Artists and the Myth of the Big Break

I can’t tell you how often I got an opportunity – or even the hint of an opportunity – and thought, this (could be) is my big break! It was meeting a director in Cambodia, or shooting a TV series in Pakistan (that never saw the light of day). It was a Creative Director job in Dubai, and most recently, The Adventures of Mister Moon & Pierrot. And probably so many more that I’m forgetting, times when I wrote in my journal, maybe, maybe, maybe this is the one for me. I’ll make it.

It’s not just Hollywood and Actors

Every artist wants to make it. That doesn’t necessarily mean being in Hollywood movies, being famous, and getting paid millions. Making it really just means this: you don’t have to struggle to find work. You get paid well. People who know your field know you. If you create something, audiences reliably show up, buy it, what have you. You’ve Made It. The End.

Of course…the story is a bit more complicated than that. First of all, “making it” is time-bound. Sure, there are some people who seem timeless, who stay in the public eye and make hit after hit. But there are also many who come, have their time in the spotlight, and then fade into relative obscurity. We only hear of them during their moment in the sun; we don’t hear about what came before or after, presumably full of a lot of what we’re going through.

That’s the thing thought: Making it often relies on the big break. The project that gets you noticed. The post that goes viral. Suddenly, eyes are on you. People want more. In our minds, there’s a huge gap between whatever-this-is and making it. One day you’re no one. The next, you’re someone. Again, this story doesn’t tell you about all the work that goes in before. Very few people literally make it overnight. Many of them were there, somewhere in the background, putting in the work, until the right concoction of time and opportunity come together.

A game of numbers, in short, a crapshoot

The thing is, I know how small the chances are to make it in the sense we’re talking about. How many artists are out there, living their lives, many even quite successfully, but unknown outside their city or country? How many people try to make a living in the arts and can’t, or decide not to? Our collective attention can’t deal with so many stars; we need a few, which means that there just isn’t that much room up there on that platform.

That doesn’t stop me from being disappointed when all those ‘big breaks’ lead to…well, something, but not that. They just lead to the next normal thing, nothing grand or wild or amazing. And normal doesn’t feel that exciting, of course. It’s just…normal. When big promises lead to big nothings, it’s easy to conflate that with ability or capacity. I’m not good enough. My work isn’t that good. Those people who made it are better.

They aren’t, though. Making it requires skill, certainly. But more than anything, it requires being in the right place at the right time, something that we can never control. We can do our best to be in the room, assuming we know which room is the right one (and I’m not sure anyone does). We can put in the consistent work to have the skills should that opportunity come by. At the end of the day, though, those opportunities are few and far between, and there’s no real way to know what, where, when, and how. (Film executives have certainly been trying – that’s why all movies are sequels or remakes, right? Do what works, follow the formula, etc, etc.)

It’s not about big breaks, it’s about longevity

Now, while I do have a legacy problem – all artists have a legacy problem – I also have a rational side. That side reminds how rare those stars are, especially in my field of theatre and movement. Sure, I want to be the next Martha Graham and design a technique that’s taught in universities for years to come. Or create a worldwide touring show like Slava’s Snow Show.

But more than anything else, I’d like to be able to do what I love for the rest of my life. If I had to choose between a year of fame in exchange for 39 years of doing something else, or 40 years of relative and steady success similar to the first 13 years of my career – of course I’d choose the latter. I also remind myself that, although never quite in the form I thought, many of my dreams have come true. Dreams like speaking at TED (TedxVannes), dancing for a professional dance company, touring, creating. For someone outside of my shoes, it looks like I’ve made it.

And of course, those Big Breaks That Weren’t? Well, nothing is for nothing. Some of them planted seeds that blossomed years later. Some of them taught me things about what I really wanted or didn’t. Some of them slowly overtime matured into dreams. They weren’t Big Breaks – they were firmly nestled in a series of learnings and steps upwards, to where I am now.

Don’t believe in the big breaks, but work for them

Okay so after all that, what should you do? There’s no such thing as a Big Break and it’s fundamentally impossible to control, so just stop trying?

NO.

Definitely don’t do that.

Because the work you do to prepare for that Big Break is what creates the path. Like Bon Jovi said, “luck ain’t even lucky, gotta make your own breaks.” If you don’t do the work, there are no breaks, small or big. This isn’t about manifesting or affirmations, or fake it till you make it. It’s about putting in the daily, weekly, monthly work to make your craft the best you can.

I leave you with this question to ponder: If you knew that you’d never get that big break and become a star (or whatever it is in your field), would you still be an artist?

(For me, the answer is yes, and always has been. Maybe that’s the Big Break after all.)