You can't look in your own eyeballs (from March 2018)

On money and certainty and value. 

I did the career change backwards from most people. Usually a musician will go back to school to become a doctor or lawyer. The set up to my story is pretty cliché. My Chinese immigrant parents wanted me to study anything in university that would guarantee me a job. A profession. Money. Lawyer, accountant, engineer, or doctor, it didn’t matter as long as the criteria were fulfilled. Medical field was preferred since my mother’s parents were doctors, and my mother was a pharmacist.

The keywords here were “guarantee”, “job” and “money”.

Throughout high school I happily practiced both violin and piano for hours, and did well academically (more stereotype). I really wanted to study music, but I buckled, and checked off the box for the “Pre-Optometry/Pre-Health” program on the University of Waterloo form.

Fast forward to Optometry School at the University of Waterloo. (Internally, somewhere, I know I’ve made a mistake I’ll pay for later by checking that box, but that’s for another blog post or full length Knausgaard-like book series.)

I’m sitting in a class where the clinician is talking about how to talk to patients. Specifically, how to tell a patient they might have glaucoma. This is more than 10 years ago now, but at the time, glaucoma was tricky to firmly diagnose right away.

The clinician tells us that studies have been done that show that even mentioning  glaucoma is enough to decrease a person’s quality of life. It doesn’t even have to be the definitive diagnosis, “you might have glaucoma” is enough. When that person leaves your office, they don’t feel as good about their life even if they might not have glaucoma in the end.

I am shocked by this - the effect of these words and the responsibility of this expertise. This expertise that still comes with so much uncertainty. 

But, it will guarantee me a job and money. 

She tells us this so that we will take care in how we speak to our patients. We have to tell you these things for your well being; for your future. If you do indeed have glaucoma, it will definitely impact you, and those close to you, and society at large, so you need to know. That’s why you’re paying me, to check for the signs because you can’t look in your own eyeballs. 

Now, to me last year, trying to find a way to raise money to present Speculation in London, UK at the Open Senses Festival. The grant deadlines don’t line up for this opportunity, and I decide to try to approach corporations, institutions, and foundations related to vision: my alma mater, the University of Waterloo, Alcon, Bausch & Lomb, the Foundation Fighting Blindness, even Warby Parker (since a multi-disciplinary show for them is “on brand”). 

With the help of my fundraising consultant, I approach these organizations about funding Speculation. I’ve never done this before, it’s a steep learning curve, but it feels like an obvious fit to me. I just have to communicate the value of a performance art show to them. 

I’m not very good at it. It’s not like writing an arts council grant. That’s preaching to the choir, they already know the value. So why should these people give me money to produce this show? Why should anyone give me money to produce a show they’ve never seen?

In my role as an optometrist, you paid for valuable, potentially life-changing expertise on your vision. I spent 4 years studying just the eye, and there would still be these moments of uncertainty, but you trusted me to tell you what you couldn’t see yourself, for your own well being.

Back to me on the phone, trying to explain to a receptionist at the Foundation Fighting Blindness that Speculation is a worthy investment. Our mandates of awareness and education are the same. In my mind, understanding the way that patient feels after you mention glaucoma when they leave your office, is as important as the medical research to decrease the uncertainty about their diagnosis. 

She tells me they only support scientific, medical research. She can’t read my mind apparently. 

In my role as an artist, I have a potentially life-changing event for you, but I need money to show you. I’ve spent 37 years and counting on this performance, and I’m certain about needing to share it with you, but you would need to trust me. 

My leads at Alcon go nowhere. I can’t find a contact e-mail at Bausch & Lomb that isn’t “info@…” The administrator at the School of Optometry is kind, but ultimately says no.

I continue to work for hours on this show without the guarantee of money.

I made it to London with Speculation eventually. It was an incredible experience, thanks largely to the generosity of individuals, Cahoots Theatre and the Ontario Arts Council, Canada Council for the Arts, and some amazing friends and artists in London. It convinced me to continue with this work that is not a keyword-profession, or guarantees me any money.

As an expert in my own feelings and in my relationship with my mother, I am certain I need to share our story with you as Speculation. And, if you trust me, when you leave, I might have shown you something you couldn’t see yourself.