It was about three years ago now that I began to fade from the academic music scene as a composer. I tend to say that family commitments pulled me away, and that’s partly true. But it’s equally true (just a lot more difficult) to say that I came to something of a crisis and decided that I didn’t have much of a clue what I was actually doing there in the first place.
I think I could probably sketch more than one narrative for why that is. Maybe I didn’t have the dedication or single-minded focus to jump-start life as a professional. Maybe I have absolutely no talent or skill to write music! Or maybe it’s just that being an artist makes you so damn vulnerable, and my skin (not to mention my ego) aren’t tough enough for the bruising.
Whatever the reason, I continually found myself in that ‘between-a-rock-and-a-hard-place’ position. When I just pressed on and did what I wanted, I was dogged by the suspicion that I must be an egotistical bore to other people, an artistic Don Quixote. And anyway, I was often unhappy with the result, so wasn’t that just confirmation that I had no right to confidence in the first place? When the pendulum inevitably swung the other way and I proceeded full of caution and self-criticism, I didn’t fare much better. Oscillating back and forth, I eventually sunk into complete paralysis. Life moved on, I started a family and kept up with odd jobs, and wondered if it would be best for to define myself somehow, somewhere else. I didn’t officially give up composing, but I didn’t necessarily see it as a sabbatical, either.
I still don’t have answers to my questions. I’m still full of doubt and self-criticism, and can’t honestly say how much of it is warranted. (It’s so unsettling to feel that you can’t even trust your opinion of your own self!) I suppose it’s something that will be with me for a while.
However, something has changed. I feel it in my bones, like the changing of the seasons. I want to write music. It’s not that I didn’t before, but somehow there’s an urgency that I didn’t always feel when I took the student life for granted. It probably has something to do with my realisation that my 20s will be over before I know it, and that seems somehow important. I feel the same way about music as I do about parenting: when my life is over, I’d like to be able to look back and say ‘I made that!’
So, for better or worse, I’m turning my little boat into the wind and facing my uncertainties head-on. I’ve started re-orienting the rest of my life according to that decision, especially by requesting an extra dispensation of patience from my wonderful wife, and permission to spend many late evenings huddled over the laptop. But most importantly, I’m resolved to see myself as an artist. Perhaps a failed artist, but one nonetheless.
I wish I could say that my new-found fervour caused my clouds of anxiety to disappear in a fresh breeze of creative fulfilment. In reality I’ve already had many struggles, and one near-complete mental breakdown just yesterday. And it’s only been a few weeks! In another couple of weeks I’ll be able to see if I have much to show for it, and I’d love to publish fragments of drafts here if I can stomach anyone else seeing them.
In the meantime, I would be grateful to anyone who has any advice on how to harness the creative urge without it turning into a toxic sludge of anxiety and self-deprecation…
