In Praise of Amateurism
This is a snapshot of me, my husband Jack, and our neighbor Curt playing a little outdoor concert in front of my studio for our friends last summer.
Amateur is one of my favorite words. Unfortunately, it’s taken on a negative connotation in the past century, often used as a pejorative for someone who is inept or unskilled. I would like to reclaim the word amateur and re-endow it with it’s original meaning. Amateur has various root meanings. In Latin it stems from amāre, which means to love. In French, it means “lover of”. There’s also a case to be made for the Sanskrit word ámīti, which means to take hold of, grasp, or understand. So to be an amatuer means to take hold of or understand something you love. How beautiful!
Many years ago, when my partner Jack and I were newly married, we spent a holiday season at the Geva Theatre in Rochester, New York. It was during one of their productions of A Christmas Carol. Jack was playing the role of Christmas Present and he was in rehearsals through the Thanksgiving holiday. Since we were spending the holiday away from friends and family, the acting company decided to host a potluck feast in one of the standard issue apartments used to house out of town artists.
After dinner, the actor playing Mrs. Cratchitt, Kaia Monroe, pulled out a beat up case covered in travel stickers. She opened it and took out a saxophone. While assembling the mouthpiece and reed, Kaia addressed the group. “I am a proud amateur saxophonist,” she said, “and tonight I would like to play for you. I don’t think you have to be perfect at something to share it with others. And I think we need to bring back the evening family sing-along. So let’s celebrate our amateurism!”
The group circled up around the saxophone with our hot toddies in hand. It was just like Jo March and all of her sisters in ‘Little Women.’ They’d all sit around the piano and sing and play their creaky instruments as a way of entertaining each other on those dark, cold Concord evenings. While Mrs. Cratchitt played her best jazzy version of “Oh Holy Night,” we smiled and sang and remembered why we loved the arts in the first place. Sure, the arts are entertaining. Sure, it’s good to learn new things. But mostly, I think it has something to do with joy.
I want to disrupt this idea that you have to be excellent at something to enjoy it. And I am especially interested in disrupting the notion that if you are good at it, you have to monetize it in some way. Let’s use our love of art and our joy in the process to expand our sense of what is possible. We will not be perfect. It’s going to get messy. The saxophone will squeak. But we will be joyful. And we will take up space and honor our creativity. And in doing so, our creativity will be a catalyst for connection and community building.