sprouting, rooting, growing

Here it is.  The end of the first term.

Christmas looms on the horizon; snow was falling in big fat flakes today.  I have piles of clothes, toiletries and Christmas gifts in staging grounds around the apartment - preparing to be packed and dragged from London to New York to South Carolina to New York and back to London.

It has been difficult to process the past few weeks of class in either a private journal or a public forum.  But it is worth poking a bit - to see if I can scare some formed thought out of it all.

We finished up our clown work last week.  Our task was to bring in a prepared clown piece in a group of three.  I had the pleasure to work with two smart, talented and enthusiastic classmates whose honest approach and sense of fun boosted my ability to play.  As I mentioned in a previous post, clowning in the Lecoq based work we were exploring is a delve into what is funny and vulnerable about YOU.  Stripped of character and barriers.  My 'sad clown' developed more deeply and personally into what is uniquely me.  That is to say, the part of me that people would laugh about behind my back was the part I embraced and highlighted in my clown.  I became a high strung perfectionist whose sadness was an inevitable devastation caused by my inability to be perfect.  Our group did a song and choreography routine to 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight' - which was appropriately train-wrecked by planned 'mistakes', which each of our clowns handled in their own way.  Much like neutral mask, the clown has to do very little to read very big....as long as it is grounded in honesty.  A small tilt of the head or a tiny step away can read volumes.  I actually have no idea how successful it was in performance.  And with our critique panel tomorrow giving feedback on our clowning and scene assessment - I wanted to start writing about this tonight more as a reflection of the work rather than the reaction.  Clowning was interesting, challenging work.  Absolutely not something that comes effortlessly to me, but worth the exploration in a way to unlock some of the social barriers that creep into my work. 

I found myself looking around my last class of the term today in a bit of shock.  Call it an old-lady moment.  We are 1/3 of the way through the course, and I was having the 'I can't believe I'm actually here doing this' moment.  Shouldn't that come in the first couple of weeks?  I guess the reflective part of my brain has been dialed down for the past few weeks, so it came as a 'new' realization - one that I know I've probably had before.  And if the reflective part has been dimmed, I would probably say that the actively engaged part has been on.  I've just been exploring.  In movement, in acting class, in clowning...I haven't been making note on all that I've been learning, because I've just been experiencing.  No major lightbulb moments...but building a new vocabulary of ideas, ways of working, ways of thinking of myself....exploring the unknown in a way that doesn't seem brave because it doesn't seem scary.  It just is what I want to be doing. 

A good place to wrap up.  Just a bit difficult when I go home and inevitably have to field the 'what have you been learning' question!

I feel a bit like a plant.  The first bit was the most difficult: breaking through my hard seed shell.  But with some moist soil, I quickly stretched toward sunlight.  Then I began to grow in both directions:  higher and deeper.  Now I am just developing.  A few more leaves, a few more roots.  Nothing to sing about in the day-to-day: but growing stronger and with each new leaf unfurled, soaking up more and more sunlight.

Dream Big

Last night's online chat to a friend in Los Angeles:

Me: So…I’ll probably NEVER put this in my blog…but I totally ROCKED my scene this past week in class.  It was the first scene (out of 9) that the teacher not only didn’t tear apart…but he really seemed to enjoy.  Score one for the older chick.

D:  Right on.

You SHOULD put that on your blog….

Me:  if I do…I know I’ll only hint at it.

That I had some reassurance.

But it is too public a forum (where my classmates and teacher could read it) to want to be too vocal about…..

Hmmm….I wonder what I don’t want people to know?

That I had a great day?  That I got recognition?  That I have an ego?

I think it is probably the fact that I don’t want to tempt the fates into slamming me back down.

That if I take credit for the ‘genius’ moments…then I have to personally claim all the failures too.  And it is more that this work is just passing through me.

I am neither the alpha nor the omega of the creative energy – just a willing vessel.

It was a great scene...it was well received.  And I found myself reticent to share it with you.  Talking it aloud with a classmate, I almost convinced myself that the reason was because I have been working on the idea of 'the work' being separate from me.  That the work is "it" and it is "out there".  That sometimes it is good and sometimes it is crap, and that doesn't mean I am good and it doesn't mean I am crap.  Getting a sense of distance from the creative work you produce gives you the ultimate freedom to try really bold choices.  When your sense of self-worth is wrapped up in the work, it makes it much harder to throw out a choice that is wild or unexpected (because it has the possibility - maybe even the likelihood - to fail that much more spectacularly).  And in the same breath that I was giving this excuse, I realized that I have no problem revealing my shortcomings, my disappointments and my failures and how they have affected me in this most public forum.

So, why do I have such a wariness about sharing the successes?

Well, that's a damn good question.

It made me think of a visualization exercise we did in one class.   It was meant to be a dream of the best possible sort.  We were asked to close our eyes and picture ourselves coming out for a curtain call at the National Theatre after a fantastic performance.  We see the audience leap to their feet in applause.  We take our bows and then head back to the dressing room.  Fans come backstage.  What do they say?  What words do they use?  The reviews come out.  What have the critics said?  We were asked to picture ourselves at an award show - which one? The Oscars? The Tonys?  BAFTA?  Drama Desk?  What is the introduction of the work we win for?  What is our acceptance speech?  

It was a question of what each artist wants - in the perfect world?  Do you crave to hear the word "genius" from a specific critic?  Do you want a little old lady to put her arm on you and quietly whisper, "You made me feel something.  Over ten years now...and I thought I'd never feel again.  But you made me feel alive"?  What is the core of your art?  

I knew specifically what each of the strangers, friends and critics said about my performance...the words I wanted to hear...but when it came to the awards show, I found myself at the event (and in a gorgeous dress) but not getting called to accept an award.  It wasn't sad or disappointing.  It was just as happy and positive-minded as the rest of my visualization.  It was just a very clear picture of what I actually prioritize in my career.  

There is a great naiveté that we as artists must stay in touch with:  "I have the RIGHT to be amazing, to be astonishing - because, actually, that is my job."

Her point in all of this was to get the warm-up to be not just a 'health-and-safety' stretch, but to transform ourselves (physically, mentally and emotionally) into the being capable of an earth-shattering performance.  The job of the actor is to be connected...so we should avoid any warm-up that allows disconnection.  For me, this was useful - in that I had always approached warm-up as a way to get from 'Caroline' to 'zero'.  To strip away all the extraneous physical gestures, vocal limitations, emotional trolls that would stand in my way in a role.  This change of thinking said that instead of bringing myself to zero, I should rev myself up to 100%.  Instead of the limited choices I may have walked into the room with....bring all the choices that I could possibly dream of...ALL of me.

Now, that lesson was important...but the bigger lesson for me was the idea of dreaming BIG.  Every time I step on stage, I should be aiming for a performance worthy of those words I heard in my imagination...the connections I made with my audience in my fantasy.  

"I want it all, George.  And there's not a chance in hell we're gonna get it all anyway...but if you don't WANT it, we've got even less chance than that." - Chapter 2, Neil Simon.  

What's Lost and Gained

I had my handbag stolen.  It was 2 feet away from me under my coat at the club.

Bank card. Drivers License. Phone. Camera. iPod. Journal.

gone.

All of it I really loved.  I had a white Blackberry Curve that matched my white ceramic Chanel watch (super chic).  I had an iPod touch had a red case with white racing stripes (given as a going away present from a dear friend back home)...and newly downloaded Angry Birds game to keep me entertained on the train.  My camera was less than a year old...and had been grabbing both keepsake travel photos as well as quick snapshots of new friends.

So it is lost. It's just stuff after all.  I keep hearing the line from Harold and Maude:


 "Well if some people get upset because they feel they have a hold on somethings. I'm just acting as a gentle reminder, here today, gone tomorrow so don't get attached to things. Now with that in mind I don't mind collecting things. I've collected quite a lot of stuff in my time. Yeah, this is all memorabilia — but it’s incidental, not integral, if you know what I mean."


The only thing I really minded losing was my journal.  I keep notes daily about classwork and discoveries both for personal reference and as a resource for the final part of my dissertation.  This was a new journal, only three weeks old.  But it still is irreplaceable.  Or is it?  I talked to a classmate today about the possibility of re-writing and seeing what had really absorbed over the past three weeks.  It might not be as detailed in description, but it might be more poignant in depth...in that it would not be the things that I simply wrote down, but that have made their way into my true understanding.


Did I lose faith in London?  Nah.  Have had things stolen in every city.  


Did I lose my experiences? My friends?  My sense of safety?  Nope.


Did I lose the fun that was to be had for the rest of the night?  No!!


What did I gain?  I gained a real life understanding of how happiness is not contingent on life going just as you planned it.  I gained a true sense of the community that does love me and reached out to help me: from the friend I had just met that night that called my bank from his phone at 3 am so that I could cancel my card, to the classmate that bought me a rose on the street corner to cheer me up, to the high school friend of my brother's that offered to wire me cash if I needed it.  I was amazed by the support and love that poured out to boost me.


So, today when I was coming home from class, gripped in a massive wave of insecurity...I started thinking about this sense of loss and gains.  I started trying to unpick what had thrown me on this sudden 'LOSS' side of thinking.


I feel like I've been working with a pretty unbound flow recently - enjoying the work - reveling in the play. I've been continuing to find new avenues for strength and exploration in my voice and movement work.  I've had my first round of clowning.  As frightened as I have been from the first week of class, when our teacher gave us the outline of the course, I knew that after neutral mask, after half mask and after commedia...I would have to face down clowning.  eep.  Give me lines.  Give me actions.  Give me a character.  But please don't put me on stage - with no guards or defenses - and ask me to be funny as Caroline!  (This clowning is based in more Lecoq style training rather than what you might think of with circus clowns.)  It is basically about tapping into what is most vulnerable and unattractive about you - personally - and showcasing it for the entertainment of others.  Sound scary?  Yeah, did to me, too.  But I found a great pleasure and challenge in the work.  Because I have worked for many years in comedy, I definitely found a comfort with the entertaining part - but that was more about my desire to work the audience than allowing them behind the mask, as it were.  As I explored, I started to edge into the realm of the 'sad clown', a vulnerable and deeply open self... and will continue to delve into it.  


Today I played a tea bag.


That's right.  A tea bag.


We were assigned to carefully study and portray an inanimate object - and portray its story: beginning, middle and end.  I know, I know...I had the same reaction at first.  I'm paying HOW MUCH MONEY to pretend to be a tea bag?  But this really wasn't one of those "be a tree...feel the wind" acting exercises.  First, it requires keen observation.  Each time I poured hot water into my cup, I found new things to try. Oh! There is an air bubble trapped inside it that keeps it moving up against the top of the cup!  Oh! When you dunk it in and out of the water, the top part exposed to the air is actually heavier than the part still in the water! The more specifics I observe in life, the more I can bring into my performance. This is true of every thing that I observe...people, ideas, objects. Secondly, it challenged the imagination.  Instead of creating an exact replica of the inanimate object, we were to embody the texture, the weight, the tempo - and allow our imagination to fill in the gaps, and to inform an interpretation when our bodies were unable to match the required action. (How do you float to the top of a cup?  How do you dangle, dripping, above the cup?)  Because my process is usually so incredibly linear: text, actions, obstacles, given circumstances etc....I have been happily exploring the non-linear, the creatively circumspect, and the imaginative inroads.  It has been part of my work over the last few weeks that has been most rewarding - and hardest to define.  


So, if the work has been good....full of exploration and creative flow...if I'm working from a sense of general gain....why do I suddenly feel at a loss?


I looked more specifically at what was underneath my insecurity, and found that it had much to do with worrying where I fit with my classmates.  I worry that even though I have felt an expansion in my approach, that it may not be received well.  I don't trust my new pathway - and if I am honest about it, it is probably because it doesn't feel earned.  I place so much value on what I've EARNED in life.  Hard work = something to be proud of.  If I'm working less directly, if I'm exploring more creatively, it is hard to feel that I have accomplished something.  It feels - what? too easy maybe?  The other part of this has to do with how work is received by an audience.  (Also known as: "Do they like me?")  I can feel that my work is going well, that I am learning and growing, that I continue to have solid work ethic and am dependable as a friend and a scene partner - but that does not mean that someone else is going to look at my finished product and like it.


And this is where I MUST let go.  I cannot control the reaction or the taste of anyone - classmates, faculty, the general paying public.  I can only do what I can to bring life onto the stage.  Specific, creative, delicious, unpredictable life.  The rest is out of my hands.

I bear a charmed life.

I performed at Shakespeare's Globe!

(Ok, ok....so I wasn't on the mainstage treading the hallowed boards.  And I wasn't speaking classical text.  As a matter of fact, I wasn't speaking at all.  But it was thrilling nonetheless.)

I participated as a member of my MA Acting class in an interactive symposium on Gesture - doing an experiment with two of my teachers on Bulwer's Gestures.  The three day symposium was a chance for scholars and practitioners to come together and explore the use of gesture in theory and performance.  Our performance was based on early modern gestural manuals and the information they provide about early gestural practice.  It is also being considered as part of future actor training in our school - as a way to wake up gestural life (responding to the actor's most common question: 'What do I do with my hands?').  We worked as a group exploring the meanings of each of the common and rhetorical gestures that accompanied certain thoughts or ideas as noted by Bulwer in his manual.  Each gesture had a Latin word or phrase that accompanied it - things like "to show irony" "to betray impatience" or "to explode".  As we discovered, the right hand was almost exclusively used in early modern gesture - the left hand being so deeply recognized as evil at the time.  Things like "to steal" would be gestured with the left hand.  With a basic understanding of how to bring the gestures off of the page, we then were led in three groups by three separate actors (from last year's MA course: one actor was working from a rhetorical Shakespearean text, two were working on a scene from Hamlet.  Each of these actors looked at their texts individually, and chose from a list of the translated Latin verbs actions to accompany both their actions and reactions (without seeing what the gesture associated with that word was).  They then taught us the series of gestures - in pure form - that they would be exploring in the scene (which we did not watch them rehearse and incorporate).  This pure series of gestures is what we brought to perform for (and to teach to) the audience.  The audience then watched the scenes performed by the actors using each of the gestures within the scene as a way to connect to and physically express the thoughts.

It was an extremely well received presentation.  The audience was abuzz with questions - and even more fascinatingly, even with their small tutorial - their hands were actively engaged in asking these questions.

All this keeps circling back to what I keep chewing on from my movement class: what the actor's body DOES, the audience FEELS.  Our understanding is so much more about reading people's bodies than hearing their words.  I don't think that was the case in Shakespeare's day - as the society had a much more tuned ear.  Television has 'viewers' - which has informed how we WATCH performances.  Even though a theatrical audience implies 'audio'...we see much more than we hear these days.  Our understanding happens on a very base level through the visual.

Movement class seems to be where I feel like I'm doing my best exploration and growth right now.  Of course, having a teacher who plants ideas like "Your very small preconception of yourself is inaccurate.  The idea of yourself is minutely small compared the all of who you actually are."  Think of a small box called the Polite Self (who you are on the train, to the cashier, with the dry cleaner).  The box around that is your Social Self (the you that your acquaintances and colleagues know - the one that functions best within the world).  The box around that is your Intimate Self (the you your closest friends, family members or lover knows).  Around that is your Private Self (contains all of you that your conscious mind knows about).  Around that is your Unfamiliar Self (a total of the conscious and subconscious self - the self you get glimpses of in dreams).  Most of us consider "who we are" to be the Social Self...the self we present to most of the world all of the time.  Even if we acknowledge the Intimate, and maybe even the Private....we still define ourselves as (and as actors - generally bring to the work table) - the Social Self we are most comfortable in presenting.

Just starting to chew on this idea of bringing the much larger vision of myself into the work opens up all sorts of possibilities for exploration, discovery and play.  

Which is very exciting.

This is why I came to school.  To get excited about the work.  To rediscover the play.  To bring unusual and interesting choices to my acting.  I am the first to admit that my desire to 'get it right' combined with my extremely analytical literary analysis usually create an understanding of text that is very clear ... but also very predictable.  The performers that we enjoy watching (and as I'm discovering...the performances I enjoy giving) are ones where the choices work in surprising and unexpected ways.  This involves a certain amount of risk - risk of failure (those choices that make the performer and the audience go 'blechk!' and spit it back out like a child with their first bite of spinach).  But what we are missioned to do is to bring LIFE to the stage.  "Life" implies failure.  We don't live and learn anything in life without it.  And what is scary is not actually the failure, but embarrassment.  

Who cares about embarrassment?!

Up next?  My first scene for class (Twelfth Night - Maria/Sir Toby Belch) and clowning (getting on stage without line or script or character - just bringing the true Caroline - and making an audience laugh.)

Bring it on.

Doe, a deer...a female deer

I open my eyes.  I hear frogs and crickets and some forest sounds I can't quite identify.  My head swings briskly up, my legs still folded underneath me.  I scan the space.  There are other creatures around, but I can't quite make out what they are.  Dawn is breaking, which is my best grazing time, so I stretch my legs out, shake the dew from my fur and walk out into the open space.  I grab a mouthful and chew just enough to swallow then snap my head up.  Something in the wind or some peripheral view of how the world stopped moving in its usual pace caught my attention.  I quickly scan - and find a pair of eyes on me.  Hunched forward and moving ever so slowly towards me.  I am on high alert.  My heart starts pounding.  I am being hunted.  I am in an enclosed space, so I have to choose wisely.  If I move too soon, I will be moving towards my predator.  I stand as still as a statue - only my nose and ears move as they try to catch any clues to further danger than the one in front of me.  My blood racing and heart pounding in my ears, I see the enemy's crouch deepen and I spring sideways to dodge the initial pounce and dash as far away as I can, looking for a hiding place.

This week started 'animal work' in my acting class.  For over an hour we were guided through night and day, hunting and resting, rainstorms and heat by our teacher.  We had spent the week prior preparing ourselves by choosing an animal that represented the character we are writing our dissertation on (our choice was to be based in the text), researching the spine and muscular system of the animal, and studying the movements and behaviors of the animal at a zoo and in videos.  I had been struggling with making my body match up to the doe (Gertrude from Hamlet).  My legs are much longer than my arms, so in order to get my back and head in proper alignment, my legs had to be folded awkwardly underneath me.  My neck vertebrae is much shorter, so although I could approximate the head-bob while standing...once I was in all fours, my shortened neck couldn't replicate it.  And I got tired.  After 20-30 seconds of rehearsal, I would fall on the floor exhausted.

But here I was, in class, keeping engaged for over an hour!  I have never been so sustained in a constant state of fear for so long in my life.  In our enclosed space was a jaguar, an African wild dog, a wolverine, and a hyena...all of whom were hunting me.  Also in the space were a silverback gorilla, a snowy owl, an elephant, and a black bear...who were not trying to eat me, but frightened me nonetheless. There was no resting.  I was in constant guard of my life.  (I have long since decided that a deer in THAT environment would have had a heart attack!)  When we were asked to lay down and go to sleep...all I could do was nervously watch until the ENTIRE room was still and quite before I could rest. And even then, I had to keep popping my head up to check.

After the main exercise, we transformed into a creature that was half-animal, half-human...something that walked upright, but maintained many of the characteristics of our former animal selves....and in that creature spoke a few lines from our character in the voice that emerged.  After the exercise was over, our teacher said...'Now, your mind probably interrupted you for two different reasons during this exercise.  The first was to say: This hurts.  I don't want to do this anymore. The second was to say: I'm an adult.  I'm paying massive amounts of money to crawl around like an animal.  This is ridiculous.'

The first is a complaint from the part of the brain that seeks physical comfort.  He suggested that we replace the complaint with the thought 'Who knew I could DO this with my body for this long?!' When we were 4 or 5 years old, I would have thought nothing difficult about crawling around all afternoon pretending to be a horse or a monkey or an owl.  Who knew my body was still capable of such feats?!  I thought I was exhausted after 30 seconds of practicing in a peaceful meadow living deer...and here I found myself able to sustain the exercise in a high-stress environment for over an hour!  I rock!!

The second objection was from the socialized part of the brain.  It is the part that doesn't want to make mistakes and look like an idiot.  It is also the part of the brain that is tracking ourselves.  It keeps mental notes: kind of like an outside view (which as an actor is a very crucial part to keep engaged if you want to be able to repeat with precision any gesture or moment or performance that was successful in rehearsal).  He suggested we turn off the judgement/complaint voice, but to keep that part of the brain engaged...to watch, track, and make note of the physical and emotional journey.

I immediately started to see connections in the foundation of some of Gertrude's choices.  If she is acting out of fear...it makes sense why she stays with Claudius, even after Hamlet has revealed that Claudius murdered her first husband.  If she is constantly checking over her shoulder and unable to protect herself, she is going to side with the biggest, baddest stag out there.

Now you might be rolling your eyes and saying...all well and good...but is any of this any USE to the acting process?  Not in the pure form of the exercise, for sure.  But it can absolutely give you a physical way to express the character (think of Robert DeNiro as a duck in Taxi Driver or Marlon Brando as a bulldog in Godfather - they both used animal work to help with physical aspects of creating their characters).  But for me - I take it as Stella Adler presents it - as a way to help the actor rid themselves of the social mask and to free themselves of inhibitions.

In America, theatre and film focus strongly on the work and the product.  Here in England, the tradition of performance focuses much more on creativity and the process.   I turn on the television here, and can't help but marvel that many of these talented actresses would never have a career in the US - simply because of their looks.  They just don't fit into the glossy, marketed packaging that we produce.  But the tradition of acting in which I am currently studying values substance over style, imagination over beauty.  And I am thrilled to be stretching in that vein.  What it requires is that I give over the idea of 'right' and 'wrong' and embrace the idea of 'successful'.  There is not ONE right way to approach a script, a character, a moment: there are many ways it could be successful.  As I let go of the need to get it right (which narrows my focus and choices)...I allow an amazing array of new choices to pop up.  And it may just be that the oddball choice - the one that would never seem 'right' by any definition - could be a wildly successful one for me.  Or it might be a flop.  And only by allowing the exploration of the unknown and glorious failure, can I strike gold.   

All in All, You're Just Another Brick in the Wall

I keep getting postcards from the unconscious.

Little clues of what's going on under the surface of my newly ill-fitting daily suit of 'playful spirit'.  I'm not going to lie. They aren't love notes.

The strangest thing is: this is when my natural playful side kicks in (ok, so it is a dark sense of humor) - and gets a real belly laugh at what panic-stricken mindplay can reveal at 4 in the morning.

It starts with a dream, half-remembered.  Which, on waking, reminds me of the quite uncharacteristic temper tantrum I threw in acting class earlier that day.  (We are down to one 4-hour acting class a week, which does put a certain intensity and pressure on making your working time COUNT.)  During an exercise, I threw myself prostrate on the ground and wailed, "I don't UNDERSTAND this exercise."  To which the teacher raised an eyebrow, tilted his head to consider the crazy woman who had appeared, and said, "What exercise?"  I rolled my eyes in response, lay back down on the ground, and continued struggling from that position.

It is 4 AM....perfectly reasonable time to start analyzing why I had a meltdown in acting class.  "I'm sure nothing negative could come of going down this path," she says, fastening her red cape around her shoulders.

Hello, little girl.  What's your rush?  You're missing all the flowers.  The sun won't set for hours.  Take your time....

And so I run with it.  Why did he look at me as if I was crazy?  Well, because although the Meisner exercise was never fully explained, from watching I had picked up enough of the basic rules to be playing it adequately.  And what I meant was not that I didn't understand it...it was that I didn't GET it: that it wasn't clicking for me.  Although I understood the game intellectually, I didn't connect to it.  It didn't feel instinctual or enjoyable - it felt awkward and forced and self-conscious.  Which is, of course, when my worst habits and guards surface.  Which is, of course, when he stops the exercise to point them out.  Which is, of course, a perfect opportunity for more self-consciousness and habits and guards to pop up.  After a few minutes of wee-morning-hours consideration (because this all whirs much more quickly in my head than on paper) - I have spiraled into full-on panic attack.  I start wondering what the hell I'm doing here.  Why I have gone into massive debt and left everything I know and love...and if I might come out of this program a worse actor than when I came in.

This is where I start laughing.  The train to crazy town has now left the station.

It is all part of the process.  I get it.  I talk to some of my classmates about where I am.  Standing with my face bashed up against THE WALL.  Just enough of my party tricks exposed, just enough of my comfort zone broken down, just enough of my guards chipped away to make me feel completely bare.  Not any of the new skills in hand to start building back up yet.  This is the place where learning can begin.  IF (and this is a big 'if') I can keep my emotions out of it.  As soon as I bring in my judgement system - all is lost.  By putting an emotionally-negative, judgmental name on myself and where I am - struggling - I then build that brick wall thicker and higher, virtually ensuring I will never find a way around or over it.  If I can just do the work, every day, do the work...even if I don't feel connected, even if I feel like I've messed it up again....then I will build a new process for myself that comes out of true awareness.  If I wallow in the emotion of seeing all the broken pieces of my former process around the base of THE WALL, knowing that I'm crap, that all I know is crap, and I don't have anything to replace it with that is NOT crap....well...I'll be standing at this wall for a long time.

My goal:  to play.
to be open to explore to trust the inner creativity instead of the work to reignite to enjoy to giggle to be stupid to trust that what is inside of me is enough

What stands in my way:  my desire to be good.
to do it right to be the best to impress to entertain to be accepted to be approved to be liked

I do have one class which is not individual critique on performance (at this point) - and is proving to be the hot springs where I take my sore and aching body and mind to rejuvenate.  For any of my actor friends, I highly recommend you pick up Lorna's book "The Body Speaks" (there's a link to it in an earlier post).  We are working our way through her exercises which are all very clearly outlined in the book.  One of her mantras is "Get your acting DOWN."  The audience knows from social interaction that the face is a mask, an effective mask well practiced in hiding what is beneath the surface.  The body is a much more honest tool for revealing what is happening on the inside.  Much of what we consider 'bad acting' is because what is happening in the face is supported by a dead and lifeless body - which reads as false.  This week we did the starfish exercise.  Thinking of the body as a 5 limbed creature (2 arms, 2 legs, and one limb starting between the shoulders through the top of the head), we explored reacting with ALL limbs to a single stimulus.  If it was a slow stretch, then the stretch started at the center and worked its way through all 5 limbs simultaneously.  If it was a pulse, then we pulsed arms, legs, fingers, toes, neck, face, ears all at the same time.  It is a weird feeling to connect the upper and lower body.  The legs are used to walking somewhere and sitting down.  The head is used to swiveling around and taking in information.  The arms and fingers are more accustomed to the intricate manual work.  Getting them in synch with each other is a new sensation.

Moving from that exercise, we did Actor's Impulse - continuing with working in the entire body - but allowing the impulse to be human (heat, cold, fear, hunger, nervousness, a 5 year old playing with a bug, an old person in love).  We explored with the performative and the revelatory, the big impulses and the small, the fun and the serious, the smart and the silly.  It was amazing when I worked on 'getting my acting down'...working more consciously in the legs, the pelvis, the torso...I didn't worry about my face.  I didn't worry about emoting.  I didn't awkwardly wonder what I should do with my hands.  It was all connected.

It is also such an intellectually stimulating class.  She has her fingertip on the pulse of the neuroscientific community's research and discoveries about the mind/body connection...and is connecting all of the new science to what we do as actors.  But she does it with a child-like excitement and curiosity.  She embraces all of the science, and also dreams how she is going to teach lectures.  She encourages us to get to know ourselves - as we are the only tool for expressing our art.  

As to the other classes, well, I'll just suit up in my playful spirit and see what happens.  If there is one thing that I'm sure of, it is that when neurons fire repeatedly in the same pathway, that pathway gets fused.  I'm working on fusing the playful spirit.  Making it my go-to pathway.  

Even Keel

"Smart.  Engaged. Focused."

These are my cookie notes.  The assumed understanding of what I bring to the table.

I am sitting across the cafe table at a nearby theatre having my first tutorial with the course leader (department head) of MA Acting (Classical). 

In British academic parlance, a tutorial is a small class of one, or only a few, students, in which the tutor (a lecturer or other academic staff member) gives individual attention to the students^{[citation needed]}. The tutorial system at Oxford and Cambridge is fundamental to methods of teaching at those universities, but it is by no means peculiar to them. - Wikipedia

In those five seconds and three words, he wraps up as much compliment as I need or am comfortable receiving (which is lucky, because it is all I am going to get).  And on to the meat of it....what I need to work on.

In sitting in on classes and working with me in his acting class, his perception is that I am slightly Puritanical.  (Zip it, friends in Boston and New York!)  By that, he means that I have a perfectionist tendency (who me?) and an extremely strong, driven work ethic (who ME?!)   The quest "to be the best" has squashed my playful spirit and spark.  He suggests that I rediscover the play; what drives the art.  That I trust my inner creativity rather than the work.  

*For any of you that read the many, many versions of my grad school application essay, you know that this is PRECISELY why I wanted to go back to school in the first place.  So, yeah, I haven't achieved it in the first five weeks of classes, surprisingly enough.  (eye roll) *

He suggests that when I submit the official written report of our tutorial, that I find a SOFT way of wording, especially in the sections labeled 'action points' and 'goals', so that I don't steamroll the idea.  Yeah ok, my action point is to develop internal love and trust in myself.  Ok.  Got it.  Check.  And my goal is to allow the idea that what is in me is enough.  Done.  Next?

Actually, <giggle> it has been over a week and I still haven't turned the written report in.  Take THAT puritanical work ethic and suck it!

I then give him my perspective on what has been helpful and frustrating and wonderful and curious about the Boot Camp of the first four weeks.  We move on to discussion of the first part of my dissertation: a character study of any character in the Classical canon (Greek through Elizabethan/Jacobean playwrights).  I knew when I auditioned for school that I wanted to dig my teeth into Lady Macbeth, and I tell him so.  He hesitates.  Cocks his head.  He says he would rather me try a character that is more in line with the goals that we have talked about.  Instead of a driven, focused, direct, strong character...he would like to see me explore a soft, undriven, comic, 'slightly drippy' character.  Something along the lines of Celia in As You Like It.

Which threw me into a bit of a quandary.  Do I follow the passion and the spirit that led me to Lady Mac?  After all, what I'm trying to reignite here is that flame of passion.  But wait...did I come to school to ignore when someone with insight and quality and outside perspective wants to give me a direction in which to learn?  Did I choose Lady Mac because it is in my comfort zone?  Would I be better served by exploring what seems - at the surface - less exciting to me, in order to stretch and grow?  

So I spend the weekend reading plays and watching plays and listening to recordings of plays.  And it finally bubbles up:  Although my personal demeanor in class is focused and driven and direct....much of my career in the past ten years has been comic, slightly less intelligent, best friend sort of roles.  THAT is my real comfort zone.  I am at the end of one age range of characters and at the cusp of another.  I do not want to research a character that I have 2-5 years left to play - I want to sink my teeth into someone who is in the horizon of 10-15 years ahead.  I am fine with exploring the softer, more malleable sort of character as a way to stretch personally...but I want to do that in the frame of 'leading lady' or 'character' roles.  Someone I can play in my 40s or 50s.  So after much consideration, I choose Gertrude (Hamlet's mother).  

None of this really throws me too much.  It is the kind of challenge I like.

No.  What gets me falls dead in the middle of the tutorial.  And it took me the rest of the day of classes to digest it and realize that it really shook me.

"We want you to have a slightly more even keel to your perspective," he says.  "Not to let the bad days be so devastating, the good days not throw you so off balance.  We want you to have good and bad days, we just want you to be able to balance them a little better," he says, wincing slightly.

heart sink.

My professors think I'm emotionally unstable.  

I explain to him that if he thinks I'm a perfectionist NOW, he should've seen me a year ago!  That I've been trying to let go of the need to present the 'I'm fine.  Don't worry about me.  Everything's great.' face to the world.  That sometimes I have good days, sometimes I have bad...and I'm working on being ok with both - and allowing people to know that I'm not perfect...to share honestly what is going on behind the curtain.

He winces again, tilts his head and reiterates that he wants me to search for an even keel.

Damn.  This makes me want to cry.  (If that didn't just prove their point that I AM emotionally unstable!)  I am actively working on the primary goal of letting go, easing up, and generally letting down my perfectionist front - and my first step in that arena is met with a negative perception.  It doesn't make me want to let down my guard any more.  It makes me want to slam that wall back up and keep up the good front that I always had.  To keep a unruffled exterior - no matter what is churning underneath.  

I go home and immediately jump on Skype.  My boyfriend lovingly listens to me as I read all the notes I took from the session (yes, yes, I took notes.  WHAT?!? hehehe)  He says that he thinks the most important thing he hears from it is "playful spirit".  

And a lightbulb popped over my head.

Playful Spirit.

If I approach my classes with a playful spirit...it won't matter if I stink today or blow the exercise or have a breakthrough...it will all be in my stride.  I mean, seriously, how serious can I be about this?!  I know it is my art.  It is my way of expressing what is inside me to the world.  But it is acting school.  Just acting school. And simply talking to someone who really knows me - who has gotten close enough to know that playful side of me (because, yes, it is a more private side of me - no less valid or strong than the driven, focused side - just more private) - helped me put it all into perspective.

Guided in this direction, I found that when taking risks in class, it is much easier to fall flat on my face without beating myself up.  Not that it takes all of the highs and lows away.  Today, for instance, was a big first for me.  I was in the rehearsal rooms in the basement of The Globe Theatre - working on a Gesture Symposium that we are performing in this November.  ME!!  In The Globe!!  <sigh>  Just over a year ago, when I stepped off the airplane on my first trip to London, I went directly to The Globe to see a show.  The living connection to a rich theatrical history - it is such a thrilling place.  And my lovely boyfriend is coming to visit me for the weekend tomorrow!! Good days are still phenomenally good.  I just don't lose my footing when they happen.  

Contemplating my playful spirit the day of my tutorial

On the Up Side

I cried on my way home from class tonight.

I was so overwhelmed with how wonderful the day was.  How lucky I am to be HERE.  Learning along side of these amazingly gifted and dedicated people.  Under the tutelage of such an esteemed and invigorating group of professionals.  Me!

One of my classmates is the physical antithesis of me.  Where I am towering, she is pixie like.  Where I am pale, she is warmed by the sun.  But, oh, how I yearn to be just like her!!  Why?  She plays with abandon, with passion, with a life-or-death commitment.  Manuel Duque - one of my most influential teachers of this mutable craft - once said, "No one wants to play with someone who has no investment in the game.  You want to play with the person who has raised the stakes to pants-peeing excitement.  Where to win is to live with joy and to lose is to die of unhappiness."  And this is exactly what makes her so immensely watchable.  She plays each game to win.  No deferment to the men towering over a foot over her head.  No half-invested energy.  And it is the same kind of energy and commitment she brings to performance.  Her investment in the 'play' is to compete, to revel, to enjoy, to WIN!

She is one of the many vastly talented and inspiring classmates with bright, shiny ideas that I will be stealing (magpie like)....to build my own glittering nest.

Today we were introduced to our new movement teacher.  We talked neuroscience.  About how pathways in the brain fuse to form links when certain physical gestures are repeated.  How those patterns can become habitual ruts that we have to consciously step out of (like pulling your bike wheel from the tram track) in order to explore new patterns.  How the body is an interface: how you process and understand the world; and how the world processes and understands you.  How the mind (dreams, conscious thought, sensing, emotions etc) is housed in the brain (a physical part of your body) - and how the brain can be altered by the physical actions you take.  We talked about pain.  We talked about how the idea of 'no pain no gain' has created fear and limitations in our bodies.  How it has set up our bodies as a problem to be solved instead of a mystery to be discovered.  We talked about athletes....and how they sacrifice longevity for pushing themselves through pain in order to excel in a limited number of years of a career.  We talked about how we, as actors, want to have a longevity of career that requires that our bodies be conditioned, but not wrecked.  That in order to have a long working career, we must honor and explore our instrument.  We explored the idea that our bodies are capable of so much more than we usually explore - that we live in about 10% of our capabilities.  But instead of focusing on all the things we already have, but don't use...we always end up looking and wishing for what we DON'T have.  We talked about archetypes.  How useful they are in the storytelling of the world - and how we are likely to fall into the casting ranges of one archetype or another.  She encouraged us to "play the game well, but don't get caught by the game".  That is to say, we will all get typecast, but that doesn't mean it is our authentic self...or the only role we are able to play.  That through constant stretching, exploration and growth, we will be ready to spring at creative opportunities when they open up - or when we create them for ourselves.  And we talked about keeping the 'crazy bit' of our brains alive.  We are all professionals.  We are all logical.  We all have duties and obligations and work ethic and know how to follow the rules.  But that little crazy bit of the brain is what keeps dreaming - keeps the glow alive in your performance.

That glow is what I came to school to rekindle.

I had gotten so far away from my spirit. I had gotten so bogged down in the WORK that I had forgotten why I wanted to do it in the first place.  There was a flicker there, but I needed to fan it into a glow - something that could light my way.

At lunch, I realized that I unwittingly had a book in my backpack that was written by my new movement teacher, Lorna.  I had bought it as a supplement to my studies, not knowing that I would be studying directly under the author.  As my dad said, "She wrote the book."

During lunch, I downloaded the Jacques Lecoq book on my Kindle - so that I could read up on commedia before we started half-masks in our afternoon class.  Oh, what delight to be working on comedy and half-masks!  There is something extremely uninhibited about working with these creatures.  We spent the first half of class exploring physically: through undulations discovering what the movement, breath and voice could be of someone who walks through life leading with knees, pelvis, chest or head, and experimenting with low or high centers of gravity.  We then had a chance to play.  We took the mask in our hands for a short time in order to get to know it's physicality.  Each of the 13 masks were wildly different, but almost all had a unifying feature of duality.  One would have a droopy, sleepy face and eyes, but a bright, upturned nose.  One would have a scowling, furrowed brow, but kooky crossed eyes.  My classmates and I took turns rolling on the floor in laughter as these pathetic, desperate characters emerged.  My personal experience was quite powerful.  I very rarely allow myself the freedom to explore the truly ridiculous.  But behind the mask was a pure freedom to meet the mask where it required me to be.  Even if (and especially if) that life was absurd to the world.  I don't think I could have had more fun if I were a seven year old presented with glitter and ponies and stickers and bubblegum.

On to our next new class: period dance.  I'll be honest, after seeing a long, dull performance of 18th century choreographed dances not two weeks ago...I wasn't terribly excited about the prospect of the class.  I could not have been more off the mark.  This class is one of the few practical classes we have in our current course.  Many of our classes are built around creating strength and flexibility in our instrument or giving us new tools to put into our practice.  All of this is fantastic, but it takes a bit of digestion and processing in order to figure out IF each tool is right for us as individuals...and HOW to translate the tool into a useful way of working.  This dance class will give me a skill that is immediate currency in the working world.  When I walk out (hopefully with a certification in each of the 4 dances we will be learning) - I will be able to confidently approach a merengue on film or a jive on stage without flinching (and believe me...I flinch if someone asks if I can dance!)  "Jive?" you say? "Period Dance?"  Yes.  It is from a specific period.  And many classical plays are set in time periods that use this particular culture and dance.  We are also learning some more stately, formal 19th century dances.  We came out of class dripping with sweat and bubbling over with excitement.  Here is something I don't have to mull over and figure out.  It is exactly what it promises to be.  Tough and useful.  And taught by yet another professional with a mind-blowing resume - check here for more - but for a taster:  Paul choreographed the wand battle sequences for Harry Potter - developing the physical language for the use of wands in the films (as well as choreographing dance scenes for virtually every Jane Austen film to cross the BBC).  Not shabby.

Delicious day.

(And yes, I know I am the quintessential cliche theatre student on a roller coaster of emotion.  One week struggling to get one foot in front of another, bawling in frustration...the next week crying tears of joy for the amazing course I'm on.  I know.  I know.  I didn't say this blog would be pretty.  It is what it is:  Me.)

Mean Time

It was a rainy London day.  The kind of drizzly rain that creeps its way up the leg of your trousers, like a wick in oil.  Not cold.  Not warm.  There was an impending Tube (subway) strike and the ongoing weekend maintenance on the lines which causes the usual snarls and hiccups of transit.

Perfect day to go explore.

No, really.

One of my classmates lives in Greenwich, and was an incredibly generous and knowledgeable tour guide.  "So, King Henry VII, you know, King Henry VIII's dad? Well, he moved his family out of London because of the plague - and built this palace for the royal family."  The palace - which on Sunday was taken over by the filming of the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie - became a Royal Naval hospital for sailors, then the Royal Naval College.  I learned a massive amount of fabulous history and fun facts.




See that lovely stretch of green park in the foreground?  When they built the first subway line (the oldest line in England) - it was not allowed to cut across the royal park, so the train line stopped on the left hand side - everyone would disembark and take horses across the park - and reembark on the train line where it picked up on the other side of the palace!!

At the top of the hill is the observatory.  Commissioned in 1675, it has been a center for astronomy and navigation - and is best known as the prime meridian (0 Longitude).  The prime meridian was officially decided by international convention to be at the observatory in part because of its glorious history in time keeping and navigation.

We stopped for a cup of coffee and the skies cleared up while we mulled over the learning experience in general and a few assignments in specific.

When we headed back out, we stopped by to meet Douglas,  a friend of my classmate.  Douglas is currently the Assistant Musical Director of Les Mis (on the West End).  We were welcomed in and offered tea - and while we sipped, our host bubbled over with the new developments of the musical he is in the middle of writing: a dark comic musical - with film noir flair - based on Orpheus Descending.  A fabulously complex opening number was unveiled as he explained the layers of characters and levels of sound that would be joining into blended voices by the end of the number.  While he sat at his baby grand - playing and singing and swiveling on the bench to explain the next layer, I was deeply honored to get a peek behind the curtain of someone else's creative process.  'Here's where the church choir - in a vaguely Carmina Burana vocal attack are mirroring the cigarette girls and club owners of the Prohibition-era Chicago nightclub's lyrics - which are set to a jazzy beat.  Here's how the lyrics line up.  Here's how these disparate melodies actually create a complex harmony.'

At this point, he moved over to the soundboard and computer set-up - and pulled up some sound files that played the musical tracks to all the intersecting vocal parts as well as the accompaniment.  I got to read the lyrics of the lead female at the beginning and end of her journey to hell.  I was floored.  The piece is in the very early phases of the process, but I absolutely had a vision of seeing this on Broadway in the not-too-distant future, and thinking to myself, "I sat in the composer's living room in Greenwich, drinking tea, and watching this amazing piece of work start to come to life."

As artists, we are so incredibly wrapped up in our own process.  How we get from point A to point B.  And especially in school - we are intensely scrutinizing the creative process, and figuring out how and what works for each of us.  But there are very few times you get to see how the magic is made for any other art form.  A painter may allow you into his studio while he is in the middle of painting.  A musician might allow you to sit in on rehearsal.  Being an observer of the genesis, the core, the birthplace of any creative process is a rare gift.  It made my day.

Third Week Stretch

In case you're wondering what foot opening stretch I've been moaning about.  Imagine you've done yoga child's pose for 2 minutes with your toes tucked under, giving your feet a good stretch, then rolling up into this position.  Hands interlaced and arms overhead while fire breathing (quick 2 breaths in, one breath out) for another minute or two.  I know, I know...it doesn't look so painful.

Try it.  For the first ten seconds, you think, 'Hey, she's crazy.  This isn't so bad.'  Keep in it.  You'll understand why I loathe this particular 5 minutes out of my day more than any other.

That being said, I'm going to miss the daily voice and body work after this last week of the intensive is finished. It is going to be up to me at the gym and on my own to keep my vocal dexterity and physical stamina up.  Plus, it has been incredibly enriching to be struggling and growing with my fellow MAAC classmates.  I have been blessed with an extremely talented and committed group to journey through this learning process with me.  And although I'm sure we would all be quite sick of each other if this schedule continued - it has been a good jump start to the year.

That being said, it has not been easy.  I have been struggling with much of the approach so far.  I came to learn new techniques, to sharpen my skills and to get more in depth with my training.   My program has offered a trip to the hardware store of technique.  You don't need every tool at the store.  Even if you need lots of tools - you don't need EVERY tool.  You may need a hammer and a rubber mallet and a nail gun and a sledgehammer to do your job.  When you go to the store, they don't just have one of each of those...there are many choices.  You have to find the one that fits you.  How?  You pick it up, you judge the weight of it in your hand, you check what materials it is constructed out of,  you see if it is rated well, you decide if it is right for you.  I have a toolbox of skills.  Well supplied.  Some of those tools may be in need of replacing, some need to be sharpened, some will last me forever.  But the last three weeks has been lots of trying out of new tools that don't quite feel right.  And a few that I'll walk around the store with them in my basket while I decide whether they fit my life or not.  But there has been no moment of "Aha! Here's one that I'll buy!"  Which, I'll be honest, in the first three weeks in a course that I have given up a comfortable life to be a part of, and gone into debt to afford...is more than a little disconcerting.  I keep reminding myself daily to stay open and to try on whatever comes my way.  And each day, I've been mostly disappointed that what I'm trying on doesn't click for me.  Even if I understand intellectually the how and why behind the theory, most of them haven't had any real personal connection that I feel I can use in my career for years to come.

And yesterday, as if on cue, the heavens opened up.  The rain clouds moved aside.  Bright light shone down in rays on me.  We started working on script analysis with a new professor.  It was technique that I already was comfortable with - so it wasn't the discovery of something new - but there was a huge reassurance that at least some of our process here was going to be less of a personal struggle.   Some of it is going to be as comfortable and confident as pulling on your favorite pair of jeans.  I couldn't help getting excited.  It just felt SO good!

That being said, it was an interesting week for my work.  Because I had been struggling daily...not connecting to the exercises we were given....I had actually gotten to a point of ease about it.  Usually if faced with a struggle, I redouble my efforts.  I am highly competitive with myself, and I will not lose.  But that kind of effort in this environment only reinforces my desire to shut down when faced with the daily struggle.  And shutting down is the only real failure I could actually have.  So I let go.  I dropped the importance of connecting.  To pick back up the jeans metaphor....you have to get in the right mindframe to go jeans shopping.  You have to let go of the outcome of 'finding the perfect pair' today.  And no matter how frustrating it is to try on pair after pair after pair that don't work on you - you keep going back out there for more.  Your best friend came with you and found a pair on her second trip to the dressing room?  Try not to let that compound your frustration.  You'll either find a pair today or you won't.  And this mentality absolutely reflected in my work.  I was much happier to try the new processes that didn't work for me.  I was much more relaxed in the resulting success or failure.  I've got an entire year to explore.  There are going to be lots of ways of working that aren't useful for me.  If I look around, I am reminded that they aren't just teaching this course to ME.  I've got 17 classmates all on the same journey - all looking for their own set of tools.  Oh, that's right.  I'm NOT the center of the universe!  Thank goodness.

All this relaxation about my process was accompanied by a storm of nightmares.  It was as if my subconscious was battling with my conscious brain about the best approach.  I had actor's nightmares (which for those of you who aren't actors are much the same as the going-to-school-without-pants dreams you had as a kid), dreams about inviting a serial killer into my life to kill me while I slept (and realizing how frightening and stupid that decision was) and a dream where all ten of my fingers had been amputated.  Thanks, subconscious...glad to know that you object to the anxiety being taken out of my waking life.  Objection noted.  Now, shut the hell up!

And the adventure continues.

One last note, I was walking past the movie theatre on my way home this week, and overheard a snippet of conversation (imagine if you will, in your finest British accent) "Ben Affleck really is an excellent actor."  If that doesn't remind me to take it all with a grain of salt: not to get too worked up about my process, I don't know what will!