He'd come'n tell me everything's alright...

Upon announcing my chosen career and college, my parents started an attack. Their main premise was the impracticality of the acting profession. “What are you going to do after school?” and “How do you plan on supporting yourself?” were their basic questions. But it didn’t stop with them. My entire family joined in on the attack. I defended myself as best I could, giving examples of what can be done after college is finished and what actors do when they are between shows to sustain themselves, monetarily. My parents continued their persecution by constantly reminding me of how difficult it would be to get into a show, quoting statistics and the whole rigmarole. I firmly held my ground, never showing them the “white flag of battle” signaling I had been overtaken by their barrage of arguments.

I became acquainted with Frederick in college. And he became an inspiration to me.

Frederick was the son of a preacher. His father did not approve of theatre or actors. Frederick became friends with an actor named James after seeing him perform in Shakespeare’s Othello. Inspiration.

As a teenager of fifteen, one year after Othello, Frederick’s father allowed him to pay the part of Rollo in Sheridan’s Pizarro. Pizarro was about a Peruvian Inca leader who tried to defend his people from the invading Spaniards. Little did his father know that Frederick’s career was under way. He played Shakespearian during the day, and at night did clown roles. He also held a backstage job at the Chatham Theatre, to observe acting more closely.

Frederick’s father, a pastor of the Zion Chapel, being against theatre, sent Frederick to the University of Glasgow for an education. He didn’t stay long. Desiring an acting career he left the university.

Frederick’s friends persuaded him that his only chance for success lay in his immigrating to England. Frederick went across the Atlantic. After much difficulty, he got his first job in a London East End theatre.  His first European part was in The Revolt of Surinam at the Coburg Theatre. He was successful. From Coburg to London’s Sadler’s Wells, Frederick took all the acting opportunities he could.

Besides his realistic acting style and impassioned way he spoke Frederick also had a fine singing voice. His comedic skills could only top all of that. He was well able to move an audience to tears one night and laughter another. It was his style and versatility which won him a following among the patrons of the East End Theatres.

On April 10 it happened. Frederick made his debut at the Royal Theatre in London. His part was Othello. He was a smashing success.  In addition to Othello, Frederick added the parts of King Lear, Macbeth and Shylock to his repertoire. He also performed in Titus Andronicus.

Frederick began to tour the British Isles, playing their principal theatres.

After years of playing in England, he launched his first tour of Europe. In Dublin, Ireland Frederick played in Othello and was a smashing success. Call it the power of God, or fate or what you will, but a very famous British actor was at Frederick’s performance in Dublin. Fredrick was asked to play Othello to his Iago. The duo was a success and toured for two years. Audiences greeted him with acclaim and the papers showered him with praise where ever he went.

It’s audition season once again. And once again I go through what every actor goes through: deciding which audition to go to and what material to use to target a particular role. But for me it’s a little different than for some actors.

I was at one audition, waiting patiently in the holding room for my turn when I overheard two fellow performers discussing auditions...

     Guy: I saw Beautiful [a new Broadway show]. I loved it.

     Girl: The Carol King musical?

     Guy: Yeah.

     Girl: There are auditions coming up. Are there any dancers in it?

     Guy: Yeah but they’re all black.

     Girl: Did they do that on purpose?

I wish I could say this way of thinking is isolated. But it’s not. Every audition I go to I have to think not only about what my roles my talent can support but which roles have the possibility of being cast with an ethnic person. I mean we all, as performers, have our limitations and crosses to bare. However few can compare to the visage of one’s skin color.

My racial make-up being a hindrance to a theatre career was one argument I could never battle with my parents about. They knew and drilled it into me how much more difficult, even impossible pursuing Acting would be for me, a mixed race child.

And then I somehow came across Frederick.

Frederick was the subject of my senior thesis. The beginning of the blog is an excerpt from the thesis, edited down. A few pertinent facts were left out. Below is an excerpt with those facts intact:

Before the Civil war in 1863, it’s no uncommon fact that a big majority of the blacks who lived in the United States were slaves, personal property of their white masters. It was during this century, almost one hundred years of racial slavery, emotional turmoil and the succession of states from the Union, in which lived probably one of the greatest Negro Tragedians—Ira Frederick Aldridge.

In perspective, one must realize that the “Afro-American” was only first introduced to the American stage in 1769. A piece entitled The Paddock featured a West Indian slave, Mungo, “who played a profane clown of little authenticity-not a joyful, happy-go-lucky clown, but a nonsensical embecile without poise.” In 1786, Robinson Crusoe and Harlequin opened. These shows also associated the black with the same negative characteristics.

Aldridge was born to a free black family on July 24, 1807. Ira was the son of a straw vendor-preacher. His father did not approve of theatre or actors.

Fortunately for Ira, the first Negro drama group, the African Company, a semi-professional group which gave performances of Shakespeare and other classics, was nearby. Their performance site was located in a ramshackled building called “The African Grove,” which was located at the corner of “Bleeker and Mercer Streets in lower New York.” It was here that the first Negro Othello, James Hewlett, performed in 1821.

The audiences for “The Grove” were largely black. The “National Advocated” reported the management of The Grove “had graciously made a partition at the back of the house for the accommodation of whites.” In actuality, white hoodlums, a product of their times who came to laugh and jeer, forced the management to take action to protect their actors. It was these hoodlums that eventually forced the closing of “The Grove,” but not before it could inspire young Ira to become an actor. After viewing a performance of James Hewlett’s at “The Grove,” Ira Aldridge became friends with him

As a teenager of fifteen (1822), one year after Hewlett’s Othello, Ira’s father allowed him to pay the part of Rollo in Sheridan’s Pizarro. Pizarro was about a Peruvian Inca leader who tried to defend his people from the invading Spaniards. The show was produced privately with an all black amateur cast.

Ira Aldridge’s career was under way. He played Shakespearian leads at “The Grove” during the day, but at night “did clown roles on the uptown stage.” He also held a backstage job at the “white” Chatham Theatre, to observe acting more closely.

Ira’s father, a pastor of the black Zion Chapel, being against theatre, sent Ira to the University of Glasgow for an education. He did not stay long. Desiring an acting career Ira left the university.

Ira’s friends persuaded him that American prejudice against blacks was too great for him to overcome. Ira’s only chance for success lay in his immigrating to England. So Ira went across the Atlantic. There he found that same racial prejudice that he had left behind in America had swam the length of the ocean to meet him in England. After the “journey,” however, the prejudice seemed not to be so strong. After much difficulty, Ira Aldridge got his first job in a London East End theatre.  His first European part was in The Revolt of Surinam at the Coburg Theatre. He was successful. From Coburg to London’s Sadler’s Wells, Ira took all the acting opportunities he could.

Almost all of Ira Aldridge’s first roles cast him as a black struggling for freedom, either for himself or his people. Billed as “Mr. Keane, Tragedian of Colour,” Ira acted in The Slave, The Negroes Curse, The Death of Christophe, King of Hayti, and a comic-musical play entitled Padlock to add variety and to demonstrate versatility.”  Besides his “realistic acting style, freedom from stilted posturings and natural but impassioned way he spoke rather than declaimed,” Ira Aldridge also had a fine singing voice. His comedic skills could only top all of that. Ira was well able to move an audience to tears one night and laughter another, “to turn with ease from the Moor of Venice to a farce like The Paddock. It was Ira’s style and versatility which won him a following among the patrons of the East End Theatres, but prejudice was still too strong in London’s West End.

Ira settled in England and then became naturalized. He took a wife, an English woman named Margaret.

On April 10 1833 it happened. Ira Aldridge had his debut at the Royal Theatre in London. His part was Othello. He was a smashing success.  In addition to Othello, Aldridge added the parts of King Lear, Macbeth and Shylock to his repertoire, He also performed in Titus Andronicus. Aldridge managed to play these parts, because his make-up included white face.

At this time Ira began to tour the British Isles, playing their principal theatres, and dropping the name of “Keane”. He was then billed as “Ira Aldridge, the African Roscius,” after Quintus Roscius Gallus, a famous slave-actor in ancient Rome. “That’s how far back they (the public) had to go to find another black man who’d had such a sensational impact on theatre.”

After twenty-five years of playing in England, in 1852, he launched his first tour of Europe. Ira Aldridge could not escape racism. In Dublin, Ireland Aldridge was banned form the stage until he could talk the theatre manager into producing a limited engagement of Othello. Aldridge succeeded and again was a smashing success. Call it the power of God, or fate or what you will, but Edmund Kean, famed “white” British actor, was at Aldridge’s performance in Dublin. Aldridge was asked to play Othello to Kean’s Iago. The duo was a success and toured for two years.

“The African Roscius” continued to tour. He performed in English while local actors spoke their native tongue. What endeared him to the populace was the fact that he sometimes “interpolated into his performance folk songs in the language of whatever country he might be appearing.” Aldridge elicited a great response in Belgium, Germany, Austria and Switzerland, and later included Poland, Russia and Sweden to his list of conquerings. His wife Margaret died in 1858. It was during his Swedish tour when he met Swedish opera singer Countess Amanda Pauline Brandt and married her. This was exemplary of the elite circles Aldridge traveled in. His friend included Hans Christian Anderson, who, inspired by Aldridge, wrote The Mulatto, and Jenny Lind, the “Swedish Nightingale.” Aldridge was also an intimate friend of Alexandre Dumas, the half-black author of The three Musketeers.

My parents instilled in me a sense of judging a man by his deeds rather than by his skin. They’ve done an incredible job of raising a son.  I find it frustrating and maddening that 150 years later prejudice in theatre hasn’t changed much. Sure there are more opportunities for ethnics now then in Ira’s day. But it’s far from equitable. For every ten chorus boys in a Broadway show there is one contract for an ethnic male.

Once bitten by the acting bug no argument my parents could come up with would dissuade me from conquering my dreams. Ira was the same. Yet in the face of insurmountable odds for thirty years audience greeted Ira Aldridge with acclaim and the papers showed him with praise. In Moscow students unhitched Ira’s horses and physically pulled him, wagon and all, to his hotel. He was a member of several learned societies in Sweden. The King of Prussia awarded him with the “Order of Chevalier”; the Czar of Russia presented him with the “Cross of Leopold. He was knighted by the Royal House of Saxony. He then penned his name “Chevalier Ira Aldridge, Knight of Saxony.”

When slavery was abolished at the end of the Civil War, Aldridge began planning an American tour, “delighted at the fact of returning in triumph to the land of his birth.” Before the arrangements were completed, Ira took ill. He died on August 7^th, 1867 in Lodz, Poland.

Ira’s grave is still cared for today by the “Society of Polish Artists of Film and Theatre.” There is an “Ira Aldridge Society” in the United States, whose main goal is the “cultural cooperation of all colors and creeds.”

In England, visitors to Stratford-upon-Avon can see thirty-three seats in that theatre bearing bronze plates dedicated to the great actors in world drama. “One of these is inscribed simply: IRA ALDRIDGE.”

The title of my senoir thesis: “In search of a chair like his.”

In order to succeed one has to put aside other’s preconceived notions about the face of theatre and what that literal face looks like. So if you’re perceived to be fat or old or ethnic or short or any other thing that is seen as a liability in Show Business cast it aside. Audition for what your talent is right for, regardless of what physical limitations have been superimposed upon a piece. In doing so however be prepared for heartache, heart break and soul debilitating depression.

But do it anyway.

Seek out the people behind the tables who appreciate you for what your talents have to offer a production, rather than just being a warm body on stage. It will take time and perseverance.  You will be bucking the system, not to mention some major casting people. The payoff will come and it will be amazing. I know because it’s happened to me.  (More on that in another blog)

I found someone to aspire to, someone who faced the same obstacles that I do and worse, 150 years ago, and triumphed. I plan on succeeding just like Ira Frederick Aldridge did. I’m thankful for all I’ve learned and done thus far. And I’m ready for more.

Now it’s my turn to help and teach and lead. So I offer this to you...

Go out and find someone who has faced the same demons you face in Show Business, hell in Life, and triumphed. Aspire to conquer those demons just like he or she did, instead of being cursed by them. A Jewish female colleague of mine, Sarah, uses Fanny Brice as her muse. (If you don't know Fanny Brice google her) She sings Fanny's songs  and songs about her for auditions . She's even gone as far as to write a one woman show starring, you guessed it, herself. Incredible.

Sometimes my parents would tell me "Do as I say, not as I do." But we all know children learn best by example.

...The only one who could ever reach me was the son of a preacher man.

...running like an engine that’s just been freshly oiled.

It's the holiday season and with the holiday season comes holiday parties. Since I’m currently working as a cater waiter that means a lot of hours and a lot of money…okay not a lot of money but it’s far better than being unemployed.

I think just about everyone knows what a cater waiter is. For those who don’t, cater waiters are the people who work at parties, weddings and charity events. They take your coat, serve your food, serve your drinks and clean up after you’ve gone. Cater waiters are the people who work during a party so that no one else has to.

Doing this kind of work is a double edged sword. For every good thing about being a cater waiter there is a not so good thing. Most often the work itself is quite easy. However standing on your feet for 15 hours at a time is not. You have the luxury of making your own schedule. However you also have to deal with the periods where there isn’t much work.

There are two definitively great things about being a cater waiter. The first is the community of people. Practically everyone you work with is an artist in some way. I’ve met painters and sculptors, vocalists and instrumentalists and just about every other kind of performing and visual artist you can think of. The second is, even though I’m just “the help”, I get to go places and see things that aren’t available to me…yet.

Once I was setting up for a charity event. I was on napkin folding duty. Three of us sat around a table artistically folding dinner napkins for 600 people. While gossiping away I happened to look up. Coming down the aisle was a group of about 12 guys. All of them in their early 20’s. All of them non-descript and really quite bland in appearance. My first thought was oh god, they must be the entertainment. We’re in for it now.

At almost every catering event there is some sort of “entertainment”. It can range from a deejay, to a magician, to a band, to a string quartet, to a circus troupe. Sometimes this entertainment is sub-par. As a performer it can do a number on your head. You compare yourself and wonder how a trumpet player who consistently plays flat gets a performing gig while you struggle to get a callback. Apples and oranges maybe, but it still can be disheartening.

The young guys took to the stage area. They chatted a bit, set up microphones and then went to their assigned spots. This group of boys that were so unnoticeable and lacking in anything remotely distinctive began to sing. Their voices were glorious. I sat enrapt watching and listening to their sound check, as if they were angels announcing the coming of God. Every hair on my body stood on end. Tears fell from my eyes, literally tears, while folding napkins for 600 people, at a catering gig.

At another party for about 120 people there was equally impressive entertainment. During our staff meeting of what would be happening that evening we, the caterers, were told that it was a sit down dinner with a choice of entrée and a few extra courses. If you’ve even been a cater waiter or worked in a catering hall you know what a headache that could turn out to be. On top of all of that there would be a cocktail reception before hand and a dessert reception afterwards.

During the dessert reception we were to breakdown the entire room and set it up as a lounge and dance floor. The guests would then come back into the space and enjoy the entertainment for the evening, Journey. The mega-hit band Journey was scheduled to play for this company’s party. Journey!

The evening went as planned with the cocktail reception, dinner and dessert reception. We set up the lounge and with the exception of cleaning up afterwards our work for the evening was finished. We could relax. It’s a rare event were cater waiters actually get to enjoy the entertainment. So most of my colleagues decided to go up to a balcony area to watch the show. I decided to stay in the backstage area. Lots of people have seen Journey concerts, but not many have seen one from the wings of the stage. We all waited with baited breath for the band to ascend.

Journey was amazing. They sang all their greatest hits as well as some of their lesson known tunes. They sounded just like their albums and they were singing live. Journey was singing live right in front of me. It was incredible.

With so much money making work going on, catering, it’s been a challenge to do potential money making work, auditions.

Auditions can pop up at any time. If it’s an Equity Principal Audition (EPA) or an Equity Chorus Call (ECC) the postings for these have to be announced no later than a week before the actual audition takes place. If you submit yourself for a show, most often an audition can be scheduled around your previous conflicts, for example catering. If you’re signed with an agent or even freelancing with an agency (working with them without benefit of signed contract) auditions can literally come up within a few hours.

As a cater waiter, the companies that you work for want to know your availability as far into the future as possible. A cater waiter can be scheduled to work a party anywhere from about 2 months to right up until 2 hours before the party starts. Although that’s usually for emergency replacements. Right now I have gigs scheduled for late February.

You as an actor have to have the foresight of an Oracle. It literally comes down to predicting when you think auditions will come up. And the auditioning just doesn’t happen by itself.  There’s a whole lot of work to be done before you step in front of the people behind the table. On top of your third eye sight, it takes some expert planning and time management.

Imagine you’re an actor who makes money outside of theatre as a cater waiter. You’ve been on your feet catering for 10 hours, which is the average length of one of my catering shifts. You finally get home at 1am. You wake up at 5:00am to go stand in line outside in all kinds of weather. You wait for three hours to be able to pick your audition time. Even though the audition runs from 9:30 until 5:30pm, your audition must take place between 9:30am and 2pm. You have to be dressed in a tuxedo and at your next catering gig at 3:30. It’s the holiday season so you’ve been on this type of schedule for a few weeks now. When do you take care of all the preparation of auditioning like warming up or learning material or making sure your audition outfit is clean? How do you make time to make your audition perfect?

While watching Journey perform live from the backstage area, someone pointed out that the lead singer was using a teleprompter. Being a theatre performer and having to be completely memorized for shows I couldn’t believe it. I had to see it for my own eyes.

I walked over to where a tech guy was looking at a computer screen. I peaked around him and indeed saw that the lyrics were streaming on a monitor. To me this was unfathomable. Not as unfathomable as the day I discovered that the people in movie musicals weren’t wearing tap shoes during tap numbers but it was high on the list of “oh my god I always thought…”

Because of my previous vantage point, the lights and all the movement, I could never really see who was singing the lead on the songs. Behind the teleprompter there was a different view. I raised my eyes up from the screen and I looked out onto the stage. I saw the guy who was rocking out. I turned to one of my colleagues and said “Since when does Journey have a metro-sexual Asian dude as a lead singer?” My colleague gave me the scoop on how the band found the replacement for their lead singer.
 

After folding 600 napkins, serving dinner and dessert it was time for the charity event’s entertainment. “Ladies and gentlemen please welcome to the stage…”

Well that certainly explained a lot. The “non-descript and really quite bland in appearance” group of guys who’s music moved me to tears during their sound check was actually Yale University’s Whiffenpoofs. They are the pinnacle of perfection in male a cappella groups. Dressed in their white tie and tails they took to the stage. Again their voices stunned and silenced those who were listening. Again it was as if the gates of heaven opened and allowed this glorious sound to float down on angel’s wings. And then it happened. His voice cracked.

I can only surmise that the lead singer pushed a bit too hard on the top notes of the song. It was barely perceptible, easy to miss. The singer kept going of course not even registering anything was amiss. When the same phrase came around again so did the crack. The only reason I knew it was there was because it wasn’t there during the sound check. I’m sure no one hearing the concert for the first time even noticed it.

Back before I was catering I had a day job where I could pick and choose my schedule. I’d put in my schedule request a week beforehand. Whenever there was an audition announced I would simply ask for the day before and the day of off. I could make up any lost hours and money another time. Many of my peers laughed at my obsessive compulsive scheduling.  They couldn’t understand why I did this.

I had a system. It allowed me to take as much time as I needed to prepare, reserving the day before for any final tweaks to my material, including a last minute lesson if needed. It allowed me to make sure I had the audition outfit I wanted to wear picked out, cleaned and pressed. I had time to assemble pictures and resumes. There was ample time to warm up. Most importantly I had time to rest and clear my mind and focus on theatre. In short I had time to make sure everything was perfect.

 

Before seeing the little Asian dude, I was convinced I was listening to the original Journey with Steve Perry singing the lead. Steve Perry doesn’t sing with Journey anymore. Yet their sound was virtually the same and everyone, including myself, enjoyed it just as much.

Who cares about a slight crack? Even at their worst the Whiffenpoofs are better than the vast majority of groups at their absolute best. A tiny vocal imperfection doesn’t derail them from their domination of male a cappella groups or their world tour.

In watching these two extraordinary performances, while I was catering, I realized something…again. We do live theatre. Being alive is complicated and messy and for most of us not perfect. Why do we expect our Art to be anything else?

I love to always be prepared with appropriate audition material. I love to always wear something to the audition that I feel great in and makes me look my best. I love to sleep nine hours so I can function at my peak.  The time I feel my voice is soaring is about 4pm. That’s when I love to audition. However right now my time is all but my own.  I no longer have the luxury of my obsessive compulsive audition rituals. I mentally and physically prepare for auditions as best I can, when I can. And that’s all I can ask of myself.

Neither Journey nor the Whiffenpoofs were “perfect”. However they were perfect to the people seeing and hearing them at that time. So don’t wait for the perfect opportunity or the perfect song or the perfect outfit or the perfect amount of rest. Just go to auditions. You as an actor can never know what the people behind the table are looking for. Nor can you predict what talent they’ll see. In the end just showing up can make you...

Practically perfect in every way.

Wouldn't you like to know what's going on in my mind...

 

Seba’s wild and crazy and loves to do just about anything fun and safe. We met while doing Miss Saigon in Germany and then Joseph... We became very close friends. We call each other “schwes”, which is derived from a German word for sibling.

Seba’s been working none stop ever since we met. Right now he’s on a cruise ship as a singer. The ship's changed its route from Scandanavian ports to New York City. This provided an amazing opportunity to reconnect with him outside of the cyber world. It's been 15 years since we were in the same city.

On the other side of the country my bestie Thurston is working in a regional theatre. He’s doing three major book musicals in rep for 6 months. He got the job when he came to NYC for a 9 month audition stint to judge where his career was and if he was still theatrically viable.

I guess he found the answer to that question.

As an actor your job is to constantly audition, network, and attend classes and lessons, read plays and see new shows. It's the only way to stay viable in the industry. This is a full time job. Being hired is a perk of that job and all the hard work that has been put into “studying your craft”. On top of that you have a ”money gig” which allows you to do all of it (or most of it depending on theatre ticket prices) while you’re not performing.

Actors essentially have 2 full time jobs. When both are done properly there is little time for much else. Many parts of “normalacy” are missed out on, like weekends and nights free, a majority of holidays and a vast number of familial celebrations. The grind of the city can, well, grind you down. It can whittle away your sanity and your well-being until you’re doing nothing but work work work, be it based in theatre, that “money gig” or both. All the while Life keeps on rolling.

There is a little more leeway while pursuing your plans of success in the Arts. For example you can choose whether to take unpaid time off from your “money gig” for your cousin’s wedding or finish stock-piling next month’s rent and credit card payments. Making too many of the former decision and you’re out in the cold calling that cousin for a bus ticket home. Too many of the latter could leave you bitter, exhausted and unfit for human company.

I tried to spend as much time with Seba as I could. We hit the bars and dinners and shows. I crammed him in-between all the other commitments of my Actor Life: class, lessons, work.  Seba’s a bit worn out from all the travel and performing. Besides that he doesn't really have a place to call home. He’s a highly social being. It takes a huge toll him when he’s not around the ones he loves. We talked a lot about the challenge of finding someone with whom to share this crazy actor’s life. His last serious boyfriend left him basically because they weren’t always physically in the same location.

I had a great time hanging out with Seba. So much fun. But I was worn out. Trying to do everything at once is exhausting. I needed to take a break. I remembered that Thurston was on the other side of the country. I'd never been to the state he was working in. I auditioned for a show at the theatre once. I've even had several friends work there. I wanted to see it for myself. So I decided to treat myself to a trip.

I had to make some choices and sacrifices in order to go:

So I took a week off from work. My job doesn’t pay for vacation time.

I took a week off from auditions. I missed one for a show that has a character that would suit me quite well.

And I took a week off from classes, lessons, the stress of being a working actor in New York City, and all my responsibilities, real and imagined.

The week was amazing. I spent most of the time laughing, being silly and openly flirting with anything that walked by.  I saw all three of Thurston’s shows, which were all really great. I ran into old colleagues and made new friends. I attended a Halloween dance concert and even asked someone out on a date. I stepped so far out of my comfort zone that I had no idea who the hell I was.

And you know what? You should do the same.

Step back. Step out of the picture. Step away from your pursuits and out of your comfort zone. Take a break from moving toward your goals and give yourself a moment to breathe and relax. It helps maintain a health relationship between you and what you love. It keeps you sane and happy and stops your head from exploding like in that horror movie "Scanners". And believe me when I say your state of being is very evident during an audition. In fact it enters the audition room about 5 seconds before you do. 

In the end it comes down to this:

Theatre will always be here. You may have missed an audition or two, but there are ways to circumvent that (more on that in another blog).

You can put in a few extra hours here and there to make up for the "lost" money when you get back.

And most importantly, maybe, just maybe you’ll gain a new clarity and perspective on the very things you stepped away from...

If you don't beleive me on any of the above believe me on this: moving forward to achieve your goals and dreams is work.  And you know the saying: All work and no play...

So every now and then go out and have some good old fahsioned “fun, laughs, good times…”

 

 

Ice Ice Baby...

 

 

Summer is over and winter is on its way. It’s time to get back to business. This summer in so many ways made me think of my first professional job.

My first job away from home was doing summer stock, getting paid $65 a week. There were three companies.  We rotated between three theatres: two in Pennsylvania and one in Massachusetts. One had housing in a hotel above a disco. We were too young to get into the club but luckily every night our beds would thump along with the bass line. Another had a bona fide log cabin for a cast house. All I remember about the third is it was in the mountains. The Red company, the part of the ocmpany I was in, was doing 3 shows, Sugar Babies, Dreamgirls and a book musical which I don’t remember.

A lot of things happened during the course of that summer. The company lost the rights to Dreamgirls. They had to find a replacement show and quick. They decided to go with They’re Playing Our Song, which was mounted earlier in their spring season. Unfortunately there was no part in the show for me. I was a dancer and hired as such. They’re Playing Our Song was considered a singer show.

I was working on my voice though. I had been taking voice classes with the Artistic Director. So Instead of letting me sit twiddling my thumbs for $65, he sent me off to join the tapper company. They were the Blue company. They were doing 42^nd Street, My One and Only and a third show which I don’t remember.

I joined them in rehearsals for My One and Only. I was one of the “New Rhythm Boys”, my first singing part. I loved it. I loved the show. It was so much fun and the cast was great. I’ve actually done several productions of My One and Only since.

My stint in this My One and Only was short lived. We were doing one week stock and soon the time to rotate theatres came around. My original company, the Red company, met me in the mountains. I joined them again to perform Sugar Babies.

What a great summer.

This past summer I was involved with 3 shows albeit on the creative teams.

During the auditions for the first show, we were having some difficulties finding an actress for one of the supporting roles. All the women were talented in their own right, but for whatever reason none of them were quite hitting the mark on what this particular character needed.

In callbacks we, the people behind the table, worked with each actress to try and pull out the distinctive quirkiness and caring of the character. We each tried using our normal vocabulary and descriptiveness. Nothing worked. We then went the intellectual route, providing the actresses with a character analysis. Surely we thought at least one of them would respond to that line. But no luck.

We tried to explain what we were looking for in a plethora of ways. We’d work through each angle of approach with each actress. Yet the essence of the character in question didn’t quite materialize.

This went on all afternoon. I was so frustrated, not with the actresses but with my inability to summon forth the character from within them. At a loss for words, which is rare for me, I tried to explain to yet another contender for the role exactly what was wanted. I finally said “This character is like...” and while searching for the words I made some sort of non-descript sound between an “ah”, a “blah” and a “wow”.

I felt like an incompetent idiot. I was sure this woman would walk out the door cursing my yet unborn children for screwing up her callback, telling everyone outside to run and hide from the lunatic behind the table.

She nailed it.

For whatever reason that non-descript sound resonated with her. It instantly gave her all the information she needed for the character. . She took that “shorthand” and converted it into exactly what we were looking for in relationship to the character and the show. The two of us had discovered a means of communicating that was quick and concise. I could give her a direction in under 5 seconds.

 

Needless to say she got the job.

We all know talent plays a relatively small part in getting a job in theatre. If a contract eluded you, perhaps it’s because you spoke a different “language” from the creative team. The audition was conducted in French and you were auditioning in Spanish. These two languages are similar and can on some levels communicate with each other. However the translations are rough and slow. The people behind the tables are looking for quick accurate translators. They want their own pure ideas to come from the stage to the audience via the actor.

It’s for this reason the same actors tend to get hired by the same creatives. The actors speak the particular language of those people behind the table. Together, they and the actors are able to conjure the world of the play easily, thus the show goes up quickly. Without a common language the entire process can be debilitating to the show itself and also to the people involved in creating the show.

Dancers take class from choreographers. Singers take class from musical directors. Actors take class from directors and casting directors. It’s to network and to get acquainted to how these people work, to learn their language. When an audition rolls around where that teacher/mentor is actually behind the table, the performers from their classes can produce the desired effect more quickly and more accurately. These actors have a higher probability of getting hired. Why?  Because if an actor can do exactly what is being asked, quickly and easily, it makes the people behind the table appear competent, knowledgeable and worth their salaries.

Back during my first summer stock gig, a guy in the My One and Only company had a family emergency and had to break his contract. The director and choreographer for the Blue company asked for me to come back. I was one of many in the chorus of the Red company and wouldn’t be missed. The Artistic Director thought it was a good idea to send me packing once again to the Blue company.

I was whisked away to the mountains, again. I stepped off of the van and went right into rehearsals for the Blue company’s production of 42^nd Street. I had 4 hours to learn the entire show and then perform it that night. Before this I had only known about the movie of 42^nd Street, which I shamefully admit to this day I still haven’t seen. I have seen the stage show several times since though.

I wish I could say that I was absolutely brilliant and letter perfect in my performance. Those kind of things only occur in the movies. I spent most of the show watching and following the other people in the cast. It’s almost impossible to know what you’re doing if you don’t know what scene or song is coming next. I don’t think anyone in the audience was any the wiser. They were oblivious to a real life “Peggy Sawyer” moment happening on stage...even if it was only in the chorus.

By the end of all this bouncing around, extra rehearsals and learning 2 extra shows I was making $75 a week. Now I could afford to add spaghetti sauce to my Rahman noodles and take a trip the ice cream shop down the street once a week, but only on pay day.

Ah memories!

During rehearsals for the first show of the 2013 summer season one of the dancer’s had a death in his family. He had to leave rehearsals to go be with them. When he came back he had to play catch up with everything we had accomplished.

Unfortunately during the run of the show his Grandmother also suffered some sort of health emergency. Apparently she went into cardiac arrest and was revived. During the process the paramedics inadvertently crack one of her ribs. The dancer told me what had happened and that he may have to go back to his family. The cynical side of me took over.

The dancer was a friend of the choreographer’s and he was quite a handful. He was consistently late. He never truly learned his lines or his blocking, even before his first absence. When he was given a note there was always an excuse and a discussion. And in my opinion his dancing was nothing beyond “okay”. During this leg of the production we had 6 shows. I predicted that he would only do two of them before leaving again.

Unfortunately the dancer’s grandmother never recovered from the incident. This dancer now had to return home to be with his family as they took her off of life support…he only did two shows in the run. We had one show and then a break before another leg of the production. We had only 2 chorus boys out of three. So I called my friend Teagan.

Teagan is a great guy and really quite talented. We had met during a production of this same show a year ago. We were both in the cast. He was one of the three chorus boys.

Teagan is wildly busy doing any number of things: working, rehearsing, going to circus school and at the time he and his girlfriend had to pack because they were moving into a new place. I initially had thought against asking him to be a replacement since he was so busy. I was in a serious bind and I figured the worse thing he could say was “no” and I would be none the worse off.

He said yes and we went right into working.

Teagan had four hours to learn the show. No, not learn the show, RE-learn the show, which is infinitely harder. We had completely new blocking, choreography, costuming and staging. So remembering anything of the past production was definitely a hindrance.

With having only so much time we were forced to make major adjustments. In the opening number there were three couples. I decided that it could be accomplished with only two couples, thus easing the burden of what Teagan had to learn. Unfortunately this didn’t sit well with his dance partner, who also had to be cut.

She had trouble understanding why she couldn’t be in the number without a male counterpart. She was convinced that she could merely adjust the choreography at certain points and that all the creative team had to do was rearrange the formations. All of which were true. However the rehearsal was for Teagan to learn a track. We could only allow time to teach him the show and adjust the old cast for the two numbers he didn’t learn. It literally took 30 seconds to make one adjustment to the opening number and it was finished. Only 3 hours, 59 minutes and 30 seconds to go.

More cuts and adjustments were made and we headed over the theatre to perform with 45 minutes before half hour call.

Teagan did a wonderful job. He handled all the choreography and blocking. He had personality. He was witty and charming. Whatever went wrong on stage Teagan improvised his way out of it and no one in the audience was the wiser. He was a true professional.

The second show I was working on recently was for a program to support child literacy in public schools. I cast and directed the show. But even before we fully got underway there were some issues. I take full responsibility.

I hired a guy who had submitted for every project that I have been on the creative team for this past year and a half. Norman’s only actually shown up to two of the auditions and this literacy program was one of them. The other audition he showed up to he didn’t have the skill set required. At this children’s theatre one he was quite good. I decided to go against my gut feeling and hire him.

We did a meet and greet on a Sunday, the first day of rehearsal. Contracts were signed and turned in, except for Norman’s. All the materials were handed out and all parts assigned. We even took the time to do a read through. We ended that first official day around four in afternoon.

From the audition notice right up through the first rehearsal, the Artistic Director was completely upfront about the kind of performances these were and they type of material that was to be done. It was a TYA (Theatre for Young Audiences) type contract touring the tri-state area. We started off with no secrets or surprises, until the next morning.

We were scheduled to begin rehearsals in earnest Monday morning at 10am. When I woke up I commenced with my usual morning ritual of looking at the auditions sites, making submissions and checking my emails. At 7:45am I received a “lovely” surprise from Norman:

Good morning Evan,

After much thought and deliberation, I have decided to not continue with [children’s literacy  program]. 

I'm so sorry to drop this on you now that rehearsals have started.  I understand that this will be a major inconvenience to you and the cast.

Please know that it's nothing personal.  I was very much looking forward to working with you and the rest of the cast.  I just realized how similar this program is to what I did in *** with ***. And although I loved doing that tour, I also remember just how much energy and commitment it required, and at this point, I don't feel I can give all that again. 

Best of luck with the production. And again, my sincere apologies for any inconvenience and hassle this may cause you.

Take care,

Norman

After my first professional summer had finished I got a lovely surprise. The theatre asked me to stay on and do their fall and winter seasons, which included 42^nd Street. Except this time the shows were sit down productions and in 42^nd Street I was cast as “Andy Lee”. What an amazing opportunity. I had to say yes. And the money was good…now I would be making $110 a week!

A lot of the same people from the Blue company, with whom I had done that quickie production of 42nd Street during the summer, had also been asked. Little did I know that some of my future best friends in the whole world would join me on that stage and my entire life would change .

I continued with my voice lessons with the Artistic Director, who was really the first person in my professional life who actually told me I could sing and encouraged me to pursue it. Thank God (but more on that in another blog). Everything was great. I was now making $95 dollars a week. The company held $15 a week and gave it to all to you at the end of your contract as a finishing bonus. I was living high on the hog.

The cast was great. The show was great. I had a wonderful time. There was one little annoyance however.

The girl playing Peggy Sawyer had an interesting habit, quirk, mannerism. I don’t know what to call it. At any rate, she didn’t look at anyone who was on stage with her. She never ever looked at any of her scene partners, of which I was one. She looked over, around and down but never at. A few weeks of this coupled with the fact that she was a raging…diva...got really annoying.

I’m not sure who was the instigator but all of Peggy Sawyer’s scene partners gathered in one place. We decided that during the next show if she avoided looking at her first scene partner, we’d all follow suit and give her a taste of her own medicine.

By the way we were all really young. Okay immature.

Anyway…

Peggy ignored her first partner and the signal was given. We all performed our normal show, but with one subtle difference; no one ever looked at Peggy Sawyer, not one person, not even Julian Marsh, or Dorothy Brock or Billy Lawlor. She was completely frustrated by the time intermission came along. She was the “star”, why wasn’t any one paying any attention to her? As the final curtain came down after the bows she burst into tears and ran off the stage.

It came to light that Peggy Sawyer was so insecure with her own performance that she couldn’t look at anyone for fear of forgetting her lines, her blocking, everything. She had decided to let the entire production suffer instead of asking for help. Had she come to anyone of us before she was pegged as a “diva”, we would have been glad to assist her in any way we could. Again we were young and naive and full of idealism. There were no covert agendas, we only cared about the good of the show and having a good time. We certainly weren’t there for the money.

In watching Teagan perform in the show that night after four hours of rehearsal, the entire production was elevated to a new height. Of course everyone had the nervousness of being on stage and not knowing if everything was going to happen the way it was supposed to happen. I mean learning a show in four hours is no easy feat, trust me I know. But something else happened as well, something wonderful.

The people in the show had to actually start listening to each other and communicating with each other and relying on each other just to get through the show in one coherent piece. The actors had to raise themselves up to Teagan’s level of energy, personality and commitment. Finally, the show was a show.

Unfortunately all that went out the window as soon as Teagan left to star in a different Fringe show and my cast went on to the second leg of their production.

The woman I had hired because we communicated so easily together turned out to be a dud. She would continually get the same notes from me nad the choreographer. Occasionally for one rehearsal or performance the notes were corrected. Mostly they weren't. In fact I gave her the exact same notes from day one of rehearsal through the final performances.

This actress did her show one way and one way only. It didn’t matter what I as the director thought or wanted, or what the choreographer thought or wanted or how the show had morphed throughout the rehearsal process. No matter what anyone did around her or said to her on stage, she performed the same show every night. I would watch the show and notice the difference in expression and intonation the other actors were finding in their characters. Those brilliant little nuances told me these people were creating living breathing human beings on stage, while maintaining the integrity of the show.

No matter what those live human beings input as datum, the robot actress spewed forth the same responses with the same cadences and same inflections.

Every action you choose as an actor, or don’t choose as the case may be, has an effect on the other people involved in the production. You as an actor are never alone. There are always other people involved. One cannot have a show with only one person. Even solo shows have a scene partner: the audience.

Robot Actress was doing a disservice to the show, to her fellow actors and to herself by not allowing her character to breath, grow or evolve into a real living being. She often wondered why, outside of her friends and family, the audience didn’t appreciate her performance. It was never real or even based in the reality of what was happening in the show.

After receiving the email from Norman I sent him the following response:

Norman,

I realize this has nothing to do with me personally, and everything to do with you. It’s really not an inconvenience, as finding another actor is as simple as making a call.

Best of luck.

The reality is simple. There are tens of thousands of “actors” in the world. Finding a warm body is easy. But it takes time and money to replace people. Costing a company time and money is one of the fastest ways to not get rehired. Norman cost the children’s theatre company both time and money. He wasted my time which is worth more than money to me.

The people behind the table want to work with Actors who don’t cost them money. That’s why sometimes a potential candidate “has to fit the costume”...because it's already made. 

The people behind the table want to work with Actors who have the time, the energy and the willingness to give of their talent. If an actor isn’t willing, then that actor should avoid going to the audition or even submitting for the project.

The people behind the table want to hire people who can make adjustments to their performances to suit the creative team’s desires, while still being true to the character and intentions of the play. At some point the production will be “frozen”, meaning no more unnecessary changes will occur, but until that time all actors should be in a phase of exploration, discovery and breathing life into their characters.

The people behind the table want to know that an actor is going to be paying attention on stage. Someone going through the motions of saying the same line the same way for eternity, no matter what happens on stage, can make the whole production seem stale, flat and lifeless.

The people behind the table want talented actors who are capable of communication on every possible level: between the artistic team, the backstage team, the other actors and the audience.

None of these three "performers", Norman, Robot Actress, or Peggy Sawyer, would I ever choose to work with again. Why? See the above list.

 

At my first professional job away from home they loved me. So they kept asking me to do other productions and seasons for them. Why? See the above list.

Both summers, then and now, had another production. Sugar Babies was officially my very first professional show that summer long ago. This summer had a backer’s audition for a new upcoming Off-Broadway musical. You may have noticed that these two shows only had a passing mention at best. It’s because these two shows had uneventful backstage and onstage stories. The actors associated with these productions knew what was expected from them. And they delivered. In both instances all the actors did what every actor should be doing when rehearsing and performing. Outside of talent and look they (including Teagan) will continue to work.
 

Why? Well if you think about it, the difference between these two sets of actors, the ones I would love to work with again and the others, is the essence of the Art of Acting itself:

Stop. Collaborate and Listen.

...I'll boost you up yours!

In the golden age of movies a studio executive would take someone right off the street and make him or her a star. The “actor” merely had to sign on the dotted line. This meant working exclusively with that studio.

The actor’s entire world would change. Every aspect of his or her life from that point forward was laid out by the studio. The starlet to be would have to enroll in all manner of classes from elocution, to acting, to singing and dancing (back then everyone sang and danced). The starlet’s wardrobe was given to him or her and haircuts dictated. At times the restructuring of the face or body was demanded. Even the people this actor associated with, dated, and married was arranged.

The studio took care of its investment by letting the actor star in 6 or 7 movies. All the actor had to do was to go to school to learn all the studio’s rules and then make a movie. The actors who were exceptionally compliant and or box office gold were loaned out to other studios. Actors who didn’t learn or follow the rules were punished. They were relegated to featured roles, constant background work or even no work at all. In essence the studio played the part of the parent. They told the actor what to do, when and how to do it, and with whom to do it.

Everyone did it this way because that was the way it was done. Unfortunately the abuse and lack of inner personal truth spelled the demise figuratively or literally for more than a few professionals.

I was having a discussion with Lisa, a good friend of mine who’s a Drama Desk Award nominated actress. We were talking about actors and life in the theatre. We concluded that actors can be akin to toddlers.

Toddlers are small people. They’re tiny personalities who aren’t quite autonomous. They have the capabilities of speech, movement and on some level cognitive reasoning. Their parents teach them everything: what to do, how to speak, where to go and how to get there, how to dress, and how to behave. If you look at the performing arts, basically little has changed since the golden age of movies. Instead of studios, theatre actors have playwrights, composers, directors, choreographers, musical directors, set designers and costumers as collective parents.

Think about it...

 

The playwright dictates an actor’s words. In the world of the play, he teaches an actor how to speak.

 

The choreographer instructs an actor on how he’ll move inside the newly created world, teaching the actor how to walk.

 

A composer gives license to the actor to emotionally express himself through music. The musical director will restrain an actor from going beyond the confines of what that music will allow...they teach acceptable societal norms.

 

Set designers tell the actor where to live. He gives the actor what’s needed for protection from the elements, or not, as the playwright has dictated.

 

Costumers provide the actor a wardrobe. They help define who the character is by dressing the actor appropriately.

 

And the director maps out the actor’s objectives on stage. He gives the actors the boundaries of how to go about getting what the character wants and how he’ll interact with other characters while living in the on stage world.

 

Like toddlers who want to explore the world around them, actors want to explore the world of the play and auditions. They want to develop relationships and define this new world for themselves. When toddlers are getting ready to do a new activity, they look to their parents for permission. The expression on their parents’ faces speaks volumes as to what would happen if the child did the activity in question. An “oh how cute look” meant carte blanche to proceed. If the “death stare” was thrown the child knew proceeding would have some negative reactions. It’s then that the child decides if the task at hand is worth the risk.

Many actors, like toddlers, seek permission from the people behind the table to take a risk and immerse themselves in the world of the show. How? By asking the perennial question: What are they looking for?

Of course they’re looking for talent. But what else?

Well...

They’re looking for a name.

 

They’re looking for credits.

 

They’re looking for a voice type.

 

They’re looking for a body type.

 

They’re looking for a hair or skin color.

 

They’re looking for someone who speaks the same theatrical language as they do. (More on this in another blog).

 

They’re looking for pleasant personalities.

 

They’re looking for compatibility, both between the actor and themselves and the other potential actors.

 

They’re looking for someone who fits their vision of the play.

 

...or just someone who fits the costume.

 

An actor who hits all the important points for the production team will get hired.

What happens to those who miss the major points? The ones who don’t have celebrity? Or credits? Or the body type de jour? They try to figure out any of the other one thousand and one things that may be on the list of criteria. Then they try to give it to the people behind the table. And guess what happens...

Nothing.

You can change different aspects of yourself, like the color of your hair, for a role. Do it for every audition you attend and soon you won’t have any hair at all. You can choose to wear different outfits to auditions but that doesn’t change your actual clothing size. As for celebrity, either you got it or you aint. There is no in-between. And so on. The more an actor tries to become “what they’re looking for” the more likely he or she won’t be. From the vantage point of behind the table, no matter what an actor “puts on”, their inner truth can be seen for miles.

There is one thing the people behind the table are always looking for though. It’s one of the things they desire most of all. It’s also something they don’t often get: They want you. They want that inner truth. The people behind the table want you in the right here and the right now as you are. They want you to be present. Like vampires they crave a fully realized living breathing adult human being, one who is capable of making informed decisions with a willingness to make wonderful mistakes.

They don’t want anything less. And they certainly don’t want you trying to give them what it is you think they want.

Preparation for this type of presence starts at least a block away from the audition site.

Clear your head of everything that is happening in your life: the commute, the argument you had with your boyfriend about cereal, the fact that the dry cleaners lost your favorite pair of pants. Everything. That stuff only matters if you happen to be a method actor and are performing a piece where the character in question has gone through those very same things. Outside of that LET IT ALL GO. It serves you no purpose but distraction. It takes you out of being present in the audition room.

Most importantly clear any thoughts of what you think the people behind the table are looking for.

Chances are the audition is taking place in one of the many rehearsal studios around the city. As you entire the audition building, it’s time for full on game face. Anyone you come in contact with could very well be one of the people behind the table at the audition. Or they could be behind another table next month or next year.

You walk into an elevator to get to an audition space and notice a man wearing a puce green sweater. Going up you talk to a friend about not wanting to be there and how this audition is a waste of your time because no one who matters will be behind the table, etc etc etc. You know what I’m talking about. You’ve done it. Hell I’ve done it.

At the audition your name is finally called. You walk into the room and behind the table is a man in a puce green sweater. It’s the same man from the elevator! Unless you’re Audra McDonald toting your five Tony awards around auditioning for the lead in the newest Broadway musical, you are not getting hired. No matter how brilliant your audition is, that job is going to someone else. We are all expendable and there is always someone else who fits the costume. There is always someone who didn’t bad talk the audition, or the accompanist, or the reader or the people behind the table. There is always someone who wants to be there. Make sure it’s you.

The best rule of thumb is to smile, be polite and friendly to everyone, even the doorman and the monitors of the audition. There are several regional theatres and theatre companies that use their own monitors. These monitors are on the lookout for the back stage bad seed. They report holding room shenanigans to the people behind the table. An actor throwing attitude in the waiting room isn’t getting hired, unless his or her name is going above the show title.

This isn’t to say leave your personality a block away out on the street. Show the people behind the table, the monitors and everyone in the building the part of your personality your grandma likes. Leave the histrionics for the monologue and the aria.

Everyone has his or her own ritual for preparation while waiting on line to go into the audition room. The only thing to note is that one man’s prep could be another man’s disturbance. Be respectful. The new audition rooms at Actors Equity take this into account. There are now safety zones, hallways for the one actor who is on deck (next in line to audition).

The next crucial moment is when you’re about to walk into the actual audition room.

Let the door completely close before you enter. This is your time. No matter how rushed the person is before you, no matter how far behind the audition is, no matter how late you are for your catering job, breathe. Finish doing whatever you need to do in order to get your head in the right frame of mind to do your best work. Smile. Put your hand on the knob, turn and make an entrance...

Upon entering, try to make eye contact with the people behind the table. That is to say look at the people as you walk in. Chances are they will attempt to acknowledge you. Great. If they don’t, keep it moving. There are very few times you should shake hands with the people in the room. If they offer first then it’s a must. If you have a working relationship with them, then you’ll know whether to extend a hand or not. I’ve entered audition rooms and gotten hugged...not something you should ever initiate or expect. But it did give me the warm fuzzies.

For a straight play stand and pleasantly wait for their full attention. At this point you have to be able to join the people behind the table on how they’re running their audition. Perhaps they’ll ask you what piece you’re doing. Perhaps they’ll wait for you to start. Or even still, if sides are involved, they may introduce you to the reader, or ask if there are any questions about the piece you’ll be reading from. Roll with it until it’s time to perform.

For a musical go directly to the piano. Say hello to the pianist, but don’t force the issue of pleasantries. Chances are he or she is fried from sight reading all day. Let them know what you’re singing and set the tempo. Return to the center of the room. Again at this point join in on how the people behind the table are running things. They may ask you what you’re singing. They may not. Just be prepared.

In both instances, all of this is done calmly, with focus and energy.

Present your finished product.

Then breathe. Give the people behind the table a moment to absorb what was just done. More importantly give them a moment to ask you to do something else, make adjustments or to call you back. At this point be prepared to have a conversation. Perhaps something on your resume’s caught their eye, like a colleague’s name. Perhaps they want more information. Or perhaps they want to see if you're a fully realized living breathing adult human being capable of conversation. When they’ve made their decision about whether to purchase your product they’ll let you know, most often with a “Thanks for coming in today”.

Return their thanks with thanks and a smile. Gather your things and calmly but energetically exit the room. Hold on to that smile and energy, but don’t force it. Outside gather all of your things and exit the space entirely. Avoid commenting on how you think you did and or asking others how they did. These opinions just don’t matter. The only thing that does matter in the end is whether the people behind the table will be offering you a job either for this show or another down the line. Something you have no control over or say in.

If the people behind the table want to work with you, that’s great. You’ve done your job in its entirety. You’ve showcased your product. If they don’t like you, or what you do, screw ‘em. You’ve done your job in its entirety. You’ve showcased your product. Either way let it go. Remember it’s all subjective based on the people behind the table’s opinions and life experiences. An actor cannot compensate or adjust for that anymore than he or she can know all the qualities needed to land the job.

The people behind the table don’t want you to ask permission. They don’t want to be asked (literally or figuratively) “what are you looking for”, in terms of character, style, or presentation or any of it. They don’t want to hold your hand through the process. They want you to come in and do your best. They want you to live and breathe in the moment. The people behind the table want you to have already made an informed decision, taken a position on the material at hand, and present it to them as such. They want to see what choices you make, how the material comes across through your interpretation, how you infuse it with your personality. As an actor seeking work that’s all you can do. Knowing and accepting this is the difference between being a toddler asking “mother may I” and being an adult offering your services in collaboration on a project.

The world of the play is created. The toddlers are introduced into the microcosm and taught their role in that world. The hope is that one day (opening night) the children (the actors) will grow up and live on their own in that world (the play/musical) using all the lessons (rehearsals) they’ve been taught by their parents (the creative team).

In Show Business there are levels of maturity. We as performers progress from adult to toddler to adult again with each and every project...or we get locked into one phase of the process stunting our work potential. It’s a constant cycle of growing up.

Growing up means not asking permission to take a risk. Growing up means not being concerned with “what are they looking for”. Growing up means living and breathing and existing as a fully realized human being flaws and all. But most importantly growing up means realizing that no matter where you are on your journey of growth, whether you’re a toddler, adult or a ‘tween, you will always be someone’s child. There will always be someone with a lesson for you to learn and a world for you to explore.

Growing up as a professional means being true to youself and having that self show up at auditions positive, prepared and ready for the possibility of work. That’s all the people behind the table really want. So give it to them. That's how you'll get work. After all...

...when you’re good to mama, mama’s good to you.