cut, straighten, bring light

 

 
“Withdraw into yourself and look. And if you do not find yourself beautiful yet, act as does the creator of a statue that is to be made beautiful: he cuts away here, he smoothes there, he makes this line lighter, this other purer, until a lovely face has grown upon his work. So do you also: cut away all that is excessive, straighten all that is crooked, bring light to all that is overcast, labour to make all one glow of beauty and never cease chiselling your statue…”

                                                                                               -Plotinus (The Enneads)

 

This bit of writing has followed me throughout my life…I have painted it, printed it, passed it to cast members, read it to classes and reflected on it.

I am a fervent believer in post-morts. I believe it is vital to pause a while after a show, festival, project, semester or year and look, REALLY look at what you have contributed to the success, failure, darkness and light of it all. I believe that shame over missed opportunities or botched attempts loses all of its deadening power once truth is faced squarely.

I do not handle failure well. If I so much as suspect that I have fouled a thing up or created something sub-par, I burn with shame. But I have learned to be gentler with myself through a sort of post-mort ritual. If I acknowledge my stumbling, I am more vigilant against repeat offenses. And if I am armed against a second fall, I feel less apt to clutch my failures to me.

I want, in my professional work, my art, my personal life…to cut away all that is excessive, to smooth all that is abrasive, to remove all that does not serve me, to release all that breeds confusion or pain. I want to acknowledge those things I help to strengthen. I want to nurture growth. I want to be forgiving, graceful, kind, peaceful and tolerant.

I realize that I am much more skilled at identifying my faults than I am at celebrating my strengths. I don’t want to pass that on to my child. I realize that I am prone to melancholy on occasion. I don’t want her to inherit that. I know that I have an immense capacity for love and that I have strong appreciation for life and individuals. I want that for her.

As for my work, I can say without reserve that I absolutely love teaching. I am humbled and inspired by the chance to watch students grow and explore and find strength, freedom, and excellence. For these reasons, I am equally as passionate about directing. And performing.

I am excited about the road that is unfolding.

I am ready.