“The consequence of specialization and success is that it hurts you. It hurts you because it basically doesn’t aid in your development. The truth of the matter is that understanding development comes from failure.” -Milton Glaser
Short story idea: This one would revolve around a ventriloquist who spends years honing his craft, speaking for this puppet and throwing his voice, until his act becomes so perfect that even the most diligent observers can’t see a hint of movement from his mouth as his dummy sings, dances, and cracks jokes for hours at a time.
Soon, the dummy is so integrated into the ventriloquist’s life that he never takes it off his arm. It speaks almost as much as he does. Soon, he starts introducing more dummies. Character after character spill onto the stage during his shows, and he is a worldwide marvel. His act is a frenzy of separate characters interacting, different voices, different personalities, all interacting in a cacophony of hilarity. Soon, however, the ventriloquist starts to grow confused, realizing that he’s having a harder and harder time pulling back from his dummies. It takes him longer and longer to be able to speak in his own voice when his shows are over. When he dreams, he dreams of audiences and the stage, and dreams in the voices of his puppets. Soon he can’t remember who he is, or what his voice sounds like, or whether or not he even has a voice that is independent of the voices of his puppets.
Maybe the story would close on him becoming a mute, so unsure of his own voice that he’s unable to speak at all.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be a “professionally” creative person, and the different tracks that you are often presented with. In it’s simplest form, creative work breaks down into either client-initiated work or self-initiated work. These two worlds exist in almost every creative field, and most people I know who are in one tend to maintain some balance of both client and personal projects. Both client and personal work are important, but for different reasons. Client work teaches you how to communicate, it helps you understand the market, needs, and trends, and forces you to constantly flex the boundaries of your technical understanding and personal communication style. It helps you clarify a method and understand how other people think. Personal work teaches you to explore rabbit holes, understand the the value of obsession, take pleasure in personal expression, and hopefully gain fulfillment through the freedom of self-realized expectations.
I’ve spent the last half-decade or so almost exclusively on client work (more specifically, creating websites for clients). It’s been a weird exercise in acting, in playing parts, and it is something that I really enjoy.
The problem with this path is that, after a while, your mind starts to default to a way of thinking, trying to view everything through the lens of the everyman. Your personal voice becomes drowned out by the competing voices in your head. It’s a very schizophrenic experience. It’s difficult to figure out what your true voice sounds like, and what it should say, and how it should say it. By “voice” I do not mean “style,” and by “voice” I do not mean “message.” I do not mean tone. What I do mean is something almost intangible but that is still undeniably attached to you, and that, if left behind, would be unmistakably associated with yourself. It’s a reflective demonstration of how you perceive and interact with the world. I think this can be realized in a number of ways, whether it’s a product (song, painting) or a story, or an idea, or just a way of thinking. A social construct. A suggestion. The problem that I have with these is that they all require enough confidence to comprehend their value without relying on the feedback or needs of a client. How do you know if it’s good if no one seems to care? Does that matter?
Like I asked before: is it the speaker who defines the voice, or the listener? Is it the giver who bestows value, or the receivers? I guess that’s the constant struggle of any artist, and why I tend to retreat to the comfortable security of client-based work, and tangible results. I guess that’s why my voice isn’t very distinct these days. It’s something I want to work on.
1 Comment to The Schizophrenic Ventriloquist
by Derek W on February 22, 2012 at 3:55 pm
I once had a dream where a psychiatrist seeing patients with mental problems became wrapped up in the craziness of his clients until he became a basket case himself; it was like a scary movie. Sorry, that’s pretty irrelevant to your point and adds nothing to your discussion, but your scenario reminded me of it.