Why The Artist Must Refuse To Wait

No one is asking anything of the undiscovered artist. What exactly do I mean by that?

I mean that people actively want to see what Christopher Nolan, Paul Thomas Anderson, and Wes Anderson do next. These are filmmakers with an audience, and that audience anticipates (even demands) what they produce.

This reality points us toward one of the benefits of being unknown. Because you don’t yet have an audience, the only demands placed upon you are the nagging ones in your own head. You are free to experiment, try, fail, and try again. The stakes are a tad lower. The flip side of this coin, however, is that you have nothing to motivate you beyond your own will and priorities. As an independent, undiscovered artist, no one is asking you to write that short story, record that podcast, or produce that film. You have to do it, by yourself, simply because you want to.

In order to get anything done you have to be steadfast, committed to your art with the same vulnerability and investment required of any serious, longterm relationship. And that’s exactly what your connection to your art is — a serious longterm relationship.

There are a lot of reels of social media wisdom from famous, successful people. I’m wary of their advice because they’re removed from the realities of toiling in obscurity, their insight (no matter how legitimately profound) warped by a capitalist system that aims to turn my artistic ambitions into a tech bro’s profit. There is one piece of wisdom I’ve heard often, though, and I actually think it’s quite useful for undiscovered artists…

Don’t wait for someone to ask you to do it.

“It” in that phrase refers to your art, whether you’re a writer, painter, musician, comedian, ventriloquist, actor, filmmaker, etc.

Lately, I’ve felt a profound need to chronicle my work, despite the fact that I lack anything resembling fame. I have a small following as a result of my eleven-year old podcast, The Work Of Wrestling, and my essays on the art of pro-wrestling. But I’m hardly famous. I’m the fame-equivalent of the first being on the evolutionary scale, an ape that hasn’t yet quite learned how to walk upright. I’d be lying if I suggested I didn’t want a bigger following, preferably big enough that I’d be able to no longer require a day job. But I’d also be lying if I suggested becoming famous was a priority. I mostly just want to sign my name into the universe as a way of saying, “Tim was here.”

If it gets seen, great! If it doesn’t, well it’s still there, carved into concrete, waiting to be discovered by any unsuspecting passerby. That’s what this website is: my hand prints.

This need to chronicle my work led to a specific inspiration.

I really like listening to artists talk about their processes, particularly film directors. It occurred to me that I could provide audio commentaries to each of my short films on my YouTube Channel. On the one hand, it might seem a tad silly for an unknown artist to think his insights about his own obscure work are worthy of being shared, but on the other hand…well…fuck it. I like it. I want to do it. Why wait for someone to ask me to do it, when that very well may never happen? The process not only gives me a good reason to create more content for my channel, it gives each short film a second life. I love the idea of someone randomly stumbling upon this website or my YouTube and discovering a world that resonates with them. I’d love for them to enjoy my little corner of the internet where they can watch the films, observe my evolution, and then hear the behind the scenes story of each film.

I’m at an interesting time in my life. I’m old enough now that I’m able to create art informed by experience. I don’t have to play at depth — I can just do it. I’ve never felt as powerful as a storyteller as I do right now. Being forty years old and having some dirt under my fingernails is the primary reason why. I’m also unafraid to try, because I know that if I fail I will simply keep going. I will not stop making art, and I will not stop trying to provide nourishment to my small yet reliable audience, regardless of whether or not I’m able to quit my day job.

As an unknown, I’m liberated from almost all creative constraints. I think that’s something us unknowns should spend more time considering and appreciating. We also should consider our mortality. We’re trained at a young age to imagine our victories at the Oscars, thanking our friends, family, and colleagues as we clutch that golden idol. Such imaginings, while fun, can stunt our artistic growth. Some artists have been so encouraged to pursue their dreams, starting at a young age, that they’ve never had to imagine a world where they might not be famous, a world that doesn’t enshrine their creativity with awards and recognition.

And yet we’re all going to die. Is an Oscar winner’s life more valuable than mine?

I certainly don’t think so.

So why sit around waiting for anyone to take notice? Why not, instead, take a confident leap forward into the artistic unknown and do my absolute best to carve my name into the fabric of the universe?

If you’d like to see how I’m trying to do just that, visit my Filmmaking page.