On Irony & Asshattery
There is an irony to trying to formulate. There is an irony to research in and of itself, at times, when it attempts to make formulaic and concrete that which cannot be and isn’t — and shouldn’t be. It can feel especially ironic when the outcome of the research is to say that the object of the research should not be reduced into a formula, a set of norms. And then, of course, it is accompanied by a list of norms.
I would like to resist this. I would like to resist this feeling that I must formulate, formularise, formalise.
I sometimes feel like I have gone through this whole process and come around to something that is about very basic ethics. Really. Of course there are all the strategies and the tactics that are needed to make a performance accessible and comfortable and, well, good for the audience that comes to see and the performers that make it and the tech teams and buildings that support it. But these are details, aren’t they? And of course in the resistance to formularising them, to keeping them out of the lever-arch file on the dusty dusty shelf, it must be said that each of us must develop those strategies and tactics that work for us. Of course we must not reinvent the wheel (unless the wheel isn’t rolling), and of course we stand on the shoulders of giants (though sometimes those giants are wrong about almost everything).
Isn’t this mostly about kindness?
Isn’t this mostly about working in ways where we listen to one another first and realise that listening to one another first is the most important thing?
Isn’t this about priorities?
There is a truth I like to state and people who have talked to me about the way we work, Chris and I, will have heard me say it but I’m not going to let that stop me as I think it is something that bears repeating over and over again. It goes something like this:
If the artwork is the priority in an artmaking process, eventually you will meet a situation where you treat someone badly in order to prioritise the artwork.
Everything for the art. The art is all that matters. At the end of the day, we are here to make excellent art.
We hear this (and maybe say it) all the time. And we lionise it. Wow, we say, what an artist, what dedication! That’s how you make great art.
Sacrifice. That old notion.
But whose?
When you look at this situation, the flaw is easy to see. It may not happen at all during the whole process, it may happen once, it may happen many, many times. But within the working practices of an artist viewed as a whole, it is inevitable. And every time someone steps into the making space with that artist, they are vulnerable — both of them.
It might go something like this:
A — To make the artwork excellent, we need to do this.
B — But we should not do this for these reasons …
A — But to make the artwork excellent, we need to do this.
Or perhaps like this:
A — To make the artwork excellent, I need you to do this.
B — I do not feel I should do this.
A — But to make the artwork excellent, I need you to do this.
Or:
B — I’ve been thinking about this, and I don’t know if I feel 100 % good about it …
A — Oh. Oh, of course, yes. Hmm. Well, this is a really important part of the artwork and is really the thing that makes it excellent, but, yeah I hear you.
B — OK, so …
A — Let me think. It’s fine. OK, this, this. Well it’s just always been at the very core of what we’re doing in the room, so … But yeah. OK, how about this. How about you give it a go and we see how we feel about it after? We can come together in a circle and talk about it and see what we all think? As a team?
More likely, like this:
A — So I’ve had this crazy idea. This. It will make the artwork excellent. I wasn’t sure if it was a reasonable ask, but I know you’ll tell me if you aren’t comfortable with it, and of course that will be fine even though it means we will be making a second-rate artwork and it will be down to the fact that you aren’t willing to prioritise our collective excellence over your own comfort but hey that’s OK because I’m all for self care.
B — …
Jeez, I realise I could channel these HIDEOUS PEOPLE for the rest of the day. Which could be a good thing given that I’m exploring autistic longform, but perhaps you get the message already.
Interesting how I’m feeling anger rising here.
This research isn’t really research. Is it. It’s about trying to find a way to stay alive and healthy within the structures that persuade us that that isn’t really all that important, in the grand scheme of things, is it now.
Is it ever ethical to ask someone to do something they don’t want to do?
I THINK THIS IS A REALLY IMPORTANT ETHICAL QUESTION.
Access in the workplace can only be guaranteed when we listen to everyone we work with and when we try then to treat them kindly according to what they need, and then making sure that that kindness doesn’t get overprioritised by anything at all like:
There are always two ways of looking at things according to the two ways of looking at things I am about to outline below:
A: team is a group of people and the composition of the team, i.e. the people who make it up define the needs of the team as the cumulative needs of the team.
B: A team preexists as a meta-object that has its own needs (defined by ME because it’s MY TEAM because I KNOW BEST) and those who are happen to be a part of the team for a while basically have to fit even though we’re going to be making some mitigations, probably passively aggressively punished.
A: A performance is the sum of what was achieved in the workroom by the team according to the plan.
B: A performance preexists as a meta-object that has its own needs (defined by ME because it’s MY PERFORMANCE and I KNOW BEST though I will pretend I am actually being possessed by a HOLY MUSE) and we have to bow before the altar of artistic perfection or the world will crack asunder and we will all DIE.
See what I mean?
Oh, and don’t be nice be kind.
Don’t make adjustments. Don’t do your best to accommodate. Don’t be flexible.
IT IS DANGEROUS TO MAKE A WORKSPACE ACCESSIBLE.
Isn’t that great? Don’t we all go into the rehearsal room with the intention of taking artistic risks?
Bullshit.
Usually we go into the rehearsal room with the anxious desire to please the funder and the audience and our own ego and make sure people say nice things about us and to make sure that this work we are about to make is better than allllll the other things that alllll our other friends are making and if it goes wrong I will throw up on myself in the middle of the night oh god the pressure I cannot sleep I have not slept but this is it, isn’t it? Rock and roll. The life on stage oh what a stage-pig I am look I can barely see through my stress but isn’t this ART?
The above will make you behave like an asshole.
Asshole. Asshat. Asshattery. Asshatterinesses a-go-go.
Maybe if it never works out that way, maybe you are trying to do too much. Maybe if there is always mess, somehow, however hard you try, maybe you are in need of a smaller place and fewer people to be messy with? Maybe you aren’t actually able to handle the scale of the work you are wanting to make? Maybe it should be smaller and kinder and littler and gentler and maybe you should not feel sick for two weeks after premiere because you are rinsed to death with all the anxiety and the stressssss.
Maybe, you know, maybe when you are backstage just before curtain up and nothing is right and everyone hates you and you’ve probably lost friends but you can maybe fix that later and you haven’t slept for a week and your apartment looks like a raccoon invasion happened maybe it ISN’T WORTH IT.
Maybe.
Even if the artwork was excellent.
Maybe it wasn’t worth it.
You gotta break eggs to make an omellette.
You gotta cut down trees to make a TESLA. But maybe a tree is worth more than a TESLA.
Who knew I was so angry about all this?
I would like to resist this. I would like to resist this feeling that I must formulate, formularise, formalise.
I sometimes feel like I have gone through this whole process and come around to something that is about very basic ethics. Really. Of course there are all the strategies and the tactics that are needed to make a performance accessible and comfortable and, well, good for the audience that comes to see and the performers that make it and the tech teams and buildings that support it. But these are details, aren’t they? And of course in the resistance to formularising them, to keeping them out of the lever-arch file on the dusty dusty shelf, it must be said that each of us must develop those strategies and tactics that work for us. Of course we must not reinvent the wheel (unless the wheel isn’t rolling), and of course we stand on the shoulders of giants (though sometimes those giants are wrong about almost everything).
Isn’t this mostly about kindness?
Isn’t this mostly about working in ways where we listen to one another first and realise that listening to one another first is the most important thing?
Isn’t this about priorities?
There is a truth I like to state and people who have talked to me about the way we work, Chris and I, will have heard me say it but I’m not going to let that stop me as I think it is something that bears repeating over and over again. It goes something like this:
If the artwork is the priority in an artmaking process, eventually you will meet a situation where you treat someone badly in order to prioritise the artwork.
Everything for the art. The art is all that matters. At the end of the day, we are here to make excellent art.
We hear this (and maybe say it) all the time. And we lionise it. Wow, we say, what an artist, what dedication! That’s how you make great art.
Sacrifice. That old notion.
But whose?
When you look at this situation, the flaw is easy to see. It may not happen at all during the whole process, it may happen once, it may happen many, many times. But within the working practices of an artist viewed as a whole, it is inevitable. And every time someone steps into the making space with that artist, they are vulnerable — both of them.
It might go something like this:
A — To make the artwork excellent, we need to do this.
B — But we should not do this for these reasons …
A — But to make the artwork excellent, we need to do this.
Or perhaps like this:
A — To make the artwork excellent, I need you to do this.
B — I do not feel I should do this.
A — But to make the artwork excellent, I need you to do this.
Or:
B — I’ve been thinking about this, and I don’t know if I feel 100 % good about it …
A — Oh. Oh, of course, yes. Hmm. Well, this is a really important part of the artwork and is really the thing that makes it excellent, but, yeah I hear you.
B — OK, so …
A — Let me think. It’s fine. OK, this, this. Well it’s just always been at the very core of what we’re doing in the room, so … But yeah. OK, how about this. How about you give it a go and we see how we feel about it after? We can come together in a circle and talk about it and see what we all think? As a team?
More likely, like this:
A — So I’ve had this crazy idea. This. It will make the artwork excellent. I wasn’t sure if it was a reasonable ask, but I know you’ll tell me if you aren’t comfortable with it, and of course that will be fine even though it means we will be making a second-rate artwork and it will be down to the fact that you aren’t willing to prioritise our collective excellence over your own comfort but hey that’s OK because I’m all for self care.
B — …
Jeez, I realise I could channel these HIDEOUS PEOPLE for the rest of the day. Which could be a good thing given that I’m exploring autistic longform, but perhaps you get the message already.
- Cajoling.
- Coercing.
- Persuading.
- Situating so it’s easy to say ‘yes’ and hard to say ‘no’.
- Being disappointed.
- Being reasonable.
- Finding a compromise.
- Meeting halfway.
- Looking for a solution that ‘works for everyone’.
- Making a request while being more powerful.
- Asking for feedback.
Interesting how I’m feeling anger rising here.
This research isn’t really research. Is it. It’s about trying to find a way to stay alive and healthy within the structures that persuade us that that isn’t really all that important, in the grand scheme of things, is it now.
Is it ever ethical to ask someone to do something they don’t want to do?
I THINK THIS IS A REALLY IMPORTANT ETHICAL QUESTION.
Access in the workplace can only be guaranteed when we listen to everyone we work with and when we try then to treat them kindly according to what they need, and then making sure that that kindness doesn’t get overprioritised by anything at all like:
- A timeframe
- A plan
- Impatience
- The needs of the artwork
- Time being money
- Money being god
- The customer being always right
- A good name for ourselves
- Fear of looking like a fool on stage
- And all that jazz
There are always two ways of looking at things according to the two ways of looking at things I am about to outline below:
A: team is a group of people and the composition of the team, i.e. the people who make it up define the needs of the team as the cumulative needs of the team.
B: A team preexists as a meta-object that has its own needs (defined by ME because it’s MY TEAM because I KNOW BEST) and those who are happen to be a part of the team for a while basically have to fit even though we’re going to be making some mitigations, probably passively aggressively punished.
A: A performance is the sum of what was achieved in the workroom by the team according to the plan.
B: A performance preexists as a meta-object that has its own needs (defined by ME because it’s MY PERFORMANCE and I KNOW BEST though I will pretend I am actually being possessed by a HOLY MUSE) and we have to bow before the altar of artistic perfection or the world will crack asunder and we will all DIE.
See what I mean?
Oh, and don’t be nice be kind.
Don’t make adjustments. Don’t do your best to accommodate. Don’t be flexible.
IT IS DANGEROUS TO MAKE A WORKSPACE ACCESSIBLE.
Isn’t that great? Don’t we all go into the rehearsal room with the intention of taking artistic risks?
Bullshit.
Usually we go into the rehearsal room with the anxious desire to please the funder and the audience and our own ego and make sure people say nice things about us and to make sure that this work we are about to make is better than allllll the other things that alllll our other friends are making and if it goes wrong I will throw up on myself in the middle of the night oh god the pressure I cannot sleep I have not slept but this is it, isn’t it? Rock and roll. The life on stage oh what a stage-pig I am look I can barely see through my stress but isn’t this ART?
The above will make you behave like an asshole.
Asshole. Asshat. Asshattery. Asshatterinesses a-go-go.
Maybe if it never works out that way, maybe you are trying to do too much. Maybe if there is always mess, somehow, however hard you try, maybe you are in need of a smaller place and fewer people to be messy with? Maybe you aren’t actually able to handle the scale of the work you are wanting to make? Maybe it should be smaller and kinder and littler and gentler and maybe you should not feel sick for two weeks after premiere because you are rinsed to death with all the anxiety and the stressssss.
Maybe, you know, maybe when you are backstage just before curtain up and nothing is right and everyone hates you and you’ve probably lost friends but you can maybe fix that later and you haven’t slept for a week and your apartment looks like a raccoon invasion happened maybe it ISN’T WORTH IT.
Maybe.
Even if the artwork was excellent.
Maybe it wasn’t worth it.
You gotta break eggs to make an omellette.
You gotta cut down trees to make a TESLA. But maybe a tree is worth more than a TESLA.
Who knew I was so angry about all this?