What a loaded topic! Not just for artists, but for any living person. What does it mean to be skilled? What does it mean to be unskilled?
As a dancer, I was always taught that there is a right and a wrong way to do everything. In ballet, you either do the step correctly, or you're not doing the step. When learning a choreographer's choreography, you either do it as accurately and as closely to his or her liking as possible, or you don't do it well at all. It's a very black and white world--you do, or you don't.
For me, coming to college meant four more years to hone my skills. Coming from a less intensive background, I found myself years behind my peers in terms of physical ability--I could not do as many turns, I could not jump as high, I could not do this and that. From a technical standpoint, I could not measure up. So, logically, I spent four years working hard to improve my technique: the tangible, physical part of dance. I could literally watch myself improve--incrementally, of course, but I could see my skills improving.
However, as Tharp says, "you have to work as hard to protect your skills as you did to develop them."
One of the biggest lessons I learned in coming to Michigan was that it wasn't enough to get accepted. It wasn't enough to enroll or show up to class or even want to be a dancer. It was that if you think you've done "enough" you're wrong. There is always more to do.
This is not to say that perfectionism should rule your life, that you should never take breaks (even long ones!) or pursue other interests (or careers!). This is to say that Michigan has taught me that skill in the arts doesn't necessarily mean virtuosic turns or jumps or movements. Skill in the arts means being skilled at working hard, being really good being tenacious in your quest to work hard. Skill means loving the hard work because it is hard, not in spite of it. Tharp writes, "The one thing that creative souls around the world have in common is that they all have to practice to maintain their skills. Art is a vast democracy of habit." The habit of working hard--that's not necessarily art, but it is what makes it good.
Tharp also speaks to the importance of working on yourself. She notes, "Personality is a skill. You can choose and develop aspects of it that will draw people to you and make them want to help you learn and improve." I love this idea that you can make yourself better by practicing--the more you practice being a good person, the better at it you will be. The more you practice being a confident person, the better at it you will be. Obviously this is easier said than done, but it is refreshing to look at personality in this way. A creative life does not have to mean learning how to play the cello perfectly--it can mean learning how to be the version of yourself that you want to be perfectly. Art and the pursuit of art as a career just gives you the tools--or rather, forces you to earn the tools it takes to make yourself into that person.
One of Tharp's exercises this chapter is to take inventory of your skills. I think as a healthy dancer and a healthy person, it's important to take inventory of what you are good at--what you pride yourself on. In my rehearsals, we start by staying what we are grateful for that day, and end by saying what we appreciate about each other or what we appreciate about ourselves. As I approach the end of my time at Michigan I want to say that I appreciate that I am so dedicated and disciplined--sometimes to a fault, but my dedication to the work has gotten me to where I am. I am grateful for my sense of humor, which has gotten me through many tense moments and situations. I am appreciative of my generosity to the people around me and to my ability to get the work done. I am appreciative of my willingness to learn and grow. I acknowledge all of these with the knowledge that I will continue to learn and evolve in my skills as time continues. Michigan has given me the skills to be better as a dancer and a person--skills to live a fulfilling creative life.
