The Art of Reinvention
While watching the new Morgan Neville documentary about Steve Martin ("Steve!," Apple+), I was reminded, and continuously moved by, the ominipresent nature of this person and persona—this face, this voice, this?attitude—across 45 years of my life.? When I was a kid, my sisters and I would listen to his albums, checked out from the Greenwood Public Library, and I would memorize and recite bits of his standup that still, if not verbatim in their sensibility, show up in my thought-lexicon today.
Of course this is a crucial element to the phenomenon of celebrity, that perception that we know someone, despite not knowing them at all. And when Martin walked away from stand-up in 1980, his film era came to define several of our eras, as well. An average American like me is impressed (mortified?) by how omnipresent and living his characters are in the house of my imagination. A hardly exhaustive list:
In other iterations of himself, Martin has been a magician, a novelist, an art collector, a playwright, a cartoonist, and beyond his indelible work on?Saturday Night Live?over the years, is now a television star with Martin Short in?Only Murders in the Building.?
The most affecting part of the whole thing, however, is his emotional journey from the son of a distant and abusive father, to a workaholic actor and confirmed?Lonely Guy, to finding deep happiness in his later years as a friend, husband, and father.?
I find myself (too often) quoting?Yeats' claim that one must choose between perfecting the work or the life, but watching this, and considering this man whose work and life I now feel even more connected to, I think I'll stand corrected.? Whatever drives one to make art, the result that matters is how the work—ushering from the life—inhabits and shapes the consciousness of those who encounter it. Yes, I probably should have been watching better movies, and reading more books. But Steve I watched, and so in part Steve I have aspired to become. One could do worse!
What's better than one newsletter? Two is a dubious answer, but here's to seeing. Please consider subscribing to this other thing, over on Substack, (paid subscriptions available) called Heretical Wisdom?(Subtitle: Notes along the left hand path). The first essay is currently posted, and takes a stab at saying...something.?
At the risk of distracting from any?Real Work, I felt, after starting this one, an impulse to pose another experiment, less as teacher than writer, to host other conversations, to embody different parts. No one thing can contain all the multitudes, or play every stop.
This model forces us to consider what values and experience we are willing to pay for. What is a certain quality of human connection worth? What information is so crucial we will pay for it? What will we support with money because we are glad it exists? In a long poem no one reads much, "Asphodel, That Greeny Flower," William Carlos Williams drops this famous line:
Creative Recovery
Starting this Wednesday afternoon (3:30 p.m. Central, USA), I will host a new kind of support meeting, called Creative Recovery, on The Long Schoolroom platform.
Doing your best work is not just about the work. It happens in the midst of creating a higher version of yourself while living life, the best we can, every day.
This meeting will support the ongoing mental and emotional recovery work necessary for reinventing ourselves, with the specific aim of helping and nurturing creative people.
If this sounds of interest and you aren't yet part of the community, just write me and I'll send you an invite.
May Book Club: The Stories of Lydia Davis
This month we discussed?The Creative Act, by Rick Rubin, and certainly an hour is not enough. For those unable to attend, we will have one more go at it, on Monday May 6 at 3:30 p.m. (Central, USA).?
For next month, rather than read?about?making amazing art, we will read some amazing art. If you've never read Lydia Davis, or short short fiction, you are in for a special kind of literary pleasure.?
Here is a little taste of what's in store.?
The Mother
The girl wrote a story. “But how much better it would be if you wrote a novel,” said her mother. The girl built a dollhouse. “But how much better if it were a real house,” her mother said. The girl made a small pillow for her father. “But wouldn’t a quilt be more practical,” said her mother. The girl dug a small hole in the garden. “But how much better if you dug a large hole,” said her mother. The girl dug a large hole and went to sleep in it. “But how much better if you slept forever,” said her mother.
Stranger Than Fiction
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Facilitator | Coach. Change Management. Organisational and Personal Effectiveness.
7 个月The ghost of Ruprecht follows me around still, after all these years, John. I find he shows up in my own inner lampooning of all those sensibilities that are just a touch too touchy. Never really got his standup, but then, I'm one of those odd people who doesn't like Python either. But his films... Oh man.
Helping fintech companies generate qualified leads every week and amplify their brand presence using LinkedIn? ?? Content strategy specialist ?? CCO | vinyl collector
7 个月I really appreciate you shining a light on someone whom I've enjoyed but knew so little about.
Steve Martin is a modern rennaissance man. I read his novella, "Shop Girl" years ago. It is a simple story, but memorable; it explores relationships and does so in a way that stays with you.