I realized a couple of years ago while directing a musical that this scrubbing time in the bathroom was actually pretty productive - creatively. I would get out my sponge to scour the grout in the shower. And my mind would begin the game of "Just do a quick wipe of the tile walls and be done with it" vs. "Spend some time scrubbing that stubborn dirt in the grout, get the step ladder out to wipe the ceiling down, scrub the floor with comet." As I began to fight these two points of view, I realized how, similarly, there can be two conflicting schools of thoughts when working as an actor on a story (whether it's a large, luxurious part in an O'Neill Play, or a relatively non-descript part on a television show).
One can do the detail work, creating a specific world by using the language provided by the writer, living in that world in your imagination until it is impact-ful and specific. This kind of work takes a long time - sort of like taking a toothbrush to the grout. But the rewards are great. It's what Diana Castle, my mentor and acting coach teaches. And it's what I imagine Daniel Day-Lewis and Meryl do when they tackle a role.
Or one can just do a quick wipe of the shower walls - memorize the lines, understand the story with one's left brain, getting a sense of what the part should be, saying it out loud until it sounds like what "they" might want.
As I have been contemplating this kind of artistic work ethic, I started to think about my parents. When I was a kid, my Mom wanted our help cleaning the house on Saturday mornings. I wasn't exactly excited to help her - Saturday mornings were all about the cartoons on TV. The chore she handed out that I just didn't understand was cleaning the baseboards. The process involved getting on my hands and knees with an old rag (usually one of my brother's old t-shirts that had been cut up), lightly wetting the rag with water and wiping the dust off that little piece of wood on the floor all the way around the living room. Groan. Who sees that piece of wood? Who cares if there is a little dust on it? But, I couldn't convince my Mom. So, we had clean baseboards. That's just who she is - a very detail-oriented woman.
My Dad had a similar sensibility. He passed away a few months and in writing his eulogy with my brother Tom, I was reminded of the kind of detail that he put into a project. Every project he undertook, whether it was building a model airplane or constructing a sailboat or working on our brother Rick's cabin, he applied the precision of an accomplished engineer – with fully detailed drawings.
While neither of my parents was an actor (although my Dad was quite a tap dancer in his youth), I love knowing and seeing that a part of their work ethic is in me - the "detail" muscle so necessary in my acting comes from them both.
In Walter Isaacson’s biography of Steve Jobs, Mr. Jobs tells of a lesson he learned from his father. “When you’re a carpenter making a beautiful chest of drawers, you’re not going to use a piece of plywood on the back, even though it faces the wall and nobody will ever see it. You’ll know it’s there, so you’re going to use a beautiful piece of wood on the back. For you to sleep well at night, the aesthetic, the quality has to be carried all the way through.” Mr. Jobs certainly carried this over into his work at that little company called Apple.
What about you? What are the traits you carry with you that come from one of your parents?
Some day, I would love to relinquish my bathroom chores to a nice housekeeper. But in the meantime, I'll keep scrubbing the grout one tile at a time, thinking of my Mom and Dad, and remembering to keep up the detail work, when I clean the bathroom and in my work as an actor.
One can do the detail work, creating a specific world by using the language provided by the writer, living in that world in your imagination until it is impact-ful and specific. This kind of work takes a long time - sort of like taking a toothbrush to the grout. But the rewards are great. It's what Diana Castle, my mentor and acting coach teaches. And it's what I imagine Daniel Day-Lewis and Meryl do when they tackle a role.
Or one can just do a quick wipe of the shower walls - memorize the lines, understand the story with one's left brain, getting a sense of what the part should be, saying it out loud until it sounds like what "they" might want.
As I have been contemplating this kind of artistic work ethic, I started to think about my parents. When I was a kid, my Mom wanted our help cleaning the house on Saturday mornings. I wasn't exactly excited to help her - Saturday mornings were all about the cartoons on TV. The chore she handed out that I just didn't understand was cleaning the baseboards. The process involved getting on my hands and knees with an old rag (usually one of my brother's old t-shirts that had been cut up), lightly wetting the rag with water and wiping the dust off that little piece of wood on the floor all the way around the living room. Groan. Who sees that piece of wood? Who cares if there is a little dust on it? But, I couldn't convince my Mom. So, we had clean baseboards. That's just who she is - a very detail-oriented woman.
My Dad had a similar sensibility. He passed away a few months and in writing his eulogy with my brother Tom, I was reminded of the kind of detail that he put into a project. Every project he undertook, whether it was building a model airplane or constructing a sailboat or working on our brother Rick's cabin, he applied the precision of an accomplished engineer – with fully detailed drawings.
While neither of my parents was an actor (although my Dad was quite a tap dancer in his youth), I love knowing and seeing that a part of their work ethic is in me - the "detail" muscle so necessary in my acting comes from them both.
In Walter Isaacson’s biography of Steve Jobs, Mr. Jobs tells of a lesson he learned from his father. “When you’re a carpenter making a beautiful chest of drawers, you’re not going to use a piece of plywood on the back, even though it faces the wall and nobody will ever see it. You’ll know it’s there, so you’re going to use a beautiful piece of wood on the back. For you to sleep well at night, the aesthetic, the quality has to be carried all the way through.” Mr. Jobs certainly carried this over into his work at that little company called Apple.
What about you? What are the traits you carry with you that come from one of your parents?
Some day, I would love to relinquish my bathroom chores to a nice housekeeper. But in the meantime, I'll keep scrubbing the grout one tile at a time, thinking of my Mom and Dad, and remembering to keep up the detail work, when I clean the bathroom and in my work as an actor.
