We are halfway through performances of Annie. Our first five performances are over; five remain. The show is a joy to do. As always, I feel that intense mingling of bliss at performing ... and sadness that it's about to end. So many people I do shows with say, "I'll be glad to get my life back." I've never said that and doubt I ever will. This production has just reaffirmed my desire to do as much theatre as possible. I really want to do this professionally. Once the show ends, hopefully I will ease my blues with serious action. And while it lasts, I'm going to enjoy every last moment.
I'll try to post pictures this week.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Friday, June 6, 2008
Reality-Show Perspective
I've been watching some performing-arts reality shows recently. I caught a few episodes of Step It Up and Dance. I watched the first episode of the Legally Blonde casting show (the title of which is too long for me to bother looking up or typing out). And I watched the audition episodes of So You Think You Can Dance.
On every show there is the professional. Been there, done that. They know what it is to work hard. They know what success feels like. And they also know what rejection feels like. So they're less likely to blow the reality-show rejection out of proportion.
And then there are the "passionate" amateurs. I put the word in quotes because they pretend a passion they probably don't really feel. They're melodramatic. Or maybe they're just young. Lord knows I've been there, too: devastated by a rejection and feeling things are over. But watching from an outside perspective, obviously, I'm not as emotionally involved as if I were competing.
I want to give these people a knock upside the head. If you really want to sing, being rejected from American Idol does not mean your singing dreams are over. So You Think You Can Dance is not the only way to make it as a dancer. It's not even the best way. If you give up after one rejection, either you're a fool or you didn't want it that much to begin with.
Instead of yelling at my TV, I file this wisdom away in my own brain. I've needed it before, and I'm sure I'll need it again. Keep trying. Pursue other venues and opportunities. No single rejection means the defeat of an entire career.
A 19-year-old on So You Think You Can Dance said she'd give up if she were rejected. The judges found the attitude troubling. She was probably just being overly emotional and not really so defeatist. Still, the point was powerful. If you give up so easily, maybe you don't deserve if after all — even if you're talented. If you give up so easily, it must not mean that much to you.
How much do my dreams mean to me?
I want to act (and sing) so much that I couldn't ever imagine stop dreaming it and trying for it. Maybe my goals will change form, becoming larger or smaller as circumstances dictate. But I will never stop working for what I want. I will never let rejections kill my dream.
On every show there is the professional. Been there, done that. They know what it is to work hard. They know what success feels like. And they also know what rejection feels like. So they're less likely to blow the reality-show rejection out of proportion.
And then there are the "passionate" amateurs. I put the word in quotes because they pretend a passion they probably don't really feel. They're melodramatic. Or maybe they're just young. Lord knows I've been there, too: devastated by a rejection and feeling things are over. But watching from an outside perspective, obviously, I'm not as emotionally involved as if I were competing.
I want to give these people a knock upside the head. If you really want to sing, being rejected from American Idol does not mean your singing dreams are over. So You Think You Can Dance is not the only way to make it as a dancer. It's not even the best way. If you give up after one rejection, either you're a fool or you didn't want it that much to begin with.
Instead of yelling at my TV, I file this wisdom away in my own brain. I've needed it before, and I'm sure I'll need it again. Keep trying. Pursue other venues and opportunities. No single rejection means the defeat of an entire career.
A 19-year-old on So You Think You Can Dance said she'd give up if she were rejected. The judges found the attitude troubling. She was probably just being overly emotional and not really so defeatist. Still, the point was powerful. If you give up so easily, maybe you don't deserve if after all — even if you're talented. If you give up so easily, it must not mean that much to you.
How much do my dreams mean to me?
I want to act (and sing) so much that I couldn't ever imagine stop dreaming it and trying for it. Maybe my goals will change form, becoming larger or smaller as circumstances dictate. But I will never stop working for what I want. I will never let rejections kill my dream.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Stress Relief
I have had a very stressful and upsetting past couple of days. I'd kind of been crying off and on for most of Thursday and Friday. Friday night I had a rehearsal. As I drove the 45 minutes by myself, I cried some more. (And the fact that I had makeup on was the only thing that kept me from completely dissolving into tears.)
I knew I needed to leave my outside troubles outside. Not the easiest thing to do. Before the rehearsal started, I felt ready to work but still rather depressed.
Once I got on stage, though... Ah, this is why I do what I do! The real world falls away. It's my character and the world of the play. I thought it might be difficult to focus or be in character when I was so upset. Not a bit. (If anything, it might have been easier.)
"Playing pretend" was my greatest joy since I was a little kid. And it still is. I felt so much better for having been someone else for a couple hours. I felt so much better for having a productive and creative rehearsal.
I have theatre to keep me sane. I don't know what I'd do without it.
I knew I needed to leave my outside troubles outside. Not the easiest thing to do. Before the rehearsal started, I felt ready to work but still rather depressed.
Once I got on stage, though... Ah, this is why I do what I do! The real world falls away. It's my character and the world of the play. I thought it might be difficult to focus or be in character when I was so upset. Not a bit. (If anything, it might have been easier.)
"Playing pretend" was my greatest joy since I was a little kid. And it still is. I felt so much better for having been someone else for a couple hours. I felt so much better for having a productive and creative rehearsal.
I have theatre to keep me sane. I don't know what I'd do without it.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Turning
I told a fellow cast member (our dance captain and the best dancer in the show) that I'm not very good at turns. Turns require strength, coordination, balance and technique (i.e. spotting). I'm okay with simple turns, maybe an occasional single pirouette. Probably the biggest reason I'm not good at turning is that I have never learned to spot effectively. (And that probably comes from not actually taking dance classes.)
Tonight the choreographer asked me to do three chainé turns in a section of the dance. Chainé turns I can do — more or less. But I'll definitely need to practice them. And she asked me whether I could do pirouettes. I said, "I'm learning. I can do a single; I can't do a double." (And I don't think I could learn to do a clean, consistent double before the show.)
Time to practice my turning. And time to learn how to spot.
Tonight the choreographer asked me to do three chainé turns in a section of the dance. Chainé turns I can do — more or less. But I'll definitely need to practice them. And she asked me whether I could do pirouettes. I said, "I'm learning. I can do a single; I can't do a double." (And I don't think I could learn to do a clean, consistent double before the show.)
Time to practice my turning. And time to learn how to spot.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
A Professional Level
I got a comment on my Facebook from our former accompanist, who said, "you're always so professional, prepared, and ready to get right to work." It's absolutely true, but it still makes me feel good. It's nice to know my efforts are noticed. I really feel a difference in myself. Since I really set my mind to performing professionally, I realized that one thing I could do right now was to start behaving as though I already am. It may be "just" community theatre, but that's no reason for me not to work as hard at it as possible. I've made it a point to be attentive, know my lines, etc.
I also need to find an opportunity to talk to the director and tell him I don't mind being pushed. I think there's a natural (and appropriate) inclination in community theatre to let a good performance go without much criticism. But, really, I would like to make a good performance into a great performance. I'm willing to hear more constructive criticism and be pushed and challenged. I want to take my game to the next level.
And a random off-topic comment: I've been practicing my poi lately. I really want to spin fire again this summer. Also, poi is a unique special skill that's neat on my performance resume.
I also need to find an opportunity to talk to the director and tell him I don't mind being pushed. I think there's a natural (and appropriate) inclination in community theatre to let a good performance go without much criticism. But, really, I would like to make a good performance into a great performance. I'm willing to hear more constructive criticism and be pushed and challenged. I want to take my game to the next level.
And a random off-topic comment: I've been practicing my poi lately. I really want to spin fire again this summer. Also, poi is a unique special skill that's neat on my performance resume.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Casting News
I got cast as Martha Jefferson in 1776.
Also, my husband got cast as Edward Rutledge, and a good friend got cast as the Courier.
Also, my husband got cast as Edward Rutledge, and a good friend got cast as the Courier.
It Goes Both Ways
At Sunday's rehearsal for Annie, I felt extremely frustrated, leading me to feel very cranky. I was upset over the inefficiency of rehearsal (due to a combination of the way it was structured and people not knowing their material). I griped to my friends about how irritating the rehearsal was. After rehearsal, I made a polite request to the director that we make time for the one song that we never seem to get to. I complained on the way home. And then I decided to let it go, stop being so annoyed and find more patience and an easy-going attitude.
And then, once I wasn't wallowing in frustration I realized that while I was upset over other people being what I thought was unprofessional ... my attitude was just as unprofessional (and possibly moreso). Now I feel embarrassed and ashamed.
Moving on. I'm looking forward to rehearsal tonight to redeem Sunday (both in terms of rehearsal itself and in terms of my attitude).
And then, once I wasn't wallowing in frustration I realized that while I was upset over other people being what I thought was unprofessional ... my attitude was just as unprofessional (and possibly moreso). Now I feel embarrassed and ashamed.
Moving on. I'm looking forward to rehearsal tonight to redeem Sunday (both in terms of rehearsal itself and in terms of my attitude).
Monday, April 28, 2008
Outgrowing Community Theatre?
Well, I'm cranky today ... for a number of reasons. And I'm not going to get into the major reasons. This is my theatre blog, though, so I will talk about my theatre-related crankiness. (Shocking that the thing I love so much can make me cranky!)
I auditioned yesterday for 1776. Only two women's roles in the whole show. It's far away, but I think it would be a relatively fun show to do. And Adam and Jeff auditioned, so I could possibly do a show with my husband and a friend, which would be nice. I think I did a good job, and I'm not desperate to be cast in this show — so on the whole, I feel pretty comfortable. But ... I feel discontent. Am I becoming complacent? Am I getting into that rut I've feared of only auditioning for community theatre shows and not reaching beyond? I worry that I'm being egotistical or deluded when I think "I am so much better than this! I deserve more than just hoping to be cast in community theatre!" But I don't think I am either cocky or insane. I think I've kind of outgrown standard community theatre.
And it's not because of talent. There are a lot of very talented people in community theatre (and some moderately and some not-so talented people).
It's because of how seriously I take it. Here's the current situation that has been happening recently. The cast has a rehearsal to learn the dance. They get it down pretty well. Then a week or so later, we do that same number. They've all forgotten the dance. So the choreographer has to teach it again. They get it down. Then at the next rehearsal, the dance is forgotten again. The choreographer teaches the steps yet again. Meanwhile, I stand there patiently and politely (because I'm not in this dance, though I'm onstage singing).
Last night, after learning the same dance for the third or fourth time, we moved on to a dance (that I am in) that we had done only once before. Some of us were practicing the dance while we were on break, and they said, "Ooh, Kristin's got it!" I said, "Well, I practiced it." They looked at me as though I'd grown an extra head. Seriously, I don't have some kind of magical talent unavailable to the rest of the cast. I go through my dance steps a couple times a week. Simple. It doesn't take that long. So I work on my stuff, and then find myself among people who haven't thought about the dance since the last rehearsal and then wonder why they've forgotten it. At 9:27 the choreographer said, "Let's go through this a couple more times." A cast member said, "It's 9:30. Rehearsal is over." If you're so desperate to leave, why are you there?
I love theatre so much. I care about doing as good a job as I can. So I put work into learning my lines and my dancing and my music and being professional and attentive during rehearsal. I long to be with other people who take it as seriously as I do and who care as much as I do.
I auditioned yesterday for 1776. Only two women's roles in the whole show. It's far away, but I think it would be a relatively fun show to do. And Adam and Jeff auditioned, so I could possibly do a show with my husband and a friend, which would be nice. I think I did a good job, and I'm not desperate to be cast in this show — so on the whole, I feel pretty comfortable. But ... I feel discontent. Am I becoming complacent? Am I getting into that rut I've feared of only auditioning for community theatre shows and not reaching beyond? I worry that I'm being egotistical or deluded when I think "I am so much better than this! I deserve more than just hoping to be cast in community theatre!" But I don't think I am either cocky or insane. I think I've kind of outgrown standard community theatre.
And it's not because of talent. There are a lot of very talented people in community theatre (and some moderately and some not-so talented people).
It's because of how seriously I take it. Here's the current situation that has been happening recently. The cast has a rehearsal to learn the dance. They get it down pretty well. Then a week or so later, we do that same number. They've all forgotten the dance. So the choreographer has to teach it again. They get it down. Then at the next rehearsal, the dance is forgotten again. The choreographer teaches the steps yet again. Meanwhile, I stand there patiently and politely (because I'm not in this dance, though I'm onstage singing).
Last night, after learning the same dance for the third or fourth time, we moved on to a dance (that I am in) that we had done only once before. Some of us were practicing the dance while we were on break, and they said, "Ooh, Kristin's got it!" I said, "Well, I practiced it." They looked at me as though I'd grown an extra head. Seriously, I don't have some kind of magical talent unavailable to the rest of the cast. I go through my dance steps a couple times a week. Simple. It doesn't take that long. So I work on my stuff, and then find myself among people who haven't thought about the dance since the last rehearsal and then wonder why they've forgotten it. At 9:27 the choreographer said, "Let's go through this a couple more times." A cast member said, "It's 9:30. Rehearsal is over." If you're so desperate to leave, why are you there?
I love theatre so much. I care about doing as good a job as I can. So I put work into learning my lines and my dancing and my music and being professional and attentive during rehearsal. I long to be with other people who take it as seriously as I do and who care as much as I do.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
The Fairest Rejection
Several months ago, I had responded to a call for resumes/headshots for a summer production of Man of La Mancha (for a local professional theatre company that occasionally hires Equity actors in addition to non-Equity actors). My voice teacher said, "Oh, they'll definitely at least see you (for an audition)." But I never got called in for an audition.
Yesterday, I decided to see who will be playing Aldonza. It's Emily Skinner. I guess if you have a Tony nominee, you don't need to see local actresses for the role! Ha!
Yesterday, I decided to see who will be playing Aldonza. It's Emily Skinner. I guess if you have a Tony nominee, you don't need to see local actresses for the role! Ha!
Losing Weight
Today I had yet another person say to me, "Have you lost weight? You look so skinny!" I've heard that so many times that I think it must be true.
That makes me feel good for two reasons: One, I've lost weight. Yay! Two, I maintain a very healthy attitude about my body/weight. If I were obsessive about dieting or my weight, when people asked me that question, I'd say "Yes" — and probably know exactly how much weight I had actually lost. Instead, I don't even own a scale. I think I've been eating healthier in general ... but I still eat ice cream regularly. And I've been exercising more — though not for the sake of exercise. I've been stretching, doing sit-ups and push-ups, and taking dance class, plus rehearsals for Annie. That keeps me pretty active.
And that's exactly how I like it! Losing weight through doing things I love (dancing, etc.) and not working at it! Because, honestly, being a few pounds overweight, I'd rather be happy eating things I love and not working out than obsessing over trying to obtain an impossible body image.
That makes me feel good for two reasons: One, I've lost weight. Yay! Two, I maintain a very healthy attitude about my body/weight. If I were obsessive about dieting or my weight, when people asked me that question, I'd say "Yes" — and probably know exactly how much weight I had actually lost. Instead, I don't even own a scale. I think I've been eating healthier in general ... but I still eat ice cream regularly. And I've been exercising more — though not for the sake of exercise. I've been stretching, doing sit-ups and push-ups, and taking dance class, plus rehearsals for Annie. That keeps me pretty active.
And that's exactly how I like it! Losing weight through doing things I love (dancing, etc.) and not working at it! Because, honestly, being a few pounds overweight, I'd rather be happy eating things I love and not working out than obsessing over trying to obtain an impossible body image.
Friday, April 18, 2008
What Don't I Know?
Last night I was talking to Chris Bohjalian. He was telling me about his upcoming books, and I said to him, "I can't imagine how much research you do! Do you do a lot of research?" He said, "I do a ton of research."
And then he said, "I never get writer's block. If I don't know what to write, it's just a sign that I don't know enough about what I'm doing. So I go talk to somebody who knows more than I do about a topic." [emphasis mine]
How easily that idea can be taken from writing and applied to goals at large! If I get stuck, maybe it's a sign that I don't know enough about what I'm doing or where I'm trying to go.
And then he said, "I never get writer's block. If I don't know what to write, it's just a sign that I don't know enough about what I'm doing. So I go talk to somebody who knows more than I do about a topic." [emphasis mine]
How easily that idea can be taken from writing and applied to goals at large! If I get stuck, maybe it's a sign that I don't know enough about what I'm doing or where I'm trying to go.
Letting go of bitterness
Last night I went to see Godspell, which, of course, I had auditioned for and not been cast in. One of my major goals recently has been to let go of bitterness and resentment. And so I was only very mildly annoyed while watching the show.
How easy it is to let go of bitterness has something to do with desire and desperation. Godspell wasn't the only possibility I had for a show, and, in fact, I got the rejection call as I was driving home from an excellent audition for Annie (which I did get cast in). Knowing that I'm happily cast in a show makes it much easier. Also, Godspell was in no way a dream show for me. Actually, I don't like the show that much. I think auditioning for it was as much a desire for validation as it was for wanting to perform in the show.
And that's something significant I've discovered about bitterness and resentment. How closely it is linked to insecurity! Feeling confident gives me the ability to say "It's their loss" — in a way that's neither cocky nor deluded. Feeling confident in my talent makes me better able to let go of bitterness and resentment because I see how getting cast (or not) in a community theatre production has nothing to do with who I am or how good I am. I am about more than community theatre casting. I am destined for bigger and more interesting things than any individual show.
How easy it is to let go of bitterness has something to do with desire and desperation. Godspell wasn't the only possibility I had for a show, and, in fact, I got the rejection call as I was driving home from an excellent audition for Annie (which I did get cast in). Knowing that I'm happily cast in a show makes it much easier. Also, Godspell was in no way a dream show for me. Actually, I don't like the show that much. I think auditioning for it was as much a desire for validation as it was for wanting to perform in the show.
And that's something significant I've discovered about bitterness and resentment. How closely it is linked to insecurity! Feeling confident gives me the ability to say "It's their loss" — in a way that's neither cocky nor deluded. Feeling confident in my talent makes me better able to let go of bitterness and resentment because I see how getting cast (or not) in a community theatre production has nothing to do with who I am or how good I am. I am about more than community theatre casting. I am destined for bigger and more interesting things than any individual show.
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