Serenity I’m grateful that a piano can absorb ugly and form beauty. My hands sink into the weighted keys, my foot onto the pedal. It’s cold and hard to the touch but smooth and glossy. It endures my beatings and rage, a secret only we share, impossible to expose. & by the end, the weight on my chest has left me. - Sappy
I’m an artist and I’m bad at resting. I am absolutely raging terrible at taking a break. I know rest is resistance…and I’m still bad at it.
As I write this, my brain is totally blitzed out and I can feel the blood vessels in my forehead slowly squeezing into migraine mode because I’ve been on Zoom more or less constantly since early this afternoon hosting meetings for everything from Ypsi Pride’s entertainment committee to a new theatre group I’m trying to get off the ground. I’m cranky and I’m sure I’ve gone a bit nuts and I still have to write this damn blog post. I also still haven’t done the reading for tomorrow’s classes, sent out the notes for either of the meetings I’ve hosted today, or responded to my cat’s ever more mournful meows for food (side note: he’s had like two dinners already; he’s fine).
I’ve written before about how deeply embedded grind culture has become in the arts. Students are also not known for their work-life balance, so I’m arguably twice screwed over in that regard, especially as a nontraditional undergrad trying to balance an existing life, career, and the need to support myself with an elite university built for younger, wealthier students who didn’t have to commute to campus or work their way through school.
But here’s the truth: grind culture has also embedded itself in me. Even as I scream into the abyss about how the expectations placed on people by their jobs and passions alike are unhealthy, ableist, and oppressive consequences of late-stage capitalism, I still can’t even personally practice what I preach.
The sad truth about artists is that we care deeply about what we do, and that makes us all too willing to give in to unreasonable and unhealthy demands on our time and capacity. Taking a break becomes a lot harder when you genuinely want to be doing everything on your to do list. There’s a level of guilt woven into it when you can feel in your bones the importance of what you’re doing.
I know that I do not owe any project or entity institution energy beyond my capacity or the exhaustion of my body. But all too often, I still give it. And there are surely power dynamics at play, especially when we’re talking about massive, powerful institutions that hold sway over my future. But then there are the passion projects and the volunteer-run community orgs…and sometimes, taking those projects on also feels like a form of rebellion in the face of so many power structures demanding my time. Resistance itself takes up energy. And rationally, I know this is by design. My exhaustion and the struggle to keep up with the things that are important to me in addition to those that are required of me is a byproduct of some incredibly unjust and unnecessary power structures.
But still, if I’m being honest, I find it hard to let go and do nothing. Grind culture has worked its way thoroughly into my thinking, and even though I know it’s not right, I still often give into it.
So yeah, I know it’s hard, and I get why we do it. Even so, I’m still going to keep trying to get myself to leave things be and not operate at 110% all the time. If I can channel my innate stubbornness toward an extra project I frankly don’t have the time for, maybe I can also channel it to doing nothing.
In other words: I’m going to bed after I post this.
Heart to heart.
When I was younger, I used to insist that the arts were the most effective agent of change. I’ve also heard arguments to the contrary: that the arts may inspire or even change minds, but that they do not by themselves create change, and that, for some, consuming political art without engaging in other forms of activism may serve as a cop out. I don’t disagree that this is a pitfall, but I do still think that the arts play a bigger role in creating change than we often give them credit for.
The intersection between arts and activism (or, as some would call it, “artivism”) has been an interest of mine for a long time. Lately, I’ve been trying to think expansively about the various roles the arts can play in creating change. I’m still not sure that what follows is an exhaustive list, but here’s what I’ve got so far:
Challenging Narratives
We tell ourselves stories all the freaking time. We think up stories about how our day might go and build memories into narratives to understand where we’ve come from. We tell ourselves stories about how the world works and our place within it, what we’re capable of, and how we relate to other people. And the arts are particularly adept at drawing these stories into question.
If the story we tell ourselves is that everything is fine, things will most likely stay as they are. But if we tell ourselves that the ways things are is unjust, then at least some people will want change. In story B there’s at least of chance of change happening.
Maybe a book shows us how a scenario might play out differently, or a movie makes us see ourselves in different roles than those we are used to playing. Maybe there’s a plot twist or an ending we never thought was possible. Collective narratives play a massive role in how we live our lives and what changes we choose to fight for. They can either uphold power structures or call them into question. Under the right circumstances, the arts can poke holes in narratives we may take for granted and help us understand what a different story could look like.
Educating
Whether we’re talking about a play with a clear plot or a painting that captures an artist’s state of mind, the arts can teach us about people, places, times, and ideas that are new to us. Expanding our worldview can call entrenched ways of thinking and being into question and expand our view of what is possible.
Humanizing
Part of what makes a narrative compelling is empathy. We can understand another living being’s experience because we’ve felt those same needs and emotions play through our own bodies. Maybe the circumstances were different, maybe the stakes weren’t as high, but the sensations are familiar. Understanding how a given narrative can cause someone joy or pain can help us better understand the difference between right and wrong. It helps us understand justice and care and why human beings act the way they do in all their complexity.
Inspiring
I think maybe this is the part some folks get stuck on when they say that the arts do not, in and of themselves, create change. But that doesn’t diminish its importance – if we’re going to fight for something we have to believe it’s important. We have to decide it’s worth taking a risk and raising the stakes. We have to see enough beauty in the story being proposed that we decide it’s worth the cost to get there. Maybe inspiration is still a step or two away from change, but sometimes it’s what kicks our butts and into action.
Visioning
What are we moving toward? What is possible? We want something better, but what might it look like? We may be able to name what the injustices are and insist that we want them abolished, but what do we want to build in their stead? Visioning is where we figure out how we’ll actually move into a more just future. It’s where we dive deep into our creativity to think about what could be. It gives us direction and tells us where to steer a movement, and gives us a comeback when those who would preserve unjust systems ask how we can possibly do better.
Healing
Oppressive systems rely on shame. Everyone has to know that whoever is being oppressed deserves it because they’re Bad, Defective, Lazy, etc. We’ve spent our lives being told stories about all of the ways in which we’ll never measure up and how our humanness is wrong. The arts can challenge these narratives, show us how things might be different, and help us picture ourselves in a future where we exist in wholeness.
Again, this is a working list. I’d be very interested to hear if anyone feels there are points that I’ve missed. But at this moment in time, especially, this is how I’m building a narrative for how I understand my role and what I want to accomplish.
From A Poor Secret Admirer Probably I’m determined to become rich with loving memories of you and I. Unlike money, love can’t be measured, so prove you love me with a savings account of romantic adventures: Front-row seats to a symphony of your snores and whispers. A limited edition perfume of your morning breath. A proposal so sweet it’s topped off with a ring pop. A honeymoon lavishly decorated with your goofy smile. Yes, I confess I’m a gold digger. I’m greedy to live a broke life with unbroken love. If you’re okay with that, won’t you be my lover, my clearance aisle breadwinner? - Sappy
The newly-formed pals, Ringo and Dave, wish you a wonderful Palentine’s Day! Have a wonderful day with your friends and loved ones <3
