I took this selfie, a homage to the selfie hater patrol, the day before my birthday (proud gemini, born on the 13th June). It represents what I call the bottom of the iceberg, the things the public never gets to see, the work behind the curtains, the daily tasks that make big dreams possible.
Don´t get me wrong: I love the shine, the culmination of the creative work and the applause that comes with it. I, like any other artist, I suppose, work for myself, above all, but also for the audience. My job is not complete until the public receives it and makes something of it.
But what about the preparation, the rehearsals, the endless hours of training, brooding, working, planning, creating, doing the stuff most would never sacrifice their time for? What about failing and succeeding in solitude and accomplishing the tasks that build houses with strong and high quality foundations?
I´ve lost count of the hours of writing, choreographing, structuring performances and workshops for the world and private on line courses; I know how disciplined, persistent, self-motivated and brave we have to be in order to evolve with time and grow as active artists and human beings in a world made of silly fashions, Kardashians and woopy cushions. I know, I know – what a lame rhyme. But you get my point.
The more I connect with the exterior world, the more I get pleasure from the moments when I´m not connected, except with the deepest parts of myself. Having my derrière kicked by creative challenges – in writing as in dance – away from the public eye is cool.
It´s essential to have an intimate space – a dance studio, a writing spot – where we can try new things, make mistakes, search for new dreams and grow from within, distant from exterior pressures and expectations.
What the public sees is amazing; what it doesn´t see can be even better. The desire to make a documentary on the un-glamorous, real work behind the crafts of dance and writing grows daily.
No, it ain´t pretty. Some times, I sweat, yell and fall on my knees while choreographing a new piece. I don´t look cool, like writers do in vintage pictures, when I´m working on my new book – the place becomes a mess and I become a mess. Funny faces (so I´ve been told) and occasional moaning – Damn it, I can´t do it! I get into maniac, quite scary, mode.
Then comes the obligatory visits to the gym, the personal growth that has to come hand in hand with the professional, the promotion, the logistics of keeping this machine growing in all sorts of positive directions. Oh, boy.
Nobody tells you how hard it can be. All you see are smiles, shine, glitter and facebook (over)excited posts. The reality of a professional artist who lives off/from/to her/his work is completely different. I wish people could see the shadow of the sun – it´s surprisingly beautiful.