Working
On artists, day jobs, and a new play
I’m finding it increasingly more difficult to answer the question “what do you do?” For almost exactly a year now, I’ve been a freelancer - editing texts for other writers, researching, working for a textile artist, and as of recently working part-time at a wine store. My schedule feels filled up to the brim with ways to make money, to fund my life and dreams. Telo pointed out the other day that I’ve been “working at working” – it’s been my job to find a better job.
It’s never been easy for artists to be fully supported by their art. I used to work for one of the most famous artists in the world, and though I was lucky to have that job in many ways, I also felt like I suddenly existed in his shadow even though I had no intention to. I would scan other writers’ words, be present when a journalist from GQ came in to profile him, write emails in his voice as he dictated to me. And then return to my apartment to write my own words.
That year, I was also reading about an exhibit at the Blanton Museum of Art called Day Jobs. I never got a chance to go see it in Austin, Texas, but it was a good insight into the sorts of jobs that artists had. Sometimes day jobs are known, and sometimes they are hidden from the public eye. For instance, Philip Glass was notoriously a cab driver. Writer Emily St. John Mandel was an administrative assistant until her fourth published book became a bestseller — only then did she feel she could afford being a full time writer.
I found a book of photographs by John Pilson at a used bookstore the other day. It’s a beautiful collection of black and white photographs from the time when Pilson worked a night shift. The book text describes: “the officescape of a 24/7 investment bank at the height of the dot-com bubble, where Pilson worked as a computer graphics operator on the graveyard shift.” The photographs are surreal and eerie, revelatory of the mundane jobs that inhabit our 24-hour world. The silence is palpable in the silver gelatin prints, the hauntings of the soul-sucking corporate machine. The phones are ringing, the printers are printing, and outside the wind blows.
In a new play directed by my friend Brennan Urbi, day jobs are given a surrealist quality. The play, written by Martin Murray, begins with a monologue in the shape of a cover letter. The audience acts as the receiver of this cover letter, which soon takes a dark turn when we hear of the character’s experience in the paranormal - as she’s applying to a job at a ‘normal’ grocery store, she recalls her recent experience tackling ghosts and collecting specimens. It’s funny and strange, but also a perfect metaphor for applying to a job when you are trying to mold yourself to be the perfect candidate.
The play is structured in four parts and features an ad for delivery app, an awful manager, a father who thinks the world is going to end at midnight on January 1, 2000, and more surreal and strange near death experiences which take dark and unexpected turns. ‘The Munchies’ features a perfectly synchronized cast who are able to shape-shift and adapt to support the story in numerous ways, acting as lighting designers or props when not acting. The stage only has a few elements, and yet through the narration and creativity of the directing, I found myself feeling as though I was there with them. It seemed only a few motions were required to take me to a dark alley where cloaked cult leaders were performing a ceremony, or where a father and daughter were walking through a dark cemetery and up to an old home. I pictured the spider webs and the fog. I was there with them.
“The Munchies” will premiere for its second and last time run this Saturday July 27 at The Tank (312 W. 36th St.) - you don’t wanna miss it if you’re in New York!
I love that John Pilson's day job was in fact a night job!