ART : TASTE, POPULARITY, DISCOVERY, FAME...WHAT DOES MERIT HAVE TO DO WITH IT?

AN ESSAY

What makes art great? Is it the color? The brushstroke? The imaginativeness? The originality? Does effort help? Is there some checklist to follow? Can you learn how to create great art? Or are great artists merely “chosen,” as if by fate? Why does a van Gogh sell for more than some unknown artist from the same era with a comparable style? Why are Basquiat’s dribblings worth more than an unknown artist from the same era who generated similar dribblings? In other words, what makes “great art” so special?

There is no way to objectively answer these questions. In fact, they are profoundly troubling. I am sure that art historians and university professors can lecture me on the myriad reasons why a Picasso is “better” and “worth more” than “lesser known” artists’ works from the same period. But I reject all attempts to objectively qualify art. Art has nothing to do with objectivity. And artists achieve fame because someone discovers them, not because they have “objective talent.” “Great art” did not become “great” because of some magical gift in the artist. Rather, it became “great art” because influential people liked it at the time and vigorously promoted it. Ironically, these influential people have never been artists, nor have they lived artists’ lives. Mostly, they have been bourgeois liberals with enough spare money to buy paintings, then yap about them to their bourgeois friends at wine-drenched gallery openings.

Art appeals to taste. Everyone has different tastes. While many people share tastes, no one can rightfully assert that their taste is better than another person’s. One person likes Limburger cheese. Another does not. One person likes pop art. Another hates it and doesn’t even consider it “art” at all. There is no way to objectively measure “artistic value,” because “artistic value” is a taste question; it is in the eye of the beholder—or perhaps, we should say, the tongue of the taster. Art represents an individual’s expression through imagery. Some will call it beautiful. Others will call it ugly. If enough people call it beautiful, they might make it famous. But maybe they won’t. The viewer is not bound to do anything. Viewing art is subjective; and the viewer is the ultimate judge. There is no objective standard: People either like your art or they don’t.

Art goes nowhere without viewers and their reactions. Once art appeals to a certain person’s taste, he might become enthusiastic about it. If he is a bum, it won’t matter. A bum doesn’t have influential friends or money to buy paintings. But if he is a lawyer, doctor or philanthropist, the possibilities grow. Well-heeled bourgeois know other well-heeled bourgeois. They talk to one another. They spend money together. They go to art auctions. If a rich dentist sees a painting he considers “fantastic,” he might tell his securities broker friend about it. The friend may agree, then tell his father, a retired banker with disposable income. In this way, art becomes “popular” among people in a position to make it “famous.” Once art achieves some popularity, promoters get involved. They spread the word even more, leading undifferentiated viewers to look at the art. “Wow,” think these new viewers. “If this painting is so popular, it must be good.” More and more people buy prints. The prints become famous.

Popularity, then, is a prerequisite for “greatness.” What begins as the fickle taste judgment of an individual bourgeois becomes the kernel for “great art.” Artists themselves have no power over reactions to their work. They simply live at a particular moment in time, express their feelings in visual form, then present their works. They cannot control whether they become popular. If Jean-Michel Basquiat had lived during van Gogh’s time, his works may not have generated as much buzz as they did in New York in the 1980s. And if Picasso were born in 1981, his works may not have generated as much buzz in Paris as they did because he was born in 1881. Artists become popular because they are born into particular times and places. Certain tastes exist at those times and in those places. Their work appeals to those tastes. When enough “influential people” become enthusiastic about their work, artists become famous. And once artists are famous, people start using the word “great” to describe them. Enough people like them. Enough people find their work beautiful. Yet they did not intend these results. The artist just went about his business. Fate blessed him with admirers who happened to find his work beautiful. He had no power to influence whether people would like him. They just did.

Some great artists got lucky during their lifetimes. Others did not. No matter whether they achieved fame before or after death, they never orchestrated it. In fact, most artists start off poor, wretched and despised. Artists do not “fit in” because they do not find “traditional work.” In western society, that is a sure way to attract scorn, both from society at large and from one’s own family. Picasso lived in an unheated Parisian flat when he was 20. Van Gogh bumbled aimlessly around Holland and Belgium, earning virtually nothing. Basquiat illegally spray-painted New York City subway trains; he was a “vagrant.” These were not “successful men.” They were outcasts, men who did not belong. They did not find “traditional employment” because they had larger things on their minds. They did not follow the “traditional life program.” According to bourgeois mythology, they should have come to ruin. Yet in each case, they became wildly famous. Why? Because some well-placed people liked their art, bought it, promoted it and made it popular. Gertrude Stein patronized and promoted the young Picasso. Andy Warhol patronized and promoted the young Basquiat. And numerous local bourgeois patronized and promoted van Gogh, although his fame did not mature until after he died.

But what made these men so special? Surely there must have been other tramps with artistic ability who simply did not have the good fortune to run into Gertrude Stein or Andy Warhol. If artists become famous because their work appeals to “influential tastes,” then blind luck plays a role in their success. After all, it is a matter of pure chance whether an “influential person” encounters a future “great artist.” Perhaps there have been other Picassos throughout history, but no wealthy barons saw their paintings in time. This is a disheartening thought. Yet I cannot escape it because “great art” depends on discovery. If some “influential person” does not discover an artist, no one will ever know about his genius. He will just die; no one will remember him. In fact, no one ever learned about him in the first place. In this sense, merit and genius have less to do with “great art” than good fortune. Picasso, Basquiat and van Gogh had sufficient merit to appeal to influential people’s tastes. But they also were lucky enough to have been discovered by the right people. Bums did not discover them. Bankers, lawyers, aristocrats, princes and wealthy dentists did. That is why we hail them as “geniuses” today. And that is why their paintings cost millions each.

“Great artists” owe their fame to their handlers. Fame, notoriety and popularity do not depend on intrinsic merit. They depend on others’ judgments. A person is not famous because he is intrinsically “the most talented” or “the smartest.” He is famous because enough people know about him. It is about numbers. If enough people know about you, you are famous. If they know about you because you supposedly create “great art,” then you are a “famous artist.” That does not mean that you are “intrinsically talented.” It simply means that your work appeals to many people’s tastes. To achieve fame, it is all about knowing the right people. Picasso, Basquiat and van Gogh luckily encountered people who had the power to effectively spread the word about them. Their work happened to please the right people’s tastes, and these people, in turn, told their friends about the art. Like wildfire, their popularity took off. Did their talent have anything to do with it? Perhaps. But talent alone did not lead to fame. Influential people did, along with their influential social networks. Put simply, “artistic talent” (if such a thing exists in the abstract) without discovery is like gold buried beneath the ocean floor—it is worthless. Only a determined miner can realize its potential. And the miner is the handler, not the artist. Without a handler and a promoter, the artist—talented or not—lies buried.

For all these reasons, I am deeply suspicious about assertions that certain art is “great.” When I look at art, I engage in an individual inquiry. I let art affect my own tastes. My tastes are my own; no one else controls them. I don’t care what art critics or professors say. If it pleases my tastes, I like it. If it doesn’t, I don’t. In many cases, I like art that has been labeled “great.” But I don’t like it because someone else told me it was great. I like it because my own tastes happen to match the majority’s. In essence, I remember that art is about subjective taste, not objective merit. And I remember that most art in famous museums or at Sotheby’s is only there because some wealthy promoter happened to really like it a long time ago.

All these things should deeply bother an artist. If I were an artist, I know they would bother me. After all, artists express themselves, no matter what people expect from them. They live dangerous, risky, unconventional lives. Yet no matter how powerful or meaningful their expression, they have no control over their popularity. They must surrender their fate to the subjective tastes of bourgeois art collectors and patrons, who all lead lives categorically different from the artist’s rebellious existence. Artists do not decide whether a millionaire banker likes their brushstrokes or paint splashes. The banker likes what he likes; it is not for the artist to say. The banker may hate the painting and walk out. Or he may fall in love with it, tell his colleagues about it, make the artist rich and attract an art museum’s attention.

What did the artist have to do with these reactions? Nothing. His “artistic ability” merely provided an opportunity for an “influential person” to react. But the power to react resides in the “influential person.” And fame does not result without a precise chain of lucky events that begins with discovery. Merit does not trigger this chain of lucky events. Merit merely provides an opportunity to appeal to an influential person’s tastes. That is only the first step toward fame—and possible “greatness.”

For better or worse, “greatness” in any endeavor depends on fame. No man is great if no one knows about him. Fame, in turn, depends on many lucky events, including the identity of the person who makes the initial discovery. “Great art” is great because the right people liked it at the right time. It is “great” because enough people who liked it were enthusiastic enough to promote it to others. Did the artist influence these reactions? No. He just painted what he saw in his mind. He expressed himself. He did not “make himself great.” Others did that for him. And they only did it because he appealed to their tastes, not because he had some magical talent that entitled him to greatness. In this light, “artistic ability” is at best overrated and at worst irrelevant. Put simply, “artistic greatness” derives from historical accident and dominant taste judgment, not self-revealing abstractions.

If Picasso had not encountered Gertrude Stein, he would have struggled on, alone and unknown. And if van Gogh’s paintings did not appeal to some wealthy patrons in Amsterdam, no one would ever have known about him, either. Their talents would simply have evaporated into the vastness of time and human experience, like so many others we never discovered. In sum, when it comes to “artistic greatness,” promotion and luck beat natural talent any day.

GENIUS EXISTS, EVEN IF IT IS NOT "SUPERNATURAL" : A RESPONSE TO DAVID BROOKS

AN ESSAY

New York Times columnist David Brooks is evolving into my philosophical foil. Almost every article he writes fundamentally contradicts my views on a particular issue. Two days ago, he wrote an editorial about genius and talent called “Genius—The Modern View.” See N.Y. Times, April 30, 2009. In essence, he echoes several modern studies that conclude: (1) “Talent is overrated” because genius depends not on some “otherworldly access to truth” or a “divine spark,” but rather the ability to “practice one’s craft” for many, many hours; and (2) Genius is not “mysterious,” but rather results from “the ability to develop a deliberate, strenuous and boring practice routine” that focuses on technique and weeds out “errors.” In Mr. Brooks’ estimation, anyone can be a genius. They just have to spend all their waking hours perfecting their art.

There is something wrong with this analysis. Hours alone cannot determine genius. There is something intangible about genius that even the most ambitious worker cannot fabricate through a “deliberate, strenuous and boring practice routine.” Obviously not everyone can be Einstein, Shakespeare or Mozart, no matter how much they practice or punish themselves. And there obviously have been millions who have aspired to the heights reached by geniuses. Incessant practice did not aid these forgotten, hard-working millions; we only remember the elite few who had “something more.” Under Mr. Brooks’ calculus, however, anyone can be a genius as long as they have the proper work ethic. Yet this cannot be true. There are millions of people who dedicate their entire waking lives to stockbroking, lawyering, banking, investing and real estate selling. They become unbelievably “good at their games,” yet they are not geniuses; they are average people who make money. There are even millions of people who put their heart and soul into acting, painting, writing, science and other “creative arts,” yet only a few distinguish themselves as “true geniuses.” Practice is essential, but it is not the determining factor. There must be something else at work. “Genius” implies something greater, something transcendent, something unique and something special. To think that any slob with ambition and a clear calendar can become Mozart is simply unjustifiable. Just remember Amadeus: Salieri spent his whole life practicing to be a great musical genius, yet Mozart brushed him aside with his innate, “special gifts.” Both men practiced incessantly. Both had ambition. But we hail only Mozart as the “genius” among the two.

Mr. Brooks’ essay aims to “debunk genius.” It aims to tear down the temples we build around men and women whom we regard with “reverential awe.” But I argue there is a reason we regard genius with “reverential awe:” It is unique and special. While genius may not be supernatural or reflect a “divine spark,” I believe it reflects that some individuals are more dynamic, more creative and more revolutionary than others. Geniuses tend to be rugged individuals who see things differently than the “average man.” Mr. Brooks, on the other hand, tends to think that anyone can “manufacture genius” merely by imitating and copying the techniques employed by others. While a genius always knows what precedes him, he is not content with imitation. Geniuses create and invent; they do not simply follow in others’ footsteps. Einstein mastered the “state of the art” in physics before developing his own unique, brilliant new theories. Shakespeare mastered the classical literary tradition before writing brilliant new works; he added to that tradition with his own unique voice. And Picasso intensely studied classical painting before breaking out to make his own, unique mark on the art world. All these geniuses had something more than the mere ability to practice boring routines. They were unique individuals with something special to offer the world. Combined with their work ethic, that “special something” made them unforgettable and important. I am not afraid to hold these geniuses in “reverential awe.” They had something I do not have. And no measure of practice or dedication will elevate me to their level.

Mr. Brooks’ argument perplexes me because it attempts to “democratize” genius. It also attempts to reconcile genius with the American notion that “hard work” can achieve any goal. Although this may sound elitist, I do not think that genius is “democratic.” One either has the capacity for brilliance or one does not. Anyone can wholly dedicate themselves to a “strenuous, deliberate and boring” practice routine in any life pursuit. In fact, millions of Americans do exactly that. Traditional employment demands huge numbers of waking hours, great endurance, forbearance, humility and discipline. Yet everyone who holds down a job is not a genius. On the other hand, perhaps the ability to focus intently on any sort of activity for “many, many hours” is a species of genius in itself. But it is not true genius; it is studied proto-genius. Salieri is the best example. He had the ambition, drive and time to develop a “strenuous, deliberate and boring” practice routine in music. He devoted his life to music. He hoped for brilliance. His work ethic found him employment, but not brilliance. He was not a true genius; he was a proto-genius. He merely worked hard at a boring practice routine and performed well according to that routine. His work lacked the “divine spark” that Mozart brought to his performances and compositions. It was technically apt, but not memorable. Applying this lesson, we can generalize: According to Mr. Brooks’ “long hours plus routine” formula, men may become “proto-geniuses,” but not “true geniuses.”

Americans do not like the idea that there may be “better people” in the world simply because they have unique talents. They cling to the notion that men are “equal” and have the capacity to become “great and successful” through fanatically hard work. Mr. Brooks’ approach to genius reflects this American discomfort with “innately brilliant individuals.” In his essay, Mr. Brooks downplays IQ as a “reliable predictor of future success.” By making that observation, Mr. Brooks rejects the idea that “innate talent” plays a substantial role in genius. Rather, he stakes his belief in hard work over talent. Taking things a step further, he stakes his belief in hard work and discipline over innate intelligence. In so doing, he conflates the American idea of “success” with genius. According to Mr. Brooks, “geniuses” are just “regular guys” who apply a “strenuous, deliberate and boring” practice routine for 16 hours a day or more. This lifestyle description also applies to the “successful American” who spends all his time working at a boring job. In the end, he makes money and becomes powerful. But geniuses are not always successful. In fact, many fail miserably in life, go insane and die penniless (Mozart, Nietzsche and Kafka come to mind). Why? If they worked hard, as Mr. Brooks prescribes, they should have made it. The reason lies in the fact that “true genius” is not accessible to everyone. Hard work alone does not create it. In fact, geniuses work hard at their own pace. They march to a different drummer than the rest. Put simply, they are more innately intelligent than the rest. And that makes Americans uncomfortable.

In sum, I do not believe that hard work and “boring practice routines” create true genius. Rather, I believe that Mr. Brooks’ essay presents a formula for “proto-genius” analogous to traditional American “success through employment.” In my view, true geniuses are world-changers. They dutifully study and understand the traditions that preceded them, but they are not content merely to master and repeat those traditions. They work extremely hard to perfect their crafts, but they have different motivations than most “average” people. They see things in different ways. If they did not, we would not remember them. True genius creates and revitalizes; proto-genius simply recapitulates and performs. Mozart was a true genius; Salieri was a proto-genius. A true genius spends his time thinking about new and revolutionary ideas; a proto-genius spends his time practicing, imitating and preparing for another technical performance. Proto-geniuses are consummate performers. Their technique is unparalleled. But they create nothing. Hard work and “boring practice routines” may result in masterful technique and performance. Yet without the “divine spark” inherent in true genius, they will make no lasting mark on history. They will be “merely successful” in their chosen field.

I am passionate about genius because I am passionate about individuality. In my view, American life constantly challenges individuality. On the one hand, we learn that we are all unique individuals with “something special” to offer the world. On the other hand, we learn that we must “conform to the success paradigm” in order to survive, and that means sacrificing our unique talents to “hard work, practice and discipline” for some employer. Truly great individuals break that paradigm with genuinely unique ideas and perspectives that we remember. They work hard, but they do not sacrifice their “special something” in the process. It is that “special something” in every individual that contains the “divine spark” to true genius. Hard work develops the craft. But only true genius makes it last beyond the generations. That is why individuality is important, despite all the impulsions to suppress it.

Mr. Brooks fails to comprehend that. In his view, mere work can replace the “special something” that propels true genius. I strongly disagree. Without the “special something,” there is only proto-genius, not true genius. When it comes to true genius, hard work is necessary, but not sufficient.

LAW FIRMS ADOPT TALENT MODEL FOR NEW ATTORNEY HIRES

EMPLOYEEBUILDER : GET A JOB, WILL YOU?

By : Mr. Herbert W. Hines, Esq., Equity Partner and Hiring Coordinator, Hiner, Butts, Shallowbottom & Hines LLP, a Fortune Law Firm Specializing in Banking Law

It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to see that it’s tough to get a job as a lawyer these days. Even Yalies and Harvard grads face a difficult road landing positions at coveted private firms. And with law school debt, new attorneys can’t afford to practice poverty law or be prosecutors. Either you make $100,000 a year or you default on your loans. Then your credit is ruined and you can’t even convince a landlord to rent you an apartment. You can’t even finance a Ford Focus to shlep to whatever burger-flipping job you wind up getting. To be blunt, it is a grim picture out there for young grads. It sure would be nice to get some bailout money. But law school grads are not a priority. Banks are more important. We don’t disagree: As lawyers who represent banks, we would much rather save banks than law students. Banks pay fees; law students don’t.

Still, law firms are not exactly doing well in this market, either. We’ve had to cut positions, reduce bonuses and trim expenses. Sometimes our midlevel partners don’t fly first-class anymore; they ride economy plus. Other times we ask co-counsel to split copy costs when photocopying service lists, briefs and settlement brochures. We never did that before. When the economy hurts, lawyers hurt, too. After all, we depend on fees. Fees are money. When people have less money to spend, fees are smaller. When we get fewer fees, we have less money. When we have less money, we are less happy. Plus we can’t pay people what we used to, or even give them jobs in the first place.

Our senior partners have nothing to worry about. It’s really the new associates, poor performers and tough-luck job hunters who face challenging times these days. Senior partners do not want to take pay cuts; why should they? They sacrificed weekends and family for twenty years. Do you think they want to cede their reward after sacrificing their adult lives to the firm? Of course not. Thus, to ensure that partners continue to receive their current salary and bonus levels, major law firms—including Hiner Butts—have resolved to hire fewer people and to fire non-producers. With less income than last year, this is the only way to maintain partner salary and bonuses. Think about it. If we kept hiring and paying fat-faced 25-year-old associates at a 1990s pace, we wouldn’t have enough money to keep paying O. Ted “Buddy Boy” Shallowbottom $995,000 per year. And Mr. Shallowbottom will not take a pay cut so some 24-year-old Indian Harvard grad named Rangamawalla can be an associate at Hiner Butts. It just ain’t happening.

In a tighter market, no one gets a job unless they really want it. It is not 1944. We are not the “Arsenal of Democracy” anymore; we have budgets to worry about. We don’t hire anyone who walks through the door. When money is scarce, only the best and brightest can work. True, this country rose to preeminence because everyone worked. But we’re on top now. Today, only the best work. The rest look for work and temp when they can. We need to be clear, however, when we say “only the best.” We do not want to give the impression that doing well in school makes you “the best,” nor should high academic performers comfortably assume that they can just waltz into an associate’s job at Hiner Butts. Being smart—or even brilliant—does not make you “the best.” Quite the contrary, in my experience as a hiring coordinator, smarty-pants intellectuals have proven the poorest lawyers at our firm. We are not looking for thinkers, philosophers or depressive recluses who pore over cases and ponder verbal intricacies in legal texts. We are looking for motivated, sprightly workers who are excited about billing cases. If you are truly intelligent, our work will probably bore and sicken you; that is why we don’t want you on our team. If it came between a pensive valedictorian and a go-get-‘em academic cellar dweller who speaks good English and doesn’t mind working 18 hours a night binding multi-colored briefs, we would take the cellar dweller every time. Because in legal practice, it is not about being smart; it is about billing time. Intelligence does nothing for the bottom line. You just need enough intelligence to write letters, read correspondence, speak on the phone, ask questions and manage a calendar. Beyond that, you can take your erudition and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.

We do not want intelligent law school graduates. They get us nowhere and they cost a lot. Nonetheless, we do need replacement lawyers to keep our firm in top form. Our firm cannot maintain healthy client satisfaction levels without a minimum staff, and we constantly lose staff. Partners die and retire. Others betray the firm and run off for other opportunities, taking clients and valuable secrets with them. Associates suffer mental breakdowns. Some commit suicide or become alcoholics. We fire others. Others secretly raise families, devastating productivity levels. Put simply, we have attrition problems, just as any organization does. To combat attrition, we seek out qualified replacement attorneys. But we do not choose just anyone. If you are in the attorney job market and you want a job at a firm like Hiner Butts, what do you do? To answer that question, you must know what we want.

We want qualified replacement attorneys committed to maximum client satisfaction, firm financial goals and Hiner Butts’ legal mission: “To serve banks. No matter what they ask. All the time. Guaranteed. You Can ‘Bank’ On It™.” As mentioned, we do not want intelligent replacement attorneys. Rather, we want loyal, dedicated, hard-working attorneys with a capacity to work long hours. Still, we would disserve our clients if we did not ensure that all our legal professionals were not in some way “talented.” To that extent, Hiner Butts—like every major law firm—has adopted the “Talent Model®” for new attorney hires. We want our clients to know that their legal servants are talented. Talent is more valuable than intelligence. Talent means a lawyer can do things other lawyers can’t. It makes a lawyer unique and special.

So how do we measure “talent?” When law firms first began using the “Talent Model®” in the mid-1990s, they equated talent with law school grade point averages. Soon, they discovered to their horror that the best law school performers made the worst lawyers. Rather than diligently attending to deposition questions and scheduling orders, these ostensibly “talented” lawyers sat around reading international news and discussing political trends while drinking coffee at firm expense. They smugly thought that their law school grades would power them through day-to-day legal struggles. How wrong they were; and how wrong we were to think that smart people were “talented.”

Having learned our lesson, we looked for more traditional “talent” indicators. We began screening applicants for tap dancing ability, singing prowess, gymnastic skill and classic good looks. We especially found that magicians and shell-game shufflers made superb lawyers. In our view, lawyers with “special skills” made far better additions to the client service team than bookish academics. Both clients and judges love a good tap dance, magic show or gymnastic routine, for legal practice is akin to all these crafts. The “Talent Model®” helps us find talented lawyers, not smart ones. In recent years, we have successfully augmented our client service team with fire-eaters, hog-wrestlers, sushi chefs, tightrope walkers, rock climbers and snorkelers. These are talented people. They can do things other people can’t. That is what we want in our lawyers—talent. And our clients love it, too. Fire-eaters and sushi chefs win far more cases than any book-bound philosopher. After all, fire-eaters and sushi chefs get out there and “just do it.” They do not hang around and debate policy. Legal practice is not about policy. Legal practice is about performing as requested, including performing the impossible.

Our “Talent Model®” selects applicants who likely will perform well when requested. Recently, we hired an associate who can stand on his head for forty minutes without a break. His talent helped him win an important case against aggrieved mortgage buyers. Talented people can perform unique, arduous tasks for longer than anyone else without complaint. So can lawyers. That is why we insist on talent in all our young associates.

Do you want to work for a major law firm? If you do, how can you prepare for our rigorous interview process? Well, it is difficult to train yourself to be talented. Only you know whether you have a special ability. Can you swallow swords? Can you jump 40 feet without breaking your ankle? Can you hit a 3-pointer from ¾ court? Can you make the Ace of Hearts go from your left sleeve to your right sleeve without moving your hands? Think about what makes you special, and then think about whether you can use your special ability on demand. Are you talented? Only you know that. We can only advise you to brush up on your act before you come before our hiring committee. Our talent model will determine whether you are talented enough to make $100,000 per year. It will also determine whether you will suitably advance our firm’s client service mission. After all, some talented people may have talent, but their talent will not advance our firm’s mission. For example, we recently turned away a talented young Fordham graduate who could wash large windows in less than 30 seconds. Despite her talent, washing windows was not a talent relevant to client service in the banking sector. Nonetheless, we are quite certain that a lesser-known firm will appreciate her talents.

In sum, we encourage you to think outside the box as you continue your job search. Do not despair; you will get a job. But you need to reevaluate your approach. For years, you learned that study and grades would get you a job. We emphatically say to you now: They will not. Your natural talent will get you a job, as well as a dogged desire to please clients and your superiors at the firm. We advise you to look within. Cultivate your talents. In the law business, no one really cares about your legal knowledge, anyway. We want performance, charm and victory, not long-winded rhetoric and theoretical gobbledygook. Start thinking like a performer, not a scholar. Performers are exciting. They bring down the house with dazzling feats. Scholars are boring. They put people to sleep.

We want performers, not scholars. Be a performer. What makes you dazzling? Can you do it on demand? Can you do it everyday? All day? All night? With a smile? If you can, step right up. We are always scouting for top-notch new talent. You might be the next big thing in the legal world. You might be the next all-Star. You might be the next show-stopper. Sure, times might be tight. But that never stopped stars from wowing audiences. Everyone loves a winner, and everyone loves a good show. It’s showtime. What have you got to show us?