But seriously...

Okay, so I've been living in New York for almost a year now. It's been an interesting journey so far, comprised of stories of exploration, concentration, and self-determination. I moved to NYC to be closer to the theatrical world, to find my place in it, to create my role within it. Despite the the challenges that I face and have faced, I believe am doing just what I set out to do. After a three week trip to California this summer, which was a much needed getaway and active meditation, I'm back in NY (just moved to Brooklyn, baby!) and more determined than ever to make my mark through my art. Specifically, I've printed out business cards and I am networking like crazy. The result: I'm being offered more roles for acting and other creative gigs. It could also be because I am approaching everyday life with more confidence, secure but not overbearing, feeling empowered by the process and possibilities of this discipline of expressing myself. In the meantime in between time when I am not involved with the theatrics of playmaking, I am playing percussion and starting to record vocals again. The result: I'm beginning to gig as a percussionist around NYC and I am finding producers and all sort of musicians that I'd love to work with....and we're actually following through on the process! So, the question is, with all of these opportunities brewing, raising my value in my own eyes as well as in the eyes of others, how seriously I should take myself? I mean, pretty seriously, right?


I am a theater artist and musician. Playing a character in a production is a lot like playing an instrument in a band: you are going for one voice, one theme, one sound, one story. And after watching Barack Obama's acceptance speech last week, I was reminded of what I felt were the four most important words of his speech, "It's not about me."



All of this is to say that I shouldn't take myself too seriously. For one, there is always someone out there who is better than me at something. And two, taking myself too seriously ruins the notion of working together, in communion, with my fellow collaborators. I am not a solo artist, though I could perform alone. What I mean is that I represent something that is bigger than me, something more profound than any group of words I could string together. I represent a culture, a lifestyle and perspective, shared by a new generation of thinkers, global citizens, and cross-cultural workers. I once told a good friend of mine that while on stage I don't want people to look at me, I want them to look at the world we live in. Similarly, choosing to study and play and instrument is reflective of the importance I put on the sound of the collective, only emphasizing the individual's voice as an addition to the whole, not as a whole onto itself. Consequently, my individuality allows me to be whole. My connection to the whole allows me to be an individual.


It is my belief that artists who take themselves too seriously have lost, or are loosing, their connection to the whole. I don't want to become like that, although I understand how it can come to be. However, I try to stay grounded by doing things to humble myself, like remembering my family overseas and being thankful for all that I have here on this side of the Atlantic; bigging up a partner's performance to take some of the attention off of myself; and/or controlling impulsive urges to remind myself that discipline determines distance you will travel, just to name a few. In either case, no matter how many breaks come my way and no matter how successful I am at those endeavors, my intention is not to ever take myself too seriously. I know that I am only here because of those who came before me and because of those coming after me. So, at the root of it all, I am only playing a part, I am only a piece of a continuum. My role is just as important and unimportant as a character actor: the other characters in the cooperative are dependent on me for the story to exist but the story is not focused on me. It's as simple as that. Play your part, and play it well, but recognize that there are more parts, more stories, more expressions than the one that you occupy. You are only as important as the importance of your collective. I guess the key to balancing it all, I believe, is to master your solos and monologues, for that is when you can be just as important as you want to be. But even then it probably won't be as serious as it seems.