The Artists' Meeting

(Written April 10, 2011.)

I was looking for a quote just now but can’t find it online. It’s probably an apocryphal story anyway. Supposedly someone asked Greta Garbo why she had chosen a life on the stage and she answered, “Because I got tired of sitting in the audience.” (Maybe it was Mae West. Or Marlene Dietrich. But you get the point.) There is something about artists that makes them want to be the focus of attention. I used to think this was only true of performing artists, but I’m discovering it’s just as true of painters and sculptors. I am coming more and more to believe that this is a product of our insecurity more than anything else. This is no great revelation: I am hardly the first person to note this. No matter what any artist says, s/he needs that audience approval, or at least an audience reaction. Some artists seem to thrive on provoking their public, but that’s really just the flip side of the same drive. Ask any classroom teacher and they will tell you: students who are unable to get positive attention would rather have negative attention than none at all. Even an angry audience is confirmation for us that we exist, and that our existence matters. Indifference can crush one’s soul.

I’ve also discovered that this need transfers to other life situations, with sometimes disastrous results. Having spent many hours in meetings with artists and arts educators, it seems that we, as a community, are at times crippled by an inability to remain dispassionate. I will freely confess that I find this occasionally amusing. Watching the color rise in the face of la prima donna or listening as maestro’s words crescendo and become increasingly nonsensical has a comic effect – if you are not the target of her or his ire. More often than not, however, the final result is a lack of any real progress.

For you artists and arts educators who are not frequenters of meetings, let me give you a bit of a guide for the neophyte.

First, you must learn proper protocol when speaking. It is incumbent upon you, the artist, to give everyone in attendance as much of your résumé as possible. Before addressing the matter at hand, preface your remarks by indicating famous venues where you have performed or noted pedagogues with whom you have studied. If you lack these credentials, speak in vague terms. Tell everyone you have performed “in France” if your high school choir once sang at Euro-Disney. If no one has heard of the college you attended, simply feign disbelief at their intolerable ignorance.

Your tone and demeanor deserve much attention as well. They are many possibilities, so I will mention just a few.

Theatre is always appreciated, so if you have a flair for the dramatic, it certainly helps. Try speaking with just a hint of an accent (a faint Irish brogue is charming). Or maybe use archaic words, such as “Avaunt” or “Betimes.” Gesticulate wildly if you cannot think of a quick retort. And project! Even if you are addressing a board meeting of a dozen individuals, speak as if you are center stage at the Met.

Another option is to play the indignant formalist. Ask for clarifications about parliamentary procedure as much as possible. If you don’t like what someone is saying, simply shout, “Point of order!” No one really knows what this means and they will think you are really smart. Make certain you always know when you have the floor and never yield.

If neither of these fit you, try being the free-spirited hippie. Others will be impressed at how artistic you are by your memorable fashion faux pas and the distinctive scent of patchouli that lingers long after you have exited the room. Being so artistic and “right-brained” frees you from the burden of providing reason and judgment to support your opinions. You also may feel free to attack others with impunity, since they know that you value peace and love.

Next, remember that an artist never compromises. If you’re newly-commissioned performance piece involves defecating on stage and someone suggests that this may not be appropriate for the audience of elementary school students who will be in attendance, this is censorship. If your ensemble is asked to shorten their piece by two minutes in order to accommodate the other 15 performers on the concert, this will certainly compromise the artistic integrity of the work.

Speaking of which, it is imperative that you learn the correct vocabulary when addressing a meeting of artists. You must always speak of “the work” or “the craft.” You may use terms of art, especially if they are non-English words, but this only works well if addressing someone outside your own discipline. If you are musician addressing a group of visual artists, for example, pepper your remarks with words like “virtuosi” or “divertimento.” Refer to any project you are working on as your “opus.” Actors and dancers can likewise confuse musicians by mentioning the “proscenium” or “gels.” (Little known fact: though musicians spend much of their professional lives onstage, none of them know any of the jargon associated with those folks in black t-shirts.) If you’re speaking to someone who has no professional experience with the arts, it helps to mention the “fourth wall” a lot.

I know: physician, heal thyself. I see myself in too many of my own comments, but that’s the point. If we are to move “the work” forward, we have to start working together. Not only that, but I’m beginning to worry about my own mental health. A life of passion is one I highly recommend. Yet it is easy to see the arch of the artist’s life spanning from “angry young man” to “bitter old man.” It may be that being an artist necessitates a hyper-sensitivity to our culture and to societal ills. I just hope we can maybe be a little more civil when talking to each other.