We went to see “Newsies,” (a Broadway musical) in a movie theater (yay, Fathom Events, bringing such things to movie theaters across America), then “Despicable Me 3.” Guess which audience deserved a standing ovation?
The Newsies screening was lightly attended. We got there early as I’d been looking forward to it, got great seats and settled in to enjoy. One group settled behind us and began a symphony played on cellophane wrappers and purse zippers. Not just “zip,” or even “zip, zip,” but “zip-crinkle-zip-zip-crinkle-zip-zip-zip!” At the last minute, in walks a group of teenaged girls. Loud teenaged girls. I was a teenaged girl. I remember what it’s like, out with your friends, having fun. But these girls were talking (loudly) about theater. Auditions they had gone to/were going to. They talked (loudly) even during the special added moments, like members of the cast of Newsies singing new interpretations of songs. The sorts of things real theater people enjoy. Which we couldn’t hear. Because of them.
Real artists respect the craft. Music, acting, painting, whatever it is, it’s hard work if you do it right, and you respect other artists and respect an audience. They have their part to play, buying tickets, paying attention, being present for whatever it is. They paid to see/hear/experience something and a pro respects that and doesn’t get in the way of it. As a friend once told someone in my presence, “Nobody here paid to see you, so sit down.”
Then we went to see “Despicable Me 3.” An audience of parents and little kids. These kids, who weren’t together, by the way, behaved like champs. Sure, they talked a bit, quietly. If they kept talking, parents quietly told them to keep it down so people could hear. They reacted to the movie, laughing, etc. But they didn’t talk loudly, or run around, or otherwise ruin the experience for the people around them. They were great. When the movie ended, I told Mark I wished I could stand at the door to the theater and thank every parent there. “There’s some rock star parenting going on in this theater,” I said.
Now, I didn’t say it for effect. It was just a comment to Mark. “There are kids here behaving better than the adults in the other theater.” I saw a dad sitting ahead of us nudge his wife. Mark told me later the man’s wife was beaming. She should be. They are raising considerate kids who know how to be with other people, enjoying and participating, without selfishly getting in the way of what’s going on around them.
Thank you, rock star parents who are taking care of business in the most classy way possible. The rest of us who share this planet with your kids owe you our gratitude.
And to those girls, just know that nobody was impressed by your discussion of what songs you plan to sing for your auditions. You were just the jerks who disrupted the movie for the rest of us.
I missed the whole 1960s-hippies-coffeehouse-folk music thing. For me, the 1960s was learning to tie my shoes (some day I’ll tell you my penny loafer story, but let’s just say it wasn’t easy to learn shoe tying when one parent was right-handed and the other was left-handed), reading, playing with my dog and trying to “fly up” from Brownie to Girl Scout. Weird my parents might have been, but they weren’t going to let their five-year-old hang out with the hippies at the coffee house. I saw that stuff on tv and in movies.
But guess what? If, like me, you missed out on the 60s or you were there and you’re nostalgic, or you just like seeing music in small venues where you can actually hear and nobody’s blocking your view by standing on a chair, you’re in luck, if you can get to Berkeley, CA. Next time you’re in the San Francisco Bay Area, make time to go to a show at The Back Room.
It’s got that funky, comfortable feeling, brick walls, sofas (they also have some tables and chairs in the back). It’s “intimate,” both in the usual way that word is used to describe a venue (small) and in a real, accessible, welcoming way. My friend Janice and I saw James Lee Stanley there (and James Lee Stanley is a whole separate post, or will be), and it was all kinds of fun. The overall feeling is of seeing a performer at a house party. In the case of James, he chatted with the audience, asked for (and got) requests… it felt more like watching a friend perform in his living room than, say, an arena show. You feel like an insider.
This is a venue that, based on our visit, deserves to thrive. It’s fairly new, so I’m hoping people get the word and try it, so it continues. If you live in the area, you’re in luck. If not, but you want to visit San Francisco in the future, make sure you bookmark their website, which is here: backroommusic.com
This project is about human interaction and conscious choices.
You’ve found a project you’re passionate about. You think you’d be good at it. You’re excited! You tell your friends and family and… pfffft, the air goes out of the balloon. Nobody’s interested. What now?
This has happened to me more than once over the years, so I feel you. The natural feeling, when you’re excited about something, is that the people around you will see how great it is and get excited about it, too. Or at least be excited for you. You’re hoping for encouragement, for someone else to be excited for you, happy that you’re happy. If you run headfirst into a wall of indifference, it can bring your momentum to a halt. There you stand, looking around, baffled and hurt — why doesn’t anybody seem to give a fig? Don’t they care about you?
I used to let that stop me. If the people around me weren’t interested, then ( so I thought) either (1) whatever I was excited about wasn’t important, or not “worthy,” or (2) I wasn’t important or worthy. That is not true, and here’s why.
People who like you like you. They may or may not like your work, or be interested in the same things you are. They may enjoy your company and think you’re great and still not get your work. I have a couple of really good friends who, so far as I can tell, don’t get what I do. Everything isn’t for everyone, just as every person isn’t for everyone. I don’t much care for cauliflower, or the paintings of Jackson Pollock. This doesn’t mean that cauliflower is bad, or that Jackson Pollock’s paintings aren’t “worthy.” It means that neither does much for me.
Yet I might have liked Jackson Pollock, and I can like someone who is passionate about the paintings of Jackson Pollock (a passion for cauliflower might be harder to take. I really don’t like the smell). The people who like you have found something they enjoy, or admire, or both, in you. But they might look at your painting, or whatever your project is, and be mystified, or disinterested. It doesn’t move them — you do.
The flip side of this is that you shouldn’t let their reactions determine how you view your project. Get it out there and let your work find its tribe. Chances are there will be someone who will look at it and know just what you were trying to do, and be excited about it. Just as you have your tribe, so will your work.
Case in point… I put together an art show for a local radio station. Eight artists were involved (including me). It was, by design, a range of styles, disciplines and media. Everything from painting and sculpting to jewelry and clothing. The reception was a crush, a great crowd, many of them very enthusiastic. But there was one man, nicely-dressed, who looked over the gallery and asked, “Why jewelry? Why clothes? I understand why you’d include sculpture and painting, but,” and here he actually sniffed in disdain, “why would you include crafts?” And he said “crafts” with great condescension.
The inclusion of jewelry and clothing was deliberate, I explained. Personal ornamentation is one of the oldest forms of art, possibly the oldest. Most major museums have collections of jewelry and clothing. He wasn’t convinced, but said that it did offer “the uneducated” something they could “understand,” which was “probably clever” on my part. (*sigh*). So he clearly didn’t get it. That didn’t make my choices wrong. Most of the people at the show didn’t even question the “why” of that, and enjoyed the show.
My latest project, the Love Bead Safe Harbor Pin Project?Most people who know me could not possibly care less about it. They like me, but they aren’t interested in my work or this project. But over 500 people so far are. They get it. They understand that those little pins are a symbol of an important idea. They think the pins are fun. They get that the pins start conversations. They like the idea of deciding, consciously, to try to treat other people, even people they might not understand or approve of, with respect. They are my project’s “tribe.”
The “Access To Health Care” Pin
The acceptance rate for the pins is about 91%. Nine out of ten people offered pins accepted them. Their reactions range from mildly pleased to very enthusiastic. I get to have interesting, challenging, enjoyable conversations with so many people about respect, who we give it to and why, what it means… all because of a pair of little, beaded safety pins in a packet. Another artist said she thought this was “the most important work of social art” she had heard of in years, and I’m still dumbfounded by that. People hug me. They tell me their stories. Parents talk to their kids about respect. It has been amazing — and had I not put it out there, I’d have missed it.
Yes, you might put your work out there and it might prove hard to find its tribe. But for sure you won’t find that tribe if you don’t try. People can’t want what they can’t conceive of, and they can’t conceive of your project before you put it out there. If the people in your life don’t get it, accept that and keep moving.
The people who like you, but don’t get your work? Appreciate the role they play in your life, even if it’s just to enjoy your company. You need them. It’s great to have people like your work… but it’s just as great to have people like you as a person. On days when the work just won’t cooperate, you’ll be glad to have someone who, independent of your work, looks forward to talking to you, to seeing you.
And when you do find people who get your work, listen to them! Let the opinions of people who have experienced what you’re trying to do weigh more than those who haven’t. When I would get discouraged, my husband Mark kept saying, “Listen to the people who have experienced what you’re doing and told you that it meant something to them. They know what you’re doing.” They are my project’s tribe, and I wouldn’t have found them if I hadn’t taken a chance that they might be out there.
Love Bead Safe Harbor Pin set honoring “girl geeks” and “maker mamas!”
The big push is done (the large-scale pin giveaways) after three cities, but LBSHPP is far from over. Here’s what’s in the works (so far):
A free workshop at a charity in Sacramento. Date and time TBA, but probably in July;
Pins for Progress, a fundraiser. We’ll be offering sets of pins in our Etsy shop (which is under construction right now). You can buy a set of pins *and* make a donation to charity! Each pin set will be $10, with 25% being split between Opening Doors, a charity helping refugees resettle in their new homes, and Mustard Seed School, helping kids from homeless families. One note — we can ship up to 8 sets in one envelope for one shipping price ($5 in the USA, message for the shipping rates outside the US) and more in a box (message for shipping rate). Date TBA, but within the next few weeks;
A video showing how to make your own set of pins. Date TBA, probably by the end of the summer;
We’ll continue to carry a few sets with us, so if you meet us, ask for a set of pins!
In the first phase of the project, we gave away over 1,000 pins (wow… it became larger than I ever expected), but the project was largely self-funded, so we had to look at how we could continue. This way, we can keep helping others and spreading the word!
Back when I was a Girl Scout, I volunteered to pull the wagon full of cookie boxes if the other girl would ring doorbells and ask people to buy cookies. I like people, but I’m an introvert, and shy. Talk to lots of strangers? I’d rather step in front of a bus.
There’s this feeling, and I’ve certainly had it, that we should wait to do things until we “feel like it.” It’s not yet the time, goes that thinking, until the motivation is stronger than any reluctance we might feel.
A good friend once listened patiently as I listed all the reasons I could think of not to start a project, including how unready and nervous I felt. When I ran out of excuses, she interrupted me before I could run through the list again and said, “You’re scared? So, do it scared.”
That seemed too simple. Surely the answer was more complicated. “If it’s important,” she told me, “then it’s important enough to do it. If it’s not important enough to do it, the fear doesn’t matter. How important is this to you?”
I proceeded and the project went, if not perfectly, very well. During the project, I was nervous, elated, scared, excited, all at once. After, I was very happy I’d done it. There are no guarantees — it might have gone down in flames — but I was proud of myself for tackling something I felt strongly about.
It’s hard to explain to an extrovert, and more people are extroverts than introverts, how big a deal it is for an introvert, and a shy person, to talk to almost 600 people, even though 91% of them were receptive, everything from mildly pleased to very enthusiastic. There is not one person I met through this project who I am not glad I met. I got to meet almost 500 intelligent, openminded, caring people (and my assistant got to meet 20-30 others). If you are one of the people we gave Love Bead Safe Harbor Pins to, know that there are no words to say how happy I am that we met, or grateful I am that you listened to me, considered what I said, and decided to make your public commitment to the dignity of all human beings, even those you might not understand or approve of.
But it never did get easier, approaching strangers. Every time, I had to nerve myself to speak to people. Each encounter, I did it scared. I’m so glad I didn’t wait until I felt like it.
If there’s something you want to do, or create, and it’s important to you, don’t wait until you “feel like it.” If it’s really important to you, get moving, even if just the initial planning stage that will eventually bring your idea to fruition. Pat was right, all those years ago. If you need to do it, do it scared.
