Andy Warhol once predicted 15 minutes of it for every living human; he was wrong. The truth is that Fame lures many but graces few with her golden light. It is that very fact that makes her all the more desirable—that, and the irrepressible human need to achieve recognition, to “make it,” or to “be somebody”.
For singers and others in the artistic professions, notions of “fame” and “success” are almost hopelessly intertwined: with success comes fame, with fame more success. It’s a package deal with a hefty price tag paid in time, sweat and sacrifice. Because it is so tough to make it (for every star, there are thousands of others aspiring to reveal their own brilliance), those who do so must want it badly. They must pit themselves against the odds and strive, hoping theirs is the right combination of ability, timing, drive, luck and connections. If it is, and they maneuver all the obstacles, a new journey begins through the strange and exciting landscape of celebrity. The trick is not to get lost along the way.
Considering the universal fascination with celebrity, this is no easy task. The mass media dissects famous people’s lives and we, the public, devour the news like candy. We erect pedestals to those who achieve widespread recognition and lustily tear them down when these same people show any signs of failure or human weakness.
It takes a strong individual to weather the press, adulation and expectations that accompany fame, while still maintaining a sense of their own identity. The key, according to renowned soprano Jennifer Larmore, is to focus on your art and keep your priorities straight. “If you’re striving for stardom,” she says, “then you’re going into it for all the wrong reasons. A young person must start out to be the best they can possibly be. If fame comes along, then it’s a bonus.”
Internationally acclaimed tenor Neil Shicoff agrees. “There’s always going to be someone who’s more famous or more well-known than you are. If that’s your only measure of success, you will always be dissatisfied. Fame is not the reward. The reward is being able to affect people in the audience. Everything else is secondary.”
Although these words are wise, they do not change the fact that many do make huge sacrifices to achieve stardom. They place this goal before all else, including family, romantic love and even their own physical and mental health. When fame comes at such a cost, one has to wonder why it’s so important. From whence comes this need to be recognized? Is it really so great to be worshipped and adored? Are acclaim and “star power” all they’re cracked up to be? The answers are not easy to divine.
As Larmore and Shicoff imply, those who see fame as the goal may be setting themselves up for disappointment or worse. Some theories suggest that those who feel compelled to pursue widespread recognition are compensating for feelings of inadequacy. They are driven to achieve extraordinary success in order to prove themselves worthy, lovable and powerful.
“Thus is charisma born,” says writer and psychotherapist Sue Erikson Bloland (‘Fame: The Power and Cost of a Fantasy’, Atlantic Monthly, November 1999). “Becoming someone special—being charming, talented (musically, artistically, intellectually, politically), magnetic—becomes a vehicle for a desperate pursuit of emotional nourishment.”
It’s natural to crave acknowledgment and praise when you have worked so hard to achieve it. But some stars feed on recognition and experience profound depression when the attention wanes. This can become an unhealthy pattern fueled by pressures from the industry and fans to continually exceed previous performances.
Shicoff got a taste of this when he shot to stardom at the early age of 27. “My rise was so fast and my nerves so intense that I had trouble handling the pressure of having to produce, to push harder, to be better and to accomplish so much. My expectations were incredibly high. It caused a lot of problems in my first marriage and it ultimately took an incredible amount of soul-searching to make it through. Since then, I’ve learned to adjust the high bar. I know that if I flop, the sun is going to rise tomorrow.”
Another potentially harmful aspect of fame lies in the discrepancy between the public image and the person behind it. As legendary opera diva Maria Callas once said, “I would like to be Maria, but there is La Callas who demands that I carry myself with her dignity.” This schism between the real and the perceived person can be confusing at best and profoundly disturbing at worst. Examples of famous people whose real lives contrasted with their public personas abound: Marilyn Monroe, Judy Garland, Rock Hudson, Joan Crawford, John Belushi, O.J. Simpson, Princess Diana, River Phoenix and Phil Hartman are just a few examples of celebrities whose fame could not protect them from personal turmoil and tragedy.
Their stories provide evidence that celebrity does not guarantee happiness or even professional fulfillment. The reverse may even be true. “Public applause and admiration are intoxicating while they last,” says Bloland. “More than that, they are addictive, creating an appetite for the heightened feeling of acceptance that comes with being adored and revered.” The addictive element, the profound need for affirmation that many famous people already feel, and the ever-looming possibility of a decline in popularity make a potentially devastating combination.
In addition, the extraordinary attention can distort the famous person’s self image, setting an impossible standard to live up to, and making healthy relationships with others difficult.“When you start to believe your press, to believe that you are better than others, that creates a problem with your relationships,” says Shicoff. “On the other hand, if the public perceives you a certain way and you don’t buy into it, it’s okay. I would not want to live with someone who believes their own press.”
Living with a larger-than-life personality is not easy: to witness the constant adulation they receive from people who don’t know them at all; to always exist in their shadow; to see them transformed by public perception. Partners and relatives of famous people often need to distance themselves, physically and emotionally, from the relationship in order to regain their own identities. According to Bloland, who is the daughter of famous psychoanalyst Erik Erikson, she and others often felt diminished in her father’s company. “I felt deflated by my father’s fame — not enhanced, as I had always hoped to feel, but momentarily invisible,” she admits.
Another possible drawback of celebrity is the incredible drain that people experience when superhuman demands are placed on their time. The more popular a performer becomes, the more requests they receive for television, appearances, press conferences, interviews, autograph signings and participation in charities. When you are already booked up with travel and performance, such public relations activities can lead to overload.
Larmore, who does work with UNICEF when possible, agrees that it’s sometimes difficult to make room for philanthropy. “I do what I can with the time that I have,” she says. “Leisure time is really not part of my schedule. I’m either working, sleeping or preparing my next engagement. Still, one must make room for causes that are … worthy. When I was asked to be a part of the UNICEF team, I felt it was worth losing sleep for.”
Shicoff also knows about getting caught in the maelstrom of activity that comes with success. He has learned to balance the demands of his public and private lives. “It’s important to me to maintain a sense of stability and normalcy for my family. Even when I have traveling to do, I come home as often as I can. Last night, for example, I sang in an important function and skipped the dinner afterwards. Any time that I can come home and be in a normal situation, like going to my son’s little league game, I will do it.”
Most celebrities struggle continually to protect their private lives from public scrutiny. Not only are they hounded by paparazzi and well-meaning fans, but they are increasingly stalked by individuals who sometimes take their obsessions to dangerous extremes [see the article ‘The Object of Desire’, right]. Though he has never been the victim of a stalker, Shicoff has had many run-ins with over-zealous fans. “There are those who get somewhat obsessed and make you uncomfortable,” he says. “I had such an experience recently. I walked into my dressing room and didn’t immediately put down the shades. Suddenly I noticed that two fans outside the window were trying to watch me change into my costume. It was rather disturbing.” Considering all of the negatives, you might conclude that those who don’t achieve stellar success are the lucky ones. Not necessarily so. By maintaining a healthy perspective on what it all means and what their personal priorities are, singers like Larmore and Shicoff manage fame very well and reap its advantages, which are considerable.
Larmore, who still doesn’t feel famous despite her renown, explains, “Drawbacks that movie stars are faced with, i.e. stalking, being swamped for autographs at the dinner table, getting mobbed walking down the street, and paparazzi galore, are not as prevalent for opera singers, but all of this still happens! It is the obvious downside of fame, but it never interferes with my singing.” She continues, “So long as the admiration coming from the fans is not potentially physically harmful, I don’t consider fame to have any negative aspects. I enjoy the recognition I receive from those who appreciate my work.”
Establishing a connection with fans, having more creative control over the artistic process, contributing to charities and “giving back” something to the public, attaining financial security, and collaborating with some of the most talented people on the planet are all benefits of fame. Those who have earned the right to these privileges could not imagine having it any other way.
“I have worked a lot of years to achieve a status where my opinion is valued,” says Shicoff. “That’s what we work for. It isn’t about me walking out the door and going into a restaurant and having someone recognize me. It’s about finding an opera and putting it together to create an event. There is also the part where you’re asked to give back by doing benefits. It gives me a great deal of satisfaction. I’m organizing a benefit for a children’s hospital right now and I love it.”
Larmore agrees that the creative freedom she now enjoys outstrips any inconvenience she may occasionally experience. “Being placed on equal footing with other people of importance in the business, particularly those making the decisions, is the largest advantage of all,” she says. “When the director of a major opera company calls and says, ‘we would like to have you perform for us in our 2005 season. What opera would you like to sing and who would you suggest as conductor?’ then you realize that they respect the level of success you have attained. I guarantee this never happened when I was just starting out!”
When all is said and done, there is no simple truth about the nature of fame. It is different for each person who attains it; whether it’s a blessing or a curse ultimately depends upon the recipient’s age, motives and ability to deal with the pressures. Can one have both fame and happiness? Certainly. But it is a delicate juggling act, one in which the self remains planted solidly center-stage regardless of the motion around it.
