Mantra for 2011

Profound quotes from the month of December, 2010.

First, from the December issue of Oprah:

"Until you accept the magnitude of your function, your unconscious mind will sabotage any attempt to show your full magnificence. Your self-concept has to match your manifestation or else the manifestation is doomed. In fact, if you diet and lose weight, your mind will either put the weight back on or trip up in some other area. In order to lose weight on a permanent basis, you want a shift in your core belief about who and what you are. This is the miracle you seek."

- Excerpt from a letter that Marianne Williamson wrote to Oprah, regarding Oprah's struggle with weight. In the article, Oprah says the letters from Marianne were the genesis of Marianne's book "A Course in Weight Loss."

Then, two days ago, I read a beautiful speech, (I would call it a prayer) in a book called "The Art of Possibility." It is reported that Nelson Mandela addressed these words to the world at large, but in researching it, that doesn't seem to be true. Still, it is beautiful nevertheless:

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as children do.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

This was again written my Marianne Williamson.

I am taking these two quotes with me into the New Year as a sort of mantra for 2011 - to remind myself whenever I become afraid. Or when I start to think about turning another year older in twelve months, or when I start to think negatively about opportunities for "older" actresses or any number of other things that may make me doubt God and His desire for me to reach my fullest potential.

God Does Love Artists

Amazing God moments for this artist in 2010:

One year ago, one of my goals for 2010 was to step out from behind the microphone.

So, I did this little play called "Wit" and I was encouraged all over the place by my husband, and I kept pushing and expanding and shaving my head every week and here's what happened:

Signed with an on-camera agent (thanks to Nancy Linari);

Booked every job they sent me on (sans a one-line opportunity for HOUSE);

Was cut out of an episode of Criminal Minds, but booked for another episode and a larger part;

Asked to do a part in a small indie film;

Mentioned in LA Weekly year-in-review for performance in "Wit."

And I ask myself, how can people think there isn't a God?

I love the microphone, but I'm glad I can step out in front of it sometimes.

Growing the Muscle

I was reminded by an old friend that I hadn't updated my blog in a while, and since yesterday was my first day on a movie that I just booked, it seems appropriate to share some thoughts on the experience.

The film is a romantic comedy called "Not That Funny" - it's a delightful script. I am Mary, owner of Mary's Market, a kitchy coffee house/sandwich shop/sundry market set in Sierra Madre and I am part of the local flavor that the lead characters interact with. I have a number of conversations in the film - they are brief, but they entail me coming back for a few days of shooting in August.

My arrival at the production office prior to being driven to the location was a sign of things to come: lots of lovely people introducing themselves and genuinely glad to be there. It was not only my first day of shooting, but the first day for the movie, so it was nice to meet everyone fresh and all in the mood to get to know each other.

After grabbing a water, I am whisked away in a van to the location and for a review of what I will be wearing. I've brought a few choices and I'm hoping they go for my idea of farmer shorts with a t-shirt or something underneath. Lauralee, the director and Lori, the costumer love the idea, so we are set.

Then, it's on to - lunch! Yep. How nice is that. I sit with three of the lead actors and have a nice time talking about movies, and what we have done recently. Tony Hale (the lead in the film) brings up WIT, and that prompts lots of questions. It's interesting to have the perspective of time and I tell them that it was a life-changing experience in three ways: 1) as an artist - the mask is gone when your head is shaved and you are in direct confrontation with the audience for 90 minutes. I have climbed the mountain of fear and made it to the top; 2) as a woman - vanity be gone. No more hiding behind my blonde mane, it's all right here - who I am, what I look like and that's that. 3) as a human being - direct interaction with people; the mask is gone, removed. And, every encounter with everyone person is somehow different and more real (most of the time).

Lunch over, it's on to make-up with the lovely make-up artist Ashley, who for the first time all day actually has more than five minutes to spend on make-up and how blessed am I that she is spending time on me.

And then, it's into my work duds as Mary and on to shooting. I admit a tad of butterflies as we begin, but once the first rehearsal is over and then the first take (and I realize I forgot to specifically choose a point to enter and exit frame - have to remember about continuity), I am feeling right at home. It's play, and I love it.

I have access to the lovely director and the luxury to ask questions, so that the conversation can be tweaked, if need be. I am also afforded the luxury of a close-up at the end - something the editor requests for cutting purposes. I admit a little more butterflies when the camera was turned on me, but still, playing and enjoying it all.

The whole day I felt centered and grounded in myself. There is a lot that I attribute this to, but I really do go back to WIT and the work with Diana. I know that preparation is what has brought me to a place of centeredness, not only in storytelling, but in life.

I want that muscle to continue to grow.

Gears

Spent another day voicing Gears of War this past week. The game is now in its third incarnation. And the character I am playing has become a Gear (soldier), so I am having fun playing the edgier, bad-ass warrior woman. I know it's not digging ditches, but voicing games is hard work. Four hour sessions in front of the mic, often times screaming, can be tiring work and I'm not playing with anyone - it's all in my imagination, although sometimes I can hear the playback of previous recordings with other characters.

It's interesting how much the work I've been doing in acting class comes into play in this arena. I can't give away what happens in the story of this game, but something that occurs required a particular emotional response from me. I was able to tap into it very quickly, and I know it's because the imagination muscle has gotten so much stronger with my work in class.

This is yet another reminder that daily practice is not only important, it's vital. As Baryshnikov says (I'm paraphrasing), "Three days away from the bar, and it's like starting all over." That is not only true for dancers, it's true for all artists. Do it every day. It really is worth it.

Final Six

Tonight begins the final six performances of WIT.

What have I learned? Oh my. Where to start?

1) Tell the story no matter who you think might be in the audience.
2) The story is in everyone's heart.

3) Don't hide. What's the point?

No Acting Involved

Second week of the run of WIT concluded yesterday. Four more weeks to go. Friday night's show was strong - it didn't have the "warm-up" feel that some Friday shows can have when you have had four days off.

As I walked into the theatre to leave at the end of the night, some of my classmates/friends from my acting class were there to greet me. They were incredibly supportive and showered me with lovely words of encouragement about the show. Something every actor wants to hear, of course.

Another person was there to greet me - a woman who has ovarian cancer. She is terminal. I had read her blog during rehearsals and was stunned at her courage. Now, to get to meet her was indescribable. She thanked me for getting it right, for being a voice for her, for helping to explain through the story what this miserable disease and facing death is partly about. And, for helping her through the pain she was experiencing during the show. She had left her morphine in the car, and my scream of pain toward the end of the show helped release the pain she was feeling.

Sunday's show had a woman in the audience who also had stage four ovarian cancer - and she was a survivor. Talking with her and her husband/advocate afterward, she recalled the fear and pain - and the thankfulness that she is healthy. Their tears were fresh again on their faces as they recalled the events of that struggle. It almost seemed strangely grotesque for anyone to say what a great job I did when I am just acting out the story - I don't have cancer, I haven't faced nearly what these woman have faced, will face.

My conversations with both of these ladies reminded me once again of the greater purpose of this play, of theatre, of art in general - to illuminate life. And, it really humbled me in terms of looking/seeking/wanting accolades after a show. Here were two woman that were not acting - they had lived it and were continuing to live it.

They taught me over the weekend.

Fear

WIT opened over the weekend. The week leading up to the opening entailed three previews, one of which scared the heck out of me. It was one of those painful "I can't wait until this is over" kind of nights. I was definitely not playing on the edge of the cliff. I had stepped way back into "planning" and, consequently, was not having very much fun.

A conversation with my director and an email from my acting teacher put into focus my fear. Fear. I am so sick of being afraid in my art. I am done with it. I am going to look fear in the face each and every night I tell the story. I will embrace the improvisational nature of my art, knowing that when I have done my homework, I can fly without a net and not be afraid.

And so, as another preview came, I decided to step out on the edge of the cliff. And it was exhilarating. Definitely scary, but decidedly not as painful as the night before.

I will look the audience in the face each and every night and I will ask them, through the story, to join me on the journey. And, if they choose not to go, that's ok. My journey as Vivian cannot ever be perfect. If I don't have to worry about perfection, what is there to be afraid of? I just need to go out each night and play, minister, tell the story.

So, even on Opening Night, when part of the story was jumbled in my head and it didn't come out "perfect," it didn't matter. The audience didn't know - they were in the story. So, I jumped back in with them. And, it was a great roller coaster ride.

Fear. I'm going to face it every night.

Concentrate

Twelve-hour rehearsal yesterday for WIT. It was an exercise in concentration, what with set pieces being screwed into the ceiling, power tools humming right outside the door and photos being taken - all during the run-through. In some ways I was glad for it because I know that I must have the story in me if I can keep on-track with all of that going on.

But, I have to admit that I still have moments of panic - have I built my story strong enough? I guess it's time for an audience.

Headed to Mass this afternoon with my wig back on, and realized I am actually much more comfortable without it. Before shaving my head I would never have imagined that I would ever feel comfortable in the world with a bald head. But, there is power in it. I'm just glad the choice was mine.

An After Thought

One thing right off the bat - I am not at all trying to compare my experience of shaving my head to anyone who has had to lose their hair due to illness. No one has accused me of that, but I don't want any of my posts to be misinterpreted. We actors can be a narcissistic beast, and while blogs can lean toward that description (whether they are actor blogs or other folks), I'm really just trying to express what might be an interesting study in vanity/acting/fear.

Fear. Yes, that was the word for today. Although, not in relation to my hair. It came up in two conversations I had with other actors. It is my goal for this production to not have the fear that has accompanied other shows. Oh, I've covered the fear pretty well in the past, but I KNOW that fear controls too much of my work.

My job is a storyteller and if fear is a part of it, I'm not telling the story in the best way I can. Of course, the irony is that Vivian Bearing (me in the story) is filled with fear - so much so that she can only let down her barriers when she is staring death in the face.

Isn't that the way? To be playing a character that struggles with exactly what I struggle with. Diana Castle, my acting teacher and artistic mentor, would say "What you want to hide, is exactly what we in the audience want to see." Taking it a step further, Vivian Bearing would call it ironic that the part of me that I control is exactly what needs to be shown and then released in this story.

God's timing is everything, isn't it?

I am grateful for the opportunity to shave my head and stare down fear and death without being there literally.

The shaved head seems an after thought . . . for today.

Bald woman walking

On our hike this morning, my husband, Lindsay, reminded me of the time he filmed Victor Garber getting his head shaved for a movie version of the musical, "Annie."  Victor's line as he walked into the room to have his head shaved?  "Bald man walking."  And so, I am one hour and 15 minutes away from that same line.

Why?  Because I am doing the play, WIT and I had the bright idea that the only way to do the role properly was to shave my head.  

Now of course, to say I am rethinking that bright idea, is putting it mildly.

I keep saying, "At least I'm not getting my head shaved for cancerous reasons, just artistic ones."  And that is a GOOD thing, a very good thing.  It is my own decision - no one is forcing me to do this, so we will have no whining.

I joke that I hope I don't find the numbers 666 on my scalp once it is bare.  But, I do wonder what I will find?  What will I feel?  Will I cry?  Will I want a scotch?  Time will tell.

I do know that playing Vivian Bearing is one of the most important things I've ever done as an actress.  So it seems fitting that there would be something hard accompanying it.