Saturday, March 3, 2012
Catharsis
It's March! I'd like to start off the month of my birthday with a great scene. This is a clip from "Party Girl," a 1995 film directed by Diasy Von Sherler Mayer starring one of my all-time, top acting heroines, Parker Posey. In this scene, Parker forever seals both her place in my heart as an acting genius and in my intellect as a damn cool chick. The rest of the film is great as well and has many of my favorite things; Manhattan, libraries, the dewey decimal system, anagnorisis, sex in a library in a rainstorm (yup), Liev Shrieber, and best of all (through this scene), catharsis! There simply aren't enough chances in real life to have these satisfying outbursts when things are unjust, wrong, or incorrect. Let's change that this month in constructive ways. Let's fight against those people who stack their own books. Why would they do that? Why?
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Happy Lent
“When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites
do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting.
Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face,
so that it will not be obvious to others that you are fasting, but only
to your Father, who is unseen; and your Father, who sees what is done
in secret, will reward you. Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.
But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin
do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." - From The Book of Common Prayer, Ash Wednesday, 2012 (Matthew 6:16-21)
Happy Lent everyone! Last year, I gave up movies for Lent and was very cranky. Hardest thing I've ever done, probably, and a HUGE lesson for me in the nature and purpose of fasting. This year, I don't feel a particular pull towards any specific Lenten sacrifice. Maybe hot air balloon rides? Maybe group sex in public parks?...or inappropriate jokes?
Growing up, I spent most of my time attending "non-denominational" Christian churches with my mom and missed out on a lot of the the more ancient church-calendar practices of the Catholic and more traditional protestant churches. As an adult, I've developed a sense of curiosity and respect for the mysticism and tradition of these practices and am still learning a lot about what's behind the thinking of something like Lent, for example. Today I discovered Liturgical Time, a blog that tracks and illuminates the church calendar. There's a great deal of peace and reassurance for me in following the footsteps of this cycle of meditation, grace, and mercy.
There's something artistic and uncanny about Lent, and the church calendar, and indeed about church. But Lent in particular, for me, is a creative act; a time of gestation and preparing the soul to be receptive. For me, the season of Lent is a sense of smouldering embers, suppressed desire, boiling water stirred up and seasoned tightly under a lid (as my acting teacher might say), and of really facing truths that might be hard to look at.
A friend of mine recently told me that one reason he no longer participates in the church is because of an involuntary epiphany he had one day. Already an actor, he attended service and found himself looking at it from a professional theatrical point of view. Like always, he saw priests and volunteers wearing costumes, standing on a stage, following a script, using music and cues, telling a story based on a book. With a sudden, life-altering smack, he concluded that church is basically the same as the theater - all a big show. He went on to conclude, differently than me, that it must be a fiction.
I see his point, I really do. There's an element of religion that's mass manipulation (pun intended), where church assumes the role of a big business playing and preying on peoples' senses of conscience and dignity, family and guilt to take advantage of them financially and, worse, spiritually. I do see what my friend means about churches seeming an awful lot like theater - there's music and performance, the leaders use public speaking techniques to manipulate their audiences (sorry, I mean, congregations), and the entire teaching and message is part of a narrative/story that some argue is created, not divine. I get it. Sure. A good church service - or any public event - will most likely follow Freytag's pyramid of dramatic structure, just like a good play or a good calendar year. And I'm not going to say it's always a great thing that churches put on a show, but for me, in general, the theatrical elements of church can make it all the more beautiful. Indeed, I go to theater for much the same reason that I go to church - to experience the truth, to enter a no-bullshit zone where I can make some sense and possibly even some joy out of being human. We can know God (I believe) as easily in a black-box or the subway as in a pew.
And if church is like theater, the church calendar spells out it's dramatic structure. Lent is sort of the climax. In Christian terms, it's the crucifixion - and now, everything is waiting for the denouement, the surprise reversal of Christ's resurrection. But for now, the shit has hit the fan in Lent. We have to deal with being human. The beauty of believing in God is that our story doesn't end there. Being human isn't limited by our humanness, but rather transcended and set free in infinity. All of it is building, building, building....waiting, waiting, waiting...
"Remember you are dust and unto dust you shall return." It's theater at it's best. And then some.
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| photo from blog "liturgical time" |
Growing up, I spent most of my time attending "non-denominational" Christian churches with my mom and missed out on a lot of the the more ancient church-calendar practices of the Catholic and more traditional protestant churches. As an adult, I've developed a sense of curiosity and respect for the mysticism and tradition of these practices and am still learning a lot about what's behind the thinking of something like Lent, for example. Today I discovered Liturgical Time, a blog that tracks and illuminates the church calendar. There's a great deal of peace and reassurance for me in following the footsteps of this cycle of meditation, grace, and mercy.
There's something artistic and uncanny about Lent, and the church calendar, and indeed about church. But Lent in particular, for me, is a creative act; a time of gestation and preparing the soul to be receptive. For me, the season of Lent is a sense of smouldering embers, suppressed desire, boiling water stirred up and seasoned tightly under a lid (as my acting teacher might say), and of really facing truths that might be hard to look at.
A friend of mine recently told me that one reason he no longer participates in the church is because of an involuntary epiphany he had one day. Already an actor, he attended service and found himself looking at it from a professional theatrical point of view. Like always, he saw priests and volunteers wearing costumes, standing on a stage, following a script, using music and cues, telling a story based on a book. With a sudden, life-altering smack, he concluded that church is basically the same as the theater - all a big show. He went on to conclude, differently than me, that it must be a fiction.
I see his point, I really do. There's an element of religion that's mass manipulation (pun intended), where church assumes the role of a big business playing and preying on peoples' senses of conscience and dignity, family and guilt to take advantage of them financially and, worse, spiritually. I do see what my friend means about churches seeming an awful lot like theater - there's music and performance, the leaders use public speaking techniques to manipulate their audiences (sorry, I mean, congregations), and the entire teaching and message is part of a narrative/story that some argue is created, not divine. I get it. Sure. A good church service - or any public event - will most likely follow Freytag's pyramid of dramatic structure, just like a good play or a good calendar year. And I'm not going to say it's always a great thing that churches put on a show, but for me, in general, the theatrical elements of church can make it all the more beautiful. Indeed, I go to theater for much the same reason that I go to church - to experience the truth, to enter a no-bullshit zone where I can make some sense and possibly even some joy out of being human. We can know God (I believe) as easily in a black-box or the subway as in a pew.
"Remember you are dust and unto dust you shall return." It's theater at it's best. And then some.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Equity Bathrooms
The whole union/non-union question is a debate with as many opinions as there are actors. In fact, probably two opinions per actor. Everyone sees it through a complex, individually prescribed lens uniquely cracked and shaped by economics, politics, ambition, practicality, need, desire, and pride.
"Why does there even HAVE to be a union," one experienced non-equity actor friend of mine recently vented. "Isn't it sad that we need a union to force employers to treat us with respect?!" Another, just bumped up to must-join status, pipes in, "Don't join too soon. Why rush it? Let it build up and come to you." One dear dancer friend, a card-holding equity member who also happens to be (unjustly) unemployed, beats her breast in dejected frustration after long chorus calls and shakes her fist at the sky. "Lot of good an equity card does me," she observes, irked. "Why can't I get a freaking job?!" Meanwhile, the friend who just marked the anniversary of her first Broadway contract shrugs. She works really hard and has made it to the top - the White Way. I ask her, what's it like up there? Can she picture herself ever doing anything else? She sighs. "I dunno. Acting has just kind of always fell into place for me. I'm not really that driven, just too lazy to do something else."
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| it's blurry because it's so glamorous |
Friends, there is no simple answer. There is not even a complex one. There is no answer, actually. There is no rule of thumb or formula for success in this business. Whatever advice our friends, family, agents, teachers, coaches, or directors can give us, we are the ones who must make the choice. After all, making choices is our job. Choices are what an acting career boils down to - on or off the stage - big or small. Will I sleep in on my day off because I've been feeling sick and I should listen to my body? Will I get up and try to crash that EPA even though there are approximately 600 other non-equity actresses who look exactly like me? Will I buy into AFTRA because they are merging with SAG even though I don't have a lot of TV or commercial credits? Will I take the risk to step up my game by focusing on better job opportunities and higher quality auditions or stick to what I'm used to? Questions upon questions, diverging paths upon diverging paths, forks forked by forks on top of forks in the road - and no one else can do it for us. We have to make a choice.
I remember one of my most feared and respected acting teachers in school saying something along the lines of, "If you're going to make a choice, make a bold choice. If you're not going to make a choice, stop wasting my time and go home." Yes, this is a paraphrase. Confession: not only did I not really understand what she was talking about for an embarrassingly long amount of time, but I've also realized that I tend to avoid making scary choices in my career sometimes. Sometimes I make the (gasp! shame!) safe choice. Safe is the worst of all four-letter words, for an actor. And, what's more, sometimes I prefer to just not make a choice and instead avoid making tough calls, preferring to ride in the nether-gray-lands, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, neither pushing forward nor lagging behind.
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| hold on to that feelin' |
Gasp. Shame.
Like me, you probably sometimes just sit around with your EMC card...at least, metaphorically. Sometimes, we slow down instead of accelerating. But the thing to realize is, THAT IS A CHOICE. Not making a choice is actually, itself, a choice. And that's fine, as long as we are honest about what it is. Sometimes it's important to listen to your body, listen to your wallet, do what you need to do to survive and take care of yourself. Sometimes we need to choose to postpone making bold choices until we're in a reasonably safe position of power, stability, or confidence. But know that it's a choice. And feel empowered by that.
I'm not sure if it's the right time for me to try to buy into the unions and focus on status and membership and all, but I'll tell you, I now choose to make it the time to learn what this whole EMC stuff is all about. I choose to pay attention, listen, and learn. I chose to take the card out of my wallet and use it. And dudes, there is one definite, massive, enormous, beautiful plus side to having an actors union and an EMC card....two words....Equity bathrooms.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
I Want to Not Want to Not Want Things Anymore
You know that auburny-haired gal in your high school who wore crazy outfits built around men's boots? She was the one who had unpopular and vehement opinions about politics/religion/everything that she never stopped talking about in or out of the appropriate class situation, who read (and quoted) Bronte novels incessantly (especially in everyday conversations), stubbornly tried to revive archaic slang like "swanky," and always won staring contests/vows of silence? You know, the one who during trips to Wal-Mart would say things like, "I don't want a normal life! I'll never live in a suburb." And, "Psssht! I wouldn't be caught dead reading Harry Potter." And, "God, I don't want a St. John. Gross. What am I, an automaton?" (Jane Eyre reference, anyone?)
Well. X-amount of years later, she's realizing something kind of kooky and wonderful about her life, something that should probably have been obvious all along. Sure, maybe her obsession with curia and underdogs and gypsies and life's unobserved nooks and crannies stems from something good, some desire to explore and create...and maybe her desire to be different is really not that different, but rather a common symptom of humanity...but all this is beside the point. The fact is that without meaning to, our bespectacled heroine has followed her creative urges into the swampy land of Contrariety and let it become all about what's NOT for her, what she DOESN'T want. And this is not fair or brave or really honest. "I don't want 2.5 kids." "I don't want to vote for any of these guys." "I don't like pink." Okay, well...what DO you want, Miss Too-Cool?
You may have figured this out, but this bon vivant of vetoing to which I refer is...me. I've never seemed to have had a problem pointing out what I disagree with or what isn't perfect or what isn't as it should be. My mom could tell you that the eye-roll and the "death-stare" were my specialty. I've gloried in the revolution, the rebels, the devil's advocate. I own 4 - yes 4 - leather jackets, one for every flavor of outsider. Why does everything have to be contrary though, Jeanne Joe? What might happen if I spin the rhetoric, change the attitude? Take that same desire to create and explore and mix in bravery? Why is it so hard to admit, even to myself, that I want things? I don't want to not want things anymore. I want to be okay with the fact that I do want things.
It's not about what I don't want anymore. It's now about what I do want. The truth is that it was safer to play on the edges and shoot down what I don't want, but that's taking the easy way out. See, if I admit that I actually want something, that makes me vulnerable. It means I stand the risk of not getting whatever that thing is that I want. Or worse - getting it! You can't be disappointed if you don't hope. Your heart can't break if it doesn't first skip a beat in excitement. My Dad hates that word, hope; he always says, "Hope is not a strategy." He's right. It's not. But, it can be a source of inspiration. Inspiration fuels of strategy.
"Without vision, the people parish." I want to be brave enough to wear my heart on my sleeve instead of hiding it behind my wits. Perhaps nothing earth-shattering will happen at first, but rather than continue to play it cool, I'm going to let myself make a fool out of myself with yearning. Yearning, wanting, admitting, and celebrating my frail human appetite for wanting things. Probably no Greek mythological figures will appear to wave a scepter and grant my wishes. But, something magical might happen. If I can actually admit to myself (and the world) what I DO want, that might be the first step towards achieving it.
So, I've made a decision. I will keep my love for the obscure and the strange, but no longer will I put down other loves. I will probably stay quirky, but I will do it in the light instead of the dark and stop shrugging off the truth of what's behind my pangs of desire. I will own up to what I want and not be ashamed to go for it. I will be positive, and form my vision for my life out of "yes" instead of "no." What I am about to say is scary for me, but I think it will be fun. This is not an exhaustive list but rather the highlight reel, if you will. My mom would say, "Go for it!" I hope to look back at this entry in a year's time and see track marks from this moment leading in the direction of these things that I want. Here are some:
I want to not want to not want things anymore. ;)
Well. X-amount of years later, she's realizing something kind of kooky and wonderful about her life, something that should probably have been obvious all along. Sure, maybe her obsession with curia and underdogs and gypsies and life's unobserved nooks and crannies stems from something good, some desire to explore and create...and maybe her desire to be different is really not that different, but rather a common symptom of humanity...but all this is beside the point. The fact is that without meaning to, our bespectacled heroine has followed her creative urges into the swampy land of Contrariety and let it become all about what's NOT for her, what she DOESN'T want. And this is not fair or brave or really honest. "I don't want 2.5 kids." "I don't want to vote for any of these guys." "I don't like pink." Okay, well...what DO you want, Miss Too-Cool?
You may have figured this out, but this bon vivant of vetoing to which I refer is...me. I've never seemed to have had a problem pointing out what I disagree with or what isn't perfect or what isn't as it should be. My mom could tell you that the eye-roll and the "death-stare" were my specialty. I've gloried in the revolution, the rebels, the devil's advocate. I own 4 - yes 4 - leather jackets, one for every flavor of outsider. Why does everything have to be contrary though, Jeanne Joe? What might happen if I spin the rhetoric, change the attitude? Take that same desire to create and explore and mix in bravery? Why is it so hard to admit, even to myself, that I want things? I don't want to not want things anymore. I want to be okay with the fact that I do want things.
It's not about what I don't want anymore. It's now about what I do want. The truth is that it was safer to play on the edges and shoot down what I don't want, but that's taking the easy way out. See, if I admit that I actually want something, that makes me vulnerable. It means I stand the risk of not getting whatever that thing is that I want. Or worse - getting it! You can't be disappointed if you don't hope. Your heart can't break if it doesn't first skip a beat in excitement. My Dad hates that word, hope; he always says, "Hope is not a strategy." He's right. It's not. But, it can be a source of inspiration. Inspiration fuels of strategy.
"Without vision, the people parish." I want to be brave enough to wear my heart on my sleeve instead of hiding it behind my wits. Perhaps nothing earth-shattering will happen at first, but rather than continue to play it cool, I'm going to let myself make a fool out of myself with yearning. Yearning, wanting, admitting, and celebrating my frail human appetite for wanting things. Probably no Greek mythological figures will appear to wave a scepter and grant my wishes. But, something magical might happen. If I can actually admit to myself (and the world) what I DO want, that might be the first step towards achieving it.
So, I've made a decision. I will keep my love for the obscure and the strange, but no longer will I put down other loves. I will probably stay quirky, but I will do it in the light instead of the dark and stop shrugging off the truth of what's behind my pangs of desire. I will own up to what I want and not be ashamed to go for it. I will be positive, and form my vision for my life out of "yes" instead of "no." What I am about to say is scary for me, but I think it will be fun. This is not an exhaustive list but rather the highlight reel, if you will. My mom would say, "Go for it!" I hope to look back at this entry in a year's time and see track marks from this moment leading in the direction of these things that I want. Here are some:
- dance an actual tango
- get married and have kids (this is hard for me to admit for some reason, but I really, really do want it.)
- adopt kids
- be on 30 Rock!
- ride the Orient Express...it's still there, right? Probably called something less racist now.
- take my mom and dad to the Oscars!
- learn Spanish
- visit a rain forest
- study at RADA
- act in feature films
- portray a vampire...dead serious (get it!?!)
- be British (pretty sure this one won't happen for me, unless I can---)
- invent time travel and alter the past
- direct a movie
- start a production company (oh wait, check!)
- publish a book
I want to not want to not want things anymore. ;)
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Showtime
Inspiration becomes a solid, smoldering idea. The idea becomes a need. The need becomes a collaboration. The collaboration becomes a pursuit. Consultation. Pitching.
Fundraising. Crowds of supporters come out of the woodwork, from sometimes surprising and always humbling and amazing places. Concept building. Casting. Booking space. Finding a theater. Weeks of rehearsal. More collaboration. Evolution. Hiring support. Volunteers. Building a website. Finalizing the script. Organizing tickets. Trying on costumes. Buying snacks. Tech week. Light cues. Dress rehearsal. Speed through.
What's different about this opening day? What's special about this particular showtime, for me?
That first inspiration, that little idea that became a need - it was my need, my idea. It met a partner, Larissa Dzegar, and evolved to something better when our ideas and needs mixed. Our ideas together became a pursuit that both of us just HAD to see brought to life. We made this show out of the raw materials of our own selves and what we could reach in the world around us, joined by other artists, supported by an astounding number and caliber of people who believed in us and our project. Today, when the audience walks into Space on White, it will be because Larissa and I wanted it to happen, because the universe supported our venture. And because, of course, God is good.
The Body Stories is a dream come true for me. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for letting me tell this story, for putting this show on the stage, for acting, for showtime. Now I can say, "I am Jeanne Joe Perrone - an actress, a writer, a producer, an art maker, and a director. I am a creator of The Body Stories. My dreams come to life."
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Home
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| Treehuggers: me and my mom |
As an actor and self professed gypsy, I have often made cavalier statements like: "I have no hometown," and "Home is wherever you hang your hat." Whenever I say stuff like that, I obviously try to be standing mysteriously under a streetlight or smoking a cigarette or be backlit by the city skyline with sirens blaring eerily in the distance or something equally cinematic, epic, and devastatingly worldy. Of course, I don't smoke, so I never look as noir in actuality as I do in my imagination. And I am sure I never sound as cool when I say that stuff as I think I do. Probably I just sound silly. But I can dream. I can pretend to be that hard-boiled femme fatale with no past and probably no future, with undisclosed secrets and seemingly invulnerable armor - a la Lauren Bacall. I can tell everyone and myself that home is whatever I make it, but really, that's not entirely true. All it takes is a Christmas back at my mom's house, and my tough outer shell crumbles like Santa's cookies in milk.
As an actor, it's really most important for me to be honest with myself. After 7-going-on-8 years in New York City, I finally am experiencing my first homesickness. Took me long enough right? I guess it's some consolation to me that this proves, once and for all, that I do actually have a heart. Yes, I doubted it once.
Over Christmas, I was hit with powerful waves of sea-salt tinged nostalgia as I drove up the California coast north of San Francisco with my bestie from high school in a rented Fiat (!!) and caught up about our lives. Over dinner with my mom, it hit me just how precious and rare our time together is. In my teenage bedroom, whose walls have been re-plastered and painted past recognition, I fell asleep in luxurious 1,000 count cotton sheets with the recurring thought: "This is so great. This is so wonderful. I would love to live here again. I want to stay home. Life is so much easier and pleasanter and better here. How nuts do I have to be to leave all this behind for cockroaches, subways, and a rat to human ratio of 4:1?"
Like many actors (and, let's face it, most adults of any kind), the city I live and work in is far away from my family. I see my crew usually once a year for the holidays, if I'm able to go back home - or if my mom is able to come visit me. This year was special because due to my brother's wedding, my own reckless stubbornness in forcing vacation time into my schedule, and my mom's acquisition of a traveling buddy, I got to see everyone two or three times. Maine, New York, Texas, Southern and Northern California - no point on the map was safe from my obsession with being physically present with my loved ones for a change. I even made two trips to Texas to see my Dad. Texas.
This world doesn't really feel like home a lot of the time - I am sure that must be true for other people in fields other than acting, too. The world can be competitive, cold, difficult, unfair, all those things. It can be, well, worldly. It can make one feel small and disposable and overwhelmed. Yet, this world can also be beautiful and lovely, so much so that there are moments and experience that make me absolutely ache with their beauty. But for some reason, it seems to me that the times I see this world at it's most lovely are the times I feel the most homesick for another world, a perfect world, a heaven. Perhaps human nature is a little bit like the nature of pursuing an acting career: we are far from home, and we're sojourning in a harsh and often dark city - but who we are, and what makes us tick, is still secreted away in a place that's full of love.
We have to find a way to keep in touch with it somehow, in the absence of home. We have to take our home with us, and recognize that there's more to this world and to ourselves than meets the eye.
This evening I attended Trinity Grace Church in Chelsea with a friend, and the main thing that struck me in the talk was when the preacher said, "Once you find that focal point of love, the impossible becomes possible." It almost seemed impossible, this Christmas, to come back to New York. It was quite tempting follow the path of least resistance and stay somewhere warm, safe, comfortable, and loving. But hold on, I can't give up. I can't. I love this too much. And love is a big aspect of what makes a home. Love makes acting my home away from home. What can seem impossible in my pursuit of acting will be made possible by my love for it, and the love I receive from the people in my life that make my life possible. That is the home that I can take with me wherever I go. Love is what makes home home. If I can put my love of acting into each audition, every cold read, every mailing and rehearsal and performance, I will have really achieved something. I will have achieved a homecoming.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Be Jolly
Today I wake up in south Texas, basically Mexico, to the sound of Fox News blaring on the other side of the wall my bedroom shares with my Dad's flatscreen TV. It has been a whirlwind week of all-nighters, packing, working, and wrapping things up in New York in preparation for the holidays. I've been to see three movies and multiple friends and survived a night of the worst bar pick-up lines ever ("Have you ever solved a Rubicks cube?"). I've worn 4-inch heels to LaGuardia airport at 3:30am to catch my flight. I've lucked out and used my empty row on the airplane to stretch out horizontally for the entire trip. And I've just started to relax. Shuffling groggily into the living room, I have just enough time to put on the tea kettle and yawn at the Republican debate recap on the tube when my Dad says, "I thought this morning we could talk about what you can do to fix your auditions so that you start getting what you want out of them."
Ah, Dad. No one else can quite pull off the confront-you-with-heavy-business-before-you've-even-brushed-your-teeth-in-the-morning conversations like you. No one can reheat bean soup for breakfast with a shot of ketchup because George Burns said it's good like you. No one can hone in on what I'm trying to avoid but shouldn't the way you do. No one can actually comprehend and talk about show business without being in it like you. I love you, Dad.
As they say in The Godfather, "This is the business we have chosen." It's not that I want to un-choose my path in life. It's that every year right around Christmas I like to slow down, step back, reassess, and rethink my business. I like to step away for a week or two, drink a lot of eggnog, and watch westerns. I like to pretend that there's no work to do or music to face. I like to recap my year, pat myself on the back, and not think about it. But my Dad never really lets me stop, and for that I am very grateful because, ultimately, I don't want to stop. My Dad has a gift for helping me combine my rest and recuperation with reinforcement, whether I like it or not. "What can you do to book your auditions?" he asks, relentless, over our breakfast of ketchup soup. George Burns was right. Reheated soup is great with a shot of ketchup. Who knew?
There are several things we come up with. Have vision and clarity. Know who you are. Do your own thing. Have a point of view. Do something dazzling. Make a big choice. Walk in the room with positive energy. Be genuine. But my favorite thing we come to is simple. It's something my Dad has been telling me since day 1 of my life: "Just be Jeanne Joe." And have fun!
The truth is in life, in art, in acting, in business, the most valuable resource a person has is their own self. It's what makes great performers amazing: they are who they are, and they work from there, and no one else can do what they do. This is so simple, and sometimes so hard to remember in the midst of trudging up the mountain of your goals. It's so easy to get derailed, discouraged, diverted into thinking patterns or behaviors that diminish and dilute your chutzpah. It's so easy for me to forget to enjoy myself as I go about this crazy adventure of being an actress. But that's what matters most! AND it's what will make it all work, in the end. These two words are the key...
Last night we're watching The Aviator and Dad turns to me and says, "Do you think you can do what Cate Blanchett does?" It's funny that he picks her as the measure to hold myself up against, as she is one of my all-time acting heroes. When she performed Streetcar Named Desire at BAM a couple years ago, I shelled out almost an entire week's income for tickets to the special benefit show with a cast/member mixer gala. After trying on, tearing off, accessorizing, and re-imagining multiple outfits, I took a day off work and wore my Gucci shoes (yes, I have a pair of Gucci shoes, don't ask how I got them - no one was hurt and that's what's important). At the gala over the intoxicating post-show buzz and live New Orleans jazz, my date Shirin Tinati dared me to go talk to Ms. Blanchett. Yes, it's true, Cate Blanchett was only ten feet away from us surrounded by bodyguards and BAM big-wigs, glowing with a super-human radiance that defies description. All I had to do was put one Gucci heel in front of the other, look her in the eye, and form words.
Ahh! I couldn't do it! That's how in love with her I am. Even her skin seems more expressive than ordinary skin. Do I think I can do what she does? How could Dad know to ask me that? It's a moment of truth. It's a soul-searching look in the mirror of my mind. I think for a minute and reply, "I don't know if I can do what she does, but I can do what I do."
Dad smacked his hands together. "Great answer."
The best way to refresh and revitalize my career and my self over this break is to remember this simple truth: I can do what I do. Enjoy. Myself. Be me. Have fun. This is the business I have chosen, and I am thankful for a full and fun year. When the going gets tough, I am thankful I have my Dad and my own inner voice to remind me of the simple truths. Why focus on what I haven't done yet? I get to do plenty of cool things, like this video I'll post below by Kings in the Back Row.
So, gentle reader, I share all of this with you today because I was in need of a pep talk and perhaps this will encourage you as well. Whether your dream is to act, write, work, parent, love, farm, or drive a truck, your greatest asset (and sometimes your only one) is yourself. What can I do to book my auditions? Be myself. What can I do to achieve my goals? Be myself. What can I do to enjoy my life? Be myself. It's that simple. Yay for Christmas! Yay for Dads! Yay for reminders of what I knew all along. Yay for us, gentle reader, as we take the time this holiday season (and beyond) to enjoy ourselves. Let's get out there and get jolly!
Departures - KBR LAB from Kings in the Back Row on Vimeo.
Ah, Dad. No one else can quite pull off the confront-you-with-heavy-business-before-you've-even-brushed-your-teeth-in-the-morning conversations like you. No one can reheat bean soup for breakfast with a shot of ketchup because George Burns said it's good like you. No one can hone in on what I'm trying to avoid but shouldn't the way you do. No one can actually comprehend and talk about show business without being in it like you. I love you, Dad.
As they say in The Godfather, "This is the business we have chosen." It's not that I want to un-choose my path in life. It's that every year right around Christmas I like to slow down, step back, reassess, and rethink my business. I like to step away for a week or two, drink a lot of eggnog, and watch westerns. I like to pretend that there's no work to do or music to face. I like to recap my year, pat myself on the back, and not think about it. But my Dad never really lets me stop, and for that I am very grateful because, ultimately, I don't want to stop. My Dad has a gift for helping me combine my rest and recuperation with reinforcement, whether I like it or not. "What can you do to book your auditions?" he asks, relentless, over our breakfast of ketchup soup. George Burns was right. Reheated soup is great with a shot of ketchup. Who knew?
There are several things we come up with. Have vision and clarity. Know who you are. Do your own thing. Have a point of view. Do something dazzling. Make a big choice. Walk in the room with positive energy. Be genuine. But my favorite thing we come to is simple. It's something my Dad has been telling me since day 1 of my life: "Just be Jeanne Joe." And have fun!
The truth is in life, in art, in acting, in business, the most valuable resource a person has is their own self. It's what makes great performers amazing: they are who they are, and they work from there, and no one else can do what they do. This is so simple, and sometimes so hard to remember in the midst of trudging up the mountain of your goals. It's so easy to get derailed, discouraged, diverted into thinking patterns or behaviors that diminish and dilute your chutzpah. It's so easy for me to forget to enjoy myself as I go about this crazy adventure of being an actress. But that's what matters most! AND it's what will make it all work, in the end. These two words are the key...
enjoy yourself.
Last night we're watching The Aviator and Dad turns to me and says, "Do you think you can do what Cate Blanchett does?" It's funny that he picks her as the measure to hold myself up against, as she is one of my all-time acting heroes. When she performed Streetcar Named Desire at BAM a couple years ago, I shelled out almost an entire week's income for tickets to the special benefit show with a cast/member mixer gala. After trying on, tearing off, accessorizing, and re-imagining multiple outfits, I took a day off work and wore my Gucci shoes (yes, I have a pair of Gucci shoes, don't ask how I got them - no one was hurt and that's what's important). At the gala over the intoxicating post-show buzz and live New Orleans jazz, my date Shirin Tinati dared me to go talk to Ms. Blanchett. Yes, it's true, Cate Blanchett was only ten feet away from us surrounded by bodyguards and BAM big-wigs, glowing with a super-human radiance that defies description. All I had to do was put one Gucci heel in front of the other, look her in the eye, and form words.
Ahh! I couldn't do it! That's how in love with her I am. Even her skin seems more expressive than ordinary skin. Do I think I can do what she does? How could Dad know to ask me that? It's a moment of truth. It's a soul-searching look in the mirror of my mind. I think for a minute and reply, "I don't know if I can do what she does, but I can do what I do."
Dad smacked his hands together. "Great answer."
The best way to refresh and revitalize my career and my self over this break is to remember this simple truth: I can do what I do. Enjoy. Myself. Be me. Have fun. This is the business I have chosen, and I am thankful for a full and fun year. When the going gets tough, I am thankful I have my Dad and my own inner voice to remind me of the simple truths. Why focus on what I haven't done yet? I get to do plenty of cool things, like this video I'll post below by Kings in the Back Row.
So, gentle reader, I share all of this with you today because I was in need of a pep talk and perhaps this will encourage you as well. Whether your dream is to act, write, work, parent, love, farm, or drive a truck, your greatest asset (and sometimes your only one) is yourself. What can I do to book my auditions? Be myself. What can I do to achieve my goals? Be myself. What can I do to enjoy my life? Be myself. It's that simple. Yay for Christmas! Yay for Dads! Yay for reminders of what I knew all along. Yay for us, gentle reader, as we take the time this holiday season (and beyond) to enjoy ourselves. Let's get out there and get jolly!
Departures - KBR LAB from Kings in the Back Row on Vimeo.
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