Rigour Of Rest
by Noah daCosta
In the pursuit of rest, I found fear.
I never expected that creating a short film about rest would be so disquieting.
When I was approached to be the first ‘Resident Prune’ earlier this year, I was both curious and enthusiastic. I’d never really been to somewhere like Sense of Self before, much less be offered the chance to create this way. I had, however, made a promise to myself - to take a deeper dive into my artistry and expand myself creatively.
You see, I had something to prove. Despite my passions and work experience, an age-old insecure voice inside had started to whisper…“you’re not an actual artist though. An artsy guy, perhaps. Maybe a creative professional? Oooh, what about an artistic connoisseur… nah, not that actually.”
While these kinds of thoughts qualify as self-deprecating, they’re unfortunately familiar. Despite surrounding myself with artists, interviewing them and even creating from time to time, I’ve often felt like I’m standing on the periphery - looking in, but not daring to jump. Even as I write this, I can see the illogicality of these thoughts, yet they still trigger a dull ache in my heart.
As an interviewer and storyteller, I’ve often found myself in an unintentional dance with comparison. As I’ve grown over the years I’ve slowly found my footing… but what good is a steady stance when ensnared by the devil that is perfectionism?
This is where we return to this residency, and the journey towards creating this little film.
If you’re still reading at this point, then it’s probably not difficult to imagine that words come relatively easily to me - as did the poetic element of the film. That’s not to say it was carelessly chosen, however. From the very start of my interactions with Sense of Self, I was struck by how difficult it was for me to relax in such a peaceful place.
At first, it was simply a lack of experience: I didn’t yet know the order in which to bathe in the different elements, or how long to spend in each. It took coming with a friend to realise you don’t have to fill the silence - whether audibly or mentally - with words.
Secondly, it was the effort required to remain still, especially in the dreaded cold plunge. It was my experience with this that sparked the emotional core of the poem. It made the poetic allegory clear to me: the warmth and comfort of noise and busyness, set against the disruptive, bitter cold of trying to simply settle. It was always rewarding, both mentally and physically, to engage with the cold plunge as a part of the cycle… but it was always difficult to work up to.
Beyond the residency, it has remained in my daily life as a quiet analogy: a reminder that even the most difficult tasks, once completed, yield a reward.
And as the first Resident Prune, the reward was a finished short film.
And I struggled to meet that reward.. I struggled because it was the first time in a long time where I was putting myself forward as the artist I strive to be. I struggled because this attempt to battle my perfectionism (which is really insecurity armoured in ego) turned into a war over several weeks, laden with re-edits, re-starts, revisions, avoidance, obsession and paralysis. I would erratically dart from liking the direction, to questioning why I ever said yes in the first place. This had nothing to do with the residency itself, but everything to do with my internal beliefs, some of which surprised me with their vigour.
As I pieced this film together, I often allowed tension to unnecessarily morph into terror in the various cycles of its creation. It was only when I released my fixation on the completion of the film and instead paused and re-centred on the message of the film that I was able to complete it. While I was holding on to the work, I was simultaneously holding on to the very relationship with frantic productivity that I was trying to unpack in the piece.
The entire point of the residency is, in its own words “an invitation to soak, soften and create”. It took releasing my grip on performance, perception and perfection to finally abide by the original invitation. Only at that point was I able to look at this little film, and my entire time at this place, for what it was trying to teach me rather than what I’ve habitually carried with me.
The release of The Rigour of Rest, and the close of my time as a Resident Prune, leave me we with a few things: a sense of gratitude, the satisfaction of artistic oath answered and a better sense of what it means to surrender to process, and relax a little more.
(Also, I don’t know why I chose shirtless for most of the video. I will not be doing that again for the foreseeable future.)
Signed,
a prune in progress
More from Resident Prune
In Conversation with Noah daCosta