My First Audition
In some ways I had been preparing for my first audition for a scripted role for five years. I had taken a bunch of classes, met and networked with many people in the D.C. theater community through those classes and social media, and done a few improv shows on stage. But for the most part, I had no idea what I was doing.
After a career crisis early this year got me seriously thinking about what I wanted to really pursue in the next act of my life, and a three-week trip to southern Africa gave me time away from the buzz of daily Washington life to reflect on what truly mattered to me, I decided to finally give auditioning a try. I work nights and weekends, which I thought might be an impediment, but my twin sons were old enough that I could think about doing something for me again, and I decided it was time.
Being a left-brained chap, it came down to a very rational conclusion: If I did start auditioning, and did not get any parts, I would not be in plays. If I did not start auditioning, I would not be in plays. So auditioning could not leave me worse off, except for possible ego bruises. I also was able to set aside jitters about performing by telling myself that I wasn’t actually going get cast in anything soon, so I could put off confronting that next fear.
While I was in Africa, my improv director sent around an audition notice for a Capital Fringe Festival show. When I got back, I replied, “I’m going to audition for this, because, hey, why not?”
The audition was about a week later. It was a cold reading, with the sides not available in advance, so I did a bit of research about the plays, the director, and the company. I did not have a formal headshot yet, and I did not know what to wear. I went for nice-casual — not sloppy, but not formal — which turned out to be a bit fancier than the sweatshirts and jeans some of the more seasoned auditioners turned up in.
I wasn’t worried about not getting a part — I wasn’t even sure I really wanted one. I just needed to jump in the theatrical water at some point, and this opportunity was as good as any. What I was worried about was having the confidence I’d worked up deflated. Thankfully, the opposite proved true.
I have so far worked entirely in amateur theater. (I did get a small stipend for one role, so I can technically claim to have acted professionally, but that was an outlier.) One positive thing I’ve discovered about amateur theater is that everybody is there for love of the craft, not to get rich and famous (at least not yet). It doesn’t mean everyone will be pleasant or likable or even decent, but it does lead to a greater sense of nurturing than I expect one might find at a professional audition.
I did not get a part, but I got something better. The director, a veteran of numerous professional and community theater shows, told me, “I would not have guessed this was your first audition.” I was told I comported myself with confidence and professionalism.
I went to my second audition a week later, and my third a few weeks after that. I got parts in both shows.
The Longer You’re Unrepresented
The harder it gets to be represented. This is something that makes no sense. In the past 9 years I have grown immensely as an actor. Back when I thought I was great, I sucked. But now, well I know I’ll only get better, but I’m a pretty darn good actor if I do say so myself. So why don’t I have an agent? I don’t really want to get into all the reasons as it generally sends me into a spiral of depression, but here’s one of big reason.
In most professions, you have to pay your dues. You have to work your way up, do the crappy jobs, kiss butt etc. etc. In acting, we have our own form of paying dues. Do awful non-union theater in basements, go on the road doing children’s theater at 7 am for ungrateful Arkansaw-ians, and work on student film sets more chaotic than a shopping mall on Christmas Eve. But if you have talent, can act and are appealing on some/any level to look at, you should eventually get the attention of what they call the “sellers” or agents. Your (our) package and tool set includes all those things that can help us book jobs, whether it be musical theatre, TV, Film, Hosting gigs or Dance. We are a product and we need to make ourselves as marketable to as many markets as we can, and so we do. And so I have. Yet where is the agent?
I am a specific type, not so specific that there are only a few of me, rather specific enough that there are a lot of me, and most agents see me and assume they already have three mid 30s guys who aren’t handsome nor ugly and are a little funny (I’m more than a little funny). They assume I am just like the guys they already send in for co-stars and don’t need another taking appointments away from their established clients. A lot of it comes from the fact that they have never seen me work, nor will they. Most agents seem to be rather “safe” players. They have their clients that book when they book and they want to go home at night knowing that tomorrow will be like today which was like yesterday. It is rare to find that agent who is willing to take a risk on a client, take a chance on someone, because well that’s not their nature. That is ours, we are the risk takers, the darers, the ones who are willing to sacrifice everything for just a little something. Most regular people could never make it through a day in our shoes, the uncertainty would kill them, but I digress.
My problem is, the older I get, the more I begin to be looked at as unrepresentable, I am damaged goods perhaps. I imagine the thought process for the agent I am soliciting goes something like this “if he’s so good, and he’s in his mid 30s, why doesn’t he have an agent? Is he crazy? Does he piss people off? Is he hard to work with?” And when you look at it, it makes sense. I mean, why don’t I have representation. Fact is, I am one of thousands who get lost in the cracks. It is not for lack of talent or trying I don’t have an agent. 99% of agents are not seeking new talent like me, they are seeking new talent that is actually new. Confused? Let me explain.
My wife works for an agency (no need to go into why they won’t even meet with me), but she is constantly going to showcases, Grad ones, undergrad ones and ones that aren’t even college affiliated. And she tells me about how her agency is going to sign a certain person. Then she tells me about said person, and I maybe get to see their h/s and resume. I am often completely unimpressed, she will often even say she doesn’t understand why. This actor nine times out of ten knows nothing about NYC. They know nothing about the business and they know pretty much nothing about auditioning (let’s face it, how much did you know about auditioning when you got out of school?) Yet this fairly big time agency wants to commit themselves to this actor.
I often hear stories she tells me about how these actors call asking how to get to Bleecker street, they have no idea what to wear, think casting directors are the producers, and forget to bring headshots. They are as green as the forest, yet their chances of being plucked out by an agent are immensely greater than mine. How is this fair? Well nothing in this business is right. After all, I am a well-versed actor, a New Yorker, a writer and someone who already has established friendships/relationships with casting directors. But these young, hotshot kids, are tons more appealing to agents than us working NYC actors. They are the hot new thing and probably 5 times more likely to be called in from doing a two-minute scene at New World Stages than we are from our reel, or from our consistent postcarding letting the agents know we just booked Blue Bloods and were called back for three regionals through EPA’s.
We keep doing what we do, sometimes it will lead to getting an agents attention. These actors do their showcase and (not often, but probably more likely than not) they will draw the attention of at least one of the managers or agents that attended. Yet we keep going. AT my showcase 9 years ago, I didn’t draw anyone’s attention. Many of my classmates did, 80% in fact, of those 80% (40 actors) 10 are still in the business. So maybe there is something to be said about persistence, being overlooked and doing your own thing after all.
Book Work!!!!
Hi, my name is California Triple-Threat, and I’m emotionally addicted to performing. To the point where I spent the ENTIRE month of September brooding about not being booked in a show.
I’d come off an amazing-dream-come-true run of being a leading lady, and was not prepared for the huge let-down that came after the closing show. It was my first long break in almost a year. To make myself feel even worse, I’d turned down a show I didn’t especially want to do, in hopes that I would book one of the higher paying shows I had on my horizon. And then I didn’t book those. Leaving me bored, depressed, poor, and kicking myself.
The things I have found to do in my spare time are probably best left for a different blog. We all go thru slow times as performers, and I truly believe the way we invest in our craft during this time is what proves what kind of artists we are.
4 weeks after the closing of my show I received a phone call from a theater’s producer, asking if I was still available and interested in a role I auditioned for in early June. It had been a particularly long and interesting audition process, and I’d never heard back about casting, assuming they went with someone else. About a week after that phone call (and also after several emails, videos, texts, and more phone calls) they offered me the role, and now I leave in two days to spend 5 weeks rehearsing and performing in Palm Springs, CA! What has really struck me most, and the point of this post, is how much I doubted myself, my career, my choices, my dreams. I had no way of knowing that my next role was one that I had essentially, ALREADY BOOKED. I had done the work, but not believed in myself. There was nothing I could do to help or prevent booking this show, because they knew back in June if they wanted me in the show.
SO, I hereby promise to myself (and invite you to do the same) to live as if the next show is already booked. You know what it feels like… that swagger you have, knowing that there is an artistic team that believes in you and a place where you have already proved your skills. THAT confidence is what makes other people look up to you, and directors want to hire you. The unspoken but very visible look of “I’m an adventure, you know you want to watch and experience”. There isn’t room in this mentality for doubt, for self-criticism, but there is room for fun, for collaboration, for encouraging others to follow your path. Do I know what I’ll be doing after the next 5 weeks are over? NOPE! But I’m already excited about it. Let’s do this!
Sunday Summary — October 21, 2012
Check out the posts you might have missed this week!
The Late-Blooming Actor asks: is improv Art?
The Reflective Artist bravely shared her recent feelings of doubt and artistic confusion.
The Political Theatre Maker regaled us with stories of some of her varied survival jobs.
The Growing Artist learned to appreciate great Directors more after working with a not-so-great one.
The Crazy Theatre Artist shared her graduate degree plans and pondered the worth of a grad degree in Theatre.
Why Do a Graduate Theatre Program?
Whenever I say the sentence “I’m getting a master’s in Educational Theatre from NYU” I get fifty different responses just from 3 different parts in the sentence alone. Especially since It’s an MA program, and I still aim to get an MFA in Directing from a good school one day, there’s plenty of people (including theatre people) that don’t get why I’m doing what I’m doing. Some don’t see a point in going to school for theatre, while others don’t understand why I want to do 2 master degrees instead of a PhD.
My reason for my plan of action is simple: it’s what’s right for me. I feel I needed to go back to school and train with professionals as well as my peers, and from my very first week earlier this year of my classes, I felt if I dropped out at that point that I would’ve grown as an artist. Now that I’m about halfway done with this semester (and to this point I have 26 credits left to finish including the ones I’m currently doing), it’s really inspired me to do new things I’ve never done before and think about new things I haven’t before.
Also doing a graduate theatre program is completely different from doing an undergraduate program. I feel like I learned about every aspect of theatre in a general sense in college. Compared to now, where it’s not only focused on anything I want to learn about, but it’s so specific that you learn just about everything you need and want to know about that focus. All the little gaps that I felt were in my BA degree, are filled in and more with the classes I took/are in with my MA degree. Along with that, since I’m doing an MA program, I pretty much take whatever I want to know more about. It’s not just “I’m taking this class because it’s required” but “I’m in this class because I want to learn more about this subject.”
Another reason it’s worth doing is something I somewhat mentioned before, but it’s because of the hands on training it offers. Yes theatre is something you need experience in to grow. An aspiring actor needs plenty of on stage and on camera experience to get better. Each time that actor works on another show, they learn new things about what works and what they need to improve on. However everyone reaches a point where they can’t improve on their own anymore and that they need the help and training of others with more experience. Grad school is the perfect place for that growth. You start to see things in a new way, learn in a new light, and pick out on where you need to improve along with what are your strong points.
Ultimately, everyone has to do what’s right for them. However I’m a strong believer that an education is for everyone. Not every level is for everyone, especially since I’m fairly sure I’m not meant to go for a PhD, but even just an Associate’s degree is helpful since you get to spend some time sitting in a room with your peers and learn about new ideas and concepts. And for me, I feel I’ve grown 10 times more from doing my masters.
The Invisible Director
They say you never know a good thing until it’s gone. I definitely experienced this theory while working on a recent indie feature film. I realized the importance of a good director, and just how much a director does during the making of a film!
The director I was working with was not only filling the position of the director, but also of the writer and “star” of the project – as he referred to himself as at one point during the shoot. I truly believe this director was simply trying to take on too much. I understand the feeling of being passionate about your project, but I think there comes a time when you have to let other people do their jobs, and you do yours. The director made it clear that he did not want to be asked questions – he was constantly redirecting me to other people who didn’t seem to know the answers either. There was supposed to be an assistant director, but I think she was too afraid to actually direct the actors – since the director/writer/”star” had such strong opinions about his project. He disliked when anyone made a change to his “vision”, and since we were behind schedule most of the time – everyone wanted to get the shots as quickly as possible. This left me and the other actors very confused about what we were supposed to do! Most of the time, I just went with my “actor instincts”, and I assume the other actors did the same.
I wish the director would have showed me the camera angles more. Most of the time, we would start shooting – and I didn’t even know where the camera was coming from or which way to look. I wish the director would have told me whether he thought I was on the right track with my character. I would often ask him how he felt about the scene after shooting it, and considering he was also the writer of the screenplay – I just wish he would have told me whether he liked my take or wanted me to play it a different way. He was very vague. He also didn’t allow the costumer/makeup artist to do her job. He would often take it into his own hands to choose the wardrobe, and a few times during the shoot – we didn’t have enough pieces, and I had to supply some from my own wardrobe.
I never realized just how important a director is until there wasn’t one – or at least a present one. I now have a new appreciation for all the wonderful directors I have worked with in the past.
So, this one time I got fired from writing for a happiness blog for being too depressing.
No joke.
My job was to post pictures of things that would make readers happy such as kittens and puppies and rabbits and rainbows. My choices were always wrong. Either the kittens weren’t cute enough, the puppies weren’t spunky enough, the rabbits weren’t fluffy enough or the rainbows weren’t bright enough…
After I lost the privilege of finding my own “uplifting photos”, I was demoted to finding photos of the things my supervisor said were uplifting, photos of cows eating ice cream and babies doing silly baby things (people dig this stuff, or so I’m told?). I’m not much of a “baby person” as it would seem to be a lot of unnecessary work at this juncture and I generally only smile at animal photos when there is some sort of witty caption accompanying it. Occasionally I’d include photos of things that make me happy… faraway landscapes, tree houses, art, political uprisings and food, just to see if my happiness had become acceptable.
Often my supervisor would be so disgusted with what I found uplifting that she would question my sanity. Several times she asked me if I was clinically depressed.
“Uh, not that I know of?”‘
She may have been kidding but I consulted WebMD just to be sure…
The topping on this particular cake of shame, and what threw my supervisor over the edge was when I failed at my assignment of writing about kids volunteering at a local library (Yes. I had to write about “happy” things too…). For this particular article, I was supposed to write about teenagers who were spending their weekends volunteering at a local library because they wanted to keep its doors open. Apparently, due to budget constraints everyone was laid off and the library was slated to close. My supervisor wanted me to write an uplifting piece about the teenagers who made the ultimate sacrificing of turning off Facebook to stack books.
Stop.
“Isn’t it more uplifting to have readers question why these libraries are so underfunded that they’re choice is to close or have unqualified volunteers take over? I’m not trying to be difficult but we’re doing our readers and these kids a huge disservice by suggesting this is a positive thing. There comes a time when we must take off the rose-colored glasses and see things for what they really are…”
My rose-colored slip arrived shortly thereafter in the form of an e-mail.
If questioning the system makes me “clinically depressed” then pass the Paxil.
The infamous happiness blog was only one of many survival jobs I’ve had over the years. My life was an eccentric array of survival jobs until about a year ago when Project Girl Performance Collective, the theatre company I founded and am Artistic Director of became my primary source of income. Some of the most eclectic jobs that have crossed my path over the past few years have been fun, rewarding, and decent conversation starters. I am hesitant to call them “survival jobs” as none were particularly evil or soul sucking and for the most part I walked away a more informed person.
– Giving Bird Tours in Battery Park (among other things…)
New York City is one of the hottest spots in various birds’ migration paths in the spring and fall…
This is among some of the many facts you’ll learn in an urban bird tour.
There are many exciting free events that occur throughout the city and Battery Park City Parks Conservancy is the jewel of them all. Their six month public programming from May through October consists of free art, sports, music and nature activities for all ages. Some of my favorite events included fishing in the Hudson River, urban gardening and puppet making in the arts programs. Did you know that you can borrow free sports equipment at Rockefeller Park? I bet you didn’t. Battery Park City is like a small oasis in Manhattan’s concrete jungle.
The part-time seasonal staff I worked with consisted of many artists, performers, graduate students, poets and activist… some seriously brilliant and fascinating people. Those who were worked full-time at the Park had such a deep understanding of horticulture, urban gardening, ecology, environmentalism, animals and nature that I found myself getting just as much out of the programming as our guests were. I will always blame my obsession with urban gardening on the folks at BPC.
You can learn more about the programming at Battery Park City Parks Conservancy by visiting their website. You can also learn more about New York City’s other parks and conservancies like Central Park Conservancy and Battery Conservancy (different from Battery Park). Many of these places offer part-time and seasonal job opportunities throughout the spring, summer and fall.
Unhooking a fish and getting it in the tank during BPC’s Catch and Release Public Fishing program (this was the first time I ever caught a fish).
Showing off some clay sculpture work after a public children’s art program.
– Jumping out of Airplanes in Simulated Airline Catastrophes’
Oddly enough, I acquired this position through a temp agency. I was paid over $100 for a few hours of hanging out at an air hangar to test safety equipment for the FAA. They would seat us all in a grounded airplane and simulate an emergency landing. We’d have to grab our flotation device and jump down the slide in a neat and orderly fashion. We would simulate different scenarios such as fires, water landings and blocked emergency exits. They’d get some dry ice, shut off the lights, sound the emergency alarm and we’d go to town.
This experience provides participants with excellent cash that you can put toward the therapist that will help you get over your flying phobia…
– Standardized Patient Work (Doctor/Patient Role Playing)
I played a patient for student doctors. I would present issues that would come up if they were treating a “real” patient. This is a common job for many actors and can be acquired by contacting hospitals with teaching programs.
– Dancing as a Rubix Cube in Times Square (and other promotional work)
While in grad school I worked part-time as a dancing Rubix Cube in Times Square to promote ticket sales for The Awesome 80’s Prom. One time during a water break I left my box outside of a bodega and the NYPD bomb squad came because they saw the box had mysterious wires hanging off it (the box played 80’s music). The dancing Rubix cube gig paid pretty well and is memorable for tourists and those who enjoy taking photos with the likes of the Naked Cowboy, Elmo, Grover (a.k.a. Blue Elmo) and Mickey Mouse.
I’ve done promotional work for several other shows as well, all of which I’ve acquired through Playbill.com or Backstage. Be mindful that some of these positions are commission-based only which means that you could be standing outside for 10 hours and if you don’t sell a single ticket to said show, you will be walking home with an empty pocket and hungry belly.
– Organizing Props for Martha Stewart’s Food Photo Shoots
Production studios like Martha Stewart’s would call in prop orders and it was my job to find the props, wrap them up in newspaper (they were usually fragile), box them up and ship them out to their prospective location. I became obsessed with picking out hypothetical furniture for my hypothetical summer home and it was distracting. I acquired this job through contacts at the same production company where I papered for Broadway shows.
– Photography
I continue to regularly work as a photojournalist for several independent media sources (check out this month’s Indypendent, I shot the cover and a photo essay inside), take headshots, portraits and theatre/dance photography. I am currently working on professionalizing myself further as a photographer by taking class and working to open a small side business.
Actress and Artistic Director of La Bella Roma, Tiff Roma
Promotional shot for Project Girl Performance Collective’s ensemble devised performance Trafficked
Dancer Bradford Rahmlow on the Brooklyn Bridge.
– Ghost Hunting… and Freelance Writing
Occasionally the need for a professional ghost hunter comes along and I make my services available.
Sorta.
Throughout graduate school and in the years thereafter I’ve received some fantastic freelance writing work. I wrote a chapter of a Road Trip Guide book on the “Paranormal Northeast” (This was one summer during college). I traveled throughout New England exploring urban legends, haunts and myths. I have also written articles and interviews for magazines and newspapers.
The downside to this work is in the lack of consistency. There are weeks where I have seven articles to write and months when there’s nothing.
When I was 16 my first boyfriend’s mother took me aside at our first meeting and said she didn’t want her son to date a “professional waitress” (her response to me saying I was going to college to study theatre). I dumped him a month later but her words have always been haunting and kept me away from the restaurant industry. Finding the right “survival job” can be rewarding and help enhance your work and experience as an artist. While there have been plenty of duds and a few burnt bridges along my path, these experiences have left me with memorable stories and anecdotes that will spark many conversations in the years to come.
“I Have Such Doubts”
I have been absent from this forum for some time now. A lot of people have entered the dialogue, a lot of new voices with keen eyes and fresh perspectives. I wish I could say myself that I have something to add from my time away, that I have been preoccupied with matters of great theatrical import, that a story of success and madness is waiting to be shared with you, to teach us all something about art and life.
But no. This is not the case. The cause of my silence is much less profound. Each time I began to consider writing over the past two months, I would sit down and stare at a blank page. There I peered, into the void, and found nothing, nothing at all to say.
Let us be clear: this is not writer’s block. This is something else.
Coming back from my summer away, I was ready. With ten days left of a five show season running in rep, I remember a colleague wistfully remarking, “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could all just rotate our roles and go on for another three months?” I recall quite fervently disagreeing. I had enjoyed my summer, but the town we were in did not offer an artistic community that could stimulate and/or satisfy me. The idea of rotating roles wasn’t enough. I was hungry for the next thing.
Landing in New York the first week of August, I hit the ground running. I reached out to someone about career coaching. I began looking over headshot photographer portfolios, trying to establish a budget for new ones, which I needed desperately. I looked for new songs I needed for my repertoire. I popped into several open mics, singing with friends old and new. I wrote a song in only four hours, and it turned out quite good, I think. I watched documentaries. I read books on theatre and ethics just for fun, and for some perspective on the whole Mike Daisey debacle. I went to plays. I reached out to friends I hadn’t seen in a while. I was a citizen of the city again.
And then: I collapsed.
I may have overestimated how much I could get done in such a brief amount of time. But after about three weeks of consistent movement, and tangible–however small–progress, I found myself exhausted, emotionally overwhelmed, and yearning to crawl into a hole and bury myself. Things were happening, but NOT. FAST. ENOUGH. In only three weeks I had gone from being an employed actor, to discovering myself all the way back at square one, digging my nails into concrete, clinging to solid ground and shuddering. I thought about writing, but what could I say?
“Today I woke and felt doubt.”
That didn’t seem very useful. Who wants to read about that?
I did not think re-entry would be quite as hard as it was. This summer marked my first out-of-town/quasi-Regional gig, and I think subconsciously I believed that upon my return, everything would be different. I would have a larger sense of experience, I would have some more resume fodder, and I would maintain a positive sense of self that only comes from creation and work. Lots of rainbows and lollipops all around.
I was wrong.*
*(Well, really only about the sense of self. The experience, the fodder: check off those boxes.)
I’ve spoken to other friends about getting back into the game after time away. Some things become easier: certain doors open faster because you can further validate your talent by another show of experience listed on the back of your headshot. Well: super. Some things become harder. Because you’ve just worked, not working becomes SO MUCH MORE FRUSTRATING. Your tolerance level is down for this BULLSHIT, because not so long ago you felt marginally fulfilled. Well: fuck.
Why did I think I would return to a life more certain or structured, simply because I had been working for a few months? Why did I take for granted that an artist needs to be their own source of stability first, because everything else in life is just too variable?
This summer was marked by a lot of death. Two company members lost their grandmothers during the season. A co-worker of mine at the day job I was working at before my summer gig was found dead in his apartment. An actress who had been employed a few years previous by the theatre company I was contracted with, who had visited on and off throughout the summer, died suddenly the last week of our run. And a month before I left town, someone I am quite close to was diagnosed with a terminal illness. I spent the majority of the summer trying to grasp at the reality of that last bit of information, while also seeking any possible distraction to start weaving an impenetrable Web of Denial.
When I got back to New York I was racing, trying to make every. moment. count., reminding myself to take nothing for granted, looking for opportunities everywhere. The stakes were HIGH HIGH HIGH. I kept going, driving myself forward with a frenzy. And what happened? In no time at all, I had worn myself out. Running from your own death (or others’), it would seem, is quite draining.
One day, after a slight hiccup in my plans for artistic domination, I looked around and wondered: “Does any of this actually matter?” And with that I just stopped.
When confronted with significant transition or change, whether it’s an adjustment to geographical location (a move, or going out-of-town for a gig), an abandonment or dismantling of established structure in daily activity (starting or ending a job), or a heightened awareness of your own mortality (exactly), the fact is: a period of adjustment is necessary. And if you don’t take the time when you need it, you may find it forcing itself upon you while one side of your mind collapses some months later.
It’s been months since I last auditioned. It’s been weeks since I bothered opening a copy of Backstage. I can barely get myself to write, and when I do it takes days to eek out what used to take a few hours. I finally got new headshots taken, but now am dragging my feet to pick the ones I want retouched in order to print. Whenever I run into people I know but haven’t seen for a while due to my time away, I dread the question that always comes: “So are you working on anything now?” When I try to shrug it off by saying, “Just my life,” or “Just myself,” I see a glaze of pitiable understanding come over their eyes. I feel like a leper. I hate it. Consequently, I keep my socializing to a minimum. I have nothing to share with anyone.
Could this crisis just be a passing phase of worry that comes from job seeking again after having been employed for a while? Of course. Then again, it might not. Either way, it warrants investigation.
I have not succumb to a total breakdown–yet. (I think I’ve got at least ten to fifteen years before that finally happens.) But I do find myself lost in questioning. My life choices, my career choices, my dietary choices, my relationship choices, my fitness choices, my monetary disperse-ment choices–all of these things are suddenly up for analyzing–at length and with great depth. If I was working on something right now, I probably would not be bothered by this much musing. But that would not necessarily be healthy so much as a distraction.
This prospective–no, no, not “prospective”—Eventual Death of that aforementioned person has caused me to take a good look at my life. I don’t like everything I see. I need to dismantle. I need to rebuild. And I need to know if this is what I really want: a life filled with uncertainty; possible eternal living hand to mouth; never really being settled, always looking for the next thing; making friendships that only extend to closing night. Those are all of the bad things, of course, and they’re easy to dwell on while forgetting others: the rush and swell of a job well done; those moments of discovery in rehearsal and on stage; the occasional awareness that the audience is with you or your work completely, that they are compelled, that you have given them something and that they are giving you something back. So many points of seduction of the senses. But is it enough?
I always joke about quitting acting. It’s usually followed with some statement about how I’ll pick up something else I love: “When I finally grow up and quit acting, then I’ll start making stop motion animation.” (Because there is just SO much money in that.) But what if I did?
Or what if I just took a break? Would that be horrible? What could possibly happen? What would I miss? I would like to do anything that doesn’t involve memorizing another fucking monologue, just to be left hoping that the auditors will realize I’m good in under a minute. God forbid I try to make something tangible that still exists the next day. To try and be left alone, not deal with the voices.
When I think about what I want, I find my career is further down on the list than it used to be. There seems to be just so much else I would rather do than focus on finding work. I’d like to–
- Travel. See the English countryside in spring, visit a friend in Paris.
- Buy Havana Ovals and risk getting a ticket by smoking them while walking through Bryant Park wrapped up in a new coat (I don’t even smoke).
- Write songs, play piano, and teach myself the clarinet (I have 6 notes so far).
- Ignore everyone.
- Delete my Facebook account and become a recluse.
- Create meaningful relationships with people who understand, not people who pretend to care for the sake of networking.
- Get married (someday).
- Have a baby (many days after “someday”).
I’m pretty sure all of those things can happen while working at being a professional actor. But looking back at that question I asked myself in regards to my career months ago (“Does any of this actually matter?”), I find the only acceptable answer to be: “Maybe not–but it matters to me.” I just don’t know if it does yet.
My only inkling right now is that perhaps I have focused too long on this one aspect of theatrical work. Perhaps now is the time to expand my expression as an artist by experimenting, wholeheartedly with other disciplines. Leaving acting forever seems an impossible prospect, but perhaps this moment of pause (and complete lack of drive) that has descended upon me will actually lead to a greater realization of who I am as an artist on multiple levels. This is what I’m hoping for, anyway.
I’ll let you know how it goes.
The Green Room 