Hello errybody. I hope your week is raging like mine. It’s Tuesday, and I feel like I’ve lived years. But moving on.
Sitting here at my sweet little ‘wooden’ laptop desk which I assembled myself (thank you) and I can honestly say – this is so satisfying. I’ve had to really psych myself into writing this, but – there’s almost nothing I’d rather do than sit in my bedroom working on my shit, you know? I'm like this little woodland creature (pictured below), minus the forest which is only in my brain.
Happy to report that Selfish Actress is more solidly underway! First 10 days of March I managed 15.5 hours. That’s more than half my total for February (29 hrs). I’ve also garnered some really helpful tips from my new online actor buddies – one, NY is apparently a casting workshop town and I really need to do that. And two, got the address for Bowling/Miscia ('Mr. Robot' casting office, which had been eluding me). So now I can sneak up and surprise them, oh yay.
Last week, I went to an open house for Ken Schatz studio – Simple Studio – in Manhattan, which has an ongoing scene study class (apparently he coached Lady Gaga, y'all). Or master class, I guess. Scenes, monologues, auditions. Whatever. I honestly had no interest in taking classes there. I went because my roommate told me about it and I thought – yeah, sure, why not. If nothing else it will be 2.5 hours I can add to SA. (I love tallying as it turns out.)
This studio was dope. Super chill and the actors were great – I saw some really seriously good shit. And I’m a tough critic honestly (shocker). In general – my viewpoints on actors tend to be of the ‘what a needy little bitch’ variety. I know. Wtf. (I always try to focus on the stuff I like, also, just saying - in regards to all things.)
But, sometimes, you find yourself in these cult-like environments--be it an acting class or an audition waiting room--with overly chirpy or overly dramatic actors who speak so earnestly about their art or their discoveries or their struggle to find a parking space. It makes me hate the whole thing. It’s like, we’re not curing cancer.
My roommate O’Anna put it so well last night. We watched the first episode of a new show and while I was being disparaging of the acting, she said – but isn’t it about the story? Sage words. It’s something I have to remind myself constantly and also, when I do, I feel immediate relief. My audition coach in L.A. (#shoutout Jeff Dockweiler) said something very similar to me right before the biggest audition of my life (to date) which was in January. Jeff is all about script breakdown. Which I love. I’m the type of actor who will put an action on every sentence/line/fraction of line like a psychopath. Trying desperately to hit my numbers. As opposed to just being in the scene, you find yourself trying to hit your beats. Hit them the way you know you can hit them. It’s… mania.
It’s my goal in this blog btw to focus on the positive. And to not speak ill of anyone or anything. I know, it seems like this might be hard for me to do.
My issue with this particular show is I felt like I was watching someone act. (Isn't that always the issue.) Like watching from above, in the ceiling, or just watching them anticipate, which so frequently happens. And easily, too. I’ve done it a million times. It's like paint by numbers, choosing what to be instead of just being.
Also, I am sick to death of these cynical modern urbanite characters we see everywhere. Everyone is apparently deeply irreverent, jaded, affluent and yet still a child at heart.
O’Anna said – again, sage – well you can’t really judge the acting until you’ve seen the whole thing. You don’t know what they’re going for. I will admit this is true.
It reminded me of how I had felt a few weeks ago, when I realized I wasn’t an actor. I said to her, “Actors are tools—” and then I stopped a beat. “No I shouldn’t say it like that…”
We both started laughing. What I was trying to say was, actors are tools to tell a story. Most of the time someone else's story. Vehicle is probably a better word. We lose this perspective. It's about us. (But yes, actors can definitely be tools. I think it’s okay to speak ill if you are including yourself.)
When I got on the elevator in midtown to go up to Ken Schatz’s studio, in a part of midtown that I love, that reminds me of January 2016, I got on with three other, clearly, actors. And I could tell, because everyone kind of looked at each other in this sheepish, and still somehow holier-than-thou way. We’re like animals of the same breed and we can smell it on each other. And I thought, fuck this. I’m not about this shit, I’m not. I don’t need to sit in a room with a bunch of sniveling actors trying to be successful. NO.
And then I got off the elevator. And the place was lovely. And the actors moved me. And they were talented and authentic and made mistakes. One guy in particular, his physicality was so good. So real. I thought, I wonder if he stands like that in real life, is this just him or…
This past week, I watched more films than I am typically able to do--‘Ida’ (brilliant, beautiful Polish film), ‘This Is How I Live Now’, ‘Arranged'--and it struck me. I only feel that way (the needy little bitch way), usually, when I’m looking at it from the outside. When I immerse myself, I am inspired. And I think – these are my people. They are just like me. I am in their company as they are in mine. And the world opens, and everything – relaxes.
Anyway, just thought I would share. I am a tool, I guess.
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