Risk at Risk

When we think of risk, what might come to mind is skydiving, bungee jumping, rock climbing, race-car-driving and the like. But that’s just outwardly, showy, daredevil stuff. The real risks are things like getting up at a jazz jam session and taking a solo. Speaking up at a school faculty meeting and saying exactly what the admin doesn’t want to hear. Writing a tender piece and sharing it with your friends. Telling someone you like or love them without any guarantee that the feeling is mutual. In short, the things that make us vulnerable and put us in a kind of harm’s way. Not with bullets, but with the risk of being ignored, laughed at, shouted down or cruelly insulted. 

 

Participation in any public display of art— a music or dance concert, an art show, a poetry reading or a play— is an act of risk. The expectation is—or should be— that afterwards, the friends attending offer some kind of appreciative comment. A simple thank you, a few sincere adjectives—  “Beautiful! /Compelling! / Moving! ” and if you’re ready for the next level— “I couldn’t stop looking at your painting of that apple. /That jazz ballad was exquisite./ Your poem captured exactly what I feel but have never found words for.” You get the idea. And naturally, if you have a strong relationship with someone, after the affirmations can come some gentle sincere critiques.  That’s well within the bounds of proper etiquette.

 

But what it is not okay, rude, hurtful and seems to happen more and more these days is to not say anything at all. For example, when the music teacher has worked beyond human capacity to put on an extraordinary show with the kids and the fellow teachers, admin, parents or kids themselves don’t say a word about any of it afterward, this is simply unacceptable. Toxic, harmful and shameful. Signs of a dysfunctional school culture that is clueless and doesn’t even realize they’re clueless. So on top of everything else, the music teacher has to educate the staff about the expected etiquette that every artist understands without question. And then run the risk of being thought of needy, whining, defiant and how dare you insult your fellow teachers? This is not good.

 

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. “If you see something, say something.” Particularly when it’s a fellow human putting themselves out there and daring to be vulnerable through the form of artistic. Better an honest “that didn’t work for me so well/ didn’t move me/ not to my taste/ etc.” than a deafening silence. At least that can spark a conversation. 

 

We seem to understand this better when we are invited guests to the dinner party where the host has cooked the meal. The expectation is that you will comment (positively) on the food served, thank the host at the end of the evening and sometimes even send a follow-up text/e-mail/ card. But I’m noticing that in the field of the arts, as in the recent school concert mentioned above, we seem to need to re-train people. 

 

Why would someone not say anything? One can only guess, but it could be a simple as no one ever trained them to this form of etiquette. Perhaps it’s because they’re self-absorbed and not mindful of the needs of others. Maybe they’ve been steamrolled by a leader whose model is to never say a single nice word about anyone or anything and in fact, take the most sensitive occasion to spew trash-talk. We’ve all suffered from the trickle-down-effect where nothing matters and mean-spiritedness and cruelty run the show.  

 

But there may be more lurking below the surface. We say we love the artists who share their vulnerability and reach far below the surface of the mundane. We admire those who touch some depth of feeling or thinking that we all have but might be too busy or distracted to go to. Or simply refuse to go there because to do so is to expose ourselves to a tenderness that we’ve been trying to cover up. Might it be that we don’t want something or someone to penetrate the armor of illusionary protection we’ve worked so hard to build? So instead of appreciating the person who does so, we’re uncomfortable that they remind us of something we’ve buried deep down or even (usually subconsciously) angry with them for breaking the deal of talking only about sports or real estate or the daily news. Don’t interrupt my “nice day” by stirring up what really matters. 

 

And so the value of risk is itself at risk these days. While I spent my days in the music classroom inviting and enticing the children to take great risks— sing or play a solo, take that challenging part in the play, dance in the middle of the circle— the school formed a Risk Committee devoted to fear and protection. In my classroom, that sense of risk was cushioned by a supportive community that understood how to welcome and applaud each daring venture beyond the safe and comfortable. Outside, the very definition of risk was limited to the negative associations I find in my thesaurus—danger, jeopardy, peril, hazard, menace and threat. When we seek to make ourselves invulnerable, we lose an essential part  of our nature. 

Risk means vulnerability and as defined by the poet David Whyte, “vulnerability is not a weakness, a passing indisposition, or something we can arrange to do without… it is the underlying, ever present and abiding undercurrent of our natural state. To run from vulnerability is to run from the essence of our nature…” 

 

Let me be clear. No worthy artist creates to receive nice comments from friends in the audience. But every artist is also plagued by great doubt as to their ability to express the ineffable and when people walk away in a cloak of silence, that doubt grows larger. A few well-placed words, a look, a touch, is all that’s needed to let the risk-takers know that their efforts made a difference. Let us all take the simple airport motto to heart: “If you see something, say something.”