January is that strange, dismal time of year when the creative juices take just that much longer to flow, the list of to-dos piling over us like the looming skies above. As artists and as students, there are rehearsals to attend, lines to run, plays to read, and collaborators to meet with, yet we are still expected to eat, sleep, and breathe somewhere during the five-minute breaks between. Doing it all is not sustainable long-term. Periods of burnout happen universally, but what happens when being burnt out becomes your new normal?
Signs That You Are Burnt Out as an Art Student
Your check-in at rehearsal consistently starts with feeling stressed (or overwhelmed, or frazzled, whatever your go-to word is).
You are ready to fight over any critique of your work. Constructive feedback becomes the enemy, and whoever comes bearing it best be warned.
Your alarm goes off in the morning and you are filled with dread. Even if it is the kind of dread that greets you gently, with a tap on the shoulder, dread has come knocking at your door.
Ideas that used to flow out of you (or at least be generated with a generous amount of brainstorming) are progressively nowhere to be found. Your craft, the thing you spent thousands of dollars to learn, feels more like a box to check than a purpose to fulfill.
Of course, The Theatre School is taking strides to reduce student burnout. Earlier this month Dean Martine released a statement announcing that our season is being reduced by two productions (P2 and WT3). Hopefully, this will be a chance for students, especially those currently plagued by hectic production schedules (and burdened tech departments with crowded work rooms), to recuperate some of the energy it takes to mount a production on a Playworks or Watts scale.
Still, there is much more nuance that needs to be in this conversation about ‘burnout.’ Has this term been overused to the point that it's lost its meaning? Has it joined the ranks of ‘community’ – something casually slipped into conversations without a universal definition? Or maybe burnout is becoming something discussed almost too casually. Some symptoms of burnout are far more physically dangerous than others. Everyone has their own personal limitations–student needs are not one size fits all. If we talk about burnout as abstractly universal, we risk minimizing or ignoring individual experiences.
"If we talk about burnout as abstractly universal, we risk minimizing or ignoring individual experiences."
Even the ability to talk about burnout comes from an immense place of privilege. There are students who have no other choice but to work more than two jobs in addition to a full class load and rehearsal schedule. For them, burning out isn’t an option until it's too late.
There is no clear-cut solution to this elusive problem of burnout. Getting through an intense season does not happen overnight. It takes consistent advocacy for yourself, but it also means reshaping the systems that we work in. As Tricia Hersey of The Nap Ministry says, “you were not just born to center your entire existence on work labor. You were born to heal, to grow, to be of service to yourself and community, to practice, to experiment, to have space, to dream, and to connect.” Rethinking how we show up to our different positions and what we need to stay afloat may just bring us a little closer to peace.
"You were not just born to center your entire existence on work labor. You were born to heal, to grow, to be of service to yourself and community, to practice, to experiment, to have space, to dream, and to connect."
Quote from Tricia Hersey, Rest Is Resistance
Here are the steps we as editors are taking to minimize burnout in our own lives:
Camille: I am the first one to admit that I have trouble finding balance. My fall quarter consisted of four classes, three jobs, rehearsal and preparation for two productions, and of course, one dramaturgy magazine. For winter quarter, I’ve dramatically lightened my load. It’s been such a foreign experience to me so far. I am still actively telling myself to do less; don’t take that extra class, maybe it's okay to work one less job. I owe it to myself to enjoy what I do – I can’t enjoy anything when I’m spread too thin.
Leah: I am a self-proclaimed people-pleaser. While this has its benefits, it also means that I have a tendency to take on much more than I can handle. Previously, I have come from the mindset that I do not want to burden others with tasks that I could do myself, even if that means becoming overwhelmed with how much I have agreed to take on. The way that I have managed burnout in these very busy times is by setting boundaries and delegating. I constantly need to remind myself that the productions I am a part of, the classes I am in, this lovely publication I help run, does not rest solely on my shoulders. Asking for help is a work in progress, and sometimes I still say “yes” when I am far over capacity, but baby steps towards letting go feel liberating.
Liz: I would quite honestly be lying if I said that I currently implement any strategies to combat fatigue. Just today I woke up at 4 AM to finish an assignment I told myself I would finish last night. But with the new year I am pushing myself to make genuine changes for the better! I have a calendar now in which I block out my classes, work, and production schedule so that frenzied 4 AM mornings are fewer and far between. I am trying to reintroduce literature into my life by scheduling time in my day for reading–I want to do a clean sweep of my bookshelf by the end of the year.
A skill that I am trying to hone in 2023 is patience toward myself. I have to step back and analyze each of my habits in their messy complexity so that I can make the necessary adjustments for my own health and growth. I need to, in a word, dramaturg my life.
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