manifesto

Here’s a funny thing you start to wonder about as you climb the ladder:

if access to the tower means no access to the street, maybe, baby, it ain’t worth it.

That’s from one of my favourite artists – the redoubtable Taylor Mac.

A manifesto is not just a statement of belief; it is also a statement of intent. Marx and Engels started with a premise – that communism was a more effective social and economic tool for happiness than capitalism. Whatever side of the wall you are on, it remains an undeniably compelling water cooler proposition.

Same, same, but different, no?

I’ve reached the age and stage where my kind of manifesto is a grab bag of memories, experiences and the dreaded anecdotes, rather than the more grandiose statements of world-changing art that I used to go for. One is no better than the other – to speak our truth, we have to write, think and make from our hearts, and we can only do that by being faithful to where we are up to in our lives.

I love seeing young artists being loud and passionate and abandoned – they are bringing what they have, which is FIRE, baby. I recently worked out that another of my redoubtable heroes – Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde – was only 28 when he famously said to a customs agent:

I have nothing to declare but my genius.

It is equally stunning to witness the restraint and minimalism of our senior artists, who are so effortlessly eloquent, as Caryl Churchill reminded me of when I saw Anne-Louise Sarks’s gorgeous production of What If If Only at the MTC a couple of years ago.

So, what is my statement of belief?

I believe that art is the strongest, most pliable and viable weapon we have in society for creating change. It is also the only eloquent record we can leave behind of what we thought, in our particular moment, was important, valuable and worth dying for. Also, it brings funny, softness, rage, stupidness and love. I enjoy all these things

My statement of intent:

I intend to keep making things, no matter how stupid, pointless or meaningless it might feel to me (as, on a bad day, it sometimes does.) I am prepared to look stupid if that’s what it takes. Roll your eyes. I don’t care.

I’ve enjoyed writing this. But it’s weird, thinking I’d probably write a different one every day…