MEMORIES

We all have lots of memories, good ones, bad ones, useless ones and sometimes some memories that really forge our personality, our temperament, our character, and behavior.

As we go forward in life, we accumulate more and more memories and it’s difficult sometimes to go through it and find the ones that have really shaped us…Sometimes I have the feeling that I am carrying an endless catalog of memories and I catch myself more and more telling people my experiences, my stories, my memories.

 I am sure that sometimes people must think: here he goes again, telling us his stories and I am sure that sometimes I must sound like a boring older man perpetually rehashing his experiences.

It seems that some MEMORIES can become the leading instrument of our actions, often unconsciously, and sometimes they become the determining factor for some of our creative blocks, our inaction, or even the impossibility of communicating at any level.

Can we call MEMORIES experience? Maybe…but I believe that there is a difference: to become a MEMORY an experience has to be digested or at least controlled.

MEMORIES of encounters, memories of family history, memories of professional experiences, memories of new discoveries, memories of everyday surprising events, etc.  They decide who we are, who we become and also who we will be until a new MEMORY takes over.

I have noticed that I am not impressed by individuals because of their position in society, or their reputation, or the possibility of being recognized by them… I admire some achievements, some thoughts or some actions, but I am not impressed by the person and am not overwhelmed by what they represent. WHERE DOES THAT COME FROM?

A MEMORY

In 1967, I was acting in Paris in a new play with a group of actors, some young and some others less young.

One of the actors was Lucien Raimbourg, a much older wonderful actor who actually had created the part of Estragon in “Waiting for Godot” by Samuel Beckett. He was generous of advice to his colleagues, and a great mentor. One day, after learning that I was a huge fervent follower of Beckett’s ideas and his theater, that were actually part of my studies at the university, he told me:

“Bernard, I know how much you admire Beckett, he is in Paris and I am meeting him tomorrow afternoon in his apartment, would you like to join us?”

I almost fainted, gagged and answered with a voice full of emotion:

“Lucien, of course I would love that, he is my idol… the writer I want to be, the genius of the century, the man I want to become, please let me go with you.”

The following day after the rehearsal, we were on our way to Beckett’s apartment in Paris…I could not contain my excitement, talked nonstop during the walk while Lucien was smiling and did not say a word…

I was going to meet one of the men I had put on a pedestal for the past seven years, he will be in front of me with his genius, overwhelming me with his knowledge, his passion, his wise advice, his incredible way of being a human being.

We arrived at the door of the apartment and Lucien rang the bell …No answer, he tried again, no answer…I was becoming nervous, was I going to miss the encounter with the genius?

Then Lucien looked at me, and nodded… 

He knocked on the door many times followed by three knocks… like what we call in French LES TROIS COUPS in the theater, signaling to the audience that the curtain is about to rise and the audience should be silent… (Actually what Puccini used before the Musetta aria)

The door opened almost immediately, as if he were waiting for the right thing…LES TROIS COUPS…

I saw BECKETT in front of me … He was unshaven, his hair was dirty and he was wearing an old bathrobe covered with spots of all kinds, probably the leftovers of his meals and other things for the past four days.

He didn't say a word, we followed him through a hallway leading to his living room…On the floor of the hallway and the living room, there were old cans, old empty bottles, old papers, and the level of dirt was unbelievable.

 I sat on a dirty sofa with Lucien, Beckett took an armchair facing us.

I was ready… To listen, to hear, to learn, to grow…The great man was going to talk about theater, about life, about everything I was eager to learn and become a better man.

For the next two hours, he didn't look at me once, he was exchanging ideas and information with Lucien about the advantages of big tits over small tits, with details and stories of their experiences…

 They were laughing nonstop, and went on and on …I didn't know that so many ideas about women’s breasts could be exchanged…

 Beckett was punctuating his laughter and his jokes with belching or farting, and they went on and on … After two hours of all THAT, he finally looked at me with his white eyes and asked Lucien :

 “ why did you bring this little turd here?”

He got up without a word and I understood that we had to go, he had said all he had to say.., he let us reach the door and we left…

In the street, Lucien didn't say a word , he looked at me and nodded.

From that day on, I never again put anyone on a pedestal, I never idolized anybody, I could admire some actions, respect some decisions, but I never idolized anyone else.

This experience digested after time turned into a memory.

I cannot remember a moment of affection or tenderness with my mother… maybe that explains why until recently in my life I have been incapable of showing emotion or concern about most people.

The only memory I have of my father: in 1959, three years after the independence of Tunisia, my father lost everything, we had practically nothing and were getting ready to immigrate to France…One day, after school I went home and I heard my father, alone, crying in his room… I could not even attempt to go inside, he sounded so sad and so lost, I ran to my room and looked at the street through the window and swore to myself that in life I would be strong, that nothing would prevent me from doing what I wanted to do, what I was inspired to do; I would be defying bad fate, I would be in control of myself in every circumstance.

The phone rang and I answer…

“Bernard Uzan?”

“Yes.”

“Your brother had a car accident and is dead.”

End of conversation… I was 19, my brother was 6 years older than me, I never had a real rapport with him… this is practically my only memory of him, a phone call telling me that he was dead…

Until a few years ago, I did not think of him, he was buried in my pain, only a memory to used when I wanted to be suffering and have an equivalent on stage … who was he? I don’t know… I have a few pictures of him. Did this memory carried for 50 years made me vulnerable and strong?????

Memories are not only dramatic or painful.

 Diana brought me many good memories, many of them helped shape the person I am now… I hope I am a better man but certainly I hope to be a more caring human being, and certainly a more giving person

My daughter Vanessa brought me many good memories, many of them helped shape the person I am now … I hope to be a better man but certainly a more caring human being, and certainly a more giving person.

.

I have many memories of people who brought me artistic revelations, the definition of what being a man or a woman means at any level, acts of pure generosity.

All these memories do shape who we are and what we become… Can we control them? Can we change one memory with another more positive one?

                                                                                                                                                                 In any case, they have to be present, controlled, managed, and used. 

                                                                                                                                                            Let’s continue forever to know who we are and why, to understand our actions in order to be able to grow, be better, be happier… if possible.

IS IT TIME?????

I look at the clock in the darkness of my room, it is 2 :30 am… Is it time to get up? Even for me, it seems that it is very early, much too early…

I stay in bed, and I wonder: Is it time to start the day, I have so much to do, especially since I have so much to say to some people about what I think about their last idea, their last commitment, their last adventure…They want my opinion, my “feedback” (God ! how I hate that word “feed back”) but actually they want me to tell them that they did well, that they took the right decision, that they are on the right track…

Is it time to tell them the truth about what I really think?

Is it time?

This question is haunting me now … How many times in my life did I say IS IT TIME?

In 1961, my family left Tunisia after many, many generations in that country to immigrate to France, but  was it time? We were scared to live there; we had lost almost everything, we were nobody and we had nothing. France was opening its doors to us, yes, then  IT WAS TIME.

In 1971, I left Paris and my burgeoning career as an actor and a theater director to live in Boston and start a new adventure, was it time? While I sometimes regret my acting career, and I will never know if I missed the opportunity of becoming the new Marlon Brando, I very quickly grew into my new life and found other ways to express my artistic needs. Yes, PROBABLY IT WAS TIME.

In 1981, I left Boston, my university teaching job and my theater company to live in New York and start a new career by directing Opera, was it time? I think it was time to throw myself into a new adventure and to try to conquer new territories, since my world was becoming sterile and routine… YES IT WAS TIME.

In 1988, I left New York to take a big job in Montreal, was it time? After all those years as a professional in the opera world while depending on the decisions made by others, I needed to be totally responsible professionally for my decisions.  YES IT WAS TIME.

In 2001, I left Montreal and returned to New York, and very soon started an opera management division, was it time?

I don’t know.

In 2011, I started my own management company and went in another adventure, was it really time?

After the experiences of the past 10 years, IT WAS TIME.

It seems that every 10 years or so, the question “is it time?” becomes the center of my preoccupations and the trigger for a possible new life…No, actually this question is asked every day, many, many times, even if we are not aware of it.

Is it time to change apartments, to go on a diet, to stop drinking, to change career, to change partners, to eat better, to avoid gluten, to change my hairdo, to dress better, to go to bed earlier, to answer questions asked to me, to work more, to work less, to realize that my career is going nowhere, to become an adult, to take responsibility for myself and others, to be more generous, to be more giving, to be less giving, to face reality, to look at the world with more generosity, to forgive people who do not like me, to punish the offenders, to say NO, to say YES, to accept the betrayals of friends, to cherish the good ones and be thankful to the givers, to…to…to… The list is infinite, and can go for pages or hours. IS IT TIME?

Every day, many times a day, we must make decisions and face reality… Not an easy task.

Time is a relative notion, is the question irrelevant? Can we answer by just saying: “When the moment comes, I will know if it is time.”

Certainly for the ones who are passive and are just looking at life, it is a possibility, but for those who want to have something to say about their own destiny and the paths of their life, it is not the best choice. We should not be looking at our own image with indulgence because this image could become the reality of who we are.

Must we take in our hands, make it our responsibility to answer this haunting question: Is it time?

Some people spend their life refusing consciously or unconsciously to act: education, fear, narcissism, religious belief, laziness, or just ignorance prevent them to try to answer.

It is not easy to face reality, to try to know who we are and how much we need, to go on to the next step.

Is it time to know what people really think of us? The difference between what we believe we are and what we project on people is immense…

How can I really make decisions about myself if I have no idea how I project to people?

Of course, we project very often what people want to receive and we are the result of who they are and what they believe…

But we cannot deny reality by hiding behind this idea.

Do others receive my everyday actions with the meaning I give to them? It is time to work on this? Is it time to know?

Today, we are submerged with a million more obligations to confront reality and life that even 20 years ago, or 10 years ago… and it goes faster and faster, the notion of who we are and what we do and what we decide is challenged every day, every hour, every minute…especially if we make our life public and at the mercy of all judgments.

Is it possible today to address this question IS IT TIME? Or should we just continue blinded by self-satisfaction and the advantages of a relative easy life with no fundamental questions?

We have to have the courage to address this question about each aspect of our life, it is certainly exhausting but necessary and we have to try to answer it… We cannot spend our life hiding behind an image, behind a myth we have created about our self.

Many times, in different aspects of everyday life or even in important decisions we know we are on the wrong path, we know it is time to act or to change, but we continue to ignore it and we refuse to think about a new way… NO MORE ABOUT THIS…

IS IT TIME???? YES, IT IS…

Is it time to accept that maybe we will not be successful in the career we have chosen?  Is it time to confront the fact that often we live behind a curtain of self-preservation? Certainly, it takes an immense dose of courage even to ask these questions and an incredible strength to face it.

Of course, we cannot spend most of our life doubting everything, and too much doubt sometimes fosters inaction, but we should know when the question IS IT TIME? Truly becomes a priority.

IS IT TIME FOR ME TO RETIRE? Is it time to stop my activities, to leave some room to a new generation? I have probably reached the top of my possibilities and the culmination of what I can do… 

So is it time to stop?

There are other elements to the puzzle!!! The pleasure we can derive in knowing that what we do is the result of a long experience; the feeling that we can convey our thoughts to others.

 I will always have in mind the genial line of Edouard Herriot: La culture, c’est ce qui demeure dans l’homme lorsqu’il a tout oublié…Culture starts when we have forgotten everything… what he means is: the accumulation of digested knowledge becomes our entity and our identity… what can be for some a discovery and hard work, can also become for others the elements of who they are..

And let’s not forget the perpetual desire to adapt to the new needs and sensibilities  of a new generation, to find new ways of expressing our art and be able to try it.

NO IT IS NOT TIME.

It is now 5 am I the morning, is it time to get up? Yes, I have a lot to do and to think about.

Is it time to stop writing the blog? May be.

QUE SONT MES AMIS DEVENUS?????

QUE SONT MES AMIS DEVENUS?????
 What happened to my friends?

 I went to bed last night with a song on my mind, actually just a few words of the tune: Que sont mes amis devenus? It was dancing in my head again and again, like an obsession… I had not heard this song in thirty years but I could not stop having this tune in my brain… AMIS, AMIS…. I could not get to sleep and was wandering in my memories …Who are my friends today? Who were my friends in my youth?

I know that very often here, I have mentioned that I do not have many friends and actually never did… I was probably too busy with my own search for identity, too focused on my own problems, too preoccupied by the questions about tomorrow, too selfish, sometimes too judgmental, l was basically hard to take.

 Not too many friends… but I realized now that a few persons have been extremely important in my life, have given me friendship, have helped me trust myself and some others, have given me more positive thinking in my searches, have contributed largely to who I am now…

 Most of them have disappeared, swallowed by life, by death, by other people, by different interests or by being disappointed by what I was giving them… But I remember them with affection and pride, feeling often that without them I would be a different person and certainly I would not have completed many adventures I began. (Maybe some people will regret that).

 Almost every day I hear about a man or a woman I knew who passed away because of an accident, old age, or they got tired of the life he/she had….How painful it is to hear about the disappearance of people we knew, we respected, we loved, some of whom we could call friends. I wish I had been more available to them, I wish I had recognized in time what they had done for me, what they showed me, what they gave me now that they are no longer here.

 We become not only what we experience, what we go through, what we dream or dread BUT we are ALSO the result of all the influences coming from people we meet. Our life will be filled with huge regrets, self-punishment and even penalties if we live it believing that all is owed to us, that everything given to us is normal because we deserve it, and if we do not feel any kind of obligation by denying the input of others.

 I have reached the age drawing up a balance sheet of my life and I am asking questions about my passed life, questions about the men and women who have been important to me….this can sometimes be a source of sorrow and questions….I ask myself, who was really a friend ? Was I a friend to anybody? Was I present when somebody needed me? Of course, I am sure I brought certain things to some people, but FRIENDSHIP?

 Yes, many, many individuals are close to me and can be called friends and I believe like me, or respect me, or find me interesting, funny, or whatever… But are they friends? What does that really mean: the word friendship? Are they ready to sacrifice anything for me and am I ready to sacrifice anything for them? Will the world change for them when I pass away, and if yes, for how long, an hour? A day? A month? A year? How long will I be present in their thoughts or their hearts? I have a few people who have disappeared from my life but I realize that they are still present in my thoughts and they have changed my way of being, of thinking, of feeling:

 Roger, I do not know where you are now, but if you read this, know that I am thankful to you for what you did for me all the years I spent in Montreal… Montreal was a very difficult period for me, a rich artistic time of great achievements, but a very lonely life, and very isolated. Not only you believed in me professionally and gave me all the possible freedom in my responsibilities as general director of the opera company, but you also gave me personal support, affection and an always ready presence if needed. You understood my temperament, not always easy, you were always ready to share a meal or to talk about life and laugh with me…. THANK YOU ROGER

 Robert, my friend for more than 50 years… You are still here, we spend sometimes years or many months without seeing each other, but we know that we will always be around for each other. I never heard you passing judgment about me or my choices, never criticizing my actions but always ready to give your opinion and your advice. Always around in difficult times, always at a phone call distance; with time we had different life and different options but always with respect for each other. I know that if something happens to one of us, the other will be there if needed for our family. THANK YOU ROBERT.

 Roberto.... You are now a man with a family, you were practically a child when I met you. All these years I have seen you grow up, maturing, becoming a man and someone with serious repsonsibilities. You are like a son to me, but also a friend... always present, always inquisitive, always attentive to my needs...I sincerely hope that I gave you as much as you gave me, affection, respect, trust and understanding even without talking. I am proud to have you as friend, proud of your achievements as a family man and as a professional man. I look at your children and it makes me happy. THANK YOU ROBERTO for giving me that.

 Mark, you have been gone for many years…. You brought me your knowledge of music, your understanding of others, and your generosity towards life. I learned from you how to deal with traumas, how to respect different lifestyles, how to feel needed, and give affection with no second thoughts, how to share ideas and beliefs. I know I could have asked you anything, I know you could have asked me anything, I still smile thinking of you, I still quote you, I still repeat some of your words and some of your jokes. I miss you and will miss you to the end, you were a friend, a brother. THANK YOU MARK.

 Speight, David, Margaret, Jim, Michael, John, THANK YOU.

 It seems that in the new way of living, it is more and more difficult to have friends, even for the people who have a great capacity to make friends. It is ironic to see that in this socially connected world how truly hard this becomes.

 Am I once again projecting my ways or is it our superficial life style? Can we in this world of CHANGES really create special connections and special relationships with a few others?
 I still hear often people saying “my friend” or “friend from childhood” or “my best friend”, I am glad it exists and it happens. Be sure to keep these friends as long as you can and if you are separated by life, be sure to keep them somewhere in your heart or your memory.

 I know that sometimes because we all change, and because life imposes new challenges, new ways, new thoughts on us, some “friends” no longer fit our new needs, but let’s be sure to keep their memory close to us.

 This poem of Rutebeuf, was written in the 13 century

 "Que sont mes amis devenus
 Que j'avais de si près tenus
 Et tant aimés
 Ils ont été trop clairsemés
 Je crois le vent les a ôtés
 L'amour est morte
Ce sont amis que vent me porte
Et il ventait devant ma porte
Les emporta"

I KNOW THE FRENCH LANGUAGE IS SOMETIMES HARD TO GET, SO IT MEANS:

 “What has become of my friends
 Those who were so close to me
And that I loved so,
They have grown thinner
I think the wind blew them away
The love died off
Those friends that the wind brought to me
As it blew at my door
And then whisked them away.”

 A little sad but this is to be expected from a French poet… Very interesting to note that Love needs to die to disappear but the wind can blow friendship away... Is friendship so fragile? Is friendship a temporary feeling? Is friendship an illusion? Perhaps it’s a fantasy?

What about the people that we believe were friends and suddenly turn their back when we are not useful anymore, who were they? Just …Just what? I do not even know how to define them by a word….

So let’s just ignore it for today.

CHANGES

This morning I woke up late, at 5 30  am, that was late for me...I must be worried about something, and I wonder if I slept late to avoid facing it?

What could it be?

These days I am devoting my life to what I have been doing for so many years, preparing productions, pontificating about opera, and trying not to be upset by the most difficult and unrewarding job of all show business: managing artists (i will elaborate on this later)…

I am in my apartment in Miami Beach, on my way to the kitchen to make  coffee, I see in the mirror a strange man I do not recognize, he looks at the same time puzzled and inquisitive, somewhere between maturity and the threshold of old age, his hair looks like it needs another life..

Then after a moment of hesitation I realize that it is I in the mirror of the hallway.  

I ask the man in the mirror :
" Another day of the same conflicts? The same challenges? The same headaches? "

And with a smile full of disdain he answers:
"It cannot be the same, it is never the same, things change, look at you, are you the same now as you were  30, 20, 10 even 5 years ago?"

I look in the mirror and he is right, I have changed, I am not the same man physically, emotionally and I function and behave differently...

The man in the mirror adds with some contempt:
" Do not fall for the coziness of being secure in the profession you have chosen for 50 years...so much has changed, you must adapt every day to new needs, new demands, new rules, new taste, new ways, new faces, new criteria, new humor, new sense of drama, new EVERYTHING."

Looking at him with a sense of superiority , I answer:
"How can we do that? How can the young generation constantly question those changes and be able to go on with it’s life? Until recently, relatively recently, the  taste and demands of people were practically the same. We knew what to do in order to please the great majority, we knew how to behave to be accepted or dismissed, we knew what to say, what to think, even what to dream... 

Yes, every generation brings changes and new adventures and new discoveries and new ways...
But now it seems, a generation lasts only five years or two years or two weeks before we are compelled to deal with NEW WAYS AND CHANGES  ."

I left the mirror and the stranger and went on alone with my thoughts, making the same old coffee as I have done for the past 30 years telling myself :
Culture, knowledge and acquisition of thoughts have been replaced by a culture of knowing how to push the right button. And every day the button changes and everybody is lost or devotes his time in learning which new button to push in order to stay connected with himself, another person, a group, society, or the world.
But it feels so good to be connected, to provide instant answers, to be part of the SOCIAL MEDIA. 

It is almost laughable if it was not dangerously sad.

Recently, I was in a convention and all I heard for three days were people trying to reinvent their profession by creating something NEW, by finding new ways, new approach, new audiences, new venues, new everything , rethinking everything in order to survive and in their mind to be creative and to help the profession... And change the CHANGES.

But do they realize that  today changes do not last more that a very short time because they are replaced immediately by other changes therefore becoming superficial and ineffectual.

Nobody talked about the QUALITY of the product, or the fact that most of the time what we offer is not good enough: it may be new or may be different but it’s not good enough...because it does not address  real  needs or answers to  serious questions, or touches our feelings, or is an explosion of visual beauty...

So no wonder  nobody wants it or not enough people want it.

Of course it happens sometimes but it’s like winning  the  lottery after  many attempts?
Until yesterday or 100 years ago, it took a long time to bring talent to a certain level of perfection and it was done through lots of study and committment ...

Today everybody assumes that he has the right, and even the duty to impart his knowledge or even  his superficial knowledge, his talent or his would be talent to the world because we have been spoiled by the idea that we deserve it, that we are worth it, that we are really amazing.

And too many people in charge believe this is the right way, to make changes even if the changes are poor.
And yes, they have the right to do so but no wonder it is not satisfying to their followers.
Changes should not only mean reinventing the wheel everyday, but improve the wheel, FINDING a new spoke in an existing wheel is a change... Especially in the professions where one is exposed to the public....

We have eliminated the notion of giving our full soul, of giving real technique, of including our accumulated life and knowledge and we only aim to make changes.

Yes, in order to continue to live, we have to create new ways IT IS EXTREMELY IMPORTANT AND EVEN THE BASIC FUNCTION OF HUMAN BEHAVIOR but not to the detriment of perfectionism or real professionalism.

I can just imagine what Picasso or Cezanne would have thought if the streets of Paris or Barcelona were filled and overwhelmed with exhibitions of bad paintings and a price was charged for the admission , and if people were going once, twice and then never again, even to view real talent.
Yes I am sure many artists or pseudo artists were trying to sell their masterpieces to the crowds but they were not the majority.

Am I saying that we live in a world of impostors?

No,  these people are sincere and honest and they believe what they give is great and true to their times .. it is even worse because we have no notion of quality anymore.

Today everybody has the possibility  of doing anything and  make it public, and to broadcast his ideas or silly occupations, his knowledge or absence of knowledge to the entire world... 

The  great progress in human behavior is to be totally free to say what we know and feel to the world EVERY DAY.  But how can we find the real thing, the real talent, who to believe, who to follow, who to trust in the daily avalanche?

The duty of those in charge is to create an environment of professionalism, talent, knowledge, technique...
But do they always know all this? And how can they when they are flooded everyday by changes.

Picasso painted " les demoiselles d' Avignon " after being a figurative painter for years, he had assimilated the technique of painting, and expressed himself differently .
Why do, people believe today that they can go directly to the demoiselles d' Avignon before having digested the first stage?

Yes, we need to have inventors, precursors, changes, new attempts, new ways to grow, to advance as a Society, a culture and an art form... But these people are the chosen, not EVERYBODY has that opportunity, not everybody is  chosen and we cannot and should not base our art on Changes...

We have to learn, accumulate knowledge, experiences, feelings, then digest and try the changes and not go directly to them.

Yes we are definitely in a crisis of society, but I am optimistic, each crisis has an end and possible solutions.

 I JUST HOPE I WILL WITNESS IT

HOW STRANGE

All my life, as long as I can remember, I have been hearing people talking about other people, and I still do... Talking about others is humanity's favorite pastime, especially if the person is not present...I remember that Jean Cocteau, poet and author of La VOIX HUMAINE,  said with his incredible knowledge of human behavior: "Never be the first to leave a crowded room, your ears will burn and your soul will melt..."

Every day I hear: this one is this or is that, did this or did that...I know him or her very well and he/she is most of the time this or that... everybody has an opinion about somebody, everybody knows or has knowledge of somebody else, all of us define others in words. Most of the time those opinions are not favorable, except when we want to impress the surrounding crowd by our generosity and understanding of the human soul and people actions.

For the past 50 years I have been hearing that I was generous and cheap, funny and boring, a happy person and a sad sack, pessimistic and full of optimism, giving and selfish, talentless and full of creativity, intelligent and stupid, cultured and ignorant, scatterbrained and organized, talkative and silent, gloomy and open, tyrannical and a free spirit, a Frenchman and an Italian, a Jew and an agnostic... I will not even dare to repeat or understand what I heard about my looks, my ways, my behavior with people...and so on... I heard everything from the left, from the right, from young, and old, heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, and just about everybody in this world.

HOW STRANGE

We often disagree with others when we talk about somebody else who is not present and the conversation always ends with REALLY ??????? He is like that ? I would have never guessed it...
Of course it is a good thing to have a multi-faceted personality, to offer every one different aspects of ourselves, and to the world all sides of a human being but where is the real person and who is he or she?
Is it dangerous to live one's life as unknown to others and to ourselves?

Who am I really?

I have heard so many times:
"People believe I am like... this, but in reality I am like... that. People do not know me, I am not what they believe I am."
What is more important: what we are or what people believe we are? And with all this contradictory information, do I know who I am ?
And if opinions change so widely, how should we deal with it? Who do we believe?

How can I be a functioning person in my profession if I am perceived so differently.
 How can I use who I am to advance, improve and in some professions become somebody else if I do not even know how most people see me? Especially if most people I meet have different feelings and understandings of who I am.
John or Leslie are in charge of an office and has a staff meeting, if she/he smiles, one will believe it is so charming while someone else will think it is a trick to take advantage of the staff by being nice.
How can I be in charge or be creative, how can I function in a group, or for some of us give the right interpretation of a character if I do not know what I project?

In my life, I made a lot of enemies because I said things which were taken as insults, or as an invasion of privacy, or an unacceptable criticism; was I aware of it? Most of the time, no, I was not...it happened because I did not have the same approach or the same interpretation or the same understanding.
Can I say that I was indifferent to others feelings, I do not believe so.
Can I say that I was not cautious? Perhaps.
When should we tell the truth or to be more accurate, "our" truth to people asking for our advice?
Can we give advice? When we know that another adviser will say the opposite because of who he is and what he does and what he wants.

Most of men and women of my generation who were in charge of a group, a company, an association, are disappearing devoured by age or by the new generation, hungry for power like we were at their age.
Does that mean we know less?
Or maybe what we know is no longer relevant? Is what we know out of touch with today's needs?
Are we becoming a caricature of ourselves without even realizing it?
Or does it mean that our presence disturbs, annoys and threatens the upcoming generation because of our knowledge?
Is it because they know that we know that they know less than us? ACCORDING TO US!!!!!!!
Again it depends who is the judge, who sees , who listens, and who understands what is at stake.

HOW STRANGE

Life marches on and we all try to find a slot, whatever it may be and we have to do it for a long time, and sometimes we like the place we are in, or often we do not and we look around.
The laws of the human heart cannot be reasoned, they obey to a logic of their own.
Should we be just who we are and ignore the judgment of others? Should we go on with the difficult thought that we can be misunderstood by many? Or should we try to correct throughout our life what we believe to be a wrong perception?
So much time devoted in fixing what we believe is the truth? Or the non-truth?

Can we go on ignoring everybody around us, dismissing what they think of us and our actions because to attach some importance can become paralyzing?
Should we just try always to be honest with ourselves even if it means giving up on certain things in order to advance or to survive?

I have sometimes behaved with people with no restraints, no barriers, no mental block and later regretted it...
Was I being myself at that time, or was it just a moment, or a one possible facet of my personality?
And that facet became what some people believe was the essence of who I am?
Should we constantly be under control because of a possible negative interpretation?
But relentless control is impossible...

SO WHAT SHOULD WE DO????

If I knew that I would be on top of the world, may be to be aware of this dilemma is already part of the solution; we cannot please everybody, we cannot expect everybody to like us, to love us, to understand us, or even to accept us... because we are closely connected to each other and to everything...and what we are is also shared with others and with their understanding.
Every word I say, every gesture I make contains the possibility of a different interpretation by somebody...and that somebody will color it with his own palette and his own brushes.

YES IT IS STRANGE TO KNOW THAT WE ARE NOT ALONE

DREAMS

In a few months I will be 70 years old, yes 70...I have a good feeling about it, life has been good to me... While the first 25 years of my life were difficult, dramatic, traumatic, challenging and could have
left permanent wounds, with irreparable results, iI found the way or ways to defy, control, and overcome them and even turn them to my advantage.

While the middle years of my life were the time to build and a huge investment in time and energy in what I believed was my purpose, and my future, the past 25 years have been incredibly satisfying, fulfilling and recently even gratifying.

So many experiences, so many questions, sometimes with answers, and at others left unanswered...

So many dreams fulfilled, so many other dreams turned into nightmares.

Yes, many dreams were fulfilled, without knowing at the time, that they were dreams but a belief that I
deserved the opportunity...My hard work and dedication were responsible for the fulfillment of those
dreams, I never invoked luck, or the help of others, of even fate... I believed it was all the normal consequence of my knowledge, my culture, my growing up with the philosophers and the books on the history of humanity... For most of my life I was certain that it was all meant for me, it was a payback for my devotion, sacrifices and wounds.

BUT WITH TIME AND AGE I REALIZE THAT WE HAVE NOTHING COMING TO US,
NOTHING IS GRANTED, AND SOCIETY OR OTHERS HAVE NO OBLIGATIONS TO US
EITHER.

DREAMS!!!!

As a child my greatest dream was to become a movie star, then later a great theater actor... While I had parts in a few movies, and many, many theatrical plays as an actor, I never became the great actor I wanted to be so badly...

I FOUND OTHER WAYS...

IT IS NEVER TOO LATE BEFORE IT S TOO LATE TO ADJUST OUR DREAMS TO THE
REALITY OF EVERY DAY LIFE, TO A PERIOD, A STYLE, A SOCIETY, OR AN ART.

I see too many young and not so young people insisting in their dreams without trying to adjust them,
without having the courage to confront the reality, not everybody can become a movie star, and not everybody can become a famous opera singer or even be able to make a living from the art form...

Yes me have to try, yes we must persist, yes we have to believe in ourselves, yes we must also do
everything possible...But at some point, we have to face the facts and accept how we are perceived...Of course, many others with less talent than us are successful but THAT IS NO EXCUSE, they are touched by different dimensions than ours, and they have their own history.

Dreams cannot and should not lead our life forever...because waking up too late will be very hard.
If we accept the fact that our dream can and will become only a hobby, then yes, why not? there is nothing wrong in accepting the facts of life, and it can be difficult BUT WE MUST DO IT before the
DREAMS BECOME NIGHTMARES.

We must see the truth, and unfortunately not enough people around us will help see it for a million reasons, some of them BEING SUPPORTIVE, BEING DISCREET, OR SAYING "I do not have the right to interfere in his dreams."
Even so-called friends will not...

Friends? Are they also part of a dream?
I have met many, many people, and how many really did become friends?
Friends????
What is it to be a friend? It seems that the more I advance in age, the fewer friends I have...But did I ever have friends?

During childhood and adolescence for a million reasons I did not have many friends...A few years ago
I went back to Paris to meet with family I had not not seen for more than 50 years, it was an extraordinary event, a pilgrimage back to my childhood, to relive my lost memories... more than 200 people were there to meet the lost child, the one who left to go to America for a new life and pursue his dream, the one dream that most knew nothing about...

Actually, to go to America was a way for me to avoid pursuing in Paris the unfulfilled dreams of my childhood.

A few days later, a cousin asked me for lunch and I agreed... Huge surprise, sitting around a table there were 12 or 13 men my age, and I recognized all of them...they had not changed in 50 years, I could even remember their names, kids who were in school with me in Tunis...An avalanche of memories and stories and tears and laughs... A bunch of mature men behaving like kids, and all of us bragging about women and family and children.BUT ARE THEY FRIENDS? WERE THEY FRIENDS EVEN THEN?

Was that another dream?

In my young adulthood, for a million reasons I did not have many friends... I was too busy building a life, too selfish to help anybody, too self centered to look around...Yes, I met hundreds of people, sometimes I was with some people regularly and sometimes seeing them every day rebuilding the world together with great theories about society, love, religion, politics. But WERE THEY FRIENDS OR JUST ACQUAINTANCES?

Was that another dream?

In middle age, for a million reasons I did not have many friends...I was always the man in charge, the leader of something, the general of an army that sometimes did not like the commander...Yes, I have been invited to a million places, yes i have seen some individuals often for long periods, yes I have exchanged ideas, stories and emotions... But WERE THEY FRIENDS OR JUST JUST FRIENDS OF THE MOMENT?

And now on the edge of old age, I do not have many friends.
Recently, some people who called themselves friends of mine have disappeared in the clouds;
In the recent years I have been surprised, shocked, depressed, angered, disappointed, humiliated, betrayed by some individuals who were calling themselves friends.
After I helped men and women to become somebody, they turned their back and ignored my very existence once they believed they had reached a level of success or achievement, with the excuse that it was better for their companies, for a better life, and best for WHATEVER.

Is it because I am not a good person?
Is it because I had offended them without knowing it?
Is it because I can do less for them?
Is it because They believe I do not need anything anymore?
Or maybe because I am not worth it?
Or even worse because THEY WERE NEVER FRIENDS IN THE FIRST PLACE?

Was that another dream???

In our world, we meet new people constantly: we share for a few weeks, a few months, sometimes for
years: ideas, art, everyday work... and because of this very close relationship, we share personal thoughts, personal feelings, and personal moments.

Perhaps I do not now what a friend is, may be I do not understand the definition of the word Friend.
In my mind, a friend is somebody for whom I will do anything I can in difficult periods of life, Somebody I can give my time, my support, my affection and who will do the same thing for me.
Dreams of career, dreams of love, dreams of friendship, dreams of dreams are the engine of life, but we have to know and to accept when it is time to wake up and to choose other dreams, and learn how to love other possibilities of achieving the balance of our life.

Who wants to have the same dream every night? NOT ME, it becomes a nightmare!
DREAMS...DREAMS...DREAMS... The absolute necessity to be able to function, to create, to share, to give, to demand, to accept, to deny...But sometimes unfulfilled and dangerous.

So, when we finally open our eyes, lets change the dream and go on with life.

VOCATION? PROFESSION? ART?

VOCATION

I am around 10 years old, in the summer in Tunis…everybody is asleep in the afternoon, it is too hot to do anything… The summers are long from early June to the end of August...

 Air conditioning does not exist yet, so we keep wet sheets in front of a fan and that is the only way we can breathe and avoid being in a sauna.

Everybody  “fait la sieste”, everybody is asleep, and as always I am not…I do not have too many friends, for a million reasons, and the summer afternoons are very long…

But I have my favorite past time, I have been buying all the magazines about movie stars and the movies; I remember some of the names, “Cinemascope and Cinerama”. I spend hours reading about the actors and the new movies that I will never see since in Tunis we could get very few American movies.

I look at the pictures and I dream…I dream of being John Wayne in a western (we call these movies “film de cowboys et d’indiens”), I look at the pictures of Ava Garner, Marlon Brando, Robert Mitchum, Audrey Hepburn, Susan Hayward, James Dean, Kirk Douglas, Jane Russell, Victor Mature, Burt Lancaster, Marilyn Monroe, Robert Taylor, Cary Grant, and hundreds more.

I cut their pictures from the magazine and sometimes I make them act together inventing new scripts, moving them around, making them fight or fall in love...

I have my own world just imagining stories for the actors and I become all of them, changing my voice if necessary, I could be a bad boy like James Dean or a sheriff like John Wayne, or Marlon Brando seducing a

beautiful woman.

This world of fantasy lasts for 6 years, and then one day I decide to glue them together in a book and they become mute.

But I continue to dream and dream and fantasize.

I imagine that many people had a childhood filled of dreams of becoming somebody…Musicians, Engineers, or Researchers…and try all their life to achieve what they were dreaming…Is this what we call VOCATION?

Are some of us determined by the dreams of childhood? Do we have some genes, some blood stream, and some part of our brain that demands something specific? Why didn’t any of my cousins have that need when they were my age?  Why some people feel from the beginning a call for a profession or a path to follow.

Is it because I was very lonely that I needed to fill my emptiness with the dreams of becoming somebody else?

Is it because I was different from other kids that I needed to create stories and use famous people to make a new world?

Is that VOCATION??????

When I was around 16 years old, we left Tunis and those oppressing hot afternoons and went to Paris… I thought that it was childish and silly so I stopped… I stopped for 6 or 7 years thinking about actors, movies, and theater until my experience with The Theater of the Wooden Sword-read the first posting called THE BEGINNING-

Then it became my profession…

PROFESSION?

Times have changed, yes I know, all older people say the same: it is not what it used to be, everything is different, we were not like that, what is happening, everything goes faster, I cannot deal with it…etc…
I am from a generation which was called the ME generation, the generation of the sixties, the generation of MAY 1968 with all its consequences…Yes, I know my generation was smoking pot, listening to the Beatles, and to be a hippie was a way of life…but we did not believe that we had everything coming to us, we knew that after a few years of the so called “good times”, we would have to change our ways and really make some sacrifices for our profession.

Recently, actually for the past few years, I have been amazed, in shock is a better word, by the way the people in our PROFESSION behave, work, think, and go on with their life.

LETS GO HAVE DRINKS
Is the leitmotiv I hear all day long from singers, musicians, conductors, directors…Until very recently, we were inviting each other once in a while, rarely, for a special occasion, and most of the time Tenors and Sopranos were drinking tea, the invitation was
LETS GO HAVE A DRINK

Reading books or trying to understand what world culture means and acquiring more everyday has been replaced by facebook, twitter and text messages all day long…Maybe I am missing something, maybe facebook and twitter and…are incredible sources of knowledge. Knowledge of others, knowledge of the private life and every move people make, an insight into human behavior.
I should know that it is extremely important to stay in touch daily with half of the world, it is an unparalleled source of understanding to know where so and so went last Sunday and what movie they saw and with whom..
What am I thinking, I do not realize how important it is to know what dress somebody is wearing, and which shoes they bought last week and with whom they went to dinner.

Sacrifice is a dirty word, all of us deserve everything, are entitled to everything, have more talent than anybody, so we SHOULD BECOME SOMEBODY without too much effort.
Lets go out every night to be in the circle of those who know, and let’s sleep late in the morning but never after 11 am…This is normal, after all I work at night, even if I sing 12 nights a year.
Of course it is a generalization and I am sure that many, many PROFESSIONALS have still the sense of what should be done to enter this career, and to last in it and to prolong it; a life of sacrifice, of perpetual learning, of incessant battle for improvement.
The Profession must be the center of life, an entire life devoted to the theater with demands and obligations and limits and choices to be made constantly….
If we cannot accept that, it is fine, but it becomes a hobby, not a profession…I admire people who have decided to have hobbies like singing, playing the piano, fishing, or cooking… But it is a HOBBY… with no demands, no sacrifices.

PROFESSION: “ A paid occupation, especially one that involves prolonged training and a formal qualification”
That’s the definition given by some dictionaries.
I think the key for artists is “PROLONGED TRAINING”, I would change PROLONGED by INFINITE training.

I often give an example:
Do I admire a painter because he has brushes and colors on a palette? Do I think he is a great artist because he has the tools for his ART? Must I believe that somebody is an ARTIST because he has the tools for his ART?

ART??
Do we respect the Art of a musician because he has an instrument and a music score? Do we have to admire a singer because he knows his music and the words of his role?
So, what defines ART?
I remember 30 years ago, a famous singer who asked me while we were in rehearsals for Carmen, if I wanted to accompany her to a coaching she had that afternoon.
I said yes of course.
I learned that afternoon what ART could mean…in her specific PROFESSION AND VOCATION.
She spent 4 hours on one line of the role…trying every possibility, vocally, musically and dramatically.
She tried every possible way, she reminisced every possible personal event to be the closest possible of the character in this line, again and again; every possibility was legitimate, she was always giving herself completely and always differently.
Her ART was not a lottery or a moment of luck, or a gift from the Gods…Sure, the Gods had given her the incredible voice and the natural talent to express herself…but her ART was the result of a total giving of herself and of her knowledge.

ART, ARTISTIC, words that we all want to honor! But please let’s remember that is not only a gift from the Supreme Being, it is a constant devotion, a perpetual work within ourselves; to become an artist is to enter an order in a religion and to renounce everything else. Difficult choices to make, many sacrifices and very often a very lonely life. To be an Artist is to accept to be different, to be seen as a lost cause by most people, to accept that the search for the hidden truth is never ending.