"The separation of radium from the alkalines required thousands of tedious crystallizations. But as she wrote to her brother in 1894, “one never notices what has been done; one can only see what remains to be done.” After four years, Curie had accumulated barely enough pure radium to fill a thimble."
- from "Madame Curie's Passion" in the online version of The Smithsonian Magazine
I recently read this article on Marie Sklodowska-Curie in The Smithsonian Magazine upon the urging of my mother. Our Polish pride usually pulls us toward any article, TV show, film, or random insurance commercial remotely mentioning our heritage. This time the source material, written by Julie Des Jardins, proved to be quite rich and thought provoking.
Mostly it has me thinking about how Marie Sklodowska-Curie suffered a great deal for her scientific work. She dealt with slow-and-steady radiation poisoning, long bouts of isolation, and the self-denial of many pleasures. I won't go into describing the article any further than that. Ms. Des Jardins does an excellent job all by herself in having written it.
However, it's the two quotes I posted in this blog that have me thinking...
As an artist always trying to strengthen, deepen, rediscover, or maybe even discover for the first time, his process, I am particularly struck by that second quote. "...one never notices what has been done; one can only see what remains to be done." Having just closed Arms & The Man at Constellation Theatre in Washington DC I have to admit I am in the post-show-closing-malaise that happens to most actors. I told a few friends recently that coming down off a show I ask myself simple questions like:
"Did I really just do that...for 11 weeks?"
"What's next?"
"Do I need to create a performance to feel complete?"
"What the hell happened to the rest of my life while I was lost in this constant commuting between Baltimore and Washington DC, between teaching and rehearsing, between bouts of performing as a teacher and Sergius Saranoff? I mean...do I actually have a 'rest of my life?'"
"What's next?"
"What am I teaching tomorrow?"
"What happened to my plans to live and work in Texas?"
"What happened to my plans to live and work in Poland and Slovakia?"
"What's next?"
"Do I keep this bloody moustache I grew out for the show?"
"When did I appropriate all of those British-isms into my daily speech? Did I do that when I lived in England? Was that really 9 years ago? Is there a future THERE for me?"
"What's next?"
"What's next?"
"Should I find a doctor...a dentist...an optometrist...a chiropractor...a specialist for my left wrist...?"
"Should I move...again?"
"Should I move...again?"
"What's next?"
"Should I begin writing with Paul?"
"What do I do about these classes I have to take for teacher certification?"
"What about this personal life of mine?"
"What about all these people who seem very angry with me, that seem to be coming out of the woodwork every other day...and hour some days?"
"What's next?"
I sift through all these questions, and more, and find there's not even enough of whatever is my radium to coat a pinhead, let alone fill a thimble.
"What if...?"
"What if...?"
There are several of those in my life...the "What if..." questions. I could go into hundreds of those. Here I have to quote the first non-academic show I ever did, The Lion in Winter.
"'What if' is a game for scholars. What if angels sat on pinheads? What if I were king? It's your game, Geoff. You play it."
"'What if' is a game for scholars. What if angels sat on pinheads? What if I were king? It's your game, Geoff. You play it."
It is a fruitless game.
Still, I find myself drawn to thoughts of starting a family...and having a wife? An irrational life mate? A long-term girlfriend/partner? Children?
Maybe it's not a romantic partner? A long-term collaborator?
Maybe it's not a romantic partner? A long-term collaborator?
I left a good kind of that last one in Spišská Nová Ves, Slovakia back in May. My friend, Peter, on the night before I left to head back to Poland, drunk on Slovakian Fernet liquor he said, in a broken Slovak and Polish, "My God! Why is it the only person I feel like is my true artistic brother lives several thousand miles away in America?!" I felt similarly. However, I feel that connection with several "artistic brothers" around the United States and Europe.
Are they elsewhere?
"What's next?"
That pesky question immediately comes up. The search for who is next inevitably brings up the what. It's best to take up John Lennon's advice here.
"Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."
Is that advice? I guess so. Anyway, that kind of thing can't be planned...romantically, artistically, or professionally. The opportunities present themselves and one must jump at them...and it's why I end up on Pierre Curie's quote:
“It would...be a beautiful thing...to pass through life together hypnotized in our dreams..."
It sure would be. I look forward to being hypnotized by a dream rather than questions.
It sure would be. I look forward to being hypnotized by a dream rather than questions.
Perhaps I'm already in a dream and I don't even know it...
