My lack of inspiration regarding new acts was beginning to cause me worry. While I have been furiously beavering away at honing/fine tuning my old acts (paying particular care to the Rabbit Poison and Dark Before The Dawn acts), my desire to create a new act has not diminished.
But alas, no muse or divine intervention of inspiration has been forthcoming and I have found myself coming up with acts that I know have been used and used very well: housewife, baking, lone lover, heartbroken lady – oh the list was endless. And depressingly so.
The whole process got me thinking about what is the sure fire way for inspiration to knock you over with an idea so marvellous and so incredible that only the burlesque goddess herself would have come up with it.
I decided to ask around – and boy were there some ‘peculiar answers’ – and while I asked a few performers I also questioned friends and family as well as other creatives. My dad, it appears, finds inspiration while on the toilet, which seemed a common response from my male friends when quizzed. I will somehow avoid that one. Unless that toilet happens to be rhinestoned. There were the usual suggestions of reading books, watching movies, going to galleries and such like, but nothing definitive. So off I took to the art galleries, the library, and the dreaded Blockbuster (cue spotty teenagers who I cant help but feel judge me on my movie choices).
I sat and watched and observed and mooched and pondered, but alas nothing. Nothing at all… Breakfast at Tiffany’s made me think of diamonds, Cabaret made me think of Nazis, Godzilla made me think of Jo Weldon. All acts done and marvellously so. (Okay, so Jo isn’t an act but if you’ve seen her Godzilla act -WOW!) I read books from Bronte to Rowling to Dahl and back, but nothing. What was wrong with me?! I went to the galleries and museums and found only giggles at the various art nude pictures of small willies and 3D Queen portraits. I sat on the floor of Foyles Bookstore pouring over books… NOTHING!
Alas, the elusive inspiration had not reared her head. I went wandering round the streets of London and read newspapers – anything (even those religious handouts that get thrust at you) to inspire me. Defeated, I made my way home on the tube, annoyed that I was without even a sniff of an idea, let alone the act.
Sadly it dawned on me that inspiration isn’t something that is forced but merely encouraged. Like a mouse out of a hole – you have tease it out.
As I watched the tube stations whizz past me – she struck. Just when I was no longer thinking about it, inspiration had found me. So after all the effort I had put in to find her, she had found me on the central line somewhere between White City and North Acton when I was not expecting it. Funny that. And no I won’t be telling you what it is JUST yet…
It would appear inspiration hits when you least expect it. So perhaps next time I will simply think of nothing and BOOM – hello new ideas…