To the Prospective Artist - Lessons from an Unknown Actor

CHAPTER 1

Getting Started

 

“There is only one way to learn. It’s through action.” – Paulo Coelho

 

Where Do I Begin?

“Sometimes I think my head is so big because it is so full of dreams.”

– The Elephant Man

 

Dani and I had exchanged, what seemed like an infinite number of emails, texts, and missed calls before finally pinning down a date to meet for coffee. “SO MUCH to talk about and I think it’s meant to be that we talk soon,” she messaged earlier in the week. I must admit I was excited to finally catch up with my new friend and recent college grad.

Dani and I met just a year earlier, while volunteering at an elementary school in East Los Angeles. Right away, I could sense a restlessness about her; the beautiful angst that often accompanies youth, possibility, and not quite knowing what to do with it all.

As we casually sipped our green teas at a busy Culver City coffee shop, I saw a bit of my former self, sans tattoo and the shiny Vespa helmet sitting beside her. I recalled once feeling so young, but that I was quickly running out of time to make my mark on the world. I wanted to start the journey, the Appian Way to my unrealized dreams, but like her, I didn’t know where to begin.

Listening to Dani that afternoon, everything seemed hurried as her words tried valiantly to keep pace with her thoughts. She showed me notes from a scratch pad Kerouac himself might have toted, full of scribbled thoughts, arrows and charts in tow. Her confusing notebook resembled a fake map devised to mislead an invading army.

But Dani was a very special girl whose passions varied from becoming a filmmaker to a human rights activist. I could tell she’d sought my help that afternoon for a little guidance on what to do and how to get the ball rolling.

“If you think of all the things you want to get done at once, you’ll quickly get overwhelmed,” I said. “You’re young and have plenty of time. First, pick one thing and do it as best you can. As you continue to try different things, your path will slowly reveal itself to you. And then, it gets simpler. Work really hard, be kind, and doors will start to open.”

A sense of calm slowly revealed itself in Dani’s eyes when I finished my rally cry. She seemed to take my words to heart, jotting down a few last notes as our time that afternoon came to a close. As she grabbed her helmet and headed back to her bright red scooter, I thought briefly on the beginning of my own journey to becoming an actor.

 

 

 

What’s a P.A.?

“No experience really goes wasted.” – Marcus Aurelius

 

Nine months after graduating from Syracuse University I had little more than an unframed college degree to show for my four years back east. Understandably, my parents’ patience was wearing thin as they nervously watched their oldest son try to navigate the waters of post-school life. The fact I even had a choice in pursuing my dreams, a concept profoundly foreign to anyone of my parents’ generation, was something my 22-year old self did not fully appreciate. Still, I needed to do something. So when a good friend called out of the blue and told me about an opportunity to work as a production assistant for a feature film, I nearly jumped at the chance.

The movie was shot about an hour from my Oakland apartment. It was a trek that required battling some of the Bay Area’s fiercest traffic on highways most natives would avert if possible. The hours were long, the temperature dropped dramatically each evening, and the house used for this horror film was ironically, rumored to be haunted.

On my first day of work, I earnestly asked one of the performers what advice he’d offer an aspiring actor. He matter-of-factly said, “Not to do it.” It also didn’t take Roger Ebert to realize nobody from this production was going to be thanking the Academy for an award any time soon. The final kicker was working twelve hour-days for over a month without getting paid a dime.

Still, I wouldn’t have traded the experience for anything. Before working as a P.A., I had no point of reference and could have easily been duped into believing the movie business was all a piece of cake. But racing to trailers to wrangle actors onto set, moving heavy and cumbersome set pieces, and working as a stand-in for the film’s stars quickly imparted a lesson or two. I learned an incredible amount about what it takes to make a film - the time, effort, coordination, commitment, and of course, the finances necessary to make a story come to life on the big screen. I began to appreciate that everyone’s role was important and that success hinged on each person carrying out his or her duties to the best of their ability.

My time on set also offered a not-so-subtle glimpse into how much harder I needed to work in order to have a chance at building a career in this industry. I took a closer look at what I was doing to inch towards my dreams and, equally significant, what I was not doing.

Most importantly, the experience taught me I needed many more like it. There was no right or wrong way to start my journey. I simply needed the courage to roll up my sleeves and begin. This meant taking initiative even if I didn’t fully know what I was doing. I also had to step out of my comfort zone, not be afraid to ask questions, and most importantly, learn as I went along.

 

 

 

A Not-So-Clear Path

“In every moment, in every event of your life, the beloved is whispering to you exactly what you need to hear and know.” – Rumi

 

One of the many challenges about embarking on a career in the arts is that no conventional pathway exists like that of many other professions. I suspect most people wouldn’t consult a physician who decided medical school would be a drag, or hire an attorney who hadn’t passed the bar exam. But a quick Google search of your favorite actor, singer, or writer will quickly reveal that each of their journeys wildly differed, many not formally trained. Most of my favorite actors didn’t go to fancy drama schools and the ones who did, dropped out soon after enrolling.

What differentiates a life in the arts from having a job that requires conventional schooling is that artistic expression is rooted in the human condition. It is a quality we all innately possess. And though I am a huge proponent of training and working tirelessly to hone one’s craft, I also believe there is no school that can teach the need each of us already has within to express our humanity. What a good institution can do is help you access your talents and impart the mechanics from which you work. So, I understand fully that deciding on whether or not to go back to school or study at a conservatory is very personal and sometimes complicated.

 

 

 

Magna Cum Debt

“Different people work different ways.” – Tony Gilroy

 

When I finished my undergraduate studies, I felt as though I couldn’t have returned home to sunny California quick enough. The brutal Central New York winters and long distance from family and friends had taken its toll. I had no clue what lay in store upon my homecoming, but was convinced I’d never again leave the Golden State or go back to school. So, when I found myself in a new university, just 250 miles from the previous one, I was relieved I hadn’t placed any wagers on my declaration three years earlier.

My decision to go to graduate school for acting was rooted in the belief that I needed more tools to become a truthful and rich storyteller. I was confident I had the ability but knew I lacked a proper framework. I also needed a sense of rigor in my approach to the work, a mentor to call me out on my artifice, a like-minded group of classmates to push me towards my full potential, and to build a network of artists to collaborate with then and after school.

My choice was also informed by the life experiences I’d gained during my three years away from the world of academia. I now had a little life under my belt. Working odd jobs, travelling, and even having my heart broken all helped inform me that I still very much wanted to be a storyteller. I would also be remiss if I did not mention I was in the incredibly auspicious position of not being bogged down with debt following graduation. Going back to school to study something I loved was a privilege, whose rarity and fortuitousness was not lost on me.

But for many others, the exorbitant cost of education makes the stakes much higher, a scenario to which I am sensitive. Many of my classmates took out significant student loans, diligently applied for grants, and signed up for work-study programs all in an impassioned effort to pursue their dreams amidst giant financial costs. I marveled at how people, like my friend Ashley, would arrive at the theater in the wee hours of the morning to sweep the stage and tidy up our theater before class started. Another inspiring classmate somehow found the time to make extra money by working as a tax return preparer when she wasn’t rehearsing scenes from Chekhov or Shakespeare.

For many, the compromises were well worth it. Still, there were some who discovered all too quickly that graduate school was not for them or, at least, not the one they’d chosen. Some were underwhelmed by the curriculum, while others seldom saw eye-to-eye with various faculty members. And though you can do enough research to build a large archive, ultimately, the only way to figure out if school is the right fit will be by going. I would encourage time for introspection and nudge you to consider some...