When I sat down to write my column for this month, I thought back over my last few postings. I’ve written about how I think it is essential that we as artists let ourselves combat the ‘big issues’, about how we must have the ability to empathise with a wide range of people and communities (including those we might on first glance be repulsed by) and also that we should remember there are many positives to being an artist and that we have a responsibility to commit to our work whole-heartedly.
Now there’s a big sentence.
I also thought about the name I gave this column: A Bit Of Argy Bargy, and I asked myself why did I give it this name? Argy bargy is one of those phrases that I find very evocative. Like ‘fisticuffs’ or ‘hullabaloo’, to me it creates a very strong image and for me that image is conflict, but with a big, friendly smile attached to it. I imagine black and white images of boxers with big, styled moustaches parading like peacocks outside travelling shows and things like that. One reader made a comment to my first post that suggested the name might have come from India and literally mean ‘left and right’ (thanks for your post by the way!), which isn’t that far from a boxing match anyway.
What I like about the title and how I think it relates to the things I’ve been writing about, and more generally about my views of being an artist, is the combination of conflict and entertainment.
First and foremost we should always aim for our work to be brilliant, nothing less. But the balance of the themes we are talking about and the artistic form we are using is essential to get right. If you want people to really listen to what you are saying then one of the best ways to do that is to continue to entertain them. The moment an audience feels it is being preached to is the moment you lose them.
So, don’t be afraid to create a ‘serious’ play, book, poem, song, painting, sculpture, film etc. that includes a lot of joy and, in fact, laughter. Humans always laugh. Sometimes in the most serious or the most dire situations laughter can seem to come from nowhere. It is an incredibly powerful tool and I believe it is not used often enough in conjunction with ‘serious’ issues.
The work I have done as a playwright has included everything… My friends and family often joke with me about what kind of tragedy I can write about next. I hope though that in each of the works I have already written there are spaces for laughter, lightness and joy.
We can laugh in the face of tragedy. We do laugh in the face of tragedy and in fact it is an essential part of understanding and coming to terms with tragedy. We as artists must not forget that.
