Skin in the Game
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”
- Teddy Roosevelt
No matter what failures come my way, I will remain a (wo)man in the arena. I will remain unaffected by the opinions of critics. As stated by Bob Neuwirth in A Complete Unknown, “I’m not a horse; I don’t like carrying other people’s weight”. And as a good friend of mine always says, “my opinion of you shouldn’t change the way you see yourself”.
No matter which quote resonates with you best; the monologue of a former US President, the line from a biopic I saw in the cinema this week or the reminder from a sweet friend I’ve left in Australia, the message remains the same: don’t take shit from anyone who hasn’t got skin in the game.
Whenever we stray from the norm, people are going to judge us. I think most of the judgement comes from their own insecurity and their jealousy of our ability to take risks. I have recently moved to Wellington, Aotearoa (NZ) by myself, and some people think that’s a bit strange. People even started questioning my Mum, asking if she was okay with it (of course, she is). All of the best people in my life have been excited for me. Even if they’re not in the arena, they’re cheering me on from the sidelines.
As an artist, too, there’s constant criticism. I’ve had a bachelor’s degree since 2022 and am yet to be accepted for a job in my field, even though I’ve applied for what feels like millions of them. I was once told by a university professor, in front of the entire class, that I would never get a job because my work was too messy and it was obvious that I didn’t have the tech skills required for graphic design. That’s the thing, though, I don’t want to be a graphic designer. I never have. I have always been an artist. A messy, hands-on artist, with paint on my thighs, a pen in my hand and a guitar by my side. I’m happy this way.
If I had listened to that critic, that professor who created more stress than inspiration within me, I wouldn't have made some of my best work. Work that both I, and my audience, love. I would have spent my time mastering Adobe suite instead of oil painting and would have done logo design instead of a portrait of my father and copywriting instead of this blog. And it would’ve ripped the soul out of me, to be honest.
The professor wasn’t an artist; he had no skin in the game. Of course he would never understand.
I might never have a creative job, I might never be a full-time artist, but I’ll absolutely die trying. I’ll come to know many more small victories and defeats and probably some big ones too and I'll live a life that is feared by the timid souls because they wish they dared to try. I’ll trip and fall in front of the crowd but I’ll never leave the arena.
If you’re brave enough, you should come join me out here. It’s worth it, I promise.
xx Rose
