Category Archives: Thoughtful

Clarity, of a professional persuasion

I had a conversation a few weeks ago with a pal, and it made me realize that I should maybe clarify a few points about this little project of mine.

This space is, at its best, meant to be a place to share encouragement and tales of career-shifting for folks who started out their careers intending to pursue the arts.

There are lots of people who persevered in following their dream, and have attained that initial goal – I am continually in awe of those folks. (The aforementioned pal is a model of quiet focus and creativity, and has built a significant career on the strength of her artistic talents. She’s the bomb.)

I didn’t have that kind of clarity as a student. I wanted to be a Jack-of-all-Trades (but highly successful at everything I tried, naturally…ah, youth.), and college made me aware of a multitude of different goals rather than focusing my attention on a single goal.

But to all of you, my pals and acquaintances who are making lives as performers and art-makers, we’re proud of you – I’M proud of you. Your success in this crazy field, in this even-crazier economy is really something to crow about. And I know that many of you have been asked to talk about the how-to of your careers with students at the outsets of theirs – “How did you get from point A to point B? How much did you have to practice? How long did it take to get your first break? Is it all luck? Should I throw in the towel before I start?”

It was difficult for me to find people to whom I could ask those questions, mostly because it took me a while to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up (Honestly, I’m still not 100% sure; but I’m pretty durn happy where I am.), and because I knew that I wasn’t going to be a performer long before I acknowledged it publicly.

So, through examining other folks’ winding career paths, I am hoping to acknowledge two things:

  1. That, even though I’m not performing, I consider myself a successful adult. It took me a while to figure it out, but I’m better for doing it, and ultimately happy.
  2. That my arts training – 80% of it – I still use, in various ways, every day. Organization, collaborative skills, public speaking…and in my case, a lot of the musical skills/knowledge, too.

The point is to reframe how those of us who are not primarily performing/art making define success, how we keep our hand in, and to celebrate the haphazard paths that make our lives richer for the detours.

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Many happy returns

The Opera America conference was a whirlwind of faces and topics and information that was, quite frankly, a lot to digest. I’m still processing most of it, I have to admit. But spending several days talking about Creative Resurgence and the ways in which people and industries reinvent themselves has my mental hamster on the ol’ exercise wheel in a significant way.

The model for opera in the US is changing – not many would dispute that. Companies are folding, chamber opera is being championed (a lovely thing for my own venue) to an extraordinary degree, and there’s a serious push towards adding to the American operatic canon…all these are part of the changing landscape. But I’d argue that there’s a huge swath of singers that are struggling with these changes…there’s a group of fantastically talenter singers who aren’t young artists, but who also aren’t Terfel or DiDonato or one of the handful of singers with name recognition, who are being squeezed out by economics. (In a related comic turn, a baritone for whom I have a great deal of respect and adoration – and who falls squarely in the Working category –  has a black biography on his website…in beautiful marketing-speak, and in his case belying his significant career.)

The big take-away that I find from many of these discussions is that our educational institutions must find a way (and I realize, budgets and time hardly allow for the learning as it currently stands) to not only help students discern their skills outside of vocalism but also help them figure out how they might leverage said skills into careers…onstage or off. As the field becomes more entrepreneurial, so must both the artists and the institutions that train them.

Specific reflections on the conference coming soon, as well as thoughts on the role of higher education in the process… this topic warrants many (happy) returns.

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Celebrate the Mess!

I am such a fan of people’s stories.

A huge fan. And not just of the final product, but of the whole ongoing process: the passion, the struggles, the discernment, the adventure of a new path, the satisfaction of recommitting to a routine or activity that brings comfort. But I’m finding that folks often apologize for the process…for leaving their original passion, for floundering before finding the new avenue.

Quite frankly? Those messy moments are so very telling. I am also a HUGE fan of those creative messes.

I remember being called into a meeting at my HVAC job, where my bosses quite generously offered me an opportunity to advance to their sales team. I had no real knowledge of the business, had a limited background in the science and technology behind the product, and while I enjoyed the office and the challenge of educating myself about widgets and airflow and humidity (and also learning to RTFM) I was pretty sure that I didn’t belong there. But I really didn’t know what I wanted to do…so I stammered my way out of the meeting, letting them know how flattered I was to be considered. I slept on it, and shortly thereafter tendered my resignation to finish my teaching certificate.

It was a messy situation, a snap decision, but ultimately it was the right thing.

Do I regret my widget days? Not at all – I learned how to function in a linear, masculine office, figure things out on my own before asking (and to also not be ashamed when I needed to ask), and speak my mind plainly and clearly. But I also didn’t realize that my (wholly unformed)dreams didn’t jive with my circumstance until my bosses showed a willingness to invest in me.  It was a catalyst, a get-off-your-butt-and-make-a-choice moment.

I’ve referenced Danielle LaPorte before, but this posting is a theme that I think bears repeating:

You don’t need to burn the dock to push off your boat.

You don’t need to dis’ how you’ve done things in order to do things differently.

There’s no need to criticize the past to validate the future.

But we do.

She goes on to say that honoring the path that got us to -or even past – the messy part is a vital part of our own story. And I would heartily agree.

Celebrate the mess, my friends!

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Being Awesome.

How can anyone ignore a presentation titled “Stop Sucking and Be Awesome Instead”?

Yeah, I don’t know, either. This presentation is for the code-conversant among us, but there are so many great points raised that the discipline is less relevant than the message.

1. Embrace the suck.
2. Do it in public.
3. Pick stuff that matters.

You are never too young/old to admit that there are things that don’t come easy to you…I can think of several that pertain to me just off the top of my head (anxious; highly distract-able; subject to verbal diarrhea; all come to mind), and the folks who work with me likely have a whole other list of ways in which I should Get My Act Together.

I get it. I’m not, and may never be, a finished product. And that’s ok. I strive to be open about my shortcomings… I don’t have a carefully crafted public persona… and I choose to spend my time helping folks and an art form that, frankly, I feel honored to support.

(I subscribe to the maxims above, obviously.)

But I think it’s telling that, in her May 2012 address to the Harvard Business School, Sheryl Sandberg (Facebook’s COO) talks about knowing – and addressing – those things that she struggles with:

One trick I’ve discovered is that I try to speak really openly about the things I’m bad at, because that gives people permission to agree with me, which is a lot easier than pointing it out in the first place. To take one of many possible examples, when things are unresolved I can get a tad anxious. Really, when anything’s unresolved, I get anxious. I’m quite certain no one has accused me of being too calm. So I speak about it openly and that gives people permission to tell me when it’s happening. But if I never said anything, would anyone who works at Facebook walk up to me and say, “Hey Sheryl, calm down. You’re driving us all nuts!” I don’t think so.

Transparency… Self-knowledge… Broaching the tough subject… the elephant in the room… These are all things that we deal with as artists on a daily, consistent basis.

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Contrasts

One of the great things about school in the arts is that, at an amazingly impressionable and optimistic age, we’re suddenly surrounded with people interested in the same things were are – but who often have wildly different backgrounds and preferences. Conversations can traverse light years, bouncing from pop culture to Nietzsche to a musical theater melody to dreams to memories to expectations in mere minutes. We’re consuming information and putting it together almost as nimbly as we did as small children…navigating the way our worlds worked, learning how to communicate. And the more disparate influences we have? The more interesting our projects become.

I find myself nowadays using that interest in a million things to multitask just to get the mundane things completed. Work, laundry, feeding myself and my family and making sure All Of The Things get done. Creative? Only in the ways I save a few pennies or streamline my errand running or trips up the stairs. (Yawn. I might’ve just bored myself to sleep.) So I’m drawn to this graphic note by Nick Cave.

I started googling the names I didn’t know (and I’ll be honest, I have many many more to go) and wondering whether the smudges were made by condensation from a glass? Tears seem too sentimental, but maybe?

I’ll be honest, I thought that I was going to contrast this idea with this OpEd piece in the Times written by David Byrne’s daughter Malu, a glass sculptor (!) and jewelry maker. She writes about needing to leave the city to really access her creativity. And I thought here! Here is an example of conflicting advice! The constant barrage of cross-pollination versus quiet inspiration. Genius!

But that wasn’t so much the focus of her writing.

She says that in the city there are too many distractions; the amount of non-creative work needed to sustain an artistic lifestyle; the cramped spaces; and the constant stimulus allow for very little time for reflection or incorporation. She is seeking out a new area from which to create, to find her individual voice.

So, she’s not running away from the connections, but is running to find a space in which to process them…in which she can actually create.

A crowded page. A bucolic landscape. Why not both?

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On smugness, searching, and self-reliance.

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There’s a lot of advice about following your dreams and loving what you do.

I think it mostly comes from an empowering place…spending 40+hours something you enjoy can only enrich your life, your relationships, right? For those of us who have lucked into/sacrificed for/found one of those jobs, it seems pretty smug to preach about the importance of adoring your professional life. I mean, who wants to spend their workweek doing something that they hate? Um, nobody. Even if the perks or money are compelling for a while, sooner or later an exit strategy is developed, a parachute is crafted, and a departure is engineered.

However, doing that thing that we love can come with some serious baggage in the form of financial hardship. Student loans, a rough (to be generous) job market…if you’re in the arts, you’ll also factor in the cost of living, which will likely be on the high side since metropolitan areas are usually the places where culture thrives. (Not always, for sure…and there’s something wonderful to be said for those communities who embrace art-makers as an integral part of their fabric.)

So, how to reconcile following the career that makes your heart sing while also being able to live? And really, to live, not just survive?

Million-dollar question, that.

I came across this quote:

…The first step is creating a foundation of self-reliance: a survival dance of integrity that allows you to be in the world in a good way—a way that is psychologically sustaining, economically adequate, socially responsible, and environmentally sound.

I think it’s absolutely true that you cannot make your best art, or your best effort, when you’re not feeling safe. There’s a reason that the trappings of security are the foundation of Maslow’s pyramid: if our basic needs aren’t met, we can’t function strongly in society…we can’t contribute creatively if we can’t feed ourselves!

But, and here’s the bigger question: Do we dive in and hope for the best? (We are artists, after all…there’s a certain amount of grace for those who make beauty for a living, I think.) Do we defer the dream for security? How do we find a balance, find that self-reliance?

There are some great stories on this site of folks who have found that balance…and they’ve done it in as many different ways as there are people profiled. If you have a similar story, I’d love to hear it- you can find me in the comments here, or at indirectroutes@gmail.com.

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Career Scaffolding

Rather than posting a personal profile this week, I’d like to direct you towards a post on Creative Infrastructure by Linda Essig, the director of ASU’s Arts Entrepreneurship Program.

(Side note – Arts Entrepreneurship? How awesome is that? While the 17-year-old-Me might’ve been all about performing, the [mumblemumble]-something Me is totally entranced by this program of study.)

She writes, in reference to a chance meeting with an arts worker in a metropolitan sushi bar:

The story of J is a good example of a person who uses his talents, skill and training in the arts to build a career, albeit not one he would have envisioned as an art student. Students enter study in the arts with many dreams and aspirations. […] If J had kept his head down, looking only toward the world of studios and gallery shows, he might not have seen the opportunities that have led to what became an enjoyable and sustainable career.

I can vouch for the undergraduate nearsightedness, and also for the value in keeping one’s eyes open to opportunities. If we think about our undergraduate (and, in some cases, advanced studies) as the scaffolding upon which we build a career, rather than the than the gun barrel through which we cast our aspirations, it free us up to look in any number of directions. Sometimes the straightest, most direct route is simply the easiest route, and not the best. Maybe we should co-opt Lysander’s words of wisdom for this little corner of the internet:

The course of true love ne’er did run smooth.

Amen…whether in love, or relationships or vocation or avocation…sometimes those crunchy places are trying to catch our attention. Listen. Look around, lean into those bumpy, rocky spaces.

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The Prestige Pitfall

It’s funny – I had the opportunity to sing last week for a retirement concert for a mentor. It was a tune I knew, with several colleagues whose company I enjoy, to celebrate a teacher who has made a large impact on my career.

And I politely declined.

I have two degrees in vocal performance. As a student, I loved the study and the collaboration, but what I really wanted was the applause, the fancy costumes, the name on the poster, the roses after the show. The singing was, sadly, secondary to all of the other noise surrounding the act of performing.

Now, I sing all the time. (Ask the manicurist who called me out yesterday for humming along with Shania Twain.) But I don’t sing “for real” anymore…and that’s a very good thing. Singing for other people made me feel insecure in a fundamental way, and in a pervasive manner that was unlike anything else…most likely because it wasn’t what I really wanted to do, but it was the only way in which I could figure out how to be close to the performers and the performances, both of which I enjoyed. And I enjoyed being the center of attention…but more for saying something witty or profound, rather than making a beautiful noise.

I’m happy speaking in front of a crowd, especially when the words are my own. I had the opportunity to address several thousand folks last summer, and several hundred for this retirement concert last week…and found both experiences totally enjoyable. But singing? It’s off the table…happily so, in my particular case.

There are articles upon articles that proclaim that the key to success is Doing What You Love. No dispute, there. But I personally had a difficult time distilling those things that I loved into a career.

Paul Graham wrote a great article called “How To Do What You Love.” And let me tell you, I wish that I had read (and internalized) this in high school. Among one of the personally salient points he makes? (Besides the truth that work should be mostly something that you enjoy?) Is that doing something for prestige (say, for the sound of cacophonous applause after your big aria, or for a sterling review) is in fact doing it for all the wrong reasons.

Prestige is the opinion of the rest of the world. When you can ask the opinions of people whose judgement you respect, what does it add to consider the opinions of people you don’t even know? [4]

This is easy advice to give. It’s hard to follow, especially when you’re young. [5] Prestige is like a powerful magnet that warps even your beliefs about what you enjoy. It causes you to work not on what you like, but what you’d like to like. (emphasis added by the editor)

That’s what leads people to try to write novels, for example. They like reading novels. They notice that people who write them win Nobel prizes. What could be more wonderful, they think, than to be a novelist? But liking the idea of being a novelist is not enough; you have to like the actual work of novel-writing if you’re going to be good at it; you have to like making up elaborate lies.

Prestige is just fossilized inspiration. If you do anything well enough, you’ll make it prestigious. Plenty of things we now consider prestigious were anything but at first. Jazz comes to mind—though almost any established art form would do. So just do what you like, and let prestige take care of itself.

Brilliant, right? And an infinitely more sustainable approach than trying to enjoy something that fundamentally doesn’t appeal to you.

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Daydreaming

I’ve been searching for and, happily, finding great resources for creatives looking for their next step. There are so many interesting articles and points of view! But at this point it feels a little like my head is a very vast space (I’m stuck on the image of a train station…Union Station in DC, or perhaps Philly’s 30th Street Station…something with lots of marble), filled with many people…there are fragments of ideas bouncing off of the walls, careening into other thoughts, dashing some into pieces and integrating others into a larger, more complex idea. It’s part rock concert, part flea market, part art exhibition, part carnival.

Here are some contributors to my mental cacophony:

I’ve been reading her blog for a while now, but I’ve just picked up Danielle LaPorte’s book, The Fire Starter Sessions.

And I’ve been spending time reading the Communicatrix, who has coincidentally just reviewed Chris Guillebeau‘s (you read him, right?) new book The $100 Startup.

These folks are smart and courageous. They write like they’re speaking to a friend. Some of it’s inspiration…some is tough love…and some are case studies, examples of how others have opted into or out of places and spaces.I have to say that there’s never been a better time to rethink yourself, your path. These are brave, eloquent people who have found unconventional success…and moreover, have defined that loaded word “success” in their own way. I like to think of having one of them on my shoulder, to provide perspective when my inner demons are telling me that I’m not good/smart/kind/industrious enough to amount to much.

But the first thing that I’m seeing in all of these folk’s philosophies? Is that they daydream. They practice cultivating those crazy, out-of-the-box thoughts…much like we practiced auditioning. Daily. Specifically. Focused. They allow themselves to daydream, without a censor telling them that they can’t, shouldn’t, will-never-be-able-to.

They’ve allowed themselves to think about those things that they want…without putting the onus of merit on their dreams. Let’s remove from the equation for just a moment whether you feel you deserve something, or all of the things, or nothing at all. And let’s just go with the thought that someone thinks that you deserve to dream.

(Heck, I think you deserve to dream! Add one person to your mental cheerleader list.)

Now, from that empty place? Dream.

What do you want? How do you want to feel? No judgements. Nothing is too vast or too shallow – it’s dreaming.

I want the metabolism of a 20-year-old; I also want the wisdom and smarts of someone older and wiser and smarter than I. I want respect. I want inner peace. I want to be able to hold my liquor. I want people to love being around me. I want to be on Oprah someday. I want to write a book. I want children. I want to give my friends and family stories and songs to remember me by. I want to stand up for myself more often. I want a big-girl purse. I want to be able to shave my knees and ankles without bloodying them. I want to write letters in longhand. I want to be more creative.

(There’s my top-of-my-head, all of the things I can type in two minutes, daydream list. I could go on. I bet you could too.)

My challenge to you is to take 5 minutes, create a google doc or grab a notebook or send yourself a voicemail. And daydream about the things you want. Do it every day for 7 days. Think of it as getting yourself into the practice room…for your next chapter.

Let’s check back in here next week and see what we come up with…shall we?

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Advice?

I’m always asking for advice.

Asking people what’s worked for them, what hasn’t, what their recommendations are is a big part of the ways I gather information. Sure, I filter that info through my own circumstances and personality, and keep those things that ring true…but it’s the gathering, the listening that helps me to inform my choices. It’s one of the parts of the Profile Phriday posts that I enjoy the most…hearing firsthand what has worked for people, and what their suggestions are.

LPC over at Privilege writes about her top requirements for doing a good job here. Her first and last are things that I don’t think about very much…closing. When I was selling pianos (for that fateful, ramen-noodle-nourished year), that was my mantra. Close. The. Deal.

(I was a horrible salesperson.)

But it occurs to me that, even in the arts non-profit world, that I could stand to close a little more often. Not because I’m selling anything (although I am, constantly, when talking to people outside my colleague circle), but because I’m keeping the end goal in my front brain.

What are the small steps you take to do your best?