Enjoy the process
“The process is that glorious, formidable place where the magic, the growth, and the mystery happens.”
Joyce DiDonato
Who among us hasn't fantasized about being on stage, bathed in the glorious stage light and showered by thunderous applause from an elated audience? I have, often, and for a very long time. At the ripe old age of 32, my dream of becoming a professional ballerina or an opera singer is obviously never going to be realized. You would think that this part of you that craves this singular experience of performing on stage eventually dies with your other childhood dreams, but it doesn’t. Even just a few days ago when I saw the trailer for Moonage Daydream, the David Bowie documentary film by Brett Morgan, my heart leaped at the sight of Bowie dominating the stage, larger than life. I wondered what that must have felt like and then I grew wistful at the knowledge that I would never know.
It is easy to become starry-eyed at the prospect of applauses and roses, but to be a true artist, one has to enjoy the process. Like Joyce DiDonato said, “the process is that glorious, formidable place where the magic, the growth, and the mystery happens.” I define the process as any time and effort spent in service of perfecting a craft that is not observed by an audience. It includes practice, research, rehearsal, lesson, and so much more. Art is produced on stage but it is perfected through tears and frustration, loneliness and meditation, repetition and tedium, confusion and despair. For every second of beauty and artistry displayed on stage, countless hours are spent in the studio, in the library, and in the physical (or psychological, I’m not one to judge) therapist’s office. If as artists we do not learn to appreciate and enjoy the process, the journey would be impossibly painful.
If you watched the Royal Ballet company class during the 2021 world ballet day, you’d see that when most dancers were still warming up their bodies, Marianelle Nunez had already artistically climaxed. (Nella I meant this with the greatest of compliments. I love you!). One of the hundreds of qualities that make her such a glorious artist to watch is the contagious joy of dancing that she communicates. You see this joy even when she is only taking a routine ballet class. She enjoys the process.
Now the important question is can one learn to enjoy the process or were some artists simply born with this ability? Like many things in art, I think it’s a little bit of nature and a lot of nurture. The key lies in your belief. What does the process mean to you? Is it nothing but a means to an end or is it intrinsically valuable?
To me, it is the latter. I see the process as a process of creation. At the end of your life, if you were to count the number of times you danced in a ballet studio, there would be a set number. Now, what if I told you now that out of the total number of ballet classes you can take in your lifetime, you only have x percent left? This change of perspective will help you see each class, each practice session, and each rehearsal as a precious opportunity to create art. These opportunities are finite.
When the struggle is technical, I treat it like a challenge. Repeat to yourself, there is no artistry without technique. Technique is what enables you to express your art with your instrument. Technique is freedom. You might not be the most brilliant technician but you need to be proficient enough to execute your vision. That said, be patient with yourself. Be kind to yourself. Rome wasn’t built in one day and neither will be that perfect arabesque penché.
When the struggle is artistic, I treat it like an experiment. I approach it with humility and curiosity. I know that many things I try will look or sound terrible so isn’t it perfect that there’s nobody around? Be playful. Be silly. Be bold. Most importantly, be curious. Apathy is the death of creativity. To be an artist is to be a lifelong student of life and of the human condition. Look for interpretations and inspirations both within the materials and beyond. Not everything you find will be useful or relevant. But you have to be an encyclopedia before you can be the connector of the dots. After all, have you ever heard of a good writer who isn’t a voracious reader?
The attitude towards the process is not constantly positive. Some days your mind and body are simply too exhausted. Or you haven’t seen progress in a while and it feels like you are running in circles. Or some technical difficulties have escalated to a mental block and practice only compounds your frustration. When any of these things happen, take a break. It could be a few hours, a few days, or even a few months. There is no prescription for how long you might need. But take the time for yourselves and wait. Wait for your mind and your body to miss the process. Wait for a dream about dance, wait for your fingers to twitch at the sound of a familiar musical phrase, wait for that urge to pick up a pen and write or draw. If you truly love your art, it will come back to you. Your technique will be rusty as you reconnect with your medium but your mind will be fresh. You will be amazed at what new perspectives you have discovered.
