My favorite memory of physical theatre school is when, during tech week, amid regular 13-hour days, one of the profs wanted us to work through lunch. I rebelled, and of course I was viewed as the difficult one. Guess who probably wouldn’t hire me out in the wild?
In case it wasn’t clear, I’m being sarcastic. This isn’t my favorite memory.
But it is common. The reality of trying to make art in a late-stage capitalist, colonized society is that a lot of artists, even professional ones, are forced to work a fulltime day job while making art on the side. We burn the candle at both ends, and our teachers and directors perpetuate the status quo. This is, in large part, because poor funding and misplaced social values prevent artists from being paid fairly for their work, and while it’s worth advocating to fix that, it’s not going to happen overnight.
Grind culture is deeply embedded in the arts. In contrast to the narrative that doing what we love will ensure we never really work a day in our lives, we often find our passions reduced to nothing BUT work. Joy comes second if it shows up at all.
Many of the arts have ritualistic, spiritual roots. Creative community practices are meant to be owned by everybody and to have innate value outside of their money-making potential. But in 21st century America, that’s not how it works.
When was the last time you turned on some music and moved aimlessly all alone? When did you write something no one would ever see? When did you let yourself create, even if it wasn’t perfect, whatever the hell you wanted, just for yourself?
Sometimes, rest is resistance and stillness is power.
How can we reconnect with our work as a source of personal power? How can we find the ways it can recharge us, rather than just how much work it will take to “make it?” Can we play, explore, and create just for us, without needing someone else to buy it?
Capacity is a real issue here. When we’re constantly grinding to make a living, whether in the arts or otherwise, it can be hard to find time for practices like this.
But here, in the dead of winter while everything sleeps, with potentially some really dark times on the horizon where our creative work may be needed more than ever, can we resist by reclaiming our time?
