March 2005 Archives

A while ago, though NYCasting I think, I submitted myself for commercial print work, an area of work of which I was only marginally familiar . . . until now.

Last fall, I was briefly (very briefly) a member of Explore Talent, and they offered members a free professional photo shoot with the purpose of developing a "comp" card that one could use to pursue commercial print and modeling work. The only cost was the CD and the comp card (which is where they really made their money) . . .

. . . unemployed, broke, for some reason a glamorous fall fashion shoot in a steel and glass building on West 23rd on a slate-gray NYC Saturday afternoon seemed like the right thing to do.

Télépopmusik, Thievery Corporation, fans, lights, gauzy shear curtains, it was all that one would expect . . . and babes, babes, lots of babes, baaaaaaaabes everywhere. Of course, I was not one of them, and in getting ready for this thing, I managed, that morning, in an instance, to shave off 80% of my right eyebrow with my new motorized groomer/trimmer. Fortunately there were expert make-up artists on scene to repair the damage as best they could.

Anyway, I did not put any stock in actually getting any work with a comp card, and I had determined that I would only purchase the CD of images to perhaps use for further headshots. However, the pictures seemed ok, so I also purchased, for a small amount, a small number of comp cards because I thought -- what the hell, if I see a call for print work, I'll just send one out. I then went home, with my expertly painted on right eyebrow, to look for a job.

Over the next few months, I sent in a headshot and a comp card (that I really paid too much for) to any commercial print casting call I happened to see -- I had resolved to get rid of these things somehow.

On the 14th, Danelle from a production company in the city called and asked me to attend a "look-see" in SoHo between 9am and 11am. Because this was a "look-see" for paid work, I didn't want to wait in the inevitable long line, so arrived 9am sharp. The photographer, Darryl, gave me a number to hold at chest level, snapped a picture, stepped back, started to take another picture but then lowered his camera and said "uh . . . your zipper," I corrected that problem, and he snapped another picture. 5 minutes -- in and out.

. . . zippers and eyebrows -- I was on roll, apparently.

However, on Thursday, Danelle called back and said she wanted to book me for a stock photograhy photo shoot on the 22nd with a call time of 11:30am. The call would be for all day.

Today, I took the A to Canal and Broadway and then a cab to the west side, 23rd and the West Side Highway, Chelsea Piers, Studio Pier 59, Studio 1. Studio Pier 59, a beautiful river front facility, houses studios for state-of-the-art digital photography and production, an increasingly important medium in the 21st century.

I arrived very early, like 45 minutes early, because this was really the first "professional" job I've ever 'booked.' I was not going to be late.

I was taken aback by the huge professional studios. Danelle meet me and ask me to wait and relax in the holding area, and when I walked into the area, I saw 'doctors,' 'workmen,' corporate executives,' 'office workers,' i.e., casting models who were outfitted for various roles and stock character types.

It was shockingly realistic -- if one of these people were walking down the street, one would think they were exactly what they appeared to be, and I really saw the power of 'type,' and how that drives the industry: they picked just the right people to be expertly dressed as these 'types' and these 'types' looked more real that the 'real' people they represented. So this is exactly how you're cast for parts: your unique qualities + costume and makeup = this highly convincing representation of what's out there in the real world.

So, with the right costume, what part of 'reality' do I reflect back? What's my 'type?' They cast me a 'character' rather than a 'role,' i.e., I was a Skater Boy-Hacker: jeans, sneakers, black t-shirt, casual club-boy jacket, stuff I'd wear all the time, if I was 20 years younger. True, I don't look (act?) my age, but I think it was my hair that really got me cast.

The shoot didn't start until later in the afternoon, and I was nervous before it started, but once I was on my feet and Darryl started giving me direction, e.g., 'ok, act like this,' or 'do such and such,' all things that a goofy, anti-social skater boy would do, I just threw myself into it -- again, an early lesson: if I start to feel shy or worried about embarrassing myself, then the thing to do is commit to the 'choice' or 'goal' or 'objective' even more (see Shrdlu, Rehearsal, The Adding Machine: 2004.06.15). Darryl seemed very happy with my work and said I really brought a lot to the shoot. Danelle also complemented me.

So -- that's great! Over-the-top acting, and I got paid (!)

How to play the game . . .

After more years of losing than anyone cared to remember, the Eagles, under the leadership of Andy Reid, started the '00 season with an out-of-blue daring onside kick against the top rated Dallas Cowboys, a risky and aggressive play that won the game and sent a message to both the team and it's opponents:

I called that play to make a statement.

You don't hold back in the NFL.

                                      - Andy Reid.

New Perspectives Theatre, 750 8th Ave, New York City, 11:00am . . .

. . . I am waiting in the dark, in the wings, with two other auditioneers. I am second to go, waiting for my turn, an audition slot scheduled at 11:04am: 2 monologues in 3 minutes in front of an audience of about 27 off and off-Off-Broadway theatre company directors & assistants, 2-3 agents and 2-3 casting directors. I'm so nervous, so scared, and yet transcending this & close to tears, I can't believe how luckly I am to be here, doing this . . .

For the past two weeks in the basement of the retro-fitted building of my loft, I rehearsed two monologues: one that I had written (see First Monologue: 2004.11.02), and a Shakespearean monologue, Lewis from King John. I also worked with a monologue coach (Charles) the week before, someone who specializes in Shakespeare.

Each night, usually late, for about an hour (never much more than that), I started rehearsal by going over notes to myself that I had made the night before. I worked each monologue separately and then for the last 15 minutes or so, I ran them together, rehearsing everything from the how I would enter the room, how I would introduce myself and what I was going to do, the first monologue, the transition between between the monologues, the second monologue, and then how I would the end, saying thank you and leaving the room.

. . . I hear the audition monitor out in the audience say "time" ending the audition of a woman currently onstage. As instructed by the house manager, as soon as she leaves the stage and starts down the exit, the man in front of me starts out, passing the woman on his way to the stage. I try to block out everything -- I now have 3 minutes (at most) to concentrate, to mentally rehearsal what I'm going to, to start to focus, relax . . .

The two most critical things for me in rehearsal were 1) how to start, and 2) taking time with the transitions. Finding a strong emotional place to start is, and continues to be, my biggest challenge: Why are these people talking? What compels them to speak? What do they need to say, and why? The nature of attention is that once engaged, it recruits additional brain resources (cognitive, perceptional, emotional) to further process what it is paying attention to, so the rule in performance/auditions is: it is easier to keep someone's attention than it is to get someone's attention. Starting strong gets their attention immediately. Every night, I looked for stronger, more clearer places, emotional places, to begin. I even had to do this for the monologue I wrote.

A corollary is using the real space, i.e., I'm in a real space doing these monologues -- use it, and place the person I'm talking to in that space, and keep them fixed. Giving myself a couple of points of focus, and sticking to them, i.e., not letting my focus wander, helped more than I thought it would: it helped to keep things 'clean' and at least physically clear.

The second challenges was just slowing the hell down and letting these people speak, letting myself (from one 'beat' to the next) follow the transitions that they needed to make, i.e., letting the transition take as long as it needed to take. This is both hard and absolutely critical: hard because there was an absolute 3-minute limit, and if you weren't finished, too bad -- they cut you off. However, it was critical that I take my time and "allow" the transitions to take whatever time they needed. You see/feel the shape of the character, his struggle, his journey, in the transitions. Charles gave me excellent advice: I'd rather see you take your time and possibly get cut off rather than rushing through these monologues; you're going to be so much better off, and he was absolutely right.

. . . I hear the auditioneer on stage say "thank you." 11:04am. I take a deep breath, and step out of the dark and into the light . . .

Post-audition notes:

1st) I arrived with 40 headshots/resumes and I left with 25. So, 15 people, about half the groups/individuals in the audience, kept my headshot/resume. This is more than I thought/hoped for, so it was a relief and a pleasant surprise. We shall see what comes of that.

2nd) I didn't rush (at least not much). I allowed myself to follow most of the transitions. This was great because this was a major performance goal, and up till this point, rushing has been a problem. It was a real milestone not to do that. And things happen when I don't rush.

3rd) My time was very good -- the last line of Lewis didn't make the cut-off, but I was prepared for that: I knew both monologues were unlikely to fit within 3 minutes, but my real overall goal was to work two monologues to a point I never really have before, to be more confident about taking them out on the audition road. I was actually thrilled that I got as far as I did: I was expecting to get cut off a few lines earlier, and the night before I did manage to shave off a few seconds without sacrificing the major performance goal of not rushing the transitions.

Interesting -- I'm having trouble recalling exactly what happened during the monologue. I'm aware that I did pretty much what I did rehearse, but w/out pushing or trying to do things. I may have, hopefully, been doing quite naturally what I found to be working in rehearsal.

Finally, this experience has taught me to always set some challenging but potentially reachable goals -- a stretch to the point where I wonder if I've made a mistake in choosing the goal but still confident enough to give it my best shot and so that I'm motivated to prepare as much as I can so that I can do my best.

. . . and still the real long-term challenge

I was still "playing it safe," a bit, still felt like I was holding back, a bit. Somehow, however, I'm convinced that time and (positive) experience will take care of this -- this is a critical component of my growth . . . it's just a glimmer, but I can feel myself getting braver inside . . .

Some Final Thoughts . . .

        Now I want the perfect audition -- I keep thinking that this lies in planning out what I'm going to do, finding perfection in rehearsal and then bringing/transporting that perfection into performance/audition . . .

       . . . but I don't think perfection is found there. I think it's found in those un-grasped moments when I'm holding back, it's found in the spontaneous moments of living . . .

            As always, my question: what is the relationship between rehearsal and performance? . . . what are these eternal places . . . ?

Last Sunday and today, workshops that have focused again on the business side of acting: while taking advantage of the type of opportunities discussed in these seminars is for me (relatively) far into the future, I'm definitely interested in 'advanced' topics that interest professional working actors.

Last Sunday, a session at The Drama Bookshop covered: Self Promotion. Where to Begin & How to Keep Going...

Panel: Casting Director Kristine Bulakowski, Kristine Bulakowski Casting
          Agent Phil Cassese, About Artists Agency, Inc.
          Career Consultant, Annie Chadwick, Up-To-Date Theatricals
          Henderson Mailing Labels, Sue Henderson

These workshops, organized by Annie Chadwick, have been excellent, especially for a beginner: well organized, highly informative, positive, common sense and good advice that's clear and practical. There were several components to this seminar that I found quite helpful:

Interesting . . . Ways to promote yourself (to agents and casting directors):

• If I'm in something, announce it, but use targeted mailings (I'm not exactly sure of the calculus that produces good targets, but this is the idea).
• Keep in touch (again, pick my target's well) with creative, 'eye-catching' post-cards.
  (NOTE: these two method are used to create repeated exposure of oneself to agents and casting directors, so that you become familiar to them in case something comes up. Over and over again, knowing your type, targeted mailings and target exposure is stressed over and over. This is the marketing end of the business, and however it's done exactly, every working actor today does this).
• Networking: if, if an fellow actor has an agent, and if they like you and your work, and if they seem receptive to the idea, one could ask if they think their agent would be a good fit for you.
• EPA -- Ah, Equity Principle Auditions: something I did not realize until last Sunday was that non-union people can audition for EPA, but you always have to wait until the end (i.e., last person) and only if there's time. Even if the show is already cast, the real opportunity is 1) more audition experience 2) Go, Be Seem. (But the monologue and/or cold read skills need to be solid). So there is some risk here, i.e., you don't want to make a bad impression, but it is a calculatable risk.

A question again was ask about "type," and this led to an interesting discussion:

One way to "discover" one's type is to watch film and television -- which "characters" resonate with me, which could I see myself playing. Not a perfect guide, perhaps, but this method could definitely uncover some clues.

Another way happens to kill two birds with one stone: in between jobs, the down times, stay ready and stay primed by studying (this is why professional/working actors are always studying -- acting's there business, and they stay in shape). Ready-to-go is also where you want to be when opportunity knocks. The other advantage of this, (and for me, this gives me some focus of the type of training I'd like to have) is to work on and keep alive a few things things that are really fun and interesting for me (e.g., Warren Leight's Stray Cats). This is actually an excellent idea, and it can help me to discover:

1. What's unique about me.
2. Really understand the "package" I'm selling (someday) to agents and casting directors.

Today, keynote & Guest Speaker Glenn Alterman was part of an Acting Career Seminar with an agent and a high energy casting director, actor, and audition coach (Craig Lechner) uptown at Micheal Carson Studios on West 54th Street, just north of Times Square.

Glenn is a very talented guy: writer, playwright, screenwriter, actor, monologue coach, and career development expert. Once again, the best, the absolute best training in acting seems to be in New York City.

I've been reading several of Glenn's excellent books on auditioning and the business side of a profession in the arts, so I won't repeat anything in detail here. However, he gives great advice, probably the best beginners and seasoned professionals will find anywhere, because not only does it apply to career development, it could just as easily apply to life and personal development.

Some points:

• Be Pro-active, take a chance, have fun, do your best, and then . . . just let it all go
• Know what I want.
• Focus on that.
• To be a working actor: it's all about marketing and focus: the most important step is to find/discover (create?) my type. All else, type of headshot, which audition to submit for, will follow from this.
• Interestingly, when casting directors look at a resume, then first look at the actors training rather than their credits . . . I'm not sure what the logic is, but I'll need to see if I can find this out.

He also spent a great deal of time on monologues -- but that's for tomorrow's entry.

N called me a couple of weeks ago, and he said they had finished cutting the film, and he was inviting all the cast and crew down to Suede on 161 W. 23rd Street (one block east of the famed Hotel Chelsea). The film is about 10min, just one scene, but a well-written scene.

First impression: honestly -- I was impressed and relieved. It was really my first serious time in front of the camera. I thought the director made good choices about what to cut -- a scene where I was directing myself and a scene where I was quite fluttered: neither made it into the final version. What did make it, though, I thought I looked believable and unselfconscious, which means I had moments of focus, relaxation, and clarity: the "character" wasn't what N wanted, but what was there was "truthful," which was my target. Before the screening, I asked N if he was happy with the film, and he said he was very happy, so all-in-all, I consider it & the experience of making it a success -- I definitely learned highly valuable lessons, but now I really want to see it/study it again: I've asked N for a copy that will hopefully include the parts that didn't make it into the final version.

I've decided not to be goal shy -- I've decided, oh my god, not to avoid the possibility of failure, but right now, I'm quite scared.

I'm not sure why I did this, but the first quarter goals this year were to focus on training, but I haven't quite had the $$ or time, and so I've focused on acquiring auditioning skills, and the main auditioning skill I've been focusing on is cold-reading rather than monologues which I find more difficult. Further, of all the auditions I've seen out there, those requiring monologues seem to be in the minority. My performance targets in cold readings have been becoming more clear, more specific, but I haven't spent as much time & thought on monologues, though what I've been after in performance on stage has clearly helped identify and define my goals with monologues. Writing my own 3-part monologue was one way of 1) helping me identify the structure of good monologue and 2) helping me to bring to a monologue those essential components necessary for a) good story telling and for b) giving auditors an idea of my range and imagination.

For some reason, I don't know what I was thinking, but I just registered for an "audition event" to be held on the 20th of this month: Over 35 producers, theater companies, writers and directors will be sitting in on two days of auditions by over 150 actors -- additionally, there will also be a few agents and casting directors there. If I get a time slot, I'll have 3 minutes to do two monologues. I've decided to do my own 1-minute monologue, which I'm quite comfortable with, and a 2-minute Shakespearian monologue from a show I stage managed a while back. There's several advantages to this monologue: 1) I've always wanted a classic monologue. 2) It's not a traditional soliloquy -- rather it's a speech from the middle of a scene, so it probably will not be well known (always an advantage with a classical monologue, esp. from Shakespeare). 3) I watched an actor I greatly admire do this scene a lot, and so it's already half memorized, I understand it's structure and intent in the scene, and I think I can use the blocking from the show in the monologue which would really be a serious added component to the way I've usually done monologues, i.e., sitting or standing still.

Additionally, by registering for this event, I've also been able to register for a reduced price a two-day workshop this weekend going over the nuts and bolts of auditioning, and it's offered as a kind of prep. for this "audition event."

Before I registered, this sounded like a great idea -- but now I'm having second thoughts, panicky thoughts of everything that could go wrong, worried this is too much of a challenge, a threat.

What am I so scared of?

1) doing poorly in front of not 1 or 2 auditors from a single company but over 50 people from many different theatre companies.

2) there'll be 3-5 agents or casting directors in the audience.

3) Is there enough time to get the Shakespeare monologue under my belt?

OK -- I need to reduce my perception of these things as threats, somehow.

1) I'm not going to "blow it." I've done monologues before, and while they haven't gone as well as the best I've done at home on my own, and they've never gone as well as I hoped, my performance could never be classified as "blowing it." I need to clearly define for myself what I want to get out of this.

2) Ok, agents and casting directors are a problem -- I said I would never audition for an agent or professional casting director until I was much more experienced and confident. Evaluating actors is their business, their livelihood, and they will remember a poor audition. On the other hand, only a few will be there (3-5), and from last year's list, it looks like the casting agencies only sent their associates, probably for their practice and experience, so perhaps, maybe, the downside here isn't that bad.

Again, I'm not going "to blow it" -- they may just be not that impressed, and so what? Auditioning for agents and casting directors is a fine art, a high skill, and it's not my goal, yet, to have an audition that's up to the standard of what I would show to an agent or professional casting director. If I ever get to the point, get the opportunity to audition for agents or casting directors, that'll be way down the road -- and there's probably over a 100 agents and casting directors in the city -- what's the likelihood I'll cross paths with these specific people again in a high stakes situation? Probably pretty close to nil. I guess the best thing to do is just (in my mind) ignore them and don't worry about it: I don't think the stakes are high at all, given what I want right now . . .

So what do I want right now? What do I want to get out of this?

I think my main idea, what I liked, was going to this intensive 2-day seminar (very affordable) this weekend, and then trying out what I've learned at this audition "event" in 3 weeks, just a chance to gain more experience -- and this is a chance to really focus on doing just that. That's all.

What's another worry?

I know that people do get contacted by these theatre companies, for future auditions, readings, etc. That wasn't really a goal either, however, one of the things I'd like to do is become associated with a theatre company, perhaps become a member. I'm not exactly sure how to go about doing that -- mostly I think you just contact companies you're interested in and ask if they have an interview/audition process. In fact, I'm already planning to do that with one well-known theatre company. I'm more comfortable one on one, and I get a chance to be selective. Here, I don't really know anything about these companies -- I'm not really doing this to try and get my foot in the door . . . but what if nobody contacts me? How would I feel about that? What would that really mean?

Well, so what? I think the standout people, the one's who really audition well will get contacted by companies. That makes sense. If I don't audition that well, isn't this the whole point? To learn how to audition, learn more about how to do my best? If no one contacted me, would that call into question about how I feel about acting, about theatre? Is that single event somehow predictive of my entire future? I don't believe that.

I think my goal is just what I've stated it to be -- to gain experience, that's all. If I can really keep that in mind and heart and simply accept everything else w/out questioning myself, I'll be fine.

I remember my last stage managing job with Frog & Peach, September/October 2003, on our production of King John, a very good actress playing the role of 'Blanche' had to leave the show unexpectedly in the middle of a four week run. We had all worked very hard to get the show up, but these things happen, especially in an equity showcase, and I thought, "well, two weeks is better than nothing," but then on a Monday morning, Lynnea, the director, called me and said, incredibly, she had found an actress who agreed to take over the role of 'Blanche.'

At the time, she was (at least to me) completely unknown, but what impressed me most about Catalina as a person was that not only was she brave enough to step into a crucial role, in the middle of an off-Off Broadway run, with only 4-5 days to prepare, but that this was Shakespeare -- tough enough for a native English speaker let alone someone born and raised in Columbia. Yet Catalina pulled it off, and you could sense an enormous amount of bravery beneath a surprisingly unassuming exterior.

As much talent as I think great acting takes, I'm convinced it also takes at least an equal amount of courage (and faith).