How Good Are You?

If you're as good as they say you are, you may believe it. But if their response is silence—no roles, not even audition callbacks, that means you're no good?

Let's forget what they say—or don't say. You are God's gift—some say that, too. I'm saying it. Being a success as an actor is assured if you persevere. If you never step on a stage again—outside of classes and workshops—and you just can't count those, can you?—then you're an actor, period, end of discussion.

I believe in you. Not personally, at least not at this moment—I mean, anybody could be reading this. But, whoever you are, I truly believe in you. I believe your success as an actor rests on you refusing to stop auditioning, continuing to think like an actor, whether it's critiquing someone's film performance or reading a play with your imagination in gear.

All art is process, though we will always obsess on the end product. Be an actor. After all, you are one.

Whose Play Is It, Anyway?

I have made many changes to several plays based on a director's sensibilities and suggestions. Granted, this was during the development process—though the development process never really ends, does it? This is called artistic collaboration.

Audiences are never in on any of this, and the audience experience means everything to me, more than my creative self-approval. I save all my material, including many alternate endings, cut scenes, songs. My art is all that others see and all that they don't. I'm king of my universe, as self-absorbed and proud of my work as the next megalomaniac. But in life, in business, even in the arts business, I strive to be patient, kind, and ever so tolerant.

The meek inherit the earth—and don't get an inflated sense of themselves.

Talk Backs

http://www.facebook.com/tcg.org?ref=nf

On its Facebook page, Theatre Communications Group wants to hear from those in the know about the effectiveness of "talk backs." See my comment and others.

For those of you who are not Facebook members, here's my Facebook comment:

"Anything that gives an audience an appropriate and substantive opportunity for dialogue with artists is a fine thing. I don't see how it in any way violates artistic values—it’s not interfering with the work itself, but is just another way to reflect on the work. And talk backs don’t thwart conversations among theatergoers as they leave the theater, they stimulate conversation.

Audiences attending readings at (Chicago Dramatists ) have a particularly uplifting experience at talk backs for plays-in-progress, because they’re monitored with one simple rule: The playwright is not there to defend or explain the play. If you haven’t experienced such a constructive talk back, you can only imagine how useful feedback can be with this simple constraint in place.

Worth considering making the “no defense, no explanations” rule in force at all talk backs. An audience may be looking for a talk back to interpret what’s just been seen, but they could be encouraged instead to reflect back the experience they had. It’s a powerful technique."

The Play's the Thing

I had some performances of my own plays recently, and also sang in a benefit performance with my lovely wife, Judy Rossignuolo-Rice. See my blog entry on VVRITERS.

Blogging Hiatus

Please read today's post on my Meta blog, which explains my recent absence from these pages.

If the Shoe Fits

My favorite audition story comes from opera. The call was early, and I decided on a whim (I was young and full of whimsy) not to do any vocal warm-up. I sang a full-throated aria and my voice cracked repeatedly (it was years before my high notes were secure). I was embarrassed, but still young—the humiliation lasted no more than a few minutes before I was on to the next adventure.

I got a call later that day for a costume fitting for the role. The costume fit. The gentleman they had chosen based on the audition did not fit the costume.

I got the part. It was not a major role, but it was most certainly a major respected opera company.

I love this story. I believe it captures the essence of the audition process, the sheer fate of it. You get a role because you’re lucky, regardless how talented you are, and regardless to the degree your talent is appreciated.

Most of the artists with whom I’ve shared this story, particularly my take on it, hate it.
I don’t mean to imply talent and study mean nothing—quite the opposite. I mean only that talent and study ensure nothing with respect to winning recognition.

Talent and study, art itself, is its own reward.

What an Audition Is

An audition is not a horserace. There’s no photo-finish.

An audition is a beauty contest. And beauty, we know, is in the eye of the beholder.