Daniel J. Watts To accomplish great things you need to let the paint dry TED
Transcriber:
Hi there, my name is Daniel J. Watts,
I am a 2020 Tony nominee.
And I’m a storyteller.
This is my new jam.
Uh. Uh. Uh.
Uh. Uh.
(Tapping sounds)
“Maaaaaan …
You don’t really let paint dry,”
one of my mentors said to me one day.
He meant it as a compliment.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,”
I grinned back pseudo-shyly,
as I took said compliment
and placed it on my head
like a half-cocked crown.
I’ve always taken pride
in being the kind of artist
that’s always making moves.
(Tapping sounds)
We were having one of our catch-up
sessions, my mentor and I,
July 2019,
I, between shooting episodes
of “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel,”
and moving into my new apartment
uptown in Harlem.
I’d just returned from Paris.
I was just going out there to hang.
You know –
shop a little, take in a couple museums,
sit down at cafés
and watch the people go by.
You know – très parisien.
Laissez–faire and whatnot.
Little did I know that my vacation
would turn into a work-cation,
and I would be asked
to perform with my friend Ray
as he headlined at the international
music festival AFROPUNK.
OK, I might have known a little bit.
But I wasn’t going to let that paint dry.
Mm hmm.
(Tapping sounds)
Upon my return, Dave Chappelle
was making his Broadway debut,
followed by an invite-only
impromptu jam session.
I had an invite.
I jammed at the session.
Ehhhh!
That’s all right.
A week from then, Tituss Burgess’s
album will be released,
on which I had two features,
and two days prior,
“Deadline” would announce
“Broadway’s ‘Tina’ Musical
Finds its Ike Turner
in ‘The Last O.G.’ Co-star
Daniel J. Watts.”
Ohhhh, wet paint!
And I had not yet started
painting like this.
The week before rehearsals,
my mother and I would travel
to Clarksdale, Mississippi.
Memphis, Tennessee,
and Nutbush, Tennessee,
to see how a younger Ike Turner
might have maneuvered through life,
then back to NYC
to finish shooting “Maisel,”
then a quick trip to L.A.
for an album release concert,
then back to New York City
to start “Tina” rehearsal.
Four weeks of rehearsal,
three weeks of tech,
four more weeks of previews.
And now it’s November,
and it’s opening night.
My family, which consists
of my mother, my two aunts,
my two cousins and my 91-year-old granny
fly up to support.
They are drenched – drenched –
in Southern pride
and basking in familial glory
as Tina Turner pretends to give me a light
smacking around at the curtain call,
in front of 1,500 people.
(Tapping sounds)
It was awesome.
Skip over to Thanksgiving,
which means it’s basically Christmas,
so you might as well say it’s a new year.
Happy New Year 2020!
Spoiler alert: things are
going to get wild –
fast.
But I wasn’t about to let
that 2020 paint get dry.
Yeahhhh.
First off,
performances of my one-man show overlap
with my eight shows a week at ‘Tina,’
fully equipped with no days off
and a midnight performance
on a Friday night,
the night before a two-show Saturday.
Wet paint, wet paint, wet paint!
Bleeding into February,
I’m starting to feel the effects.
Everything’s starting to blend.
I’m only three months into
my one-year contract,
and I’m already feeling like
I need a break, I need a vacation.
Moving into March,
and now taking on the role of Ike Turner
has started to take its toll,
and I can’t tell whose trauma is whose.
I can’t tell whose trauma is hues …
And there’s news of this mysterious
illness making its Broadway debut.
Uh, but this paint, though.
All cylinders are firing,
I’m firing all cylinders
because there’s Tony buzz –
got to pack those interviews in! –
which means suits, purple suits,
blue suits, green.
Suits you, it suits me.
And is that a hazmat suit?
Aquamarine.
And as it seems the paint
is beginning to dry,
I ask myself:
Do I really want all this?
I mean, all of this, the fortune
and the fame and the celebrity?
Because Dave Chappelle said
to David Letterman
that the more you invest
into yourself as a celebrity,
the less of yourself you get to own.
Hmm.
And I asked myself:
Am I really going anywhere?
Like, what’s my sense of direction?
Because I feel like I’m not going anywhere
or like I’m running in place
on a hamster wheel
that I don’t know how to get off of.
And it’s like I have to ask permission
to do the thing that I know
that I need to do for myself,
and then, and then, and then, and then …
The world finally stops.
And because everything is in flux,
I am forced to take
a much-needed reprieve
as that mysterious illness
has been granted an extension.
And though I know
the answer is not for a while,
I kept asking myself:
When’s Broadway coming back?
Because even though I really,
really, really need to take this break,
I really, really, really,
really, really need a check,
and I keep checking the status
on this mysterious illness
because I need that paint to dry now.
And now everyone’s dazed and confused,
our greys turned to blues.
I’m off all of the socials,
but I stay glued to the news
because I’m watching the paint dry
that will not dry fast enough
for me to keep going.
Hmm.
Skip to the summer.
Skip to the summer,
now the country’s on fire.
I’m back on all the socials,
because my one-man show has been
revived and revamped for the virtual space
so I can comment on the death
of Ahmaud, Breonna and George.
Broadway still doesn’t know
when it’s going to come back,
but now it’s in the hot seat
for all of its past transgressions.
And I think it might be time for me
to take a break from the city.
Three weeks in North Carolina,
two weeks in L.A., one week in Portland.
I come back to New York.
Broadway still doesn’t know
when it’s going to come back.
I need something to take my mind off
all these pandemics,
and the next thing I know …
I’m painting with my feet.
I needed something live and in color
that wasn’t “Live and in color!”
And now I realize I’m obsessed
with diving in colors.
Watching them splatter, swirl and blend
and do all the things people
shouldn’t be doing right now.
And as I’m in the midst of my deep dive,
I realize
I had to learn how to let paint dry.
I have to stop
and take a break,
because if I don’t,
my yellows and my blues will make green,
even if that’s not
what I really, really want.
And then I started to think about
all the other times
when I wasn’t letting paint dry,
when I wasn’t taking time away
to let things heal,
like when I was still dancing
on two sprained ankles,
even though the doctor told me I needed
to take a break for a while.
Or when I was trying to force closure
in a newly broken-up relationship
because I didn’t want to deal
with the healing process.
Or when I fussed out my reps
because … because Netflix
haven’t called to offer me a deal
a week after my one-man show.
All the times when I didn’t want time
to take the time it takes
to reveal itself to me.
All the times when I didn’t believe
that what I had already done was enough
and that I didn’t have to keep
going back in with more color.
Broadway can’t come back.
It has to come forward.
And when it does, it has to be more
expressive with the colors that it uses.
And unfortunately, I can’t finish
this piece for you right now.
Because in order for me to do
what I really want to be able to do,
I have to let this paint dry.
Ohhh, and that’s something that I’m …
I’m still really, really, really
learning to be OK with.
But I know it’ll be worth the wait.
Thank you.