One of my favorite New Orleans bands is called Rebirth Brass Band, and they have a song I love called "Do Whatcha Wanna." Seeing that today is Fat Tuesday, that song is playing on repeat in my head. Traditionally, on paper, the purpose of Mardi Gras is feasting on all the fats in the home before Lent in preparation for fasting. As a New Orleanian, who is walking the streets right now with a roadie, dressed as a duck, it's a day where you not only eat what you want, but you ARE who you want. I don't think of it as just gluttony before abstinence but as a reminder of what's possible. A reminder of the freedoms we should be feeling within our community and ourselves. That dancing and drumming in the streets is normal, hooking your arm around a stranger and singing along with them is normal. You wear your inner superhero on the outside of your clothes, and your spirit animal is who you are. It's a day of empowerment.
I find days like today so important, seeing that most of our movements and decisions are dictated by what others need. What our supervisor is pushing for or our clients are asking for... responding to the most recent feedback. This is just adulting and should definitely be considered. The saying "know your audience" is logical. However, it can deny you your creative freedoms and intuitive process.
Whether in my production work, running a Pilates studio, or hosting Pilates retreats, there's an interesting dance that happens, especially when I'm looking to improve and grow. I need to listen closely to client demands, follow their lead and the energy around me, but I also need to listen to my instincts and let that lead. Sometimes it's a fluke, where it actually works out. I can multitask other people's expectations, build and design to satisfy someone else, while also staying true to my own creative instincts. However, most times it's a chaotic clash. The process is agony, and the result is watered down.
This was a common topic this past weekend. My husband and I were hanging out with a lot of filmmakers because of a pretty swanky event we went to. Our good friends have a documentary that was nominated for an Oscar. The morning it was announced, we texted them a flurry of congrats, and they were in absolute shock. Incredible. Next thing you know, we're at their private pre-Oscar event in Hollywood Hills. It's very easy to enter these parties with imposter syndrome. Who are WE!?! What are we doing here? What business do we have chatting to anyone about anything? Well, I've gone to enough of these to tell you every single one of those filmmakers and artists feels the same way. Especially in the documentary space. They've had their heads down and been DEEP in the trenches, the dark editing room, right before this. Their social muscles haven't moved in a long time. They scrambled to find a nice suit or dress just like we did. They can't believe they are there either. They ALL have imposter syndrome. They are also very glad to speak to you about their film. It doesn't matter who you are, it is so cathartic for them to share their process. So much of it is because they listened to their gut. They fought to not let the chaotic noise and outside demands clash with their instincts. All of them had an agent or a critic screaming in their ear telling them to change it—and they didn't. It's important for them to acknowledge that was brave and the right choice. They told the story the way they wanted to tell the story.
In fact, we've known our friends for most of their production career; we've followed all of the ups and downs. They wrote the script, put their own money into it, and poured their own sweat and delirious tears into it. Then it's greenlit, and the second other producers and hands get involved, it turns to rubbish. It takes a turn into something unrecognizable and watered down. The same scenario over and over. It makes so much sense that the film that clearly made it the furthest, to the Dolby Theatre as an Oscar nominee, was the film they didn't let anyone else touch from beginning to end. If people tried, they slapped away their hand and had the final say. Their film is called Porcelain War. Brendan Bellomo, our friend and co-director, did an interview explaining their process. A really in-depth breakdown of the artistic choices they made. Choices that would have easily been swayed or cut if you let too much logic, time constraints, or heavy-breathing supervisors get in the way.
Morgan Housel is a New York Times bestselling author of The Psychology of Money. I've talked about him before; he's an expert in financial management and makes money feel less mysterious or scary. He believes listening to your instincts and being driven by them, not someone else's dream, is the key to wealth. That financial freedom and the freedom of autonomy and control go hand in hand. He says writers, for instance, have much more impact and a more compelling voice when they are writing for an audience of one. Write stories that you find appealing, what you enjoy writing, and stop caring about the audience that might read it. He feels you always do your best work when you do that; otherwise, it feels performative.
Housel thinks the advice "know your audience" is not good advice because "know your audience" very quickly becomes "pander to your audience." He said most people pander, pander to their boss or quarterly metrics. You always do your best work when you have the independence and autonomy when you have an audience of one. He quotes Brian Chesky, who started Airbnb, "Don't build a product that 1,000 people like; build a product that 100 people love... or that one person YOU love."
This week, let's stop more to listen to ourselves. Are we moving in a certain direction because it's what we want to be doing, or are we bending to someone else's needs? Much like last week's inspiration, where we looked at SNL cast members, their best skits are when they just did what they thought was funny and didn't think about what other people would want to see. Whether it's designing a class or a retreat experience, I really try to close my eyes and let my instincts and creative autopilot drive. I'm like the guy strutting around on Mardi Gras Day with a pink wig and tights—and a real strong sense of identity. I equally care and don't give a damn.
It sounds so cliche, but it's worth sounding cliché since so few people do it, let's just do the thing we love doing. You do you...or as Rebirth Brass Band puts it more eloquently, Do Whatcha Wanna.
Excited to make your bodies sweat, smile, and do whatcha wanna.
XO,
Celeste
Happy Mardi Gras y'all!!!
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