I had the rare pleasure of attending two conferences back to back over a 4-day period this past weekend. One was the American Composers Forum's Choral Connections conference in Minneapolis, populated (as one might expect) largely by composers. The other was City Wrights, a conference of playwrights put together by City Theatre in Miami. Both were roughly the same size and both were well put together and full of informative sesssions and panels and--most encouragingly--full of talented artists dedicated to furthering their careers and honing their skills as artist entrepreneurs. Let's face it. If you live in the United States, you pretty much have no choice about the question of whether to acquire some business savvy. It's sink of swim in the U.S. and frequently the difference between a career and an unrealized dream is in large measure determined by grit and moxie.
It may not be surprising and yet I think it's worth noting that in spite of the cultural differences between the worlds of classical "Art" music and theatre, there were common threads, the most notable being the inspiration for the title of this post: "Slow down."
Here's a sampling of what one might have heard at these two gatherings:
By way of emphasizing the importance of taking care and time to build and nurture artistic relationships, composer Libby Larsen shared the amusing memory of her first encounter with Patty Hennings, the dynamic leader of Peninsula Women's Chorus. Patty reached out to Larsen to praise her work and toward the end of a friendly first phone conversation, casually offered: "Next time you're in San Francisco, please let me know. I'd love to meet." Larsen goes on to explain that of course Hennings (a unique force of nature) had done her research and already knew Larsen was due in her city two weeks hence. But, as is often the case, Larsen's schedule was booked solid. So, Patty offered to pick her up from the airport and ferry her to her hotel. That 30 min. car ride formed the basis of a fruitful collaboration that lasted until Hennings' death in 2001. The moral of the story? Had Hennings instead simply picked up the phone and called Larsen with:"Hi. You don't know me or my chorus but we're really great and we'd like to program your music and commmission you" things may have turned out differently.
Broadway producer Joan Stein shared a similar tale of the painstaking process of building her show Motherhood Out Loud, a collection of short plays about motherhood, by nurturing relationships over years with playwrights whose work resonated with her.
Christian Parker, Associate Artistic Director of Atliantic Theater Company, shared similar examples of numerous occasions on which a writer may have sent him a particular script which while not exactly right for their company, nevertheless demonstrated a command of craft and a sufficient talent such that he was inspired to keep in touch with that writer over years and eventually find a way for them to collaborate.
Frank Oteri, Senior Editor of NewMusicBox, explained the intricacies of releasing music in the digital age. Surpringly, in spite of life seeming to move around us at the speed of light with texts, tweets, emails et al bombarding us wherever and whenever we are, Oteri's message was clear: Take time to assess your product. Figure out what it is you have and how best to bring it out into the world, one step at a time.
My friend Rachel Routh (who in addition to her hat as Executive Director of the Dramatists Guild Fund is also an emerging producer of new work) shared a bit about her experience producing a series of concerts for the music-theatre duo Kait Kerrigan & Brian Lowdermilk. After a successful Kicktarter campaign had funded their debut CD, they could have stopped there but instead they decided to offer thanks to their growing community of fans through an ongoing series of peripatetic concerts they dubbed: You Made This Tour.
I could go on, but you get the point. Don't you? In all these examples, a less patient artist might have tried to skip steps B through Y to leap from A to Z only to be met with strained neglect.
As Craig Hella Johnson, Artistic Director of Conspirare in Austin, TX, put it (and I paraphrase): The way you create as an artist has a unique flow. Honor that flow in everything you do. Find the right path by letting it reveal itself.
Too true. I myself can hardly think of a project of mine that didn't suffer in some way due to my own impatience.
After months (if not years) of solitary work crafting a play, a musical, an oratorio or an opera, it's only natural to suffer from slight case of shpilkes (Yiddish for: pins in one's bottom). But we can always use a helpful reminder that nothing really happens overnight. And the surest antidote to this impatience, is to focus on the equally important task of shepherding your baby out into the world.
It may be less fun, less sexy and more frightening to us. But, as someone very wise once said: the things that frighten us are usually the things we most need to do.