Today, we are going to talk about one of the most necessary and most dangerous ingredients in a creative career.
Last weekend was my favorite weekend of the year. It has always been my favorite weekend of the year. Not that there’s anything special about calendar days. Instead, the week/weekend is special because this is when I make my absolute favorite annual pilgrimage to Hollywood for the Turner Classic Movies Film Festival. It is true that the word “pilgrimage” can be a bit extreme since the event took place exactly a 15-minute drive from my house. And my level of effort doesn’t require much more than wearing my best tracksuit, wearing comfortable shoes, and being prepared to wait in line for a long time.
In return, TCM serves up one of the best movie collections imaginable on the big screen over a four-day span. Sample some of the best movies ever made on the big screen the way they were intended. Many screenings are accompanied by a Q&A with industry celebrities and often the stars of the film themselves. For example, this year, I had the pleasure of watching Ann-Margret speak live before the screening Goodbye Birdie in IMAX. Add that to your bucket list if you get the chance.
The movies they will show change from year to year. And with some movies running simultaneously in multiple sessions a day, it’s impossible to watch them all. So I never knew exactly what movies I was going to see until I got there. This year, I watched about nine movies in all. All are great. But, in a completely random twist of fate, and relevant to our discussion today, I discovered that I was unwittingly drawn to movies with similar themes. on one’s own.
Three movies in particular fit that bill. Milos Foreman in 1984 Amadeustells about the legendary Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and his relationship with the much less legendary Salieri. All about New Year’s Eve (1950), with Bette Davis starring in one of the most celebrated on-screen performances of all time as a Broadway diva and her overly attentive mentor. And Powell and Pressburger’s 1948 masterpiece Red shoeswith Moira Shearer playing an elite ballerina pushed to the highest level of success by a Svengali-like stage producer.
The films have some surprising similarities. It all takes place in the entertainment business. It all boils down to the performers and the star’s trials and tribulations. But, most importantly, each has a haunting theme. Mozart’s obsession with artistic perfection and Salieri’s obsession with Mozart. Margo’s obsession in Bette Davis about defending her star and Anne Baxter’s obsession about usurping her throne. And most of all, the trio of haunting characters in Red shoes. The composer is obsessed with his music. The star is obsessed with dancing. And the boss is obsessed with turning the little star into his personal grand vision.
Red shoes takes its title from the ballet the characters are performing in the film. The play involves a pair of red ballet shoes. When the wearer first puts them on, they have the magical power to turn her into a great dancer. But the price of that greatness is that she can never stop dancing, eventually becoming a prisoner of that greatness. There are elements in the film and in the ballet in the film that overlap. So I won’t go into the plot anymore, because I don’t want to spoil it for those who haven’t seen the movie. If you haven’t seen it or it’s been a while, I highly recommend you watch it. If not for anything else, just to see the amazing Technicolor cinematography of the legendary Jack Cardiff.
All three movies, especially Red shoes, touches on one of the hardest questions I’ve always wrestled with as an artist. I found that a certain level of obsession was absolutely necessary for me to achieve my artistic goals. I’ve gone through periods where I treated my career as something of an autopilot as well as periods where I couldn’t sleep at night because my mind was constantly making roads. to improve my skills (or my business). Objectively speaking, the moments of intense obsession are when I do my best and get the most profit. But, unsurprisingly, those times of artistic obsession came at the expense of other areas of my life as well. By definition, it’s hard to be obsessed with many things at once. So some things, and some people, will eventually be left behind. And regardless of one’s success, the artist must ask himself whether it is worth the expense.
That is not an easy answer. That’s why it’s been a chronic illness that has plagued me ever since I first decided to turn my passion into a career. If you dedicate yourself to your art, how can you make enough time for everything else? And, if you hold back something and don’t devote yourself to your art, how can you reach your highest potential? I assume the answer is different for everyone. But that’s the question everyone has to ask.
I remember my working days. My cellmates would sit around using buzzwords like “work-life balance”. I seem to hate my job, the question always seems silly to me. Why do you have a hard time balancing your work and life when your work goes awry? It’s easy, put as little energy into your work as possible and make the most of life as you can. Of course, I can only feel this way because my day job doesn’t mean much to me other than salary. I feel extremely depressed when I spend a little extra brain energy on myself for my daily work. It hurts because I know that every second I spend is a second away from my purpose in life. Naturally, those who consider that cell job their only aspiration will feel differently. But for me, the work itself means nothing, and so there is little mental energy to balance.
On the other hand, being an artist was the only thing I ever wanted to do. It’s the only thing that gives me a reason to wake up in the morning. It is the foundation for how I understand the world. So it’s no surprise that it takes up so much of my waking mental energy and so few moments pass during the day (or night) that I don’t think about it. This obsession has helped me succeed in my career. But it has hurt me in other areas of my life.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qVeoOTAhOvI
Is it worth the trade-off? How obsessed is too obsessed? Is it even possible to moderate phobias? Or, by definition, is it something beyond our control? Can we achieve work-life balance in a career that requires us to dedicate 24/7 365 just to be competitive?
A few years ago, two great filmmakers Ingmar Bergman and Michelangelo Antonioni died on the same day. I called my friend Deland to talk about the strange coincidence of the moment and we talked about each filmmaker’s legacy. Deland said an interesting thing that has always haunted me. He says he feels like Antonioni has a better career, but Bergman has a better life. He feels like Antonioni has achieved more with his cinematic obsession, but Bergman has lived a more fulfilling life. Now, whether that’s true or not, I don’t know. That’s not the point of the story. The point is it got me thinking about the bigger question. How do we separate our artistic success from our “life” success? How obsessed are you about feeling secure before we risk missing out on the other joys life has to offer? And is it possible to benefit from wearing the magic red shoes without turning our greatest blessing into our greatest curse?
