts organization should do the work of figuring this out, and letting folks know.
Your mission statement is what you do, and what makes you unique in the way you do it.
Your vision statement is a future look at what the world will look like if you succeed in doing your work.
Your core values are two or three words (or short statements, but I prefer words) that mean so much to you you’d rather go out of business than go against them. What does that mean? If your core value, as an organization, is new work then doing Macbeth is problematic. If your core value is respect and your artistic director is a bully, that’s a problem.
As an artist, and a human being, establishing your core values provides you with a...
Did you see this article? It's about a study that was done on creative people in the workplace, and how having passion for your work comes at a price. The price is that you aren’t paid enough.
"Artists know passion exploitation well: because they take pleasure in performing, taking photos or writing, onlookers see the opportunity to do this work as a privilege in its own right—and use that reasoning to justify a lack of compensation or benefits." Quite the quote, isn't it? I highly recommend reading the article, and the links. CLICK HERE FOR THE ARTICLE.
One of the challenging things about being an artist is the gaslighting that goes on. For those of you who don’t know the term, it comes from a 1944 movie with Charles Boyer and Ingrid Bergman. He’s trying to convince her that she’s crazy, and his methods include telling her that she’s imagining things when the gaslights get brighter and dimmer. The term is now used to mean convincing people that...
Last week I was walking on Commonwealth Avenue, near Kenmore Square, in Boston. I saw dozens of graduating seniors walking around in their red graduation gowns, likely coming and going from pre-commencement events. I’ve got to admit, the sight made me tear up. I graduated from Boston University thirty-five years ago this month, and wore a similar gown. Not for the first time, I wish I could go back and time and talk to that Julie.
That Julie was beyond thrilled to be getting her degree in communications, and vowed she’d never go back to school again. She was wrong. I’ve got two more degrees, and have taken dozens of classes over the years.
That Julie loved theater, but she was convinced she could never make a life in the arts. She was wrong. I’ve been working in the arts for over thirty years now, though my communications degree has been very helpful.
That Julie also believed the creative writing teacher who told her that her writing didn’t have enough...
Or they wrote. Or they performed. Are they caught up with the rest of their lives because on the other six days they pursue their artistic journey.
When you have an artistic calling, you give up the idea of a forty hour workweek, or five days a week. Particularly since most artists have to work two or three or more jobs to make it all work financially, time off is a luxury. Blocks of time may be more realistic, but even then those blocks are often backfilled with the other parts of your life you’ve neglected. Having nothing to do, and I mean nothing, when was the last time anyone on artistic journey had that time? Even though we all know intellectually that taking time to refuel is critical, that’s a luxury few of us can afford.
We also live in a culture that believes artwork isn’t real work. That somehow, because there’s joy in your work, it isn’t as valuable. That isn’t true, of course. But how often are artists asked to work for free? Or the...
One hundred and sixty-eight hours. That’s all the time we have in a given week. Those hundred and sixty-eight hours have to include sleeping, eating, commuting, working, loving, time with family, social time. It also has to include your artistic practice, all the elements of it.
There is the craft side of your practice. That includes classes, rehearsing, auditioning, writing, editing, creating. There’s the community side of your practice, and that includes going to see other people’s work, participating in community events, reaching out to folks who understand your path. And then there’s the business side of your practice. That can include networking and pitching your work. Or it can include working on a project, using skills that aren’t part of your current Skill set so that requires learning those skills, more time.
Time feels different depending on what you’re doing. Doing your taxes, for example, can make minutes feel like hours. But...
Last weekend I went to a crime fiction conference in Vancouver. I was on one of the panels, which was fun since I love talking about my work. But as with most conferences, the best part was catching up with friends and fellow authors.
Seeing people in person is invaluable. We all manage our social media presence, so the good news abounds. But when you're sitting with someone you get the real scoop. Folks are out of contract, with new proposals out but no news. Others are worried that their series won't get renewed. There are people with good news but they can't share it publicly yet.
Then there are the conversations that are incredibly helpful--did that ad work for you? Where did you get your bookmarks done? Are you doing a blog tour for your next book?
All of these are writing specific, but the value of in person meetings with folks on a similar path are transferable to other artistic fields as well:
Throughout the month I’ve been providing you with some tools to shift your thinking as you move forward on your artistic path.
Today I want you to kick fear and doubt into the back seat, strap on your seatbelt and think about the big dream.
Do you have one? The role you want to play, the venue you want to perform in, the show you want to design, the book or play you want to write, the company you want to open. If your artistic path was without friction--friction being the demands of the rest of your life, the money you need to live, the space time continuum--what would you love to accomplish with your creative work?
If you’re anything like me, the minute you start dreaming the big dream the weights of doubt get wrapped around your ankles and drag you down. They can be big doubts (“Who am I to want to do this?” “I can think of a dozen more...
I’ll never forget a conversation I had with my agent shortly before my first book was published. He said that getting published was the first step in the career. The next step was staying published.
It ends up, that second step is tougher than the first in many ways. But since writing still gives me joy, I persist in moving forward.
But moving forward required more than luck, it requires a plan. The first step in figuring out my plan is to set some long term and short term goals for my artistic path.
For some folks setting goals and figuring out a plan feels too businessy, like that work takes the art out of your practice. With all due respect to those folks, they’re wrong.
Setting long term goals and short term goals, and creating a plan, is the best way to navigate your artistic path. Your plan grounds you. It helps remind you why you’re on your path. It helps you let folks know why you do your work while you claim your creative space.
You can set goals around...
For the purposes of this blog, let me define the difference between pleasure and joy. Pleasure is a short term shot of happiness. Pleasure is being cast in a show, getting a gig booked, reading a good review, seeing an article about your work. Pleasure is a lovely but fleeting thing.
But pleasure isn’t joy.
Joy is the long term, sustained feeling. Joy doesn’t mean that the path is smooth, or that there aren’t bad days. But joy is the underlying feeling that gets you through the rough spots.
Does your artistic work bring you joy?
There may be parts that don’t. In my writing life, getting that first draft done is a challenge. A friend once described it as putting a log through a meat grinder, and she was right. There isn’t pleasure in that first draft.
But there is joy. I know that this is part of the process of writing, and that gives me great joy. So I’d rather be struggling with my first draft than not be a writer.
So, here are my questions this...
I was so delighted to be on The Good Life Coach podcast this week! I'm talking about my journey as a writer, but I also talk about being an artist.
Download Michele's podcast on a regular basis. It is inspirational, thoughtful and full of actions steps.