I've called this blog: Rough Start 2015. Perhaps a more apt title would be False Start 2015, but I'm already feeling pretty low, so I'll save myself from the utter pits.
In this blog I am going describe all of my short comings, mistakes, errors, bad calls and excuse-less lazy decisions. Partly because I think it might be helpful to any artists who find themselves feeling stranded with a broken boat and a lollypop-stick-ore, and partly because it will be cathartic for me.
In November a lot changed for me. I moved to Cardiff, I became detached from some of the most important people in my life and I sort of sunk into a state of feckless stagnancy where I couldn't really care if I'd been wearing the same socks since Christmas. I couldn't get my brain to function the way it usually does, it felt like it was full of thick purple mousse. I felt miserable all the time, and spent hours on my on todd feeling sorry for myself, when I should have been excited about future prospects. The problem was I'd spent the past three months being a good salesman, instead of a tactful artist. I'd managed to secure myself more freelance contracts than I'd ever had, and with January lurking around the corner they were all about to come to fruition in one way or another.
I'll spare you the details and keep this brief, essentially I have spent the majority of 2015 failing. I have lost huge contracts with arts organisations and interesting prospects with artist collectives, I have had to postpone deadlines due to sloppy self-management and massive technical errors, I have failed to commit to projects that I had so much enthusiasm for, and I have let a lot of people down...
To top all of this failing off; This morning upon logging on to ACW to submit a Large Funding Grant that I've been working on for the best part of a year, I learnt the deadline was two days ago. Upon seeing it there on the website, knowing I'd fucked up once again, my heavy heart sank deeper than it has been in a long while.
I'd taken on way more than I could possibly handle, I'd completed some work, but to no standard that I was close to happy with, I'd dropped the ball too many times and this was the final straw.
So, right now I should be in a montage of fury and self loathing. Violently sliding all of my text books from my shelf, packing up all of my ridiculous costumes, throwing my computer in the bin, taking the Tin Shed Theatre Co. website down and sobbing gently to myself whilst rocking forwards and backwards in a cold shower stroking my hand that I have contorted into the shape of a parakeet.
But I'm not, I'm sat at my desk writing this blog, because I received a phone call, an email and a text message. All from people I'm working with, all from people I've let down, I had reached out to them in a moment of pure self-deprecation, and they reached back with kind words, offers and understanding. I came to see that I'd spread myself ridiculously thin and this was a consequence of that.
I guess my point about this being a cathartic blog more than a helpful one is to be decided by you, but this morning I violently hit rock bottom, flat out with deflated lungs and my spinal chord jabbing it's way out of my stupid fucking neck. But instead of discouraging me to continue, it has rejuvenated me. It has re-set the mark. It has made me want to leave this old self behind and get smart, learn from my mistakes, reach out to more people and start making stuff again.
I guess my point is a very old and worn out one, but for me right now it couldn't be more relevant, and I hope in expressing my short comings so candidly it will help me and other people who may be in a similar place.
Once you've hit rock bottom you have to choices, brush your self off and start climbing, or stay there, I'm going to stay here for the rest of the day wallowing, and tomorrow I'm going to start climbing my way back up.
Mucho,
Justin
