The Vanity Project
The Vanity Project
Sometimes at the end of gigs, people come up and say positive things. Very rarely (fortunately) do people come up and say negative things. When someone does make an effort to come and talk to me after a gig, I’ll always try to listen to them patiently and thank them for their feedback. The reason is, it does actually mean a lot (no matter how insignificant the comment may feel to the person making it) and it does take a certain confidence and commitment not to just file out the venue with everyone else.
So much of the time as an artist, we’re on our own, working on projects and pursuing ideas which, very occasionally seem like a MASSIVE waste of time. In truth, there are many moments when you think, ‘Is this all just an extended vanity project?!’
Perhaps we make money from what we do, perhaps we get some positive comments, but it doesn’t detract from the fact that for the majority of artists, life is a slow burn of self-motivation and determination (regardless of talent) and a continuous perseverance to simply keep going.
I have often thought that in jazz, there should be a certain respect due to performers who are still going by their mid 30s (regardless of whether you actually like what they’re doing) simply on the basis of how much rejection it is likely they’ll have experienced by that point!
This might all sound more than a little self-indulgent – it’s not like what we do is life-threatening, it’s not exactly back-breaking work and yes, there’s lots of variety – but that doesn’t take away from the fact that it often feels like it’s you versus reality. Getting up every day to continue this peculiar method acting approach to ‘being an artist’.
Society doesn’t necessarily recognise or value you or your work – the renumeration doesn’t necessarily guarantee a living, and to make it worse, it can often feel like the people with the purse-strings have an “aren’t you lucky!” approach to handing out the money when you do get paid. Friends and family might find it hard to understand your identity as an artist – they only see into a very limited window of your process, often they see the product and the recognition, and they don’t really understand the effort and insanity that has got you to this point.
In all fairness, I’m not sure anyone can understand unless they live it themselves. That’s not to say that it isn’t worth doing! There’s something that keeps us going, a certain indefatigable mania that means we keep getting up after every blow to take another.
We can take some pleasure in our back catalogue and allow an occasional moment of pride reflecting on achievements from the past, and it’s always good to have something to look forward to, a new idea on the horizon (if it isn’t there yet, then perhaps you just haven’t thought of it yet). Above all though, it’s important to take pleasure in the moment of performance. It may not actually lead anywhere, but something led to this moment, and here you are, still going.
Even when it’s bad, it’s really quite good.