Always Have a Point of View

There were two types of people who'd walk into an audition room. There was the actor who'd read the part the way he or she perceived the casting director wanted the part to be read. The choices were often indistinguishable from the actor who'd auditioned for the exact same part just a moment before.

Then there was the actor who came in and made bold choices; someone who had a distinct point of view and wasn't afraid to claim the time and space they needed to tell the story on the page in their own unique way.

The actor who made bold choices didn't necessarily get the part, but unlike the actor who made stale and obvious choices, the former left an impression with the casting director. They stayed on the "mental rolodex" of the CD and it wasn't uncommon for them to receive a phone call down the line for a part they'd be great for.

I learned the importance of having a point of view and not just following the crowd. I learned to trust I had something worth saying and if I believed in the essence of my message there'd be others who would as well.

Be Kind, but Claim Your Space

I once heard an actor describe working with Hugh Jackman as a perfect example of maintaining on-set balance. His castmate explained how the film and theater star was always thoughtful, kind, and considerate to everyone on set but also had the courage to claim his space. 

In other words, he was polite while still cultivating an environment for himself where he could thrive and best serve the story. 

There's a "sweet spot" in being generous while also being clear about when you just need a moment to yourself. 

You can be nice without being soft. 

What's it to You?

Years ago, after a play I'd performed in came to a close, I walked up East 8th Street with my cast-mate and good friend Sarah. "What was that point of that?!" I cried. "There was nobody even in the audience." The little black box theater I was referring to was once a haven - a gritty little space where compelling stories were told in front of intimate, but packed rooms of 20. My frustration that evening reminded me just how distant a memory those performances now were.

As I paced back and forth just outside a busy apartment complex, Sarah listened patiently. The truth is, I 'd been struggling to find my meaning as an actor for quite some time - a realization once as clear as the sight of the Statue of Liberty from the Brooklyn Bridge.

Now, I'd lost my sense of purpose. The days where I believed a monologue I delivered, or a scene I was part of would somehow make a dent in the world by shaping the mind of someone who sat raptured in those creaky black chairs had come to close, or at least a long sabbatical. If people weren't even willing to show up why even bother? I thought.

As my little rant finally came to a close, Sarah offered a positive word or two of encouragement. But it took me quite some time to realize something that would thankfully realign me with my old perspective on the importance of artistic expression.

Before it matters to someone else, it must first matter to YOU.