It's interesting how my outlook can vary from day to day or even hour to hour (with no other obvious changes in my situation).
Some days, I feel like everything in my being is electric with possibility. I feel like I'm on the brink of wonderful change and opportunity. These are the days when I think I can make it as a professional actor. These are the days when even mundane, little things like doing the dishes make me feel like I'm taking decisive steps toward my dreams.
Some days, I feel completely stagnant. I feel like the summary of my life is that I got fired from a job I didn't like, so I have no chance of ending up with a job I do like. These are the days when I doubt my ability to get cast in another community theater show. These are the days when even "real" steps like my singing lessons or dance class seem like baby steps to nowhere.
And most days fall somewhere in the middle.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Good Philosophy
I am bookmarking these thoughts for myself. Some of them are very helpful.
I'm in a pretty good place mentally.
Edit (9/16/07): More thoughts.
I'm in a pretty good place mentally.
Edit (9/16/07): More thoughts.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Action: Dance Class
I wrestled for a while about which dance class to register for: level one or level two. I figured level two might be a bit too hard, and that level one would be too easy.
I think I was right. (I don't know how easy level one is. But it was tagged as being appropriate for beginners.)
I signed up for level two because I'd rather push myself and challenge myself. I'm sure I could get something out of either class. But I think I'll get more out of level two. The only problem would be if it were so hard I just couldn't possibly keep up.
The class is quite challenging for me. And I think that's a good thing!
Dancing (for me) is made up of three things: learning the moves, executing the moves and expression. Generally, I find learning the moves to be the biggest challenge for me. So in last night's class, I could do all the moves — there were no splits or backbends or things I physically couldn't accomplish — but mastering the sequence of moves (in time with the music) was the part that challenged me.
Next week we're adding to the dance we started learning. So I'll practice the moves between now and then.
I think I was right. (I don't know how easy level one is. But it was tagged as being appropriate for beginners.)
I signed up for level two because I'd rather push myself and challenge myself. I'm sure I could get something out of either class. But I think I'll get more out of level two. The only problem would be if it were so hard I just couldn't possibly keep up.
The class is quite challenging for me. And I think that's a good thing!
Dancing (for me) is made up of three things: learning the moves, executing the moves and expression. Generally, I find learning the moves to be the biggest challenge for me. So in last night's class, I could do all the moves — there were no splits or backbends or things I physically couldn't accomplish — but mastering the sequence of moves (in time with the music) was the part that challenged me.
Next week we're adding to the dance we started learning. So I'll practice the moves between now and then.
Action: Voice Lessons
Some voice lessons feel more productive than others. (Even the ones that don't feel productive I trust to have a cumulative effect.)
Yesterday's lesson felt productive.
Having sung for years in my head voice (even when I thought I was belting), it is a challenge for me to learn how to belt.
My voice teacher says I have a nice belt — when I can get the belt. He also says I have a very good mix, which he says sounds very similar to my belt (and that is a "tremendous asset").
So the goal is to develop those three parts of my voice: belt, mix and legit (head voice). I want to be able to really feel the difference between each and have control over when I use them. (Right now, that's the challenge: When I'm trying to belt, I'm often actually mixing and sometimes even using my head voice.)
Yesterday's lesson felt like I made some progress toward that end.
Voice lessons have really helped me so far — and I look forward to improving even more.
Yesterday's lesson felt productive.
Having sung for years in my head voice (even when I thought I was belting), it is a challenge for me to learn how to belt.
My voice teacher says I have a nice belt — when I can get the belt. He also says I have a very good mix, which he says sounds very similar to my belt (and that is a "tremendous asset").
So the goal is to develop those three parts of my voice: belt, mix and legit (head voice). I want to be able to really feel the difference between each and have control over when I use them. (Right now, that's the challenge: When I'm trying to belt, I'm often actually mixing and sometimes even using my head voice.)
Yesterday's lesson felt like I made some progress toward that end.
Voice lessons have really helped me so far — and I look forward to improving even more.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Action: Reading
I am currently reading Uta Hagen's A Challenge for the Actor. It is already fascinating stuff. She is brilliant and imaginative and liberal, and just the sort of person I think I am or wish I could be.
Most important, 60 pages in, it is really making me think. Some of the stuff I disagree with, and I think part of that is because I'm still trying to find my own style as an actor. She comments frequently on the differences between "formalistic" (outside-in) and "realistic" (inside-out) actors, wholly preferring the latter.
Intellectually, I've always wanted to be that second kind of actor. I've always wanted to have an imagination so deep that I could be completely in every scene. I've always wanted to feel those emotions fully, to truly be grieved or amused or angry, etc. when my character is feeling it. And I want to be spontaneous instead of static.
And, I think, at times, I do achieve that. But...
I also think there's a lot to be said for outside-in. I've known too many actors who claim to really be feeling what their character is going through — Interestingly, that is usually during scenes of grief, turmoil or angst. And people seldom seem to brag about truly feeling happy when their characters are happy. — and despite their tremendous "feeling," they are communicating nothing. Their faces are blank. They are suffering inside, but they aren't showing it. I find that kind of acting to be self-indulgent and worthless.
The ideal, of course, is to really feel in such away that you are able to let those emotions loose on the stage and behave in character. But if there's a choice to be made between really feeling while outwardly showing nothing and not feeling while outwardly communicating that feeling, I'll choose the latter.
And the element of believing in the truth of the scene and characters can have positives and negatives. Uta Hagen recounts an anecdote of Laurence Olivier (a formalistic actor) playing a part with "incredible involvement and spontaneity" and then saying "I don't like that kind of acting; I didn't know what I was doing." I agree. I've had that happen in a couple cases. I was so involved in the scene that I really was feeling what my character was feeling, that I believed I was in this world and not on a stage. It happened without my planning or trying for it. I embraced it and reveled in it; it felt amazing. But I have no idea whether I communicated with the audience. I have no idea whether my inward belief transferred out. That is the trick: transferring that inward belief and feeling into outward communication (expressions, movements, vocal tone, etc.).
Most important, 60 pages in, it is really making me think. Some of the stuff I disagree with, and I think part of that is because I'm still trying to find my own style as an actor. She comments frequently on the differences between "formalistic" (outside-in) and "realistic" (inside-out) actors, wholly preferring the latter.
Intellectually, I've always wanted to be that second kind of actor. I've always wanted to have an imagination so deep that I could be completely in every scene. I've always wanted to feel those emotions fully, to truly be grieved or amused or angry, etc. when my character is feeling it. And I want to be spontaneous instead of static.
And, I think, at times, I do achieve that. But...
I also think there's a lot to be said for outside-in. I've known too many actors who claim to really be feeling what their character is going through — Interestingly, that is usually during scenes of grief, turmoil or angst. And people seldom seem to brag about truly feeling happy when their characters are happy. — and despite their tremendous "feeling," they are communicating nothing. Their faces are blank. They are suffering inside, but they aren't showing it. I find that kind of acting to be self-indulgent and worthless.
The ideal, of course, is to really feel in such away that you are able to let those emotions loose on the stage and behave in character. But if there's a choice to be made between really feeling while outwardly showing nothing and not feeling while outwardly communicating that feeling, I'll choose the latter.
And the element of believing in the truth of the scene and characters can have positives and negatives. Uta Hagen recounts an anecdote of Laurence Olivier (a formalistic actor) playing a part with "incredible involvement and spontaneity" and then saying "I don't like that kind of acting; I didn't know what I was doing." I agree. I've had that happen in a couple cases. I was so involved in the scene that I really was feeling what my character was feeling, that I believed I was in this world and not on a stage. It happened without my planning or trying for it. I embraced it and reveled in it; it felt amazing. But I have no idea whether I communicated with the audience. I have no idea whether my inward belief transferred out. That is the trick: transferring that inward belief and feeling into outward communication (expressions, movements, vocal tone, etc.).
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Action
I'm feeling a bit trapped. Okay, I'm feeling a lot trapped. My sadness is maybe 10% related to Urinetown being over — and 90% related to nothing new beginning. It's like everything came screeching to a halt. (Or, rather, that with the end of the show, I realized how stalled I am with regard to my goals.)
It used to be that every few months I'd have a bout of "why am I not pursuing an acting career?" Those bouts would last about 2-3 days. And then I'd answer the question: Because I don't want to struggle financially in the big city and possibly never get anywhere. Because I don't want to give up a nice, comfortable home and great friends for so much less.
It's now been several months (at least six) ... and that question hasn't gone away. The pragmatic answer doesn't satisfy anymore. More and more I've come to feel that I can't ever really be satisfied and happy in my life if I'm not pursuing what I know I want more than anything. More and more I resent my job for not being what I want it to be.
I am happiest when I'm performing on stage. I thought I might experience a bit of stage fright during Urinetown because I felt like people (audiences) were judging me. But I never felt that. It only ever felt right and perfect and exhilirating. This is where I belong. This is where I feel happiest. This is where I feel simultaneously the most comfortable and the most energized.
Here's my list of things I can do to take action:
Continue voice lessons
Take dance class
Read plays
See more plays
Read some acting books
Save up money and pay down debt
Take acting class/lesson(s) if possible
Write a play/movie/skit/musical
Put together a cabaret
Get headshots taken
Prepare audition materials (monologues and songs)
It used to be that every few months I'd have a bout of "why am I not pursuing an acting career?" Those bouts would last about 2-3 days. And then I'd answer the question: Because I don't want to struggle financially in the big city and possibly never get anywhere. Because I don't want to give up a nice, comfortable home and great friends for so much less.
It's now been several months (at least six) ... and that question hasn't gone away. The pragmatic answer doesn't satisfy anymore. More and more I've come to feel that I can't ever really be satisfied and happy in my life if I'm not pursuing what I know I want more than anything. More and more I resent my job for not being what I want it to be.
I am happiest when I'm performing on stage. I thought I might experience a bit of stage fright during Urinetown because I felt like people (audiences) were judging me. But I never felt that. It only ever felt right and perfect and exhilirating. This is where I belong. This is where I feel happiest. This is where I feel simultaneously the most comfortable and the most energized.
Here's my list of things I can do to take action:
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
I'm Feeling Old and Pessimistic
When we were performing the final show, I didn't feel sad. It didn't feel like the end. It felt like the beginning — the beginning of a wonderful theatre career.
Now that feeling is gone.
I turn 30 in less than a week. That's not that old in "real life" terms. But for a female actor, it's practically ancient. Not that there aren't plenty of fabulous roles for women over 30. But it just brings home how many roles I'll no longer be able to play and just how fast time slips away from us. I'm almost 30, and I haven't even started trying to pursue acting professionally. How much hope is there for me?
I'll post more thoughts on the end of the show once I'm feeling a bit better emotionally.
Now that feeling is gone.
I turn 30 in less than a week. That's not that old in "real life" terms. But for a female actor, it's practically ancient. Not that there aren't plenty of fabulous roles for women over 30. But it just brings home how many roles I'll no longer be able to play and just how fast time slips away from us. I'm almost 30, and I haven't even started trying to pursue acting professionally. How much hope is there for me?
I'll post more thoughts on the end of the show once I'm feeling a bit better emotionally.
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