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. 

An Excused Absence

There are a lot of reasons why I haven't posted since March (ouch). I doubt any of those reasons make it very excusable, but if one does, it is that I have actually been doing stuff. "Stuff" being:

• An audition for the Shakespeare Theatre Co. of DC in NYC
• Two days on the set of the film CBGB in Savannah, GA as an extra
• I moved to Chicago. NBD.

As eager as I am to get straight to details about living in Chicago as an actor (which I have noticed are seriously lacking on the internet), there is some good stuff in the other two experiences as well. Also, I've only been here a month, so maybe marketing my extensive wisdom about the Chicago actor's lifestyle is a little premature anyway. Therefore, my next posts will bring us up-to-date. 

It can be really easy to let something like this slip out of curriculum since the internet has such an easy time creating a sense of isolation. There's no real way to know if anyone is even reading this. Yes, I can look at the stats and even see what people searched for that led them here. But something tells me that "hot girls armpits" guy didn't stick around to actually read anything. A lot of the reason I came back, even just for this quick post, is that the internet has the redeeming factor of having venues for people, friends, to just drop me a line and say, "Hey, I enjoy your blog posts." Which they (you) do.

What I'm saying is that you are responsible for that underarm fetishist's continued disappointment.

No, I'm kidding. What I'm saying is thank you. I enjoy hearing from you. I enjoy being read. I'll try to be better about upkeep, knowing that yes, someone is reading this.

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.

Valuables

On Friday, I returned from a 12-day trip to England--a trip primarily made to watch my brother's graduation from Durham University. Of course, that was only one part of one day, so I did plenty of other things, including drinking lots of pints and eating lots of pub food.

I had lots of beautiful things to say to you about England. Words like 'brooding', and thoughts about how it is most certainly Shakespeare's country, even today. But I can't share the sentiments I had then with you now because I don't have them anymore.

We left Wales last Wednesday morning en route to London, with stops planned at Avebury to see the standing stone circle and at Salisbury to see a more famous bunch of rocks, Stonehenge. After a little navigational mayhem, we made it to the first destination. It was cold and misting heavily. While my hair had spoken to me that morning and said "rockabilly", it was quickly veering toward "tribble." (And I'm sorry if you got that joke without looking it up.) The weather made a perfect atmosphere for walking amongst the ancient circle.

 

It also seemed appropriate for what greeted us when we returned to our rental car. 

I remained relatively calm as I realized that my mother and I had been victimized. I was even pretty chill when I saw that my backpack was the only thing that was taken, but when I remembered that my acting journal was in my bag, I lost it.

I remember the day I bought my journal. My movement teacher, Martin, had given my class a lecture about how we should respect our journals and our reflections on our craft, how the spiral-bound notebooks and stapled notebook paper we'd been turning in wasn't good enough. He told us that when he moved to the east coast from California, it was the box of his journals that he was most concerned about. I went to my university bookstore and walked up to the sketchbooks. I knew immediately that it was mine. It was the last one, bright red on a black shelf, with big, empty pages, and a strong elastic around it to keep it closed. I bought it and stapled the pages that I had been turning in to Martin on the first page. The next time I turned my journal in to him, he wrote in it something along the lines of, "I love this book. It shows the importance of what's inside."

When I last had my journal, it had stickers inside the front cover, and the cover was peeling back on the edge where I'd bumped it somewhere. The elastic was loose and pointless. It was close to full. It is a classic case of not knowing what you have until it's gone. You'd better believe I realized what I lost when I walked up and down the road by the car park, literally sobbing, hoping to see it discarded in the ditch. The rockabilly makeup went to hell too. I felt like a fool for not protecting it, for thinking no one would take a bag full of things without any monetary value, for not listening to the signs that the world had given me. 

I cried and cried. I still cry a little. The police took notes and said they'd look for my "bits" but I know that somewhere in Avebury or nearby, the penmarks are melting away and the pages are giving way to pulp in the cold English rain. No police officer, no matter how charming, realizes that one of my "bits" was actually a huge piece of my understanding of myself and my craft. I feel as though I've gone backwards.

This post is partly mourning--literal mourning. It is also partly me asking you to think about what is valuable to you. I saw a dozen signs that day instructing me to not leave valuables in the car. I took that to mean my iPod and my wallet, which were with me, thinking no one would take a backpack with two American Theatre magazines, an extra pair of underwear, and a copy of the French Lieutenant's Woman. I would trade money for my journal any day.

We never got to Stonehenge. Pinched for time after taping a trash bag over the empty window and speaking to the police, we went straight to London. I had planned to copy all those beautiful words about Shakespeare's "brooding" country out of my journal. That's what I meant when I said I don't have them anymore. I only have fragments. I am re-defining the word "valuables" for myself. And maybe--hopefully--for some of you too.

Mottos for 2012

I hope all of my readers are having a wonderful holiday season (that includes you, person who found me by searching 'girls underarms and boobs'. Welcome to my acting blog.) and are feeling good about what's been accomplished in the past year. (Take a look at my post on creating an annual review.) For myself, I'm feeling frustrated when I look back at the past year. When I look at where I am now compared to where I was late December, 2010, I can't find anything that's really changed. There have been some great events, like working at Perry-Mansfield and doing my first professional show, but it still feels as though I haven't grown much. I'm still living with my mom. I feel stuck and incredibly unproductive, as much as I talk big about efficiency here. I should be taking advantage of this free time and living situation, but the reality is I haven't even opened the past two issues of American Theatre.

I'm not sure why I feel uninspired, but continuing to live at home is not helping. So by this time next year, I hope to look back on this post and see how much has changed this time around. Aside from the goals I set in my Year In Review post, I've also been coming upon themes/mottos for next year in my journaling (which I've been much better about--not perfect, mind you, but better).

JUST START--This was the first motto that came up when I was initially battling lack of motivation. It worked decently well, to the point that it became not about starting, but sticking with it in my second theme. At the moment, however, I may need to revisit this one.
COMMIT--If I start something, it often has a hard time transitioning into a regime. For example, it's been a week since I worked out. I need to work on the repetition essential to forming habits.
TAKE TIME TO ADVENTURE--I have friends with fabulous international jobs and, to be perfectly honest, I'm pretty jealous of them. I feel as though I am tied down by my career, that if I don't slave away at it constantly and currently, my time will expire. Au contraire. In many of the workshops and talk-backs I had the pleasure of attending in college, the speakers emphasized the idea that we have time. Not only that, but I believe that the best way to understand the lives we portray is to experience the life we are given.
DO ONE THING EVERY MONTH TO FEEL FABULOUS--I'm ready to leave the self-conscious, only moderately successful, poorly-dressed actor that I was in college behind me when I move. I want to give Chicago a version of me that looks and feels confident without compromising whatever eccentricities that are inherently me. My favorite blue cardigan with the hole in it will have to go. Every month, I will do one thing to make me feel a little less dorky and a little more polished.

Have a happy new year everyone! Hydrate today and stay safe tonight. Tomorrow, we (stop having Buffy the Vampire Slayer marathons with my cat and Netflix and) start anew.

Audition #8: Barter Theatre

In my last post, I said I was going to try and post twice a week. Not really sure when I planned on starting that, but clearly it wasn't before now. Oops. But hey, there's always a new week ahead to try again.

A week ago, I went up to Abingdon, VA to take part in the Barter Theatre's general auditions as well as their auditions for the Barter Players, a troupe of 6 actors who have graduated college or have equivalent training. Here's how the day went...

Date: December 11, 2011
Acting audition: 11:00
Dance audition: 12:15
Player interview: 6:30
Auditioned For: AD Richard Rose and others
Pieces:Vianne from the novel Chocolat by Joann Harris
Bess from Hunting and Gathering by Brooke Berman
Attire: Dark purple jacket layered with yellow cardigan and gray tank
Denim trousers
Brown oxfords

The auditions for Barter were held at their alternative space, Barter Stage II, which is a lovely building with a cafe that is open before and after performances and looks across the street at the main stage. When I arrived, I was greeted by Casting Assistant Kevin Dmytryka, who had me fill out some forms and return them with my three copies of my headshot and resume. Then I milled about the cafe area with the other waiting actors. If any of my dear readers audition at Barter next year, I want to give you a heads-up: There is no place to warm up. The cafe is right outside the theatre itself, so do your vocal warm-ups before you arrive!

The folks at Barter are very organized and will take good care of you. They announce a whole set of auditioners and will have two people on deck while one is auditioning. They are quick to smile and make the whole process as painless as possible.

A tangent: A week or so before I went to this audition, I talked on the phone to my good friend Richard McKenzie, who is one of those actors that you've seen or heard plenty of times before but can just never quite place him.

Richard McKenzie as Fred Bunker in All In The Family

Dick is a fabulous storyteller, so when I told him I was auditioning for the Barter, a theatre he has worked at, he was off to the races. He said when he auditioned, his number was 13. He was waiting offstage, watching number 12 do an intense monologue from The Master Builder and she ran off into the wings and into Dick's arms, crying and shaking. He said, "I thought, if she's this scared, then I'm outta here!" He left the building, walked across the alley and was going to leave before the stage manager caught him: "Are you number 13? Get in here, they're waiting for you!" So he went and auditioned and was hired. "If I had made it to my car, I never would have been an actor." (If you go to the Barter and look directly above the door into the box office, you'll see Dick's rather cynical-looking head shot.)

When my name was up, I was the very first of the set and was a little caught off-guard, but marched into the space (which is a very intimate thrust stage) while the stage manager announced my name and number... Number 13. I couldn't help but smile, thinking of Dick... and also that I didn't have to face number 12 running into my arms.

I tried to keep the pace up with Vianne, which resulted in me feeling like I wasn't thinking at all. Of course, this may be beneficial for me. I'm notorious for chewing things up and mulling them over too much before getting them out of my mouth, but when I take the direction of just picking up the pace, I don't "feel" anything (us actors always wanting to be sentimental). I am completely unable to judge whether my performance benefits from quicker speech and reduced (or quickened?) thought. All that is to say, I really don't know how well Vianne went. I do know that I kind of settled into things, including my breath, for Bess. Her monologue felt much more present with clearer tactical shifts and the last line got a laugh (internal squeak of joy). I feel fairly confident overall with the acting auditions.

Barter Stage II. Phenomenal cosmic powers! Itty bitty living space.

 When you register for the auditions, you are given the option of attending the dance call, which is encouraged. As someone who has two left feet, I say do the dance call. I actually had a ton of fun. You will have a chance to change and warm up. The combination they teach everyone is not advanced and they take time to help you with rough spots and give you alternatives if you are unable to do certain choreography. They teach the combination to the group as a whole, then they will select some people to stay to learn more advanced choreography while the rest go into another room to work on what they've learned and help each other. Once everyone has had time to review, they pull auditioners in 4 or 5 at a time to perform the audition. Smile a lot. If you mess up, do it big. And do only what you can do. I had a blast.

My mom and I spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying Abingdon, making fun of how fancy the Martha Washington Inn is, and poking around out in the boonies. Then I napped a little before my last appointment: the Barter Player interview with Katy Brown, Artistic Director of the Players and Associate Director. She meets with everyone all together first to tell candidates the following:

• This is not for everyone.
• This might not be for you.
• You will work your toosh off.
• It is a 15 month contract.
• There is very little time off.
• This might not be for you (again) and if you decide not to have an interview, we will not hold it against you and you will still be considered for other roles.

Challenge: Accepted 

But really, it is a helluva long commitment and she is right. That sort of thing isn't for everyone. But I see myself in a state of transition, headed toward moving to Chicago, a direction that could be changed. I am in a position where I could take on 15 months of working my toosh off. So I had an interview. She is very pleasant and straight-forward. She mostly asked me about my resume, but she did ask what I am specifically working on with my acting right now and the dreaded "Do you sing at all?" I almost got through the day without having to sing, but alas, she got a nice little rendition of Happy Birthday. She told me they would be in touch with candidates in February and March for another interview and that was pretty much it, I thanked her and said I had to get home and feed my farm animals, which started some chitchat about milking (her sister also has goats!). I like to find out a little bit about the person asking all the questions.

Then I headed home to some hungry ponies.

I had a fantastic day in Abingdon, as long as it was. I feel confident about my work and I enjoyed meeting a few new people in the time in between auditions and interviews. I find that an organization is reflected in the people that keep it running and the people that it attracts and everyone that I ran into at the Barter--whether they were teaching a dance combination or announcing auditioners or auditioning themselves--were warm and welcoming. It seems like a lovely, nurturing place to be. Even if they never call me, I will definitely be back to see some more shows!