Steve Jobs has made such a positive contribution to my life that it’s hard to be even cross with him over this kind of mistake.
Namely, Jobs frequently quoted Picasso as saying:
“Good artists copy;
great artists steal.”
In truth, Picasso probably never said that.
Instead, the aphorism’s origins go further back, to Tennyson even, and certainly T.S. Eliot in the 1920s who wrote:
“Immature poets imitate;
mature poets steal.”
Exploring Reinvention this month (Webinar Highlight and this month’s Meditation HERE), I’m particularly fascinated by how artists “borrow” from the creative past and make things their own.
Sometime the results are more than a little sad…and sometime they are spectacular.
For many years I attended an event that in the Industry was always called “The Leagues”––a showcase where actors getting their MFAs from NYU, Yale, and sometimes a few California schools performed.
The audience consisted of people who could hire them: casting directors, producers, and directors for Film/TV and theater.
TikTok was more than a decade away, but this was the perfect equivalent of short-attention span entertainment.
Each actor would perform in two or three brief scenes, selecting material they thought would best show them off for a few minutes onstage.
Cascading between moments from Death of Salesman to a sparkling modern comedy, I suppose there was the risk of emotional whiplash.
The actors were always good to amazing, and there was the tantalizing hope that you might just be among the first to spot a meteoric talent about to arrive on the scene.
In fact, one actress I was truly impressed with onstage (and was charmed by afterwards) was nominated for both an Emmy and a SAG award this year.
The event was always full of optimism and excitement, and as full of Expectation (without Expectancy) as I was, there was only one mistake I felt an actor could make:
A Failure to Reinvent
You see, every now and then some set of actors would decide to recreate a scene from a classic film (or TV show), one that was indelibly engraved into the memory of everyone present.
One such notable mistake was two young talents performing the Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn roles from The Philadelphia Story.
They’d set themselves up for an impossible challenge, two 25 year-olds on a naked stage trying to recreate the magic of a classic black and white film.
As cute and charming as they were, there was no way they were going to make us forget perhaps the two greatest movie stars of the Golden Age of Cinema.
They’d chosen a situation where the odds were completely against them, with only one hope for success:
A complete reinvention of the material.
Sadly, that didn’t happen.
As another example, I watched one singer perform Don’t Rain on My Parade from Funny Girl, and while she was good––maybe even great––rather than being dazzled by her talent, it felt like you were seeing an understudy for Barbra Streisand on a random rainy afternoon.
Fortunately, I’ve also seen the opposite.
And even with the same song.
Lillias White’s talent is hardly a secret.
She has a Tony award for Best Featured Actress in a musical (and a score of other awards and nominations).
Yet when I think of reinvention, I can’t help but think of her performance at an Actors Fund Benefit of this song, which she somehow managed to make completely and authentically her own.
It’s HERE––and it really kicks in about 1:30 in––and she’s totally amazing.
In fact, the audience can’t help but clap at various points midway through, rising to a standing ovation before she’s even finished with the last note.
And, if you want to take a deep dive, the conductor that night, Broadway dynamo Seth Rudetsky, has a hilarious, brilliant, and moving analysis of why her performance is so spectacular HERE.
If you need a dose of inspiration when you’re feeling a little lost, I recommend each heartily.
I’m also inspired to share another example, one for which I have no YouTube videos, so you’ll just have to take my word for it.
It was right after college and I was attending a weekend creative workshop called The Mastery geared towards performers, mostly actors.
It was designed to give you all sorts of huge breakthroughs, often through sometimes brutal critiques or surprising instructions.
One attendee was a sweet young woman who surprised everyone by playing her flute.
She seemed reasonably talented, offering us a few pleasant moments, and earning some polite and modest applause.
Then, Allen, the workshop leader, asked her who her favorite flautist was.
Without hesitation she replied, “Jean-Pierre Rampal.”
Allen nodded, then said,
“Why don’t you play it again, but this time exactly like he would.”
For a moment she was hesitant, then she took a deep breath and began.
And this time she was amazing, not just sweetly distracting but grabbing us by the ears and not letting go.
In this case, trying to copy/steal from her musical idol, gave her the permission slip she needed to tap her own genius within.
I have so many more examples I’d love to share––perhaps I’ll make a playlist next week of some favorites, but I definitely think you should check out that young flautist’s idol Jean-Pierre Rampal’s recordings, particularly those he made with Claude Bolling.
Bolling was a true champion of reinvention.
In the 70s, he made a series of “crossover” jazz collaborations with the world’s most famous classical musicians.
Astonishingly, the one with Rampal (HERE) remained in Billboard’s Top 40 Chart for almost 10 years!
(Of course, that may also be in part because of the saucy cover that showed a post-coital moment between their piano and flute.)
In any case, as 2024 continues to unfold, I invite you to keep reinventing, knowing that perhaps that sometimes means stealing by making something totally your own.
While there’s great truth in the Oscar Wilde quote––
“Be yourself;
everyone else is already taken.”
––On the other hand, sometimes a kind of (completely legal) identity theft of your favorite artist, is the “crime” that allows you to reveal your own inner genius.
As Tennyson and T.S. Eliot, and (almost) Picasso + Steve Jobs knew, there’s enormous power in reinvention.
That’s because when you make something authentically yours, you transform it completely.
And on that final note:
Last week, I reinvented something myself.
The response for my Tell A New Story: The Power Of Reinvention Course, has been so strong that I want to share it with as many people as I can.
Thus, I created several new more affordable variations (and payment plans) HERE.
This feels truly exciting and expansive because my ultimate mission is to inspire your 2024 reinvention.
Indeed, far be it for me to Rain on Your (or anyone’s) Parade.
