Fringe Trim
Universal themes
The day after the night before. Specifically my performance at Bedfringe, my town’s offering to the fringe gods that offer a platform for creative artists, while testing us with the caveats and anxieties that come with planning a show, writing a show, making sure there’s actually an audience for said show, and creating promotional literature/visuals to attract potentially new audiences.
In truth, to be uncharacteristically rational, it didn’t go badly. Warmly received in fact, and in time I will probably be able to reflect on it with less critical brutality (or plain and simple judgement).
I had already given myself the internal self-talk not to raise my own expectations in terms of numbers in attendance, pounds in my coffers (the precarious month-to-month nature of my living costs compound this anxiety somewhat), or indeed how smoothly and coherently a first public performance of a new poetical, lyrical and sonic collection might translate.
There is the not-unreasonable school of thought that I should stick to ‘playing the “hits”*’), perform for the sake of performing without the need for a thematically-anchored narrative arc. Perhaps, given my emotional energy levels, that’s not such a terrible idea. Yet, I feel disappointed in myself if I don’t feel I’m doing something challenging and meaningful, if I’m not creating something with a message. Which is fine when you have the head-space to dive in with a series of prescient points that naturally flow, can be validated with considered research, and above all maintain the element of my performance style that appears to pass for charisma and charm. And here’s me thinking I’ll have the discipline (and spoons) for a PHD…
A bigger obstacle is that I simply don’t perform enough regularly, and so I find myself putting more mental energy into a show at a less-than-sociable time slot on a Sunday evening, rather than allow myself the time to research a wider range of opportunities. Doing variety events a couple of years ago invariably let to such opportunities, but much like this can be a rewarding chain, it’s easy to fall back into the pattern of wanting to try something new but not knowing where to start (and making it all too apparent that I don’t know where to start). I shouldn’t ignore my neurodivergent obstacles here, my lack of overall confidence in the day-to-day and my deep-rooted fear of failure. But failure also lies in not even giving yourself the opportunity to “fail”, and I suppose I shouldn’t ignore the fact I took that risk. I’m terrible at asking for help, or at collaborating, and in my own scrappy way I perhaps managed to achieve both of these.
One of my biggest disappointments is that I lack the grace and gratitude to look at this reflectively, and consider my situation pretty privileged compared to people being bombed and starved in Palestine, and any other victims of the global power-imbalance. I simply don’t know how to want more out of life, without having enough perspective to feel content with what I currently have. Setting goals and targets that challenge me but consider how my obstacles impact me remains the proverbial mountain (or the Caxton Gibbet**, if indeed you prefer the “hits”).
This is quite the overthink in the aftermath of a gig I’ve yet to decide whether I enjoyed. Others appeared to do so, and made the effort to come and show their support. As ever, time to reflect, reshape and have another teacake.
xxSPARKYxx
* as a relatively unknown quantity due to the sporadic nature of my performances, the term ‘hits’ is of course relative.
** if you’ve not had the pleasure of this Cambridgeshire road junction, do you even know how to embrace life?