What Kind of Theatre Artist Are You?

Last night I was thinking about how I am always just a little bit embarrassed to tell people I am an actress. My next door neighbor was talking to me outside and said, "So, Jack tells me you're an...ACTRESS." There's always a trace of amusement in people's voices when they say it, as though they are indulging a child's belief in Santa Claus.

I admitted that I was, indeed an actress, and had even gone so far as to actually spend 8 years total earning two degrees in said art. He raised his eyebrows.

"Oh! So you must be makin' the big bucks, huh!?"

Because as everyone in the country knows, having a Masters Degree automatically means you're "makin' the big bucks". Just ask all the MBAs who are out of work after the recession.

I had to explain that I was not making tons of money because, well, because of a lot of reasons, but mainly because I was portraying the biggest role of my life as Zoe's Mother, and was a stay-at-home mom right now. I did say that I was starting to audition again. My neighbor perked up immediately.

"Hey, you should tell me if you are ever in a show! I'll come see it. You know, I like FUN shows. When I was in fourth grade, I was the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz. It was like we were famous." He went on to sing a little of "If I Only Had A Brain" while I tried to decide if this was endearing or making me uncomfortable.

But this conversation got me thinking. There's a stigma about actors - well, all artists, really. According to a lot of people out there, we are flighty, lazy, incapable of holding down a "real" job, dramatic, catty, narcissistic, overly idealistic, liberal, leftist, Communists, moochers, degenerates, atheists, addicts, consumed with trivialities and worst of all, believe that the arts are important enough for government funding. Phew. That's a lot of responsibility.

Of course, not everyone thinks all of these things, and even if they do, I am sure they aren't consciously running through the list. But think about the instant gut reaction you feel when someone tells you they identify with a heavily stereotyped profession: what goes through your mind when someone tells you they're a stripper? A Senator? A musician?

Well, someone a lot older and more cynical once told me that stereotypes exist because they're true - and to some extent she was right. Stereotypes wouldn't exist if there wasn't data to bring them into cultural mythology in the first place. But once they're there, it's up to us to do something about it if we don't like them.

So what kind of artist are you? Do you identify with those labels? Are you so consumed with your work that your relationships suffer? Are you one of those artists that nobody likes but they put up with you because you're such a great director/actress/scenic artist? Do you take advantage of family by allowing them to support your bad financial habits year after year while you inconvenience your friends by crashing on their couch for yet another winter? Or are you taking responsibility for your career, staying healthy - emotionally and physically, and paying just as much attention to saving for the future as you are to starting a revolution?

The first five years or so of my career were dark days. Everything seemed difficult. I was struggling so hard to 'make it'; why wasn't it working out? I was bustling around between Wisconsin and Illinois in various shows, frequenting theatre bookstores and actor bars and sending out pictures to agents. But I drank too much, slept with my co-stars, made enemies. I spent time involved in petty drama at my waitressing job instead of going home and reading Ibsen or studying Chicago's theatres' seasons and audition schedules. Things turned around for me personally when I decided to put Human Being at the top of my Mental Resume. The surprising thing was, the more I focused on being a better person, the better my career got. My acting became richer and more full. Directors, actors, vocal coaches and teachers all enjoyed having me around...so they continued to hire me. Word spreads. Don't think it doesn't. Maybe the Real World will never know us very well, but the Theatre World will.

Who do you want to be?

Does 100% Mean Something Else When Your Circumstances Change?

What is giving 100% in the theatre? Is it 100% of what you have that day? Or is it a fixed standard that does not change, regardless of your personal circumstances? How does being a parent fall into this code of behavior?

In a different blog, I left this comment to a friend about the recent audition I had last weekend; around 8 pm the night before:

I'm so stressed out right now. Due to Zoe being high maintenance and not having any help watching her today, I am just now sitting down to try to struggle through the text and the dialect. I don't really have time to do it all (for one thing, I was sent a total of TEN PAGES to be familiar with. Which would be awesome...if I had three days). I don't know what to focus on. I'm afraid if I spend too much time on the dialect I will forget to emote.

I was really excited until it became impossible to prepare properly. And now I feel stressed.


Her response was kind and encouraging, but part of it was this:

be fair to yourself and let what you are able to offer in auditions be a true representation of what you will be able to offer in rehearsals, which might be, energy/time-wise, a little less than in your pre-mommy days. NO SHAME! you will find the depth of your work will increase because of your experiences.

Her advice was meant to make me feel better. But I've been thinking about this ever since I read it. Does being a mom mean that I have to settle for giving less than 100% at the one thing in my life that makes me feel like Me?

There are definitely sacrifices you make to be a mother. A lot of moms are less fortunate than me. They are single parents who have to work a full time job while taking care of their children. Thankfully, that's not me.

My husband works a conventional full time job, and childcare is my full time job. I have about 90% of the childcare duties. I get up with her, watch her all day, feed her, clothe her, diaper her, play with her, teach her, and put her down most evenings. I take care of her on the weekends unless there is something I need to accomplish where I cannot take her; in which case my husband watches her. I also take care of our house, grocery shopping, laundry, errands, returning phone calls to our myriad parents, making certain we have toilet paper and toothpaste, and so on. Basically, what most moms do (and many of them do all this PLUS go to work outside the home. God bless you, ladies - I don't know how you do it).

Of course, I should interject here that having my daughter is the best thing that ever happened to me. It made me more mature, empathetic, and strong. It taught me the true meaning of unconditional love. And it made me realize that at the end of the day, nothing is more important than family. I have not been involved in a theatrical production for a year and a half, but I haven't missed it. Motherhood has taken all my time, and the learning curve has been tougher than any class. I've been content to be Mom and only Mom for the last 15 months. But now she doesn't need me as much as she did before she could walk and play and independently explore the world. And in kind, I need to start getting back to the parts of me that go beyond Mom.

Were I cast in a show at this point in my life we would have to adjust our situation - otherwise I do not have the time to work on a script or learn lines or do any of the normal prep and "homework" I would normally dedicate to a rehearsal process outside of the parameters of actual rehearsals.

However, I'm lucky that I do have the option to ask my husband for help. Not everyone does. In my view, this means that I am responsible for giving just as much in an audition situation as anyone else who is working two jobs or taking care of an aging parent or whatever their circumstances. In fact, in some ways it might be easier for me now than it was when I was struggling with three jobs in Chicago.

As far as my energy level...it is true that I'm more tired on a regular basis than I was in my 20s. But acting energizes me - it fills rather than depletes. If anything, I am more effervescent, focused, and creative the minute I walk into the room (and even more tired when I get home).

So I reject the notion that it's all right to show less of what I am capable - either in the audition or rehearsal process. My child will always come first, ultimately. But I will do my best to have both worlds, and give equal (yet separate) parts of me to each. I don't know how to approach anything with mediocrity and be ok with that. In truth, I'd rather not work in the theatre at all than become resigned to giving less than 100%.

Callback Part Two - Shaw

Sunday's callback went really well. I underestimated how much work I had done Saturday night. When I was trying to put together the text work, dialect, and intention that night it seemed overwhelming, but the next morning when I was going over the scene I realized it had sunk in. Yet another thing I actually teach my kids (work a little over several days instead of cramming it all in on one day) but forgot about its merits when putting it into practice myself. Physician, heal thyself.

My husband went out of town Sunday morning so I had to throw myself on the mercy of my friends, who graciously watched my kiddo while I ran off to be Actress. Zoe freaked out a little at first since she, for the first time in months, decided NOT to take a nap that day, but she chilled out eventually - enough that I felt comfortable leaving her. I'm starting to realize that I could probably write an entire blog series about being a mom, returning to acting, and all the insanity that entails.

The audition itself was a lot of fun. There is so much you can't really see in a scene until you can actually read it aloud with someone else who is 100% invested (ESPECIALLY when it is elevated language like Shaw or Shakespeare), and when I read my second scene with an enthusiastic partner it was...magical. We were both totally caught up in it and had a wonderful time. We walked out in the hallway afterward and he said, "That was great...I'm actually sweating!" I laughed. The director praised us up and down afterward saying we did a great job, and mentioned our chemistry. I don't know if this particular director is normally this free with praise or if she says this sort of thing to anyone who doesn't actually fall on their face, but regardless, it was nice to hear. And you always know when you gave a good audition, even if they don't say so.

The post-audition high is always a wonderful experience. I was so tired by the time I collected the baby and got home, though...the preparation and the stress of leaving Zoe with a sitter for the first time combined with the regular stress of an audition was emotionally exhausting.

So now we wait. No idea how long we wait, but I feel I did the best I could, and that's worth something, at least.

You Never Know

One simultaneously fun yet frustrating thing about being an actor is waiting to hear from the production staff after an audition. It could take a day, a week, a month. I once received an email asking me to be in a show two hours after my audition. And you might not hear back at all, since many shows don't take the time to contact those they do not cast. It's equal parts hope and dismay. Dreaming and disillusion. And it happens every single time you audition. The cycle never changes.

I tell my students that there are two ways to combat this: 1. audition often, and 2. forget about it the minute you walk out the door. These two pieces of advice serve to work together in that if you are going to several auditions a week, you just don't have time to sit and fret about What If; especially if you are doing the proper prep. And if you let it go from your mind it's always a happy surprise should they call you and offer a role.

I didn't hear back for three days after my callback for Love's Labours Lost at Austin Shake on Tuesday, and assumed I didn't get cast - I couldn't remember how long it takes to hear back, or IF I would hear back at all. I had it good up in the Midwest - I had long been in the position that I no longer had to go to general auditions - directors called me. I knew everyone. They knew me. I invested almost fifteen years up there. I had a career well established. Now, I'm completely starting over here, and while it is exciting to get back up on that horse, it feels impenetrable at times. I admit my impatience with humility.

But, it doesn't take much to get that cycle of theatre bi-polar manic depression going again, this time with a manic episode when you find out, quite out of the blue, that no, in fact, they HAVEN'T cast the show you auditioned for yet, and btw, please come to the callback for the OTHER show this weekend. And then you go DOH! and have a rush of adrenaline all over again. Which is what happened to me yesterday. It's such a high, to know you're still in the running for something and that on top of that, they want to see you for something else as well.

I'm waiting for the stage manager to send me the sides (sides, for anyone wondering, is a term we derive from the Elizabethan theatre, and it means the part/pages of the script from which you will be reading during the callback. In your first audition, you usually perform a prepared monologue that is not usually from the play for which you are auditioning; in the callback you do a scene or monologue from the show's script.). The play is Shaw's Man and Superman. They're reading me for Ann, the female lead.

I told my voice teacher that this is a lot of fun when you aren't banking on it to pay the rent. It's a huge luxury to be able to enjoy this without the desperation of needing the job or going hungry. There are some definite advantages to being older, married, and suburban. I'm a lucky girl.

The All-Knowing Jolie - The Inevitable Part Two

"Everyone Calm Down! Angelina Jolie is not retiring from Hollywood."

Oh thank heaven.

Please see previous post for immediate proof that I am smart and should bet on horse races.