Ancient Greek Theater

Ancient Greek Theater started with festivals honoring the God Dionysus in a festival called called, “City Dionysia.

From this event tragedy, comedy, and satyr plays emerge.

The Greeks were the first to write about these integral parts of the human condition and examine it. To the Greeks, theater was a way of holding a mirror up to society and examining our human behavior. 

They went to the theater not to see actors, but to see themselves. 

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Satisfied Doesn't Mean Settling

One night after a long rehearsal a group of my classmates and I headed down to a popular watering hole called, The West End Bar. Students like Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and Lucien Carr spent hours there during the formative years of the Beat Generation.

The place had changed quite a bit when I arrived. (I'm gathering the fusion Cuban dishes and karaoke were recent additions.) But that night I couldn't help myself and decided to partake in the latter.

I've always said, there are two things you don't want me doing: cooking and singing. And after my performance I understood why. But what informed me more about who I was at the time were not the missed notes but rather my habit of berating myself for my performance -- even for something as trivial as singing in a noisy bar. 

Of course, it was tenfold when I'd get off stage. Nothing was every good enough. I strove for perfection each time I delivered a monologue or stepped in a black box theater. I needed to be the best at any cost, even if it meant losing a part of myself.

Looking back, I realize being satisfied doesn't mean you're settling. It simply means you give yourself much deserved credit for a job well done and have decided not to delay something that simply can't wait: JOY.  

Find it wherever you can in whatever you do. 

Watch How You Talk to Yourself

There's a difference between having high standards and simply berating yourself. As a young drama student I certainly towed the line. "I could have done that better, I should have worked harder, or My performance was totally unacceptable," were all too common remarks I'd make in grad school. 

Looking back, I realize how incredibly pointless it all was, and in some ways, even destructive. Over time, you start to believe the way you speak about yourself. You're essentially conditioning your belief system through the words you speak, the thoughts you think.

If the philosophy you project about yourself is not in harmony with your highest sense of self your potential gradually begins to erode. You stop trying, you buy into the negative chatter, and you invest a great deal in what others think about you.

The way to counter this is to regularly check in with yourself and ask "Why?" What is the root of my beliefs? Are there any grounds for thinking these thoughts? And finally, what can I learn from this?

In other words, be vigilant. Keep a watchful eye over how you speak to yourself and steer them accordingly. 

This is the Only Moment that Matters

During my second year of grad school a handful of actors in my class performed Shakespeare sonnets one evening. The assignment was optional and I remember being surprised by how few wanted to do it. Shakespeare felt daunting for a lot of us but I still thought it'd be worth doing even though I was petrified.

I sat in the front row before my performance repeating the words, "This is me," over and over. I must have looked like a mad man to the 10 or so people in the audience. But the words had a calming affect on me. They centered me and reminded me that all that mattered was the moment I was in.

The weeks before one of my most important mentors had been harping on society's inability to be present. We focus on what was, or what one must do in the future and rarely take the time to acknowledge what is happening before us.

Her argument was, presence is the foundation for truthful storytelling. If we don't listen we can't respond. If we can't respond authentically to what is happening right before us the audience tunes out refusing to invest in the actor's artifice.

Admittedly, I've lost touch with that idea over the years. Not always. But from time to time I've felt myself saying, "Go, go, go," rather than "Here, here, here." But those moments I do check back in (which I'm trying to do a great deal more of) are the only truthful moments of my day. 

To check-in with yourself and really take personal inventory of how you're feeling is the most important thing you can do. It's the foundation from which everything else originates. To remind yourself that, THIS is the only moment that matters.

I'd even take my mentor's philosophy that presence is the not only the foundation for truthful storytelling but also for the most authentic of human experiences. 

Someday It'll Be You

Last night, I attended a little mixer for an organization where I teach a workshop called, "Acting as a Career." I ran into a young woman who took the class a few weeks back. We were excited to see one another and I could tell she wanted to share what she'd been up to since our last meeting.

"I'm writing a monologue," she told me. "And here's a video clip of a presentation I gave in class." She beamed with pride as she showed me the performance.

I told her I was immensely proud of the initiative she'd taken into getting her voice out into the world. "You're doing everything right," I told her. "You're meeting new people, taking classes, and really putting yourself out there." 

Just before I left I told her one last thing: "One day, you'll be the one people come to for advice. Someday people will look up to you and ask you to share all the lessons you've learned on your journey." She smiled as we parted ways. I could tell she was up to the task.

Pass on what you know.

The Art of Auditioning

"A relaxed attitude lengthens life.” Auditioning is kind of like courting a partner. Desperation can be sensed from a mile away and it isn’t attractive. Here's a few quick tips on auditioning I picked up in all my years as an actor and as a Broadway casting reader.

Come Prepared. You may not have time to get off-book, but the closer you can be the more flexibility you'll have in your performance. Casting directors see dozens and dozens of actors for the same role. They're looking for someone who will bring their own unique interpretation to the work.

Show Up on Time. This might seem like a no brainer, but showing up on time has many benefits: it shows you're serious about the opportunity, your craft, and that if hired you can be relied upon. Showing up early also allows you to mentally, emotionally, and spiritually collect yourself before giving your audition. 

Be Polite. Be grateful. Casting directors are people just like you and me. They want to be treated with respect and know the person they're hiring is not only talented but has integrity. I've seen many talented people overlooked for perhaps less skilled actors because they weren't gracious and committed to making the most of the opportunity. 

Claim Your Space. Come from a place of confidence and power. You’ve earned the right to be there and they’re just as lucky to have YOU. For those few minutes it’s YOUR stage.

Let it go. You’ll save yourself a lot of stress by not dissecting what you could have done differently. It’s done and if you’ve put your best effort forward you’ll have absolutely nothing to regret. Forget about it because the casting director already has. Just give your best audition then go about your day knowing if this doesn’t work out, that’s okay because plenty of other people would love to work with you. Want but don’t need. This comes from living a well-rounded life full of other interests, rich relationships, and an empowering sense of self.

And remember, if you do excellent work and show up with a great attitude you'll likely end up on the "mental rolodex" of a casting director. You may not be right for this particular role but may get a call out of the blue a week, month, or years down the road for the perfect part. I've seen it happen many times.

Follow Those Ahead, Lead Those Behind

Yesterday was sort of an impromptu "Mentor Day." First, I met with a teacher that had a very important influence on my life when I first got out of graduate school. Over the years we've remained close even catching a Brooklyn Cyclones game a few summers ago. He'd check in from time to time to see how I was doing and ask if he could help in any of my pursuits.

Later that day, I went to see the performance of a young man who was just 18 when we first me at The Flea, an off-off Broadway theater company in Tribeca. 

(The show by the way is, The Skin of Our Teeth currently playing at Theatre for a New Audience in Brooklyn. Check it out if you get the chance!)

http://www.tfana.org/1617season/skin-teeth/tickets

After the performance I waited for him in the lobby and he asked if I had time for a quick drink. 

His manager was waiting for him as well and he promptly introduced me as his "mentor." I have to say it meant a great deal.

As we sat at a trendy bar adjacent to the theater peering out the window he told me how he was now the "older guy" in the play. There were actors even younger than him that had sought his advice during the play's run on more than one occasion. "It's really weird that I'm the guy helping other people now," he admitted. "I'm sure you're great," I told him.

As I left my mentor on the corner of 115th and Columbia he thanked me for an email I'd written him earlier in the week. "I'm not sure I deserved all of that," he said. I credited him for his mentorship and how it played a significant role in me finally publishing my book, speaking at TEDx, and even shaping the man I've slowly become.

Similarly, I felt I didn't deserve the acknowledgement when my friend gave me credit for much of his success.

But that night when I headed towards the 3 train back to Manhattan I realized someone will always know something you don't offering an opportunity for growth and learning. What is important is to pass on what you've learned.

Seek and follow the wisdom of those ahead and lead those behind you leaving bits and pieces of the insights you've gained.

Look for the Superstars in Your Life

To me the real superstars were people like my friend Jeryl, who'd work a double-shift and then carry her heavy keyboard all the way from lower Manhattan to the Bronx for a performance that started at midnight.

Then there was Maria who worked all day at a law office then made her way to Tribeca after work to perform in a staged reading in a quite bookstore after work. 

These were people forced to bend time, babysit, and teach just to find any way they could to sing, write, act, play, and do what they loved most.

I learned that success was simply improving upon something you loved to do and attainment of the goal wasn't the point but rather who you became in its pursuit.

Find your Jeryl's and Maria's. Find your superstars.

There's Nothing Wrong with You

When I was a young actor in drama school there was NOTHING I could see myself doing other than telling stories the rest of my life. I was convinced I'd change the world over with a compelling monologue or screen performance.

As I got older, I began to feel a sense of doubt, a shift in what I valued. I still loved acting, but it occurred to me there were also passions, pursuits, and people worth my time that had nothing to do with a camera or stage.

Of course, at first this was alarming. I felt as though my heart and conscience had betrayed me. I'd spent years and years honing a craft, reading hundreds of plays and screenplays, and carved out a nice little identity as a "serious actor." What would happen to those efforts? That sense of being? If I wasn't an actor then who was I exactly?

What I discovered is that we are all many things. Being an actor didn't define me. I was also a son, a brother, a friend, a traveler, and citizen of the world. And I didn't have to abandon my love of acting just because it may not always be my sole focal point. 

As a result, I allowed other opportunities to come into my life, which infused my being with a deeper understanding of self and even made me a better actor.

Don't freak out if the things you want change over time. There's nothing wrong with you. Promise.

You're growing and allowing yourself to flow with the inevitable force known as change rather than resisting it and the possibilities it may bring.

Provide Support

The other night I went to see a good friend perform in a play. "I probably can't get you comps though," she warned me. "That's okay," I said. I knew all too well how difficult it could be to get a hold of some free theater tickets.

Two weeks later I showed up as promised. After the performance, which my friend was terrific in, she insisted we meet up. I told her how great she'd been, asked questions about her experience working on the production, and her thoughts on the play's challenging themes.

She beamed as we sipped our teas in the corner of a popular college coffee shop before we bid each other farewell and headed home.

I realized a week later that just the simple act of attending her play had meant a great deal to her. It not only showed that I cared, but validated what she was doing as an artist mattered - that her voice was heard.

Take the time to support a friend's play, reading, exhibition, gallery, film, concert, or screenplay. It'll mean more than you think.

Be Where You Are

A very influential mentor once said to me, "Be where you are." Just a few months earlier, the late great Philip Seymour Hoffman came to speak at our school. He said something similar, telling a class of wide-eyed young actors, that if he wasn't "feeling" it before a play he'd some how incorporate those sentiments into his performance. "I don't want to do this play," he once mumbled before his entrance on stage for, Jack Goes Boating.

What these two men were trying to convey was you can't simply will yourself to feel a certain way. It's important you acknowledge where you're at emotionally, spiritually, mentally, and physically instead of trying to motivate yourself to feel the way you perceive you're supposed to.

Honesty in one's craft begins with honesty with one self. Once you've taken personal inventory you can then navigate how to best approach the work.

Get Involved

This election season has reminded me of the actor I once was - someone consumed by theater, film, and performance alone. Sure, I had outside interests like travel, reading, and the occasional sporting event, but it wasn't until a few years after graduating I realized actors, writers, musicians, and all artists have a responsibility.

A true artist appreciates that expression is not only shared through craft, but through spirited debate, listening respectably to a point of view contrary to one's own, speaking up against injustice, being civically engaged, and doing so with conviction. Choosing not to be a bystander.

Remember that your Voice Matters. A LOT.

VOTE.

More than One Way to Save a Life

Bigger. Better. More important. We're often conditioned, particularly in Western society, to think in terms of the next best thing. A quick glance at your iPhone touchscreen reveals it's already time to upgrade your apps and software. Didn't I just do that? I often wonder. This notion of thinking also permeates the way we view our chosen career paths.

In a previous blog entry I talked about how success is masterfully doing that which you love to do. But too often, I see people associate their vocations with their sense of self-worth. "I'm not exactly saving the world," my friend joked recently when describing his job.

Doctors in particular are held in high esteem because they do in fact save the world over and over. It just happens to be one person at a time.

But the longer I spend my life creating the more I appreciate that there are many ways to save a life, particularly through artistry.

Though a painting, a book, or a compelling performance on stage can't cure a terminal illness, it can absolutely resuscitate one's soul from a lack of inspiration. It can reconnect one with their sense of humanity however lost it may have been.

What you think, write, create, and say means something. And without realizing it, you may have already saved a life.