Bob at Unfogged has a good observation about the self-absorbtion of movie folk and how the Oscars are often an exercise in how to turn virtue into vice---to wit: the effusive acceptance speeches thanking everybody in the world for making it possible for ME to be the WONDERFUL PERSON you know and LOVE! Bob's Exhibit A is Hillary Swank, but most of the people who win give some version of the same speech.
But let me say a word in defense of the narcissistic and solipsistic.
There's a reason so many American actors, heck, so many American artists of any kind, are self-absorbed, self-centered, and selfish jerks.
It's not as though talent, bad manners, and rampaging egos are a package deal.
Just for a quick for instance, compare American Oscar winners to any of the Brits who pick up awards from time to time. Not only are the Brits more eloquent and succinct---British actors are much smarter than their American colleagues, but that's another post---they can keep their egos in check.
This is because in America it's only the selfish, self-centered, and obscenely driven who get to be artists.
There are too many roadblocks in the way of any talented but well-adjusted and commonly decent kid who wants to be an artist.
And I don't mean the financial ones or the opposition of parents to their dreams, though those are big.
I mean that to be an artist you have to have time. Lots of time to yourself in which to think and practice and work at your craft. And here in America we will not allow each other any time alone!
From what I hear and read, it seems that over in England people go for hours and hours in each other's company without saying a word. They think it's rude to stop a stranger on the street and ask for directions. Sherlock Holmes went years without thinking to mention to Watson that he had a brother and Watson found this only a mildly eccentric failing on Holmes' part and Conan Doyle's readers accepted it as entirely plausible, and that typical English reticence continues to this day.
John Cleese has a wonderful speech about it in A Fish Called Wanda.
Wanda, do you have any idea what it's like being English? Being so correct all the time, being so stifled by this dread of, of doing the wrong thing, of saying to someone "Are you married?" and hearing "My wife left me this morning," or saying, uh, "Do you have children?" and being told they all burned to death on Wednesday. You see, Wanda, we'll all terrified of embarrassment.
His character's lamenting that reticence, but every time I watch the movie I think, you know, that idea, everybody keeping their feelings to themselves, that sounds kind of relaxing.
There is nothing an American hates more than the sight of another American sitting happily alone with his thoughts.
Parents and siblings and friends are the main reason that good kids do not grow up to be artists.
What are you doing, dear?
Drawing.
Drawing what?
A picture.
A picture of what?
Nothing.
Oh it must be something.
Not really. (Meaning not yet.)
Can I see it.
Maybe. When I'm done. (Meaning, it's probably not going to work the way I want it to so I'd rather not show it to you.)
Oh can't I take a peek?
I guess. (Meaning, If I show it to you will you shut up and go away?)
Oh how pretty!
It's not pretty.
It is. It's beautiful. You're so creative. I don't know where you get your talent from. I can't draw a circle. I remember when I was your age I tried to make a poster for....
At this point the kid who will go on to be an artist has either walked out of the room or told the loving parent to shut the hell up and leave me alone!
The good kid sits there and listens and nods and gives into the conversation and then finally, when the parent gets a clue and leaves, there's a knock on the door or the phone rings or the other parent comes into the room or a brother or sister. You get the point. The good kid will never finish that drawing.
I knew a guy, talented, smart, good writer, who knew he would never become a great writer the day his new wife decided she needed to water the plants on his desk while he was sitting there writing.
He knew at that moment he had to decide. He had to choose between writing and divorce.
He was a decent guy.
He got up so she could get at the plants with her spray bottle.
I'll bet there were at least five other women in whatever theater department produced Hillary Swank who were as talented as she was, but none of them had the heart---or heartlessness---to throw their friends out of their dorm rooms when they needed to go over their lines or break up with their boyfriends the first time they tried to fuck them when they were on their way out the door to rehearsal.
You can't be creative even in the most gregarious art forms, dance, theater, music, without silence and time alone.
And Americans just won't leave each other alone.
This was not the post I wanted to write this morning.
Guess how many times the phone has rung today.
(Uplifting and inspiring update: There are some times when I despair. I think to myself, accusingly, Lance, what good are you doing with this page? How are you doing anything to improve the world and cure it of its ills and sorrow? Well, this morning I found out that I have done something beneficial to mankind or at least to one kind of man. Lex Alexander reports on his site Blog on the Run that this post has helped him come to terms with who he really is. For years he's been in denial. He has thought that his desire to be left alone in peace of quiet meant only that he was jerk. Now he knows the truth. He's an artist!
Note: This post is over and done with. Ignore the continue reading link. That's just Typepad being cute again.)
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I think you have an excellent point here, though I'd never thought about it before. I first started learning to play guitar when I was about 10 (though I didn't really start SERIOUSLY studying it until after I discovered the wonder that is Alex Lifeson of Rush and realized that you could get ALL SORTS of sounds out of a guitar), and continued with it until I was about 20. When I entered college it was my goal to major in music and be a professional guitarist - probably a studio musician (because female rock stars have to be a lot more attractive than male ones, and sadly, I'm not) - but I found it almost impossible to find the time I needed to practice because friends were always dropping by - even when I would try and hide myself away in one of the music departments practice rooms, they'd come find me to go running off on one of their crazy exploits, and I'd been so lonely in high school that having people seek me out in college was too good of a feeling to pass up.
By my early 20's, I hardly touched the guitar at all because I always had things to do with my friends. After I stopped living in dorms, I ended up selling all of my guitars for rent money. That was pretty much the end of my creative life until recently. For the last 5 years, I've been homebound, and have NOTHING but free time on my hands, and when my husband is at work, there's no one to distract me from anything. Then about 18 months ago, he decided he wanted to learn to play guitar, and I started remembering how much I loved playing it myself, so we split up our income tax refund and each got ourselves a nice, shiny new electric guitar. I've since bought 2 more, and in the time since then, I've probably progressed 10 times as far as I ever did when I was first learning. Because I have nice long stretches of uninturrupted time, I can work on the hard parts of songs all I want with no fear that anyone will hear just how awful I sound on the first thousand tries or break my concentration when I'm trying to figure out just how I'm supposed to make my fingers do "that". :) I may eventually even get to a point where I could revisit my dream of being a studio musician (health willing) - just because I finally have the time to myself in order to really learn what I'm doing with this thing.
While I would never wish my situation on anyone, I do hope you can find some way to get a nice block of time to yourself each day so that you can work on your writing without having it hurt any of your relationships. What you post here is excellent, and I think you have the ability to really take your writing somewhere if you get the chance.
Posted by: kriselda jarnsaxa | Tuesday, March 01, 2005 at 01:30 PM
It is not exclusively American phenomena, it is also Australian and Irish and maybe generally human. There are people that cant understand that being alone doesnt mean lonely.
Posted by: urban | Tuesday, March 01, 2005 at 01:34 PM
That's probably why Superman had his Fortress of Solitude built in the Arctic. Couldn't find solitude in America.
On the other hand, is entering a comment to a blog post defying the idea of letting someone be alone with his or her thoughts?
Posted by: Daryl | Tuesday, March 01, 2005 at 01:55 PM
one problem with the lives of american artists is that they let the creative side -- which is child-like, in the best way -- get in the way of life outside the art.
plus, the resistance by american society to any sort of artistic endeavor because it isn't beneficial (that is, you aren't assured to make money from it) or not masculine enuff (do you want people to think you're a sissy?) or respectable.
resistance to deep and strong pressures from the social tyranny does tend to unbalance you.
Posted by: harry near indy | Tuesday, March 01, 2005 at 02:28 PM
Harry, yep,yep,yep,yep,and definitely yep!
Daryl, There used to be a nice tradition called "at home." People used to have calling hours, times when everybody knew they were "at home," which meant free to have visitors. I consider the comments section my "at home."
urban, I think you're right, it is very human. I was just mad at Americans this morning, particularly those Americans who have the gall to be my friends and relations and want to talk to me. Like I'm supposed to believe they really like me.
kriselda, I think aspiring musicians have the hardest time of all. Very few people understand how many hours have to be devoted to practicing. It's a great thing you've got your guitar back in hand. Good luck with it.
Thanks for the kind words. I'm glad you're enjoying the page.
Posted by: Lance | Tuesday, March 01, 2005 at 05:26 PM