The Obsession and the Selfish Act of Making Theatre: Blog 15

Morning!

Coffee and cold fingers again! 

Arc has always been an artistic community, many have called it a family. Yesterday I was chatting to a friend about this and she said that when she came to the panto the first thing that struck her was that the team of 60 people felt like a family. She's a consultant paediatrician and she thoughtfully reflected that its not something she expects of her profession. Individual doctors work largely alone, they have case conferences and team meetings, but work and personal life stay pretty much separate. She was curious about the seemingly essential need to create a temporary family in collective artistic endeavour like putting a show together. She observed that just the hours spent doing this together by necessity creates a bond like none other and recognised that it was something particular to a shared creative process.

And she's right. From my own experience of making theatre for a long time, it takes a special kind of real family at home who can make space for this. When I am in full swing of making a piece, most everything else is eclipsed for that short time. The every day chores of living get done, but many less important things may get left until the show is over. If your loved ones have to put up with your temporary absence, your infatuation with the work you are making, its a tall order. Its like you disappear and they lose you for a period. They may even wonder if you will ever return. Living with those of us who engage with the madness of creating theatre requires a level of tolerance that is a hell of a lot to ask of them. 

But there really is not much middle ground sadly. Its everything or nothing if you want to make it the best work you have ever made. Its simply not possible to do it 9-5. Even if you are able to squeeze the creative process into 8 hours a day, its so all consuming that you don't and can't switch off. In fact its not even a question of don't and can't its that you don't want to. That's harsh.

The piece you are making is like a pregnancy, its there all the time, in your dreams and in the ordinary things you are doing. That's of course because it inhabits your soul, your heart and your imagination. Whether you are walking the dog, having a bath or eating out with friends and family, its there all the time. It obsesses you and you likely become a total bore if you do talk about it too much. And the other thing that happens in my experience is that you temporarily lose interest in other things too. This can be dreadful for your family. Mine have been amazing through the years, acknowledging that 'she is in that place, and when its done she will come back.' They support me by the little things they do. And I wouldn't have been able to dedicate myself 24/7 if that were not the case. Of course when my kids were small the demands were tougher. The homework still needed to be checked, and more than that the time needed to be there for the emotional and practical support my children needed from me. And to be there just as a family doing family things. I think I managed to do it most of the time. But I know there were casualties on the way when they may have felt that I wasn't there for them fully.

It sounds romantic, the artistic drive taking over etc; but you know its really not at all. I think for those closest to it, its easy to experience it as an act of selfishness and self-absorption. If you are absent from your family in this way, even if you are physically there, its like you have broken your deal with them. No wonder people would frown at that. Indeed if you are a woman, this is even more the case. You are veering away from the expected norms. 

Being outside expected norms isn't a comfortable place to live. You lay yourself open for all sorts of accusations, which is understandable. You are not there for the people who need you, and worse you appear to be there for those you are creating with and hardly know. Of course they will come and go. Relationships may flourish that lead to new artistic projects, but that's never a given. It may or may not happen. But for the time of the making, thats the unwritten contract. And because you are spending every waking moment (and dreaming moment) in that place, its true that you give attention to other people's well-being in the process. You have to or you won't get to the destination. And I don't mean that cynically, its just how it is. That's why I am grateful for the understanding from my own family over the years.

Most people involved in making a piece get that - indeed many talk about how their other halves or families feel excluded. However much we try to pace ourselves and be sensitive to this - its probably never enough. Its not usually that they want more of you- just some part of you to be present with them. 

This is how it has always been for me. I think its why I chose to marry another artist. When you are both in the process together and indeed sharing it with many others its wonderful. But sometimes when you are going it alone it can be bleak for your partner and worse still you may not even notice. The sensitivity thermometer can go unwittingly AWOL.

Not quite sure why this has been the focus for today's blog - maybe my chat with my friend. But also a reflection on the process from which I have just emerged and the inevitable loss of that temporary family, which was never any more or less than that. A group of different individuals who came together with a shared purpose. Once that purpose has been achieved, the bonds loosen and we all move on. Yes its sad, but its making theatre. We still talk, communicate, reminisce a little, but lives go on and new things take over. Its normal and healthy.

Curiously too, within a few weeks of letting go its easier to be objective. To see it for what it is. When I am making new work, I have to believe it to be the best thing I have ever done, a full expression and realisation of an idea or an image. I have to fall in love with it, or I would never keep up with it!  But then as it passes you see that it was simply what it was, another flawed piece of work with magical moments. It is never perfect. It can't be. Its not the best thing you will ever make. You fall out of love with it in a way, still respect it hugely, but put it away. And then you move your gaze away and onto the next idea or piece that captures your heart and soul, and the cycle begins again. In the interim, things return to normal and its more possible to live a 9-5 day again. In fact you need to, to restore your equilibrium.

This is how it is for me, and I can't speak for others but in my experience I suspect it is too. We are not easy to live with! 

Have a lovely Sunday.