Vulnerable Ramblings

I was just reading to my husband from a book titled "The God Who Weeps" by Fiona and Terryl Givens. This is our second time reading it- we loved it so much and were bummed out when it came to an end the first time around, so we had to start again (plus, it is some pretty deep stuff). In the book, the Givens (an extremely classy LDS couple- I think they are British?)  portray the image of God as a kind, loving, empathetic being whose situation as God of the universe puts him in a position of extreme vulnerability. I can't come close to describing the idea as eloquently as the authors do, you will have to read the book yourself. I highly recommend it to anyone who is interested to explore the characteristics of a loving God, LDS or otherwise.  

The main point that I take from their profound idea of a vulnerable God is the great amount of risk He places Himself in for getting hurt. Because He granted us free will, He has to watch us get ourselves into all kinds of disastrous messes that for a parent has got to be incredibly painful. But for me, the idea of a vulnerable God makes Him much more accessible and worship-able, rather than a white-bearded, fire and brimstone judge whose commandments I had a better keep or else. This God I can deal with- one who is willing to open Himself up to pain and suffering because He loves me.  I never thought of it from this particular angle. 

I bring up this topic of vulnerability because I have been thinking about all of the ways we make ourselves vulnerable as artists. And to me, God is the ultimate artist and creator, and as such probably knows a thing or two about putting oneself out there.  If someone as powerful and all-seeing as God employs this characteristic, I wonder what it could do for me in my itty-bitty life as an artist.  My favorite actors and artists are the ones who open themselves up the most when they work. (Shirley MacLaine, kids.)  And it is probably one of the hardest things of all to do, shedding all of the protective stuff we put on to get through this life as unscathed as we can. 

 The thing that surprised me most when I went back to the U of U to study acting (besides the astounding increase in the usage of the F word since I was last in school)  was the emphasis my professors placed on becoming vulnerable as an actor. I was hoping to be taught techniques to help me feel LESS vulnerable, more sure of myself onstage. Not so. The walls we put up in our everyday lives to protect ourselves from hurt hinder us as artists.  I think I can count on one hand the times in class or on stage during school I was able to let my guard down enough to expose what was really inside. It hard. But those were of course the best moments of them all. And the ones where I learned the most.  And oftentimes, the ones where I used the most F words. 

How to become more vulnerable…. do I even want that?  When I look back on the the few times I achieved it in school, I remember it being amazing and scary at the same time. But also, surprisingly safe and healing.I think I will ask the man upstairs for some pointers. Don't worry, I will watch my language. 

   

Nerves of Still

In my native Salt Lake City ( and most of the state, for that matter) it is fairly common for those with a strong regional dialect to pronoun words like 'deal', 'meal', or 'steel' with an 'ih' sound. As in “Wow, they were having a great dill going on down at Smith’s, ” or “that was such a delicious mill, I’m stuffed”.  There are varying degrees of this accent, and sometimes it is strong enough to where I can’t understand what the person is saying if it is thick enough. (It’s almost always a woman with short, spiky, highlighted hair.)  Perhaps it’s because I am an actor or have always been interested in speech, but when we were younger, my friends and I would jokingly adopt this accent, among other Utah-isms (my sister says oreeenge instead of orange, its kind of the best).  Using the accent is a habit I still carry with me today.

 A few days ago I wrote about gaining a thick skin, where I am slowly winning the battle of dealing with rejection and losing my hypersensitivity to it.  My next quest is to find a way to not let my out of control and opposite-of-still nerves take over and consume me.

I do not know the source of nervousness (aka stage fright). I don’t know if it helps to know, but I think it would help to know what to do about it.  I know many performers will say to use the fear, change the nerves to excitement, etc.  But I don’t know if they have the kind of nerves that I do. I have never barfed because of them, but I have come close a few times. I remember hyperventilating before it was my turn to sing in a class in college, which I thought was normal until my friend got kind of freaked out, seeing me writhing around gasping for air. Isn’t that how everyone behaves before they sing? Turns out, no.

Of my own free will, it will be my turn to sing 16 bars of a show tune in a few hours. I have been nervous the past week to the point of a low-level flu, which is good in some ways because I can’t eat as much.  I also used the nerves this week to practice harder, which I guess is also a good thing. But I would rather sing for the joy and fun of it rather than fearing for my life. It’s irrational, and it's painful.  But, maybe that is not real life, and maybe the fear will never go away, and maybe I just have to learn to dill with it. 

Pachyderm

I have an audition coming up that is causing me a particularly large amount of dread, more so than usual,  on account of it being for a Musical. Nowhere in the history of the performance world is there a more epic and traumatic circumstance than the Musical Theater Audition. Each aspect of the audition is daunting in its own individual way, and combine them all…needless to say I set time aside the next day for a nice long nap. Sing pretty for us, then learn this complicated dance combo, and once you're good and sweaty, let's follow it up with a cold read.

Maybe I won't go.

It has been a few months since my last musical audition. So I am little rusty. But thanks to this wonderful dry spell I have been basking in, I have actually noticed that for the first time in my life I am starting to develop a beautiful, luscious, THICK skin. It really is lovely.  And its not a checking-out kind of numbness to protect myself from pain, I honestly think I am finally getting to the point where it doesn't affect me as deeply or for as long when I don't get a job. So I have this new thing going for me.

But somehow today, the double poison of comparison and competition over this audition has somehow started to seep in, soaking through my new thick skin and settling in the pit of my stomach. I wish I could express the extent to which these things cannot enter into my system, or else they instantly take up residence, eating away at any trust and faith I have in my talents and abilities until I feel as small as a flaxseed ( I just ate some earlier, and they are really tiny. I guess chia seeds are littler. But you get the idea.)

In my 'umble opinion, there is no place for competition or comparison in the creation of art. Except for a couple of attempts in high school,  I never entered singing or acting competitions. While they may be a wonderful and productive outlet for some, these kinds of things completely shut me down. Deep down to my core, I believe that art has to be created for its own sake, and when full attention and focus is placed on creating and improving the work, opportunities to share or implement the work naturally follow. I have found that when I consciously seek and try to control where I use my chosen art forms, it  generally leads to a dead end. So I got a bit discouraged today when I found myself getting caught up in thinking about 'getting the part' and worrying about how I will stack up in the audition room. WHICH IS NOT HELPFUL. It wastes time, energy, and put the focus on something that really does not exist, underneath it all.

So, my resolve for the rest of the week until the audition this Saturday is to prepare my 16 bars to the best of my ability, and use the event as an opportunity for my own personal growth as a singer. And most important:  to NOT compare myself to anyone else.  How can I accomplish this? I worry that I won't be able to resist the temptation.

Julia Cameron, in her book The Artist's Way,  has a saying that I think I will use as my mantra the rest of the week.

"There is no competition on the spiritual plane"

In which plane I will attempt to hoist myself up onto, and get myself out of this muck. I don't want it to ruin my beautiful new skin.  

Brrrrr…..

Lately I have taken to keeping an audition journal, or, more specifically, a film audition journal.  I didn't do any film auditions or film acting until a couple of years ago, and I still feel like a fish out of water when I get in front of a camera. On the rare occasions I do book a job, I actually really like film work, and find it to be a welcome relief from theater, probably because of the comparatively short amount of time it takes to complete a project. Though I have worked on theater projects for over 15 years now, I am always shocked at the time commitment needed to be involved in a play or musical.  So film work has made for a welcome change… shorter time commitment, better money,  if slightly less fulfilling. But like I said, I still feel really new at this, so I started to keep a journal to write what I learn after each film audition, in the efforts to get better and learn from each of the failed attempts.

I have a few different reactions to the nerves that accompany auditions, and lately I have been favoring The Freeze. This response is akin to the nightmare where the serial killer is chasing you and you turn to run but your legs won't move. My trigger is the moment the camera is turned on, where I freeze like a statue and any preparation, technique, or personality I came into the room with is held hostage by my nerves. This happened to me at an audition yesterday, and it always sends me into the worst kind of self-loathing accompanied by a renewed commitment to find a different career.  However, once I get over the acute misery that accompany these auditions,  I come to realize that they are the best in some ways, because I learn how to fail, learn what not to do, and learn how to be prepared for any scenario. So much learning and growth… so painful to acquire!

Here is what I learned yesterday (this will replace my journal entry for today, and maybe all days):

1. Even if its only 1 or 2 lines, I need to prepare for the reading like it's a full scene. For me that means to develop a world for my character, imagine myself in the conditions the text gives me ( or make it up if it doesn't) and figure out my objectives and actions. I wasn't specific enough yesterday and I think that was a big part of my problem.

2. CHEAT OUT, LIZ. I am constantly hiding and turning away from the camera. Which is generally not the best idea when you are being taped. And when you are reading with another person, which was the case yesterday, talk to them without looking at them the entire time.

3. Leave the feminist and ageist at the door. Almost all auditions around here are for a table full of younger white men who look like they just graduated from film school, or hopped out of high school ready to make movies. And it gets me tired and cynical, because what the hell do they know about acting? But I need to remember that they are people too. People who could possibly give me a job. So I should be nice.

4. Leave the self-consciousness at the door, too. I don't know if this one is possible for me, but I will try harder next time.  Preparation helps with this one.  

5. Be prepared to read with the kind of actors who have no idea how to give and take. Who, when they get nervous, completely ignore you and are going to do their own thing no matter what you give them. Just do the best you can to stay in the moment, I guess.

6. Finally, remember you will most likely read with and/or be surrounded by gorgeous model-types with breast implants and platforms. Prepare to feel invisible. Or else get some of your own.

Lady M Day One: New Beginnings

At the advice of my therapist (a performer with a therapist? yes, i'm a cliche...) I join the millions of actor/singer blogs out there, and am glad to do it. I got on my old, long-abandoned blog tonight and tried to revive it, but my old email password has long been forgotten, so I begin anew. Which is just as well, since unlike my other blog which was more of your basic online journal, the purpose for this baby is to remind myself of my chosen profession.  Which I generally forget when I don't work, which lately has been pretty often. Unless you count auditions as work, which I think I will start doing, in which case I worked on Monday. Cool.  I got up, got dressed in a suit, commuted to an office, and read a teleprompter for a website training video. That sounds kind of like a job, right?  Even though I didn't get the job. :/  See the reason I forget?

I chose for my blog title the famous line from Lady Macbeth's sleepwalking scene in Shakespeare's Macbeth.  I was cast as Lady M during the spring of my junior year in the Actor Training Program at the University of Utah. I returned to school a bit later in life, because it took me a really long time to let myself go into acting wholeheartedly.  Macbeth was my first-ever Shakespearean play, and I got lucky enough to delve into this part of all parts after almost three years of rigorous acting training and all that it involves, and gave it all I had. That character, not surprisingly, remains with me somewhere inside, and I pull her out when I need to be reminded why I am in this difficult vocation. I will be forever and ever grateful I was given that chance to play that role. For better and (in some ways) worse, it was a life-changing experience.

During the run of Macbeth in April of 2011, my dad was diagnosed with Stage IV melanoma. He was admitted into the hospital on a Friday morning, and I had a show that night, and three more that weekend.  I mostly don't remember how I got through those shows, but I was also grateful to have the distraction of the play to absorb the shock of his diagnosis, which was grim indeed (he passed away 8 months later).  Looking back, I think I have been sleepwalking ever since. I don't know if you ever fully wake from the nightmare of losing a parent, especially to something as heinous as cancer.

My acting has not been the same since my dad died, and singing can be really painful too (my dad was an opera singer).  I have heard that grieving can take away a person's creativity, or at least their ability to access the creative part of the brain. I have worked and performed somewhat steadily since his death, but Macbeth was really the last play I was in where I felt that real excitement and passion for performance that got me to forsake my "normal" life and pursue a career in it. I don't know if I will ever regain that passion or love, but I guess keeping this blog is my attempt at connecting back with that part of myself that I lost along with my dad.

I really miss both of them.