Supporting Casts: Finding the people who make you make work
When I was a kid, my sister and I would play a game.
Locking hands just above the wrists, she’d take off running a few steps ahead of me. When she reached as far as our arms would stretch, she’d use her speed to pull on my hand, tugging me forward. Her momentum would send me flying in front of her right until the point that we couldn’t reach any farther…and then I’d tug her forward, starting the process over.
It was a silly game, but we got really smooth at it, catapulting each other through grocery store aisles, down park sidewalks, or along roads. Was it always a smooth transition? Not always. Was it easier than just plain running alone? Maybe sometimes, and sometimes maybe not. But was it a lot of fun? Definitely.
Finding a creative accountability relationship should be the same way. As I begin working again with Lindsey, this time as the lead in her one-cephalopod performance reading, I find myself reminded of that old game. Though our work can be stylistically very different – both in where we’re coming from and visually where we’re going – the way that Lindsey and I play off of each other’s momentum sends us moving forward in our work in ways that aren’t always achievable when you work alone.
image use courtesy of Lindsey Bailey
Much like your standard, run-of-the-mill intimate relationship, a creative accountability relationship isn’t really much of one if it’s one-sided: that’s more like having or being a coach. And it’s not a healthy relationship if it’s every single day, every single moment, either: that’s obsession, and probably lands you a restraining order in most states…not to mention that your work could get stagnant from too much of a good thing. Just like a real commitment, it’s best if it’s more like a really strong friendship that exists behind the scenes, supporting the mutual agreement. Your creative accountability develops from earnest, genuine curiosity that checks in with the other person. Not to say that you need to hang out and do critiques all the time…but in a good back-and-forth, you find yourself at key moments – when looking at artwork, thinking of solutions, or inventing ways to spur your process – thinking about the other person and how to help their work. Either inspired by what they’re doing or hoping to inspire them with something new, the role of an accountability partner is to bring diverse influence into your world. Lindsey and I don’t always meet up in person, but there isn’t a week that doesn’t go by that we don’t send links to interesting sites, art projects, ideas, or dialogue that we know will engage the other person.
And a creative accountability relationship is about engagement: it pushes you to be active. Even if I’m working with natural materials in a subdued palette while Lindsey is working with fabric in bold colors, how we work and why we work drives the both of us to question and relook at what we’re doing by seeing it through someone else’s eyes. A good accountability partner will ask you the easy questions, the tough ones, and the ones you weren’t expecting. Not to say that you have to, but if you do collaborate on projects together, the conversation about the larger direction can help you define or tighten up your own stance…or to try something new that brings you to a new place entirely.
That new place doesn’t even have to be in your own work, but can happen when the other person asks you to participate in one of their projects. I’m excited about reading the poetry of a lamenting Octopus, and when we met last night to do the initial measurements for the costume, we found ourselves bouncing off ideas for the set and costume design. The most elaborate costume I’ve ever done is to dress up as Frida Kahlo for Halloween, but I found myself thinking in new ways. A good partnership does that, challenging you to broaden not just your work and your ideas, but your experiences.
...my take on mildly-disgruntled octopi...
We’re meeting tomorrow to sound out the translation of the reading against the music composed by JinHwa Choi and smoothing out any speaking riddles. If the past few months have been any indication, we’ll also laugh, trade links, get excited about new project ideas, drink way too much coffee, take pictures, make faces, and swap news. And I can’t wait to see what we’ll come up with next.
Come out on October 1st to see the results in Octopus Lament as part of the Sideshow Fringe Festival. We’ll be on the stairs in front of Belmont’s Troutt Theatre at 9; just look for the octopus, Nashville, we’ll be happy to see you.
—
P.S. If you enjoyed this, look for Part 2, where we’ll talk about how to create these connections in the first place.