BY: JASON RAYNER
I’ve always needed art to help me process my feelings. From reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower the way I’m sure Christians read the bible, listening to Dashboard Confessional so I can understand why I had so many emotions (although with the some perspective, I think maybe he had too many emotions. I mean he was in his late twenties and was still writing entire EPs about being in high school asking someone out to a party? It’s a little much), or watching films like the Before series as a way to get a preview of what a neurotic person like myself can potentially develop into (when Julie Delpy’s Celine matter of factly announces she is, like me, a Sagittarius in Before Sunset [which she co-wrote], I not only screamed but also Immediately googled Julie Delpy’s actual birthday and found out she was born on the same day as me [December 21 - mark your calendars, friends!]. We have a shared cosmic experience, so obviously these movies are more for me than anyone else).
The most important draw to this work was the catharsis I felt experiencing these stories. I felt less alone. I was able to understand myself. I was able to release my stresses, anxieties, and fears. No offence to the hard work of the magician community, but this is magic that I can actually get down with.
As I started to explore my own desire to create, I began to dip my toes in getting personal. Every film or sketch I have written - even if the premise is not based on my specific experience - is infused with my own personal catharsis. Then there is this blog, which has been pushing me to be as honest as humanly possible. While it often feels incredible to get things out into the world, it can also be crippling. Because the actual process of getting things out that are personal is exhausting, terrifying, and most importantly, difficult.
For the record, I’m not here to complain, evoke sympathy, or praise. I just want to be honest about writing. I admire artists who can put their heart into their work, and I want to follow their leads. But doing that is so much more than having words pour out of you. I’m writing this because we spend so much time talking about “hustling” and dropping social media posts about the countless projects we are working on, that we all seem like we are the perfect examples of #successmachines. Maybe everyone else around me is able to pump out great content with great ease, but I’m not. I’m more like Oz, except I actually have the spirit of the cowardly lion (he was obviously the gay one), and I’m blasting Whitney Houston’s Greatest Hits, getting distracted by her perfect angelic voice instead of actually writing. I have grand ideas about exploring facets of my personality but once I actually sit down to write, I’d rather do anything but dig into my psyche.
It makes it worse because, by nature I’m a procrastinator. I always work best with a deadline and am forced to focus. When I was in university taking psychology (#tbt), I remember taking the Myers Briggs test (if you don’t know, I suggest googling it to learn some deep truths about yourself. Even though it isn’t really a proper psychological tool, it’s still a lot of fun in a much more in depth than a Buzzfeed quiz kind of way). One of the scales Myers Briggs rates a person on is extraversion vs. introversion. And while I actually think I am far more introverted than people realize, I scored overwhelmingly high on the extraverted scale. Why am I mentioning this? Because one of the things about extraverts is that they tend to spend a lot of time procrastinating. So much so that they can only work in short, concentrated bursts. Which is to say, that even on the best day, I can usually only write one paragraph before I feel like I need to reward myself with a sing along to whatever song is currently playing, check up on movie projects I wish I was making, refresh of my Twitter feed, and a do a quick sweep of my texts. This is all a long winded way to say that I already have a habit of procrastination and writing about personal things as a way for catharsis becomes an even bigger uphill battle.
(And yes, it’s worth noting that after finishing that wordy paragraph, I did in fact check my phone, twitter, and marinate the chicken I’m planning to eat for dinner).
I’m aware of the release that comes with cathartic writing. I gain introspection. I can let out my deepest thoughts and fears and hopefully connect with others over our shared experiences. It’s like going to the gym - there are only benefits to going, and it really only takes a little bit out of the day, and damn health is absolutely the most important thing to take care of, but you better believe I am constantly arguing with myself before I actually drag myself out there and most of the time I still contemplate turning around.
The problem seems to lie with allowing myself to go to places that scare me. While previous iterations of my personal writing were focused on re-examining relationships that went awry, or as a platform to present frustrations or release epiphanies, they mostly felt like vent sessions. Writing can be an insidious activity, and sometimes what’s on the page continues past publication.
I can only imagine what it was like for Amy Winehouse. Back to Black is one of the all-time greatest albums (this is one of the few instances where I am judging art objectively). It was so emotionally uncompromising and raw and vulnerable and the process of creating it destroyed her. I always think of a series events in the documentary Amy (essential but heartbreaking viewing) where there was discussion over her reluctance to performing songs from Back to Black ever again. It represented her darkest times of her life and she simply didn’t want to re-re-visit the pain.
Not that I am comparing myself to Amy Winehouse. At all.
What I’m realizing is while I have always been drawn to personal work, I’ve taken it for granted. I’ve appreciated the end result, I’ve neglected to think about the process. With so much art available to us, it is easy to constantly consume, and as a creative, it is easy to feel pressure to constantly work on a schedule.
I know that I’m not talking about being a cancer researcher, or working in public service, or a doctor. I know that a lot of people have to perform consistently, and the stakes are a lot higher. However, I do believe art matters. And while it is often treated as a commodity, it also isn’t something that can always be rushed. And we shouldn’t rush ourselves to create it. And the catharsis will be worth it.