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Mexico The Critic The Rivera Murals The Casa Azul Jet-lag Festival Screening The Trotsky Museum Exile Profound Mexico Hope Rain on canvas The Jury The Anthropological Museum Time Political Correctness Two Houses False Virtue Life is a miracle Weird Roots The Meeting Turtles Can Fly The Oscars Luis Barragans house Back to Diary Index |
The Oscars Later that night, the last night in But Chris Rock, the compere comedian, is impressively subversive in his opening monologue; I laugh out loud. And it is good to see African-American actors honored. But why do we all scrabble for little statuettes, for gold stars, for that kind of recognition? Why do we think we work in ‘the best job in the world’ as several people said, tearfully? I find myself thinking of how it must feel to be one of those billions of deserving workers in every field who are never honoured for their efforts; who never feel the glow of appreciation, can never bask in a spotlight; can never, even for a moment, feel ‘special’, feel seen. I know from my own experience, however, that receiving awards is not how it appears. Success brings envy, sometimes even hatred, from others. One feels exposed, vulnerable, at what should be the moment of greatest celebration. back next |
Text © Sally Potter. All pictures © Adventure Pictures unless otherwise indicated |