Be thankful you aren't the Morris Squill

Dear Minnesota Playlist Thank you for your inquiry. I would love to provide you with an article on "survival." However, I am unable to satisfy your request at this time. Sadly, I feel unqualified to offer any thoughts on the subject. On the most basic level, survival is not something I have to consider. It's not like I'm a woman in Darfur, an Uyghur in China or meaningful financial reform legislation in Congress. I live a life of unimaginable ease compared to ninety-some percent of the world's population. Though, I have to say, the transition to digital television has not been without hardship. Of course, that's not the sort of survival you're addressing. You, I assume, wish to explore the real and serious struggle to survive as an artist in these tough economic times™. Here, too, I am unprepared to offer suggestions. It’s not that I don’t want to be helpful—but I can’t seem to get my arms around the subject. I suppose it’s the word “survival.” Survival implies a gravity that I can’t internalize. What happens if an artist doesn’t survive? The world loses one artist and gains one bank teller. Not so bad. Am I saying that artists aren’t useful to society? Um, yes. Yes I am. Not because I don’t wish they were useful, but because society has made it pretty clear that it doesn’t much care. During the tough economic times™ of the 1930’s, we-the-people funded the Federal Theater Project. Throughout the forties, fifties and sixties, artists were an ongoing, influential aspect of popular culture. Leonard Bernstein gave televised Young People’s Concerts, Life Magazine published articles on Pablo Picasso. Arthur Miller plays were enacted on network TV. Robert Frost was a celebrity judge on So You Think You Can Dance. Television, newspapers and magazines regularly sought out serious musicians, poets, novelists, visual artists and playwrights for their views. The arts were assumed to be a part of what made this country great. Today, an eloquent, nuanced, artistic expression of thought is not just unwanted; it is vigorously avoided. It does not make good entertainment. We’ve decided. The arts are a luxury. A once-in-a-while treat for wealthy old people. And you are having a hard time surviving? Of course you are. Too bad. Have you heard of the Morris Squill? It’s a critically endangered native flower of the Mediterranean Islands. It will soon be extinct. And that makes you feel bad, right? But what are you going to do about it? While you think about that, let me point out another thing. Working as an artist is awesome. You get to spend all day “taking care of yourself” and thinking deep thoughts and hanging out with cool people. Back when my fulltime job was being an actor, I could spend hours explaining to myself and others how my job was so much more difficult than a regular job because it demanded so much more – physically, mentally, emotionally. Then I got a real job. A job where even if the Excel spreadsheet doesn’t “feel right,” I have to get it done; where I don’t have a stage manager to look out for me and give me a break every hour and twenty minutes; and where no one gives me a round of applause for putting together that PowerPoint presentation. You want sympathy for having a hard time making a living as an actor? Every minute I spend in a rehearsal room is a freaking blessing. Except for that one show last year. That was brutal. And, as long as you ask, I’m NOT surviving very well, thank you very much. I can’t quit smoking. I eat badly, sleep badly, and drink too much. My regular exercise consists of suppressing my rage. Several reps per day. And you want me to write an article on “survival?” Fuck you. I'm sure your reader(s) will enjoy the submissions you publish on this fascinating theme. For my part, I look forward to reading whatever you run. I’m sure I’ll learn a lot. I hope you will consider me for future submissions. Yours sincerely, John Middleton Beloved Twin Cities actor and certified Microsoft PowerPoint expert.