“All work and no play, makes Jack a dull boy” the saying goes. How does one handle this idea when one’s work is a form of play for others? Chatting with someone recently, I was complimented for my disciplined approach to remaining in touch with my skills. Obviously, I was charmed by the person’s observation, but it is love that motivates me to do what I do.
As a young adult, I was constantly puzzled by the more mature artists I met who seemed to have had enough of being involved in creative processes. It’s fair enough that a child might want to play a game for a finite length of time, before getting bored, or tired. One might jump onto a carousel in a fairground and enjoy the journey for a while, but I wondered about adults who decided they wanted to dedicate their lives to playing, only to find out that they felt more comfortable in boardroom meetings, for example.
Now, I understand that our lives are constant works in progress, so it is possible that we can discover things about ourselves relatively late on the journey. I wish I could have reached this realisation a lot sooner, so I would have known how to maintain focus for myself. Dealing with “colleagues” who had little or no interest in practising or rehearsing for performance has been one of the major bugbears of my adult life.
Making wise choices in navigating one’s way through the denseness of the terrain is a fine art in itself. Coming from a family of artists gives the advantage of making the journey clearer than it is for those of us who have to discover everything for the first time.
But there again, the story of the tortoise and the hare does offer some comfort to self made artists. Who knows what lies around the corner?