Oscar Wilde knew a thing or two. More than a decade out from my year 12 monologue from “The Importance of Being Earnest”, and without a very nuanced understanding of it at the time, I find myself valuing earnestness so highly. Cultural works of the past decade, from music to art, film and beyond, have ushered in a cool irony that feels apathetic and ultimately hollow. As if people are afraid to truly, earnestly enjoy or believe in something. Because not caring, not giving a fuck, is cool? This feels so thoroughly misguided – how can you throw your whole self into making something, which is so wholly necessary to make and finish work, without an underlying, unflinching belief in it? Those making art that feels truly groundbreaking have always been fearless enough to bare their ideas and souls, to face the backlash, because they have conviction in their vision and won’t compromise that for anything. I admire that so profoundly.
Brit Marling is a hero of mine. Her work, be it acting, writing or show-running, has always created worlds that are ambitious, spanning and curious, regardless or in spite of budget or production values. Make no mistake, these worlds venture into some weird territory. Giant, mind-reading octopuses? A second planet Earth? An underground tree that is like an earthly-internet? Strange movements that, enacted in a group, transport you to a parallel universe? These ideas seems insane, but her vision and earnestness are so pure and potent that I can’t not take those leaps with her, trusting that she’ll take me to a place where the puzzle pieces all slot together, somewhere exquisite. And so she does.
This is everything I hope to achieve in making art. I want to move people, to tap into some intrinsic, existential part of them and usher those emotions up like a groundswell. I want people to trust that this journey will steer them through an unexpected, nourishing, profound and exultant harbour. And the simplest building block I have is an unwavering belief in what I’ve made, to hope that honesty shines through to create a real, maybe even indelible, connection. But only vulnerability has that kind of power. And earnestness feels like a beautiful way to be vulnerable.