Cliffhanger
What to do when your project budget is $4000 and you just got a grant to fund it…. for only $1200? In my last blog, I left you with this “cliffhanger.”
Here is the answer: it turns out that Pamela was asleep all along: it was all a dream and Bobby is still alive!
Oh, wait, that’s the answer to a different cliffhanger altogether.
My cliffhanger was resolved a lot more pragmatically.
I did what I always do when faced with a predicament, from how long to bake a potato to raising $2800–I googled: searching every possible combination of words and phrases; every description and potential spellings of me and my project that could lead me to sources of money. (“woman women theatre theater rural PA Pennsylvania improv improvisation kids children grant grants” was my favorite)
And I found many possibilities. Though the world of grant making is no doubt competitive, there are a lot of people and organizations out there who are looking for a good project to fund.
But who the heck was I? An individual theatre artist; though trained and with a full resume of European and New York credits, I didn’t have a lot to show in project management. I didn’t have a board of directors or a theatre company to back me up or a CFO who would vouch for my ability to use funds constructively. How could these potential backers know that I wouldn’t just take their money and make a run for Mexico?
And, as I found out, many of my potential funders wouldn’t even consider my project unless I was a registered a non-profit organization.
A non-profit: yikes! Boards and tax forms and all kind of requirements that I had neither the time nor the inclination to do. But then I found, The Field (after googling something along the lines of “how the *$&^% do you get non-profit status easily”)
The Field (and, as I found out later, several other arts organizations in New York) has a program called, “Fiscal Sponsorship.” It basically gives individual artists a non-profit status under their “umbrella.” You have to apply, pay a small fee and agree to several terms with regards to how you present yourself to funders and track your income. But upon entering into this relationship with The Field, you can apply for grants as a not-for-profit artist. It’s a fantastic program. But beyond the financial incentives, Fiscal Sponsorship with The Field give you access to professionals in the fundraising field, who can help you craft your grant applications and donation request letters. It definitely made this Granted Actor feel less alone when navigating the big-bad fundraising world.
So as a fiscally sponsored artist, with 501c3 status under The Field, I could now apply for a whole new range of grants. But as a newbie in the grant world, I started small: applying to funders in the local area where I would be presenting my improv program. And that’s when things really started to happen. It turns out that my original grant, from the Pennsylvania Council on the Arts had some sway. After all, if the state was willing to back my project, private grant-giving bodies seemed to think it had some merit. I quickly secured another $1200 from a community foundation in the area, then another $1000 from a private family foundation, and finally another $600 in private donations from individuals… Voila! Project funded.
And thank goodness Ewing Oil didn’t really explode. But I still don’t get how Bobby stayed dead on Knots Landing. Anyone?
Up-level Your Professionalism
I’m pretty sure, at one point or another, we have all worked on projects that we felt weren’t exactly…uh…deserving of our time, talent, and professionalism. You know the kind of projects I’m talking about — the frustrating ones where it feels like you’re still in a sixth-grade school play.
But here’s what I’m gonna suggest you do in those situations: up-level your professionalism. Get to rehearsal 15 minutes early, even if it means you beat the director there. Be off-book before the deadline, even if your fellow castmates are still calling for lines during tech week. Stay focused on set, even if your director isn’t.
Basically, treat each job as if you were starring on Broadway or sharing the screen with Natalie Portman. Because I promise you that even if it seems fruitless, if you are working professionally in an unprofessional environment, people notice. And they remember.
And when people know you as someone who consistently performs with that level of professionalism, they expect you to work at that level in the future. I don’t know about you, but I think that setting that kind of expectation is incredibly powerful.
WHEN GREAT MINDS MEET
Theatre is one of the only art forms that requires more than yourself to create. It is a collaborative art, and as any of you who’ve been reading my posts will know, collaboration is not the name of the game, but is the game itself. So, what happens when you get a group of theatre people together? Magic! When it works, collaboration can change the life of any production. You get a team of crackshot artists in one place and the possibilities are endless. I strive to find these units anywhere I can. You need to find people who love what you love and meet them! Join a book club, or a forum; if you can’t find one, start one.
Once you have assembled/joined your team, then comes the fun part. It’s something I like to call the “Aha Moment.” In this moment you realize a connection has been made; a bridge has been gapped between art and reality. Your art has become your reality. What are some of your “aha” moments? Is there anything that you have had a terrible time collaborating on?
In a rehearsal room the Dramaturg is usually the one off to the side, quietly taking notes, stone-faced. Part of the training includes classes on not cracking a smile or showing too much emotion, they even bring in a guard from the palace (that last part’s a joke). But what’s not a joke: all an actor will see of a dramaturg, aside from pre or post show partying, is that shadowy figure biting their tongue in the darkness of the house. But when a director, playwright, production team, etc. get together, watch the Dramaturg shine! The energy that is generated from the creative ideas bouncing from one brain to the next is enough to power a small village.
How to Guarantee a Smooth Tech.
First off, if the title is what caused you to read this post, stop now. It is impossible to guarantee a smooth tech. There are, however, a list of guidelines that can help the Production Stage Manager keep things under control in a clever guise as it will appear that things are working smoothly:
1.) Stick to the job descriptions, even if you’re non-union. Make sure that costumes is worrying about costumes and props is worrying about props (i.e. don’t send the Wardrobe Supervisor to pull costumes for “set dressing,” it’s not her job and she needs to be focusing on getting the actors in costume so you can start on time). If everyone starts “helping” out other departments, the job description line gets blurred, things get lost and forgotten, and you may have some upset techies who feel like they’re being taken advantage of – never a good way to start.
2.) Demand realistic timelines. You are going to fall behind on whatever schedule you wrote down. Accept this from the start, but still try to get realistic ETAs from staff. Remember that when actors hit the stage, the game changes. Leave time enough to make the stage “actor safe” before you hit half-hour. Half-hour needs to be set aside because your SMs and ASMs need to set the props, furniture, glow-tape and be prepared so that when the actors come up from the dressing room, the familiar face can confidently and calmly show them the props they will be using.
3.) Communication is the key. No one needs to yell, no one needs to be stressed, but everyone does need to communicate. I have seen upset electricians waste time going through gel inventory and griping over the fact that they can’t focus because the TD has the genie; meanwhile the TD is doing touch up paint to the railing because he’s waiting for the electricians to be done with the genie; and where’s the genie? Still in storage because no one bothered to ask “hey, is anyone using the genie right now?”
4.) Don’t forget that this is tech for everyone. Though electrics and sound may be what you most commonly ::hold:: for, you need to allow time to go back and do Quick Changes for Costumes; set changes for your deck crew; and transitions for your actors who’ve been suddenly blinded by bright lights, don’t recognize each other in outlandish costumes, and are walking in shoes 4″ higher than they anticipated.
5.) Keep your director on a leash. Remind them that this tech is only for the actors to get used to the technical elements of the production. During a hold for lights, let them talk blocking with the actor, but if they’re “not getting the emotion that was there in rehearsal” save the note for if you don’t see it after a dress rehearsal. The actors have enough to worry about right now (quick changes, going from blinding light to total darkness, finding props), they got the acting thing down: that’s why you cast them, focus on how the blocking goes with the tech and let actors experience what the play feels like with the added elements.
6.) “NO” is a perfectly acceptable answer. This goes for everyone. Production Managers, say “no” when someone’s demanding something that goes over budget or you ran out of time for; PSMs say “no” when someone expects a practical or a cue to be “actor driven” (i.e. if you have a practical lamp onstage, the actor should never actually control it or turn it off – make it a cue on the board and the actor merely touches the switch; this saves the panic if an actor actually turns it off and there’s no one to turn it back on for the next cue); SMs & ASMs say “no you can’t leave that cable on the floor there because of X, Y, and Z” Say “no” and give an explanation if needed; but don’t “be the hero” if it seems like something shouldn’t be done or is unsafe, stick to your guns. You know your job, be confident in your answers.
7.) Don’t Panic! Remain calm and plug along and keep on task. If you’re in a festival situation where you have 4 hours to tech a musical and absolutely no dress time, work quickly and cut cues as necessary, but don’t panic. If you are in a typical situation where you have a few days, remember the leeway you have, but don’t rely too heavily on “we’ll get to that tomorrow and if we don’t like it we have 2 days to change it.” Set pieces need to be ordered and not everything is easy to find, it takes time. Encourage your Director to make a decision and then make that decision work.
8.) When all else fails, baked goods make people smile. If you’re having a particularly difficult tech week, remember everyone likes cookies. I know company management has probably the best packaged soft-bake chocolate chips around, but when a designer or techie takes the time to bake a cake, cookie, peanut butter bars – you name it – it reminds the crew that we’re all in this together. Anything said under stress was not meant to be personal, and you can take the 2 minutes to enjoy a home-baked good before you get back to your duties. This builds team unity, and well-planned arrival of baked goods can save a show’s morale.
The Power of Music
I was standing on the subway platform, listening to music on my iPhone while waiting for my train to arrive. I have some 4000+ songs on this device, and I usually like to listen to it on “shuffle.” It reminds me of listening to the radio in my car (when I lived in SoCal) and the anticipation created by not knowing what song was coming next.
I’m always surprised by how powerful a role music has played in key moments in my life. Tonight, I was transported back to 9th grade when the song “Personal Jesus” by Depeche Mode came through my headphones. I got to know this song on my very first cross-state trip that I did without my parents. We took an extraordinarily long bus trip from San Diego to Beaver City, Utah for a ski trip with the school’s French & German clubs. (Don’t even get me started with the jokes about the city’s name– I rode a bus for hours with a bunch of teenage boys, and I’ve heard them all..)
That song immediately propels me back to that bus ride to Utah, where I sat next one of the cutest boys in my class and did my best to hide my infatuation. As I tried to ignore my feelings, I listened to my Walkman and repeated “Personal Jesus” over and over. Aside from the fact that for many years I thought the lyrics were, “Reach out and touch me” and not “Reach out and touch faith” (which makes a lot more sense) — the song has long reminded me of teenage angst. Hope, dreams and utter depression were all present on that bus ride.
It got me thinking about being an actor, and the various ways we access the deep well of emotions needed to do our work. Often times, I’ll create a playlist for my character, with songs that represent the various highs and lows of the character’s life. My thought is: if music is such a strong force for my emotional memory in my “real” life, perhaps I can use music to create an emotional memory that is sorely needed for each character I play.
As for my cute 9th grade crush – I did not get the guy. But on Day 2 of our 4 day trip, I fell head over heels for a boy from a neighboring school… the first boy I’d ever kissed in the back of a crowded bus. Believe it or not, there’s a song for that experience too… 🙂
Representation? (part 2)
Last week I wrote about my meeting with a talent agency (Read it here). The week after I met with the talent manager.
I, of course, didn’t allow enough time to get to my meeting. As I drive 80 mph and rush to find a parking spot, I arrive about a minute late, only to find the manager still in the meeting before mine, and (thankfully) unaware that I didn’t arrive as early as I should have.
I sat a table away from the manager and his other interview-ee. They continued talking. and talking and talking. Is there something about managers or agents that makes them feel they can abuse other people’s schedules? (again, read my first post on this subject) Is it a test to see how patient and flexible I can be? I think if its rude for me to be late, it is just as rude for them! After about 15 more minutes (which I swear felt like 30), she excused herself and left.
It was finally my turn! In a lot of ways it felt like a typical job interview. He asked me about my goals, my training, my strengths and weaknesses. I tried to be assertive and ask him as many questions as popped in my head! I realized from my last representation meeting that I am in control of this meeting just as much as they are – while they may only see me as a way to make money, I am looking for someone who can help me in all the ways I need. If this isn’t going to be a nearly perfect fit, then why should I waste my energy and time?
I asked him why someone like me would need a manager. He wasn’t super thorough on the subject, but thankfully I’d done my research. If you aren’t familiar with a manager’s job, here is the low-down! A manager works with you to propel your career where he thinks it should go. He prepares material that best represents you, and sends that material to agencies in hopes that they will sign you. He watches casting notices, to make sure your agent is submitting you for the right kinds of projects. He arranges meetings with important people and arranges your scheduled parties and events in the industry.
Sounds great, right? Here’s the bad side: managers aren’t accountable to ANYONE. They do things “in the best interest” of their clients but don’t answer to any unions or federal boards. Basically, managers pick out people they see as successful or potentially successful and try to ride the coat-tails of their success. Unfortunately it is very rare to have a manager and agent who enjoy working with each other and respect each other’s jobs. A manager handles your finances and take percentage they see best (and hopefully one you both agreed on!). The number one most important quality you should look for in a manager is a clear communicator. You should be comfortable enough to ask them anything, and they shouldn’t hide things from you. I’ve heard horror stories of managers embezzling thousands of dollars from their clients!
One thing I’ve learned from these interviews is to ask tons of questions, take lots of notes, clearly read everything given to you, talk to people who have been in similar situations, and even talk to current clients of the representation, if you can! My rule of thumb is not to sign anything without walking away from the situation to think about it some more. The right agent or manager won’t pressure you to sign on the spot.
So, this story ends short and sweet with me declining to go any farther with negotiations. I wasn’t getting the right vibe from this manager, as nice as he was. I know when the timing is right and I really need someone like I him I will have this opportunity again. And hopefully the opportunity will be with someone I fit better with! I’m interested to hear your representation stories! Good or bad — how far off are my experiences from what you have gone through?
P.S. I DID sign with the talent agency from the first blog posting! I officially now have representation! Hooray!
It all started in a sweaty cardigan
This is how The Granted Actor started. About a year ago, I was running, literally, between two castings. (BTW: do you also find that when people say “literally” they usually mean “figuratively” as in “I literally tore his head off.” Really? That is not only an impressive show of strength to tear a human’s head off, but also, I think would end with you being in some sort of jail for the criminally insane.) But I digress. Because I WAS literally running, up 8th Avenue in New York, sweating because I was wearing my “casual mom” cardigan in 80 degree sun, with my sunglasses on my head to avoid the nose-marks that take a good 10 minutes to disappear, because I knew that if I got to my second casting in time, I’d be taken right in to slate and even “quirky mom” looks weird with two red dents on either side of her nose bridge……
WAIT…. I have to do a screech stop here and acknowledge something important: I am VERY VERY grateful for every casting opportunity I get. I am lucky that I have had some people believe in my ability to play moms, teachers and nurses. And even in 80 degrees, wearing a cardigan, I have fun on heavy audition days.
BUT, there was something that hit me that particular cardigan-wearing day……and this is going to sound pretty pretentious, but it’s the truth, and so judge me if you will, but it’s something I felt…. and that is: I’M AN ARTIST! I WAS MEANT TO CREATE! HOW IS RUNNING UP 8TH AVENUE BETWEEN CASTINGS CREATING ART?!
Oh boy, that is pretentious…. sorry. But it’s the start of this story, so I had to tell you that part.
(By the way, I was cast in neither commercial, but I did get a callback for one!)
Anyway, as I said, I had this moment of pretentious clarity on that day, that became more like an epiphany later on. After my two sweaty castings, I came home, turned on my laptop, and the email at the top of my inbox was from a local arts organization in my hometown. The email read: “APPLICATIONS AVAILABLE FOR 2010-2011 GRANTS.”
It hit me (figuratively) like a ton of bricks. Of course, I thought. I CAN create art and not go broke with self-financed shows. I just need to get a grant! Just get a grant! Yes, that’s what I’ll do!
It was perhaps the last time in my life I could be called an ingenue. But I really believed that I could do it. If I had thought fully about the low success rate of grant applications in general, the fact that I had NEVER written a grant before, and the fact that I really didn’t have any idea what I was doing, I might have given up then. But I was so stoked from my 8th Avenue jog/email epiphany that I naively jumped right in. I made a list of projects that have been kicking around in my head for years. Then I started talking about them to others, weeding out ones that were impractical, vanity projects, too big, too small, and just not good. Until there was one… a children’s improv project that I helped develop while working in London. I thought it would be great to bring to rural schools in my hometown area in Northeastern Pennsylvania. A few weeks later, my grant application was sent, in triplicate, to the Pennsylvania Council on the Arts, along with letters of support from school officials, letters of intent from the other performers, resumes, pictures, and the grand finale, a DVD of a documentary containing an interview with me talking about how great improv is for kids. It couldn’t fail!
Or so I thought….
Months passed….four to be exact. And (I kid you not) on the exact day I finally gave up waiting, I got a call from my local arts council, telling me my grant application was successful. They were giving me much less than what I asked for ($1200 instead of $3000) but they were giving me money! To do my project! To hire other actors and myself! To get PAID to MAKE ART! My sweaty-cardigan-swathed shoulders couldn’t have stood up any prouder. I was a grant-supported artist!
Then came the hard part….come up with the rest of the money to do this project. Stay tuned for part 2!
Sincerely,
Nudity in the Workplace
So here’s something I’d love to discuss out in the open with my fellow artists — professional nudity.
No, no…not the kind of nudity that becomes your profession, but the kind of nudity that often goes along with being a legitimate actor of the young and female variety.
I bring this up because a few weeks ago, my agent contacted me to ask if I would be okay with nudity for a role on a major television show that she wanted to submit me for. A show that I would very much love to be on. My response? Yes. Did I get called in for that particular role? Nope. But it has given me a lot to think about as far as the future is concerned, and for that I am grateful.
In the past, my response to nudity has generally been “thanks, but no thanks” to anything much beyond implied nudity, but the projects I’ve been submitting for up until recently have been much lower profile (hence, lower pay and less opportunity). The stakes have been lower, basically.
I guess to have any sort of legitimate discussion about how much nudity one finds acceptable, you have to start by classifying the types of nudity generally called for. The various levels of nudity, as I see it, are essentially (from least invasive to most):
- Bra and Underwear — While I appreciate that this is generally considered “nudity” for casting purposes, this doesn’t bother me. I wear a bikini at the beach, so I personally don’t see the big deal.
- Implied Nudity — Implied nudity can mean a lot of things, but I’m categorizing it as “you’re probably pretty un-clothed on set, but it won’t get seen on camera.” For instance, you have to take some clothes off so that you look naked under that bed sheet, but no one will be filming anything explicit. Or they want a shot of your back in the shower so you have to take your top off, but nothing gets seen in the end besides your pretty little shoulder blades.
- Silhouette Nudity — You’re naked on set. But perhaps you’re behind a dressing screen? Or a shower curtain. The viewers see your naked silhouette, but they’ve probably seen playing cards that were more erotic.
- Topless Only — Here’s where we start to get down to some “real” nudity. Yes, you really are naked and it really is captured for posterity. But you still might have done something similar on spring break one year if you had slightly crazier friends than I do.
- From the Rear Only — You’re naked. We only see you from the back. How comfortable you are with this probably depends on how nice you think your butt is.
- Full Nudity — The whole enchilada. You are brave.
I guess where I stand at this point is that I’m definitely okay with the “lesser” nudities — Implied through Silhouette. I’d probably even be okay with Topless nudity that was handled well for a really cool indie project. And for a bigger project that I would be really excited about (like the one my agent called me about)? I’m flexible. I’m not in love with the idea of being terribly naked on camera, but I’m open to the idea for truly awesome projects.
So here’s where we get to my favorite part of this post — your input! I really want to know how my fellow actors feel about this, so please vote in my poll!
And if you have anything you’d like to add in the comments, please do! This is a relatively new subject that I’m grappling with in my career, and I’d love to hear how my colleagues deal with it in theirs.
The Green Room 