Mental Mover: Eating Face
Though we try to save face as artists, in this case as dance-makers, we tend to ignore the preexisting ways of our industry, by showing that we’re somehow immune to the perils, above the struggle, or that we are the exception. A shared denial, however positively intended, could be teaching artists to suffer behind closed doors, preserve harmful tendencies, while asking us to become something we are not.
It seems as though we are hiding the aches and pains of what it means to create, expecting artists to have it all together, all of the time in order to be seen as successful. No wonder we are often on the verge of abandoning ourselves, or our work if we are not actively thriving in our field. This fit-in-a-box mentality forces artists to carefully curate a menu of digestible works that make us more desirable to the average palette, while starving our thirst for flavor; leaving no room for exploration, questioning, curiosity, adventure or growth in our artistic practices. Though this face allows us to maintain an image, however illusive, it cannot camouflage the pretentious message it also sends: that we need to appear as though we’ve made it in order to make it.
But at what cost? Because this is no longer a hustle, this is not “the game”, this is selling self-worth to be seen as worthy.
This sales tactic is both modeled and rewarded in our culture on social media; taking the confidence booster of fake-it-till-you-make-it quite literally to an unrealistic level. It only provides a focal point view that keeps the mess of our process out of sight, making art and the maker look quick and famous. It’s difficult to not see how artists are now being asked to subscribe to new ways of selling themselves to market their work. Where one used to hop online and learn about the maker, their process and scroll through an archival evolution of “shitty first drafts”, has now morphed into calculated templates of short-lived trends that only validate the fleeting highs of product, while ignoring the impact of everything else.
Social media looks like the wild west meets the Truman Show these days, but the only difference is we are in a standoff with ourselves and we want everyone watching, while we choose what to feed you. It's an eerie buffet and strangely self-serving—but all this to eat.
This facade seems to be half the battle these days, a way for the individual artist to be isolated and blame themselves for any stagnation, while disguising the limitations of creative opportunities and denying the struggle of art making altogether. For me, I’ve always thought part of being an artist was sharing the truth, however painful; truth has been the aim, or so I thought. So, I’m struggling with the idea of pretending, because it tastes like a lie. I am both confused and fascinated by how well this social selling tactic seems to work: a strategic ruse in order to kick up some dust for attention, attention to sell a fictitious version of yourself. It’s a sort of smoke and mirrors act, and yes, we can be all too good at it, after all some of us are performers.
But I guess I’ve been under the impression that striving for honesty and authenticity in your work means maintaining that same value as a person as well. For how can we appreciate one and turn the other cheek to another? Since when did playing a social capital game become more important than artist integrity? Or is everyone expected to be two-faced these days for our work to be seen, shared or valued?
This seems both hypocritical and ironic, and I know I cannot be the only artist bracing myself to navigate this moral turbulence—I feel alone in my mess of making. And I’m wondering why the truth feels like something is wrong with me.
Why can’t we share that what we do is hard? Making anything is hard and it’s messy. Being an artist is hard, and also messy. Let alone trying to make a living as an artist is HARD, and that at any given point there will be lows—especially following the highs. That you can achieve a huge milestone and not see another mountain top for months. That there can be seasons of working continuously and seasons of drought. That there is no such thing as consistency, only cycles and that artists must keep making in order to keep going.
It’s hard to believe that any artist is feeling as successful as they are trying to appear these days. This is saddening because it means we might not know what is really happening in our medium, which also means we might not know who is barely hanging on. And maybe the notion of acknowledging our own fears and shared adversity, regardless of how normal or common, might leave us drowning in our own pool of doubt versus dancing through it on the daily—tempting us to believe defeat and sink.
This self-preservation of save face is a way to avoid humility, embarrassment, preserve dignity and maintain respect. However, I’m asking what face do we want to save? Shielding the world from the process of art making, and the complexities of what it means to be a maker only lessens art's capacity to express human experience, ours included. The real grind remains unseen, the grit and hard work are unapologetically messy simply because the maker is off somewhere making a giant mess that cannot be controlled or contained to screens or themes. Art without mess is void of any real depth, it’s just empty calories of product with a following of starving faces.
