rethinking excellence
rethinking excellence
Is striving toward Black Excellence a hindrance?
At the start of this year, I created a vision board for the first time since 2020. In the past, I brought my goals and desires to fruition by manifesting them through collage work from magazine clippings, so I wanted to try it again but with a different approach. I downloaded the Canva app and created an iPhone wallpaper with images that symbolize what I want to call into my life and words to remind me of what to strive towards: consistency, healing, confidence, and excellence. All four of these words reflect this current season of my life. Consistency is what led me to complete my first short film. Healing generates my ongoing evolution and fosters healthier relationships. Confidence is crucial in overcoming personal and creative challenges. Lastly, excellence is my primary goal in all of my creative pursuits. I didn't spend much time thinking about why I chose these words; they all came from a subconscious place. As I look at these words every day, their meanings begin to take a different shape. Excellence, in particular, feels much more restricting and far less significant than it did to me a month ago.
In the thick of Black History Month, when we're all Issa Rae at the 2017 Emmys, there is a lot of questionable messaging within the praise of Black excellence that is hard not to internalize as an unknown Black artist who strives towards yet is not quite excellent. Namely, excellence is often defined by accomplishments awarded or achieved within institutions and systems not created for Black folks to thrive in. Even when our community can agree that a body of work is excellent, we feel slighted when it is not recognized outside our community. We detest and call out moments when impactful work created by Black artists has been overlooked and snubbed. We refuse to stand by idly when we are told our excellence is not worthy of being awarded by those who have the power to oppress us in far more sinister ways than shutting us out of white-led award ceremonies. There is no right or wrong way to feel about this. It is simply the reality of being part of a people who descend from folks who built a country for free, created the culture, and have never truly been rewarded for that.
Ruminating on "excellence" and what it means for me as a Black woman artist brought about a lot of personal unpacking. The hardship I endured due to systemic racism/sexism and generational trauma were the impetus for my fixation with excellence. For most of my adulthood, I thought that if I could "make something" of my life, all of my pain and trauma would've meant something, that I'd have a stronger sense of worthiness.
Ruminating on "excellence" and what it means for me as a Black woman artist brought about a lot of personal unpacking. The hardship I endured due to systemic racism/sexism and generational trauma were the impetus for my fixation with excellence. For most of my adulthood, I thought that if I could "make something" of my life, all of my pain and trauma would've meant something, that I'd have a stronger sense of worthiness. I was living with a self-induced pressure to generate enough masterful creative work to transmute my adversity into a success story. To place more importance on the outcome than the intention, and to be so caught up in the perception of the work that I lost sight of its original purpose, is an unquestionably American way of approaching artistry.
Receiving accolades legitimizes the work. When the work is lauded, it creates more opportunities for artists to get paid to do what they love, and in some cases, those opportunities are incredibly lucrative. Capitalism and exceptionalism are at the core of what makes accolades important because if it was just about the work being impactful, artists could acknowledge the direct praise they receive from their audience (via social media, concerts, book signings, fan mail, etc.), and that would be sufficient. Because I live within this system, the idea that I should strive toward making something worthy of accolades took up an excessive amount of space in my artistic endeavors.
The value of your voice as an artist lies in your willingness to share it with those whom it may resonate with, whether it's a close friend, a complete stranger, or just you.
Even when you look at the striving toward excellence outside of the confines of institutions and systems and perceive it at face value (to be outstandingly good at your craft whether you're recognized or not), it's not specific enough. It doesn't convey a real intention other than validation that your work has been well-received. Instead of aspiring for excellence, you can aspire to express an idea clearly, to use language that allows your audience to immerse themselves into the worlds you've built or your character's inner lives. As an artist, your words and ideas hold value whether they receive a certain level of recognition or not. They have value the moment you extract them from your mind onto a piece of paper, in your notes app, on a voice note, in a conversation, or in front of the camera. The value of your voice as an artist lies in your willingness to share it with those whom it may resonate with, whether it's a close friend, a complete stranger, or just you.
What should matter more than being excellent is creating something that made someone expand their mind, experience a moment of joy, or feel seen, and if you're too busy trying to be seen yourself, how will you make others feel that way?
Artistry is about exploration. The further and more consistently you dive into your creative depths, the more skillful you become at it, even when what you produce is not excellent. When words fail you, or the work you create is not suitable for public consumption, you receive information through the process of creating that work that will influence your approach to something else, something better. Even if I create a piece of work for public consumption that is met with polarizing opinions, it still has an impact and, thus, value. It could incite conversations that can lead my audience to expand on the ideas or themes presented in the work, which further aids the process of artistic exploration. I can look at critiques and determine whether they illuminate my blind spots or if the person delivering the critique has blind spots of their own, both of which deepen my sense of artistic clarity.
I'm aware that we live in a time where many people create work solely to acquire clout or wealth, and I don't suggest that we all be satisfied with mediocrity and subpar work. But, as an artist, when you strive for excellence, you become beholden to other people's definition of excellence. The validation of your work is left in the hands of people who may be different from your intended audience. They get to decide your work's value, not your audience, not your peers, nor your spirit. What should matter more than being excellent is creating something that made someone expand their mind, experience a moment of joy, or feel seen, and if you're too busy trying to be seen yourself, how will you make others feel that way? You can certainly define and strive towards excellence on your own terms, but understand that excellence will always be subjective, whereas having clearly defined and specific intentions with your work is an objective approach. When you fail to live up to your expectations of excellence, you run the risk of getting lost in how the work failed instead of centering on how the work can stretch you and your audience.
I haven't decided what word should replace "excellence" on my vision board or if I'll even replace it all. Maybe I should keep it to remind me that I'm just doing my best to thrive as a Black woman artist in a world that isn't really checking for me and that choosing to continue on this path despite that transcends excellence.
READING
Black Women Writers at Work by Claudia Tate
If you are a person who writes and/or enjoys reading, this is a must-read. This book was originally published in 1983 and was just put back into print this year. It features interviews with some of my favorite Black women writers who talk about their specific approach to creative work and how being both Black and a woman influences this. There are so many gems in this book, and much of it is still relevant to today’s time (although a lot of it is a little dated, given the 40-year difference). I dog-eared the shit out of this one, it really made me feel affirmed in my work as a Black woman writer.
WATCHING
Sharper (2023) on AppleTV
If you’re into a lot of plot twists, this one is for you. I didn’t read the synopsis before watching, and I’m glad I didn’t because 1. it’s not a great synopsis, and 2. it’s better to go into the film without knowing what it is about. AppleTV is really stepping it up over there, I have an inkling that they will soon be leading the pack in the streaming wars because they got Apple money and seems to have a quality-over-quantity approach to their content.
LISTENING
Shared playlists are my love language! I made this playlist for the private screening of my short film last month and then revived it last weekend when I hosted a game night with friends and had them contribute to it, it’s funnnnn!
That’s all, that’s it!
If you liked this newsletter, please share or post about it and tag me.
Catch me on these digital streets.
💋 ✌🏾
LaChelle