CAN YOU CHANGE DISCIPLINES? (HOW TO BECOME AN ACCIDENTAL BUDDHIST)

A dancer breaks their leg. A photographer is told they cannot be around darkroom chemicals any more. Sometimes the universe steps in and forces us onto a different path. But what about the dancer with two good legs — can they wake up one day and decide they should be painting landscapes instead? It brings back memories of those role-playing games from third grade — when the boys were instructed to choose between being firemen or farmers (and then as 70’s culture evolved we piped up “Mommies can be doctors and Daddies can be nurses!”) My question is, what if Mommy becomes a doctor and then understands later in life that she wants to become a chef? Can we change? Of course, we can, but the perceived barriers are formidable. Changing late in the game suggests that the time and effort you spent was a waste. I know, very Western. We have a habit of building things up in order to knock them down.

There is a Zen expression I heard once, something about a bunch of rocks in a bag bouncing around, and how they all become polished over time. Is it so bizarre to see yourself as one of those rocks? Sure, you went to art school to become a filmmaker, but now as time passes you grow “smoother” and you find a canvas far more inviting than a camera. Why is this act of reinvention, this transformation so easy to embrace when a rock is the hero of the story? Maybe the better question is — why aren’t we ALLOWED to change? We get married and divorced often enough, and there is an inescapable sense of shame and failure in these experiences. A good, justified and healthy divorce is a rare beast. I think changing your discipline falls under the same percentage. At the end of the day, we live in narrow-minded times. Imagine your most liberal colleague (and let’s say you are a screenwriter) as you explain to them that you are taking up the trombone, because you always wanted to play in a Dixieland band. What would they say? Will they be supportive? Will they burst out laughing? Will they sit there, with no idea who you are anymore? Sadly, this happens all too often. We want to think of ourselves as these great big wide-open warriors of truth, but the reality is, we judge, we back-stab, we sow doubt. Why? Because we are scared as hell of change.If we change, we get more chances to chase our muse, more thrills and chills and magnificent spills. Or, we can stay on the same dusty path, slogging away, grinding those familiar stones. Let’s admit that most of us are Sisyphus, still rolling that rock we claimed as a teenager.

When I was a boy, I had this odd idea that I could do anything. This was not out of narcissism, or ego. I thought EVERYONEcould, not just me. Maybe I watched too many episodes of the Little Rascals, but it seemed to me that if you had a basement, you had a theater and all of you were going to write the script and act in it, singing and dancing no matter how short or fat or freckled or black or white, if you were a girl or boy — we all had a part in the play. In any case, I clung to this idea — that people can do anything they want to. So, I wrote stories and played a broken piano someone had left on our porch. I acted. I drew and painted and carved and sewed and sang. I liked to turn my room into a spider’s web with spare yarn, sitting in the corner, imagining a giant fly would get stuck there. Why? Because I could.

In some ways, I still am that boy — I just go under the term “multi-disciplinary artist” now. But you know, I still get those sideways glances, those doubters that mutter “no, he can’t do that TOO… fuck him. — who does he think he is, Da Vinci?” I really don’t know what to say. There was only one Da Vinci, and I never set out to be anything like him. I just never read the artist rule book I guess, and those doubters clearly keep a copy on their bedside table. I love how a Western mentality (even a so-called liberal one) spends so much time and energy putting people, and music and affiliations and beliefs in boxes.These are the people terrified of change, these are people that sow doubt. “Do one thing and do it well.”Nope. Do anything and everything — because when you eventually become good at one thing, it is not always because of raw talent, it is because of your commitment to the creative process and developing techniques. You edit out the shit. You pay your dues. You smell a good idea, and how to refine it, no matter what it is — a book, an opera, a watercolor. Working in one discipline informs your work in another one. Then, you can write books that read like symphonies. You can make films that feel like novels. Is this your story too? I want to know — what fires were built under your feet when you changed horses in your career as an artist?

So, just make things. Make dinner. Make love. Make masterpieces. Forget labels that come up at dinner party conversations. Yes, “She is an architect” has a lovely, clear-cut ring to it. But maybe you were meant for something else. Maybe you are impossible to label, or you are simply an artist.

I want to invite you to join me in a conversation/movement/initiative called AUDACIOUS REDEMPTION. Sign up for the newsletter, visit my brand spanking new website and let me know what you think. I am on a mission to help the struggling mid-career artist in a hell of a lot of ways. www.audaciousredemption.com