Audition #10: Shakespeare Theatre Co. Fellowship

Before I really get into this, I want to say that there was an audition #9, which was for Ensemble Stage Co. in Blowing Rock, NC. I worked with this company a year ago on a production called Going To See the Elephant, which you can read about here. It was an audition I didn't even need to do. They know my work there and I wasn't even sure if I would be in the area for their season. I went because I wanted to be there with them. The feedback I was given by Gary is something I keep on my own little shelf to save for the days when I hate everything about acting, of which he reminded me that there would be plenty. So, yeah, I did a couple of pieces in a auditorium back in March or so, but that's not really what I took away from it and sometimes, after sharing everything as an actor, there are little things that you like to tuck away just for you. The ninth audition is one of those things.

Auditioning for the Shakespeare Theatre Company was similar in the sense that what I took away from the experience was not the audition itself. I traveled to New York and visited friends, saw the city, and went to a Broadway show. I remember all of that much more than the five minutes "in the room."

I think I wore a purple blazer and gray pants.
I think I did well with all my problem words with my dialect.
I think I joked excessively about how I brought too many head shots.

Maybe this says something about the memorability of my audition from the other side of the table. But you know what I do remember?

Having margaritas with Aurora after my audition at 11 am.
Going to Peter and the Starcatcher with Mike and Jenny.
Listening to a couple of NY policemen tell each other stories about threatening people with their guns.
Sitting on Aurora's roof with her and Martha Frances.
Unintentional hot yoga at Yoga To The People in a room without air conditioning.
Getting home and setting a date with my boyfriend to move to Chicago.

The trip inspired me and reminded me of what excites me and the plans that had somehow fallen out of practice up until that point. Here's what I wrote in my journal on the day of the audition.

June 19, 2012

Today was the much-anticipated audition day for the Shakespeare Theatre Co. of DC. I have been fretting over it for at least a month. I did Isabella from Measure for Measure and Hypatia from Misalliance. Although I've been nervous for weeks about this, a few days ago, all my nerves suddenly disappeared and I felt unusually confident (which, in turn, weirded me out). I'm not sure what clicked or why. I know and knew then that my pieces weren't and aren't perfect. For whatever reason, I just wasn't worried about it. I've always wondered if there was a point when I would just get used to auditioning. Maybe this is it? Or maybe I was able to direct my focus to the trip instead. Either way, I am pleased with my audition this morning. When I was done, he said it was a "very good audition" and he was pleased to have met me. That is worth being pleased about, even if I didn't get a callback. I got seen. I'm in New York. I'm reconnecting with Aurora and Martha Frances. Every time I make a trip like this and see people from my artistic journey, I re-realize just how important (and wonderful!) it is to nurture those relationships. Not just so I can have a place to crash in NYC, but for professional reasons and it's just so fulfilling to have friends that I can connect with on an artistic basis. And Aurora is down with post-audition margaritas at 11 am. F***ing awesome.

Being in the city is also really hitting home just how ready I am to move and to live this life. I'm ready to be busy and live in a place where there are things going on in general and for me as an actor. It is a vibrant place to be. 

What Baby Goats Can Teach Actors

It is the things we are most passionate about that make us want to bang our head against a wall.

I have lived on a farm all my life and, believe you me, it's the kind of work that makes you question why you are even doing it in the first place. It's hard. There's a lot of disappointment, like when some rodents get to your root vegetable crops or an opossum gets in the chicken lot and cleans house or when you bury the horse you've had since you were eight. And most jobs are chronic. No matter how many times you shovel, the horses still poop.

But we keep farming, out of the belief that it's crucial to who we are or the world around us. Or out of pure stubbornness. Or because we get those moments we live for, like after a hard afternoon of shoveling, my sweet horse Loretta rests her chin on my shoulder. Or when you open the barn door and are met with this...

Nothing is more perfect or wonderful to me as a farm girl than a healthy newborn baby goat. Within an hour of their birth, they can stand and feed themselves. Within days, they are jumping from objects twice their height. They have fantastically cute little noses. Honestly, they make me make tiny, high pitched noises. They make it worth all the fence repairs and tackling their mothers and aunties when they prey upon the garden.

Baby goats are the moments as an actor when you are reminded of why you do what you do. When you move an audience member in ways even they never expected. When you nail that performance. When you score that role. When your mentors tell you that they're proud of you. Those are baby goats. Treasure them. Soon they will grow up and start tearing down fences and eating arugula of their own.

Inspired by "Fearlessness"

I've been working on a bunch of applications lately, hoping to find an internship for my relocation to Chicago or further training opportunities. I've been calling it my "Application Bonanza." One of them required a one-page statement on something that inspires me. I wasn't really sure where I was going when I started writing this, but it ended up being an introspective piece that speaks on an idea that I, along with many actors, covet. Here it is.

In art and in life, I am inspired by fearlessness. Or, I should say, what is perceived as fearlessness, because I believe the truth of that concept lies in the willingness to face a fear, no matter how overwhelming it is. Every day as artists, we make a choice about how far out on the ledge we put ourselves and the composure we keep while there. In my eyes, fearlessness is a combination of these two elements as well as the confidence necessary to do it over and over again. I envy the actors that I hear described as 'fearless', knowing that my work in the past has been described as 'fearful'. I can't imagine that any human is completely devoid of trepidation when attempting to truthfully bare the character's emotions and desires within themselves and sometimes failing, so I have been observing myself and others for the key to being perceived as without fear, not only as an actor but also in everyday life.

I think of Josephine Baker, who was revolutionary because of her style of dancing and because of the fact that she was a black woman in the 1920's who was revered all over the world. Not only that, she became a major figure of the French resistance during World War II. In a time when her culture was still expected to keep their heads down, she was carrying resistance documents across boarders with what I'm sure was a fabulous and alluring air, but I can only imagine the heart-pounding paranoia she must have felt. She also integrated Carnegie Hall and was bisexual, all the while she had a pet cheetah named Chiquita. So much for keeping her head down. I'm inspired by her strong convictions, by her poise while keeping them, by her determination to see them through. In a word, I am inspired by her fearlessness.

I think of Eve Ensler, who was a theatre artist living in New York who wrote The Vagina Monologues, not for her own benefit, but to give a voice to women who are otherwise unheard. In doing so, she made herself face her own past and also opened a dialog about something that our culture—and many others—simply don't talk about. She talked about vaginas in public and she talked about them in first person, as if they were her own, which takes immense confidence. In doing so, she has put a spotlight on vaginas and violence against women, a spotlight which shines all over the world now. She continues to stare down her fears as she travels to countries and talks to women who have endured what most Americans can't imagine. Then she brings it home and describes it, even when it is not something the world wants to hear. I imagine how many times she must have thought about not doing the first production of The Vagina Monologues. (She even wrote “When I first read these monologues, my most pressing concern was being able to get the words out of my terrified mouth.”) I imagine her unease at revealing her own past and her own insecurities. And yet she went further out onto the ledge and with each new publication, she continues to push the envelope with confidence that betrays her own fear that she has entrusted to her followers.

I can think of many others, but my page is almost full. With them, as with Josephine Baker and Eve Ensler, I admire their ability to see through the fear they are met with with a confidence that fools boarder patrol and audiences alike. I aspire to that level of fearlessness—the combination of bravery and confidence—that makes great people and great actors. I work on it every day, when I keep myself from worrying about a flub in rehearsal or by refusing to wait by the phone after an audition, or by blatantly admitting to you, a stranger, what goes through my head when I hear someone call another actor 'fearless': envy, admiration, and determination.