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In not wanting to look foolish, we become the most foolish of all…

Everyone, at some point, must risk who they think they are for what they might become; we have to step onto the dance floor; sprint onto the court; jump out of the plane and pull the ripcord at just the right moment.

In other words, we have to “drink a cup of fuck it” and see what happens.

To be clear, that doesn't mean throw our hands up and say "Let's just do this thing and get it over with." It means, however, that we abandon the idea of ourselves. It means abandoning the expectation of how a scene should go and how others will experience it. Letting go is terrifying. It's the sensation of a life preserver suddenly becoming an anchor and dragging us into the abyss.

In not wanting to look foolish, we become the most foolish of all…the one who will not try, the one too scared to take a risk. Artists have to embrace risk and always remain – to use a word people have ruined – vulnerable. Vulnerable, in this context, falls short. I prefer honest, open, or clear. And that’s where the fear comes in. After all, what if you’re open and honest and people see too much? Or worse, see nothing at all!

Anything short of a risk is a limitation. We might work hard and people may even think we're good. But if we haven't shared anything of ourselves, there's no communion, no moment where the audience thinks, "Yes, I feel that too." Risk staying open, clear or honest and we find a diminished sense of isolation, an instant bond and an intangible web in which all are joined, if only for a moment.

That's our job, to risk honesty so that others can live in our space for the short time we're together. Every time you go to work, make a decision to "drink a cup of fuck it" and see what happens.

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