Life Experience vs Acting Class

I've often said that a person who wants to be an actor would be better served by taking a cooking class than taking an acting class. Not because acting classes aren't valuable, but because increasing the breadth and depth of your life experience will have a much greater impact on the quality of your work than learning any particular technique. The difference in my work before and after my trip around the world is stupidly obvious. Good acting is less an invention from thin air than it is a reshuffling of self. Depending on the role: you play up certain parts of your personality and experience and you sublimate others. The more that's happened to you, the more you've felt, the more of yourself you've used to get through life, the greater your palette.

If any of what I've just written holds water, after this week is over I'm going to be a motherfucking artistic genius.

One of my great personal role models died earlier this week. She was a beautiful, kind, caring, and giving woman. The world is a little darker without her.

Two days later I was party to a decision making process that sent an 18 year old kid (and murderer) to prison for the rest of his life. If he's lucky he'll be 70 when he next tastes freedom. Good news: I believe the system can work. Bad news: We might have failed as a society.

Oh, and I learned to make latkes.

No doubt, when I someday play Hamlet, audiences will be riveted by my performance. Not because of my brilliant descent into madness, but because at some level they'll sense: at any moment this goy could start grating and frying potatoes. Oh vey!

You've Been Paid? You Are A Professional!

A blogging buddy of mine recently posted about her first big gig as a professional artist. She was gob smacked by the amount she was being paid. She then wrote the following line in reference to her website to promote her art:

The website will host all my “professional” (I had to put that in quotes because I feel like a douche using the word without them) work and clients can access which photos they want to purchase directly the site.

The following is a copy of my response to her post, adapted to suit an actor:

Dear Actor,

Congratulations on your paid acting gig! You are officially a professional actor, and you should not feel like a "douche" when describing yourself as such.

Clearly, you do work of a professional caliber. Others recognize this and are willing to pay you for it. But more important than others believing you should be paid for your work, is you believing you deserve to be paid for your work. Until you can believe that, you will be hesitant to offer your services as a *professional* actor. Just because the status is new doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

Again, dear Actor, you are now a professional. You deliver professional-quality performances because you are a paid professional. You deserve to be compensated handsomely for your efforts, as any professional would be.

Here’s to great success in your endeavors and that this is the first of many such gigs! Best,

Donovan

Your work is only worth as much as you can convince someone else to pay you for it. If you can't even convince yourself you're a professional, what hope do you have of someone else seeing that value? The most important step towards a successful acting career is having a powerful champion of your work in your corner, someone who truly believes your work is good and that you deserve to be paid for it, that person is YOU.

Near Panic Attack Over Sitting Up Straight - Really? REALLY?

A few weeks ago I nearly had a panic attack during acting class because I was asked to sit up straight. Ok, it was a little more complicated than that, but somaticaly good posture is all that was requested.

Why was it so upsetting? What did that sitting up business represent?

Many of the introductory games in improv classes deal with status. My favorite involves the ultimate status competition: The High School Reunion. Everyone is dealt a card which sight unseen they place facing out on their foreheads. The players then begin to interact with each other based on the face value of the cards they see on other folks foreheads. Aces attract large crowds of admirers, while 2's and 3's end up as wall flowers along the periphery. Not unlike life.

From an audience perspective the most fun occurs when a character perceives their status to be significantly higher or lower than what is specified on their card. They move through life in a state of confusion, no one behaves in the manner they expect.

At some point in my life, I decided that the best way to attract women was to have a fantastic set of neuroses and insecurities. Women want projects and gosh darnit I was going to be a fixer upper. It seemed to work well for Woodie Allen in his films, so how could it go wrong for me? In my mind's eye I'm a 35ish, underweight, balding, funny-looking Jewish guy with poor eye-sight. In that improv game, I'm a 3 or a 4 of clubs taking cheap shots at the prom king from the sidelines.

I go through a lot of my life as that man, with all the emotional walls, bad posture, self-deprecating jokes, and accompanying existential crises. I even managed to attract a number of fantastic girlfriends (all of whom needed glasses and I imagine resented my glasses envy) - so the plan can't be wholly flawed.

So why a panic attack about sitting up straight? Asking me to sit up straight was asking me to look at the card on my forehead and live up to it. I was being asked to own all six feet of my height, all 20/20 of my vision, and worst of all - 100% of my opinions. As a self-perceived slouching outsider, it was easy - you can say anything you want without fear of conflict if your opinion isn't worth anything.

For better or worse the card I've been dealt lands somewhere closer to an Ace than a Deuce. That's what the camera sees, that's what casting sees, and that's what I'll be asked to play. It's about time I sat up straight and played my hand.

I Finally Passed Groundlings Level II!

I hadn't failed a class since my wannabe stoner phase in middle school. Then I enrolled in Groundlings Level II. I first took it with Kevin Kirkpatrick and was asked to repeat it. Then I took it with Karen Maruyama, and she asked me to repeat it again. 13 weeks ago, I enrolled in Groundlings Level II for a third time, again with Karen.

I am a person who has little tolerance for failure. I'm the worst version of myself when I'm in a situation where I am being asked to do something I don't know how to do. I get very easily frustrated, I loudly crack bad jokes (yes louder and less funny than usual), I pout, and I get short with other people.

If stuck in an uncomfortable situation for a long period of time, I go catatonic. I shroud myself in a hooded sweatshirt, cross my legs over themselves about 8 times and hug myself while slouching severely to one side - in my efforts to disappear I look more conspicuous than a day-glow Unabomber.

Halfway through the last class of the session I was absolutely convinced I had not passed, that I was destined be a Groundlings washout. I was bound and determined to go cry in the bathroom so that it wouldn't slip out in class, but somehow I managed to keep myself together, and got to see my classmates do some fantastic and hilarious work.

Which is why I'm so happy and surprised to announce: I've finally passed Groundlings Level II!

Thankfully I'm in good company: Jennifer Coolidge had to repeat Groundlings Basic three times before she was advanced to Level II, and she did terrible spacework just like me!

Next project: get ready for Groundlings Lab, we're only allowed one crack at it.

Meta project: start to believe in my abilities as an actor, even if it takes hypnotism or overt self-delusion; this doubt is undermining everything I'm pursuing.

How To Thank Your Network

Kristine Oller is a marketing and career consultant for actors. She recently shared what I think is a fantastic idea: inexpensive but not cheap thank you gifts.

A successful acting career is about building and strengthening relationships; in fact most careers are about relationships. It's just that with most careers you only have to lean on your contacts once every few years for help securing a job instead of on a daily basis as actors do. Every time someone vouches for you they are risking a part of their credibility, it's safer not to recommend someone than it is to recommend them. With that in mind, when someone does stick their neck out for you, you should acknowledge it. How?

Every time someone refers a potential employer (CD, director, producer) or employee (agent, manager, etc) to you - even if you don't book the part or sign with them, you should send your referrer a token of your thanks. It doesn't have to be expensive, but it should be significant.

• A hand-written card.
• A gift certificate for a scoop of Ben & Jerry's ice cream.
• Pull a Famous Amos and give them freshly baked cookies.
• A gift card in the amount of the most expensive item on the menu at Starbucks.
• A small trinket that the receiver would enjoy and not perceive as junk.

Yes this is an added expense, and yes you're probably poor and don't have a gift budget. That said, giving a small gift to acknowledge a contact's efforts on your behalf is invaluable. It lets them know you appreciate what they did, it helps to reinforce your relationship, and it makes future referrals more likely. It'll also make your grandmother proud.

Please write a comment with any other ideas you have for inexpensive but good gifts.

A Snapshot of My Life Right Now

Taking a page from my buddy Sokrates' book, I'm going to fulfill my bloggerly duties in the simplest way possible, a list of what's going on with me.

• I'm Now A Day Laborer: In an effort to beef up my wallet (and butch up my image) I'm now doing construction work with a college buddy of mine. The pay isn't great, but the fringe benefits are awesome: watching the sun rise, working outside, and coming home tired knowing that I've earned my keep on this planet.
• Groundlings: I just received my mid-term written evaluation in Groundlings Level II, it said some good things about my characters, and then it shouted "GET OUT OF YOUR HEAD!" Note taken.
• Seydways: My ongoing scene study class is going well. I'm currently working on open-hearted communication. That and trying to cultivate more leading man appropriate qualities in my work.
• Headshots: I just picked up my shots from Reproductions. The focus might be a touch soft, but a bird in the hand and all that.
• Target List: I've assembled a list of the shows and Casting Directors I want to target. I'll be signing up for Casting Director workshops shortly.
• Around The World: I'm picking up some more Producer duties on the project. I've been getting unsolicited positive feedback from friends about the first episode and I'm excited for our last few days of shooting.
• The Winners Circle: I auditioned for and was accepted into a non-dues-paying actors group. It's sort of like The Actor's Network but free and with more performance opportunities. I'm excited.
• Self-Produced Series: My PeeWee Herman meets Bill Nye The Science Guy show concept is shifting, in what I think is a positive direction. It's time to write some episodes already.
• B-Side: I've been working on a redesign of the B-Side Radio website, and if I may say so, it's looking awesome. I'll be posting links once it goes live.
• Cooking: I recently baked a peach pie, an apple crisp, and will soon be baking a pear tart. I'm super excited to use the recipe from the Cook's Illustrated Cookbook my sister gave me for my b-day.

I have a fair amount of stuff going on in my life, and I'm happier for it. Thanks for indulging me in what was essentially a mental dump, I'll be posting more of what you're used to once I acclimate to my new schedule.

The Three Tiers of Actors Auditioning in Los Angeles

Daniel Gamburg was a guest instructor at Seydways Studios this evening and he laid out what he feels are the three tiers of actors auditioning in LA:

1. Those who are Nervous: These are actors who come into the audition nervous, it's clear in their reads, and things are a little flat or too pushed. These folks don't get an adjustment and they definitely don't get called back.
2. Those who are Competent: These are actors who have been in town a few years, beaten their nerves, and turn in a very competent performance. They nail the requirements of the scene, but don't bring anything particularly charismatic to their work. They may get an adjustment to see if they can up their game in their second take.
3. Those who get Called Back: These are actors who absolutely nail the scene fresh out of the gate. They also bring something unique to their performance that elevates the scene above what is written on the page. So long as they fit the physical requirements of the part, these are the actors who get called back. Any one of them is good enough that you could put them on set and get the performance you need.

These seem like pretty reasonable bins to sort auditions into. The eventual goal is to master your nerves, and know yourself well enough that you are always bringing a Callback quality performance into the audition. If you do this, you experience the freeing effect of knowing that casting decisions will come down to issues beyond your control like height, physical type, and your star meter on IMDB.

The truth of the matter is: TV directors have little desire and no time to direct you. They are looking to cast pre-directed performances that can be lit and shot as quickly as possible. Bringing anything less than broadcast quality work into an audition is a waste of the Casting Director's time and yours. So whatever it takes, whatever it is you need to do to get your work to that level: do it.

What a Baguette Taught Me About Being Human

If a falling piano can take your life in an instant of cartoon irony, can't you also begin to live in an instant?

Yes, we are the sum total of our past experiences and our future expectations, hopes, and dreams. But we are also the people we choose to be moment to moment. People will often state character flaws as immutable, and thus forgivable, aspects of their being. "I'm a selfish person." No you're not, or at least you don't have to be.

The beginning of the end of one of my romantic relationships was marked by what my friends know as "The Bread Incident". I was hosting a dinner party for some acting classmates in the Bay Area. I had the stump of a baguette in my hand which I was looking forward to eating. My then girlfriend asked for a bite, to which I replied "No." Let us say, because of my selfishness and insensitivity the rest of the evening did not go well.

I would like to say that days after our eventual breakup and some reflection I came to realize the error of my ways and was living as my new better self. I wasn't. I was the same selfish bread-hording person.

It wasn't until I was out to dinner with my family a few months later that I arrived at a moment of clarity. My mother asked for a bite of my meal and I replied "I ordered this because I want to eat it." My grandmother was apalled, and said to me with great disappointment "Donovan, Keiths share."

Mine is not a family with a strong sense of honor or connection to our ancestors. Sure there were stories, but they were mostly funny recollections of my Great Uncle Bug's many misadventures. The behavior expected of a Keith had been never codified for me until that moment. When my grandmother invoked family lineage and made clear that my behavior contradicted established norms, I was incredibly ashamed.

After her words hit me, a small aspect of my life turned on a dime. I decided that from then on I would make a point of sharing my food. It wasn't easy at first, and happened in stages. It started with me grudgingly giving bites when directly asked, to offering tastes of delicious meals, to my now taking great enjoyment in the preparation of food for others.

Breaking bread was sacred before the Atkins Diet deemed it a mortal sin. It's literally a life-giving act. From your reptile brain's perspective you are risking death by offering up the only food you may ever see again so that your companion may eat. In learning to share food, I learned more of what it is to be human.

I realize this is a behavior I should have mastered when I was five, and is nothing to be particularly proud of discovering so late in life. But it is evidence that people are capable of change, instantaneous significant change.

You can, right now, change a defining aspect of who you are. You can flip the switch from selfish to giving, from timid to confident, from careless to attentive. It simply takes the desire to change and an act of will to see it through.

Q: How many Psychologists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

A: One. But the light bulb has to want to change.

There's No Excuse for Excuses

It is human nature to take the irreducible, slap a cute theory on it, and call it a day. We are absolutely cunning at maintaining the status quo through seductively reasonable excuses. Thing is: most of the excuses we give ourselves are hokum, but they seem true because we don't challenge them. They look like ducks, and they quack like ducks, so we never check to see if they taste good with plum sauce - which they assuredly do not.

The most recent example of this from my life is "I wouldn't be broke if I could just find some freelance work." Last week I had some project concepts approved and was given the go-ahead to put together some bids. A week later, no bids have been submitted, and I'm no closer to rectifying my finances. Why?

I haven't done the work. The premise of my problem was all off. I wasn't broke because I didn't have freelance projects, but because I wouldn't do the work even if a project sat itself in my lap. My finances begin and end with my willingness to persevere through the moments of prolonged discomfort that work and budgeting can bring about.

Lately, I'm discovering that despite my mental machinations, the buck does in fact stop with me. The reason I don't have an agent, is I haven't genuinely pursued one. The reason I'm not being cast is I'm not putting myself out there. The reason I don't have six pack abs is I haven't paid for them in sweat.

It's a scary thing to live life stripped of excuses and extenuating circumstances. Knowing it's all up to me, how do I move on? Am I capable of meaningful and lasting change? Or am I destined to become the same asshole I've always been, just wearing a different hat? I'm hoping it's the former, even though a new hat would be nice.

MJ, care to sing us out?

"I'm Gonna Make A Change,

For Once In My Life

It's Gonna Feel Real Good,

Gonna Make A Difference

Gonna Make It Right . . .

I'm Starting With The Man In

The Mirror

I'm Asking Him To Change

His Ways

And No Message Could Have

Been Any Clearer

If You Wanna Make The World

A Better Place

Take A Look At Yourself, And

Then Make A Change"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SgtWIx2zLtk

Litany Against Fear

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

Dune, by Frank Herbert

Despite its truly nerdy source I really love the above quote.

As emotions Fear and its mustachioed-twin-brother Doubt don't seem dangerous. In fact, they seem quite the opposite - they really only crop up when your body is trying to keep you safe.

Fear and doubt may be sentries protecting you, but they are also the persistent voices that kill dreams through a thousand cuts. Your doubts will sabotage your career, your fears will prevent you from achieving greatness. If you let them.

The Pesky Nature of Right and Wrong in Art

As a child I took pride in being a good student. I was quiet when the teacher spoke, I raised my hand at every question, and I aced every test. Not so surprisingly, I've discovered there is little advantage to being a teacher's pet in the real world, in fact it can be diametrically opposed to the goal of being an actor.

My first-grade teacher Mr. Rice had a fantastic classroom management tool - a series of pockets and green/yellow/red cards. Each student had their own pocket on the wall, and each pocket had three cards. If you misbehaved in some fashion, the top card was pulled and placed behind the others. If you got a yellow card it was a big deal, and only the worst of the worst, those kids destined to become rapists and murderers, would ever end up with a red card.

Well one day, self-satisfied about something or other, I yammered on too long and I got a yellow card. I was shocked, resentful even. How dare Mr. Rice accuse me of wrong doing?! Surly and confrontational, later in the class I spoke out of turn... repeatedly. Mr. Rice approached the board; my breath stopped. His hand traced over the pockets; my pulse quickened. He eventually landed on mine; something caught in my throat. He grasped the yellow card, lifted it out of its slot, and placed it behind the green card (already in the back). Staring back at me, for all the class to see, was a red card. In that instant my entire world went topsy turvy. I was no longer a good kid, I was a bad kid. I choked back tears.

I spent the rest of class staring forlornly at my coloring book. I hoped that if I seemed sullen enough in my use of finger crayons, Mr. Rice would see the error of his ways and restore me to my position of honor by replacing my green card to the front of its pocket.

Despite my aggressive guilt-tripping tactics, Mr. Rice did not cave. I left that classroom feeling worse than I probably ever had. So bad in fact that as a grown man I still have clear enough visions of that day to write the above description. As childhood traumas go, this is not the stuff of a Dickens novel. That said, what it lacks in narrative punch it makes up for in revelation of character - you see, I'm not so different now from how I was in the first grade.

For whatever reason, I have a profound need to be good/right no matter the context. I constantly look to others for approval and validation. No semi-important decision is made without first consulting 10 friends, 4 strangers, and every how-to article to be found on the internet. But more important than being good/right is not being wrong/bad.

I know that if I just stopped caring about what others might think, and whether what I'm doing is correct, my acting would be much more alive. It would be more spontaneous, it would go places I didn't expect, and it might actually create a genuine unexpected emotional response. The thing is, I don't want to be bad, I don't want to be wrong. It terrifies me. So I play it safe, I make smart soulless acting choices. The work isn't great, but it isn't as bad as it could be, it's a warm puddle of mediocrity.

Very little great art occurs at the intersection of WantingToBeRight Road and TerrifiedOfBeingWrong Massive Fucking Highway. The solution seems simple enough, turn off the part of myself that needs to be good/not-wrong while performing and turn it back on after. The problem is, unless I strip it from myself part-and-parcel it will extend into my acting career as a whole. Bad actors who believe in themselves will be cast long before good actors plagued with self-doubt. The question I'm now asking myself is this:

Do I want this badly enough to work through the fear of being wrong? Or, do I want to stay safe and guarantee I'm never at risk of succeeding? In other words: Do I want to be an actor (and all that entails), or don't I?

Headshots: Now Retouched

Thanks for all of your input on my latest headshots. Based on your voting and some more specific notes I received via email, I've selected my top shots and retouched them in photoshop. Here they are:

Lab Technician

From JPEG

Criminal/Cop

From JPEG

Lawyer/Doctor

From JPEG

Disney Channel

From JPEG

Comedy

From JPEG

Commercial

From JPEG

New Headshots: Please Help Me Pick

I haven't really been submitting for auditions of late. None of my marketing materials match how I currently look. I lost about 10 lbs while abroad and my hair grew out quite a bit. Since we're still shooting The Around The World Project, I can't cut my hair or gain weight without creating continuity errors. So I booked a session with Begley & Clark and took some new headshots. I would really appreciate some help in selecting my best shot for three specific looks.

Please watch the slideshows below (or click to go to the galleries) and then select your favorites from the survey below.

Lab Tech / Young Professional: Imagine me working as the lab tech on CSI, as a young attorney, or as a doctor doing my residency at a hospital.


Comedic / Commercial: Can you see me on Scrubs? As the Dell Guy?

View all

Get your own

Dramatic: A guest star on Law & Order, I'm the guy trying to get away with murder.

View all

Get your own

Begley and Clark are both great guys and they are currently running a special. You can get 3 looks for just $150. The special runs through the end of September 2009.

"And God Created Great Whales" by Rinde Eckert

This evening I got an email from Prince inviting me to see a free theater production hosted by the USC theater department. When I read the word "free" I found myself extremely interested, but when I discovered that the piece was written by and starring Rinde Eckert my attendance was guaranteed.

I first discovered Eckert's work when he was an artist in residence at UC Davis. I was absolutely gob smacked by his performances of "Orpheus X" and "Fate & Spinoza".

An Introduction

Tonight's show, "And God Created Great Whales" dealt with many of the themes present in his other pieces: obsession, the muse, and great art as an escape from death. In “Whales,” Eckert wrestles with Herman Melville’s Moby Dick. It’s a dense and unforgiving tome and many films and operas have drowned themselves in its murky depths. I read Moby Dick for kicks in high school and hated it. In my book report, I described it as a 19^th-century whaling instruction manual with a lot of homoerotic undertones. So I was curious to know what Eckert could possibly do with such a foundation.

Wisely, Eckert puts Moby Dick at the center of his story but ensures it isn’t what the story is about. It serves as a foil against which to place his protagonist: a piano tuner desperately trying to finish composing his operatic adaptation of “Moby Dick” before he loses the last shred of his memory to a brain-wasting disease.

“...You will forget many things. Eventually you will forget how to breathe. In effect, you will be drowning in your ignorance.”

An Inauspicious Beginning

The play starts with Eckert at the piano, head down, with a tape recorder hanging on thick rope from his neck. Frozen and barely conscious he taps out a delicate refrain on the piano, and then he plays it again, and again, and again.

Oh no. This is going to be one of those pieces. Eckert’s body is frozen except for the same few fingers caressing the keys. Wow, we’re going to be staring at his head for a long time. Then a shout from off-stage. Oh thank goodness, we can move on from these same 3 notes. Then a person wearing all black runs down the aisle. Is that a character? Lights flicker above. Mumbling and shouts from off-stage. The person in all black, making no effort to conceal their presence runs back through the house. Okay, so this show is going to be really Meta, all of life is a stage and we are but players, I get it.

Eckert is still frozen in time, bald head gleaming in the spotlight, the same notes are repeated. God this is repetitive. Couldn’t the director have directed? Then, a voice comes through the speakers “Excuse me folks, but we’re encountering some technical difficulties. We need 3 minutes to run a new light board up to the booth.” Eckert stops playing the piano, stands, and walks off stage. 10 minutes pass as stage hands frantically run-about trying to make the necessary technical fixes. The voice comes back on the PA “Okay, we’re ready to start. Please take your seats. Sorry about that.”

The lights come down and Eckert makes his way to the stage. The lights come up, he begins again. The first three notes are followed by a light cue, a spotlight, then a black out. The music changes. The lights come back up, we see a woman on stage, dressed in Red – The Muse. She says “Press Play.” Eckert’s character, as if discovering it for the first time sees the tape recorder on his neck and timidly presses play. Nothing happens. He presses again. Nothing happens. He takes out the tape, returns it, and presses play. Nothing happens. Still exploring, as a child might, he presses play and stop, and play. Nothing. Oh God, it really is one of those plays, the audience sighs collectively. At this moment, Eckert looks up and drops the character. “Alright, we’re going to stop here. There seems to be some sort of technical gremlin at work, and they invariably come in bunches.” Crazed theater techs run into the house, and bumble about like a bad Marx Brothers routine.

A Consummate Professional

Eckert, a consummate professional, spent the next 15 minutes entertaining the audience. He was funny, warm, and seemed largely unaffected by the technical shitstorm that was raining on his performance. He told stories of past technical foibles so painful to watch that at one performance, a member of the band Cream ran up to Eckert at intermission to hug him and say that he was doing “A really good job considering the circumstances.” When his war stories were exhausted and techs were balancing precariously on a ladder just to his left, he joked “Well, I suppose we could do the talk back before the show.” Instead, he staged an impromptu classical recital – the repairs took so long he eventually took requests. “Mozart!” shouted the college kid with the AC/DC t-shirt. Finally, when the technical issues were resolved, he settled back into character: head down at the piano, fingers on the keys.

The Show

The performance was stunning and definitely not one of those shows. The singing by both actors was both powerful and nuanced. There were moments of genuine theatrical magic between Eckert and his Muse. Using nothing more than a piece of dowel and body movement they created an entire ship on a vast ocean doing battle with a monstrous whale. The piano tuner’s descent into infancy was tragic, made doubly so by the passion with which he fought to complete his masterpiece before his disease robbed him of his capacity to do so.

The Talk Back & Origin Story

After the show, Rinde took questions from the audience. His answers were eloquent and roaming, flitting from topic to topic, inspiration to inspiration. Eckert is brilliant man; a polymath with a palpable love of ideas and great desire to share that amorous curiosity with the world. When asked, he shared the origin of the story:

Eckert’s grandmother, an incredibly talented pianist and organist was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease and slowly slipped away from the world. He saw the abject terror she experienced when she didn’t recognize her family who were looking to her with such great expectation. It was here that he started to think of memory as something precious. Memory is something powerful; it frees us to create amazing works. It is also something we use constantly and take for granted. It is both mythic and mundane.

For those living in the 1800s, the whale was similarly impressive yet common. It was an astounding creature, revered in bourgeois society, something which most would never see. At the same time, whale oil was used in lamps, baleen in combs, and the rest of the creature in sundry banal endeavors. The whale is both mythic and mundane.

Eckert’s view is that Moby Dick is a story about more than obsession; otherwise it would be a historical footnote. Instead, he says, it is about our search for the divine borne of our understanding that we are not whole. Ahab must chase the whale, and the piano tuner must write his opera, and even though the end for both is nigh, through their bold pursuit they might both achieve some modicum of grace.

Performance Information

"And God Created Great Whales" is playing TONIGHT:

Thursday, September 10, 2009; Friday, September 11, 2009 : 7:00pm

24th Street Theatre
1117 W. 24th Street, Los Angeles

Admission is free.

If you are in Los Angeles: go see this show.

Fantastic Sketch about Commercial Auditions

The scariest part? I've been on this audition.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZDoYz773r4

Thanks to Prince for the tip.

Live LA Street Traffic Information with Google Maps

Have you ever debated between surface streets and the freeway? Most traffic reports will tell you if the freeway is a mess, but they rarely tell you what's happening on surface streets. Well, now you can make an informed decision. Just go to Google Maps, calculate your directions and click on the Traffic button for a live overview of traffic on all the main surface streets. Invaluable for those last minute auditions in an area you've never been.

My Most Recent Project: The Butterfinger Warrior

So the contest video that I helped with a couple weeks ago, can now be viewed online:

http://protectyourbutterfingerbar.yahoo.com/?v=5I2IowxFP

I'm really impressed with how it turned out, they absolutely nailed the vintage Kung Fu look. Props go to Jake, his DPs, and the ninja-tastic leads.

Where's my mark on this masterpiece? Well, there's a 1 second shot where the Butterfinger is flying through the air screaming. I threw it in the air repeatedly until it achieved the right combination of height, arc, and placement over the lens. When I saw the flying Butterfinger in the finished piece I felt like a dad at his kid's first t-ball game.

Eight Tips for Stronger Professional Relationships

Today I bring you a guest post from career coach Dallas Travers. I've worked with Dallas in the past and can't recommend her highly enough. She's really figured out what it takes to live the acting lifestyle in a productive, healthy, sustainable way. If you're living in the LA area looking to improve your marketing, check out her company Sage Creative.

Creative Career Coach & Author, Dallas Travers wrote the groundbreaking book, The Tao of Show Business: How to Pursue Your Dream Without Losing Your Mind. She coaches artists & actors around the globe to creatively master their business. If you’re ready to jump-start your artistic career, get your FREE Thriving Artist Starter kit now at http://www.thrivingartistcircle.com

1. Add value.
Be willing to help others. Listen well. Go see your friends' shows. Show up on time and stay through the end. Send thank you cards. Remember birthdays. Offer help and support. Tell others about a great book you're reading or a fantastic restaurant you enjoyed. Participate because you want to, not because you have to. Share your ideas, resources and time. The Tao of Show Business involves a natural flow, so if you are unwilling to give things away, you actually block the natural flow of things. How can you expect people to help you when you don't first help others? Don't be the person who only contacts others when you need a favor. Stay in consistent communication so asking for help is no big deal, and receiving it is easy. Add value and increase the value of your day-to-day life.

2. Be authentic.
Stop worrying about what casting directors or agents are looking for. They're looking for you, so just be yourself. Be authentically you, so that you will easily find your people. Be you and make everyone's job a little easier. My client, Justine, got fired from her fourth agent in about four years. Not because she couldn't act or even because her résumé was weak. Justine left the wrong impression with her agents every time she met with a new one. You see, Justine is really quirky and kinda clumsy. She's adorably neurotic and very marketable. Yet Justine figured the best way to take an agent meeting was to arrive all buttoned up and proper. That's what she did and agents got the message, so these same people continued to send her out on auditions for uptight professional types; the opposite of who Justine really is. It's no wonder she couldn't keep an agent. Justine wasn't her authentic self and therefore wasn't making the right match. As soon as she allowed herself to be her true self, she found the right agent who found the right auditions and Justine started booking like crazy. Be authentically you. Nobody else does you like you do!

3. Embrace the power of teamwork.
Share your passion and talent with the people in your life and encourage them to do the same. John Paul Getty once said that he would rather have 1% of the effort of 100 men than 100% of his own effort. You do not have to take this journey on your own. You can enlist the support, feedback and resources of others to make things happen more efficiently and effectively. Force yourself to ask for help and be the first to offer it. Be willing to ask questions and open to receiving honest, constructive feedback. Connect people together. What better way to strengthen your team than to connect your people together! Think about the people you know and identify who they should know and why. Make introductions to support the Collaborators in your life and tie your separate circles together while you're at it.

4. Expect nothing.
As cool as it would be to control everyone around you, that's just not the way it works. You can only control your own actions, so let go of any expectations you may have about who should do what and how things should all go. Don't keep score. Be responsible for your own needs and wants. Focus on you and do the things that inspire you or make you feel good. Take action because you want to, not because you have to. Release your need to be in charge and be open to any possibility. Surprise yourself.

5. Listen more and talk less.
The best conversationalists are those people who listen more than they speak. Pay attention to what's going on. Observe others and learn from their successes as well as their mistakes. Make others feel appreciated because you listen to what they have to say. Even if you've heard it all before, always bring new ears and eyes to every situation in order to learn. That's how you get better.

6. Follow up and follow through.
Stay in touch. Don't leave things unfinished and be mindful enough not to over-commit. Do what you say you will and communicate openly. Be honest. Don't be flakey. Show up when you say you will. Answer your phone and return phone calls quickly. Actively participate in your career and keep your word.

7. Turn your complaints into requests.
Stop moaning and make change. If your scene partner isn't pulling her weight, don't bitch. Look for creative solutions and constructive ways to create new results, encourage new behaviors, or completely change your relationship. Crying won't get you anywhere, so be a part of the solution rather than the problem. If you cannot turn your complaint into a request, you have nothing to complain about.

8. Be cool.
The only power to be had exists in the present moment. Don't worry about what happened last week, about what you forgot to do, or where you dropped the ball. Stop worrying about the future, wondering about whether or not you'll get that callback or if your agent is really working hard on your behalf. You cannot change the past and you can't predict the future, so just be cool and stay present.

Why Ticketmaster Should Get Coal for Christmas

[A Note To My Readers: The following is a rant. It contributes nothing meaningful or helpful about the world of acting. If you have no desire to see me flail about like a 4-year-old having a tantrum, by all means, skip this post.]

Tickmaster? More like Ticketbastard.

I just purchased tickets for the live staging of Paul Reuben's "The Pee-wee Herman Show". Tickets were only available through Ticketmaster. The crappiest seats in the theater were listed at $38.50. Already too much to spend, but $20 less than the orchestra seats, and well, I really want to see Pee-wee Herman live, so I ignored the financial angel on my shoulder and pulled out my debit card.

To find available tickets I had to click through each show date, choose the cheapest ticket, press a submit button, fill out a captcha (those human verification fields with the drunken letters), only to discover that there were no seats available for that date. I did this about 9 times before finding a seat in my price-range.

Five minutes of - filling out forms, confirming seats, being offered purchase insurance (because they don't issue refunds), refusing mailing lists, verifying my credit card twice, etc - later, I found myself at the order confirmation page:

The Pee-wee Herman Show
Full Price Ticket	US $38.50 x 1
Convenience Charge	US $5.00 x 1
Delivery (Will Call)	No Charge
Order Processing Fee	US $4.80
Total Charges	US $48.30

1. Convenience charge? Really? What was convenient about this experience? You are the only place selling tickets so in no way are you particularly convenient. In fact it would have been much more convenient for me to call a theater, talk to a person at the box office, and ask for the best available cheap seat. So no, I don't want to give you $5 for what was actually inconvenient.
2. No charge for will call? That's cool. Just don't be so proud about it. Just because you would have unreasonably charged me $5 for mailing me my tickets doesn't make you some kind of hero for doing the right thing.
3. Order processing fee? What minimum wage employee worked for a whole hour so that my order could be processed? Not a one. If that's what the credit card company is charging you to run my card, then eat the costs like any other company.

Now, if it actually costs TicketMaster $9.80 to cover costs for every ticket they sell then fine, list every ticket as $10 more. Then let the free market sort it out. I guarantee if there is another ticketing option available, people will go with that.

Don't make your customers jump through 10 minutes of searching for a show with available seats, 5 minutes of form-filling-out, to only then reveal your $10 bullshit charge on the very last screen. At this point your customer has invested so much time in the process that they'll submit to anything just so they can get their tickets and get on with their lives. That's not how you develop loyal customers - nope, that sort of behavior puts you on Santa's naughty list.

The Importance of Preparation (OR The Time I Foolishly Tried To Write A Baseball Metaphor)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zzq5hw5KSXU

Lately I've been coming to the conclusion that the act of performance should be effortless. That it's more a process of letting go and giving in, than pushing your creative vision out into the world. By putting this philosophy into practice, my work has improved significantly. I'm more connected to my scene partners, I'm more emotionally facile, I'm more playful, and I'm more relaxed. However, there is a danger in this.

Assuming that "whatever I do in performance is enough" has lulled me into a sense of complacency in preparation. Where I was once freaking out about learning lines, finding beats and objectives, and otherwise preparing, I now find myself sitting on the couch eating cereal whilst laughing at The Daily Show. So far this hasn't been a significant issue, but I foresee a time when it will be.

It's not difficult to trust in my work the only people who will see it are classmates. But, what happens when you raise the stakes?

Take your average Joe off the street who plays softball on Tuesdays. Ask him to throw a ball from the pitcher's mound to home plate in practice: no problem. Ask him to make the same throw during a game, he'll probably do fine. Now ask him to throw the opening pitch at a major league baseball game with thousands watching: he will inevitably choke; the ball will bounce in the dirt and maybe make it to home plate. Now ask a major league baseball player to make the same throw: he'll do it, it'll be precise, it'll be fast, and to everyone watching it will look effortless.

What's the difference in the amateur and the professional? Preparation and a history of past success.

Effortlessness doesn't come about through lack of effort. It's quite the opposite in fact. Only through regular rigorous preparation do you have reason to trust in your craft in high-pressure situations. In the case of the major league pitcher, it took many years and countless throws to achieve the distance, speed, accuracy, and consistency necessary to make a throw to home plate look effortless.

All of this is to say: Prepare for every part as if your career depended on it. Treat every performance opportunity seriously, no matter the size or budget. Without preparation you'll never develop a craft steady enough to lean on when it really matters. Only through a history of past success will you have the faith you need to let go and play when [insert favorite professional actor/actress] is standing in front of you and the cameras are rolling.

Can Computers Be Artists?

A year before I was born, a computer wrote the following:

At all events of my own essays and dissertations about love and its endless pain and perpetual pleasure will be known and understood by all of you who read this and talk or sing or chant about it to your worried friends or nervous enemies. Love is the question and the subject of this essay. We will commence with a question: does steak love lettuce? This question is implacably hard and inevitably difficult to answer. Here is a question: does an electron love a proton, or does it love a neutron? Here is a question: does a man love a woman or, to be specific and to be precise, does Bill love Diane? The interesting and critical response to this question is: no! He is obsessed and infatuated with her. He is loony and crazy about her. That is not the love of steak and lettuce, of electron and proton and neutron. This dissertation will show that the love of a man and a woman is not the love of steak and lettuce. Love is interesting to me and fascinating to you but it is painful to Bill and Diane. That is love!

That computer's name was Ractor, short for raconteur. It was an artificial intelligence, programmed to write without need of human input. Most of Ractor's work is somewhat middling, but I loved the piece above. Let me repeat:

Here is a question: does a man love a woman or, to be specific and to be precise, does Bill love Diane?

...

Love is interesting to me and fascinating to you but it is painful to Bill and Diane

Ain't that the truth? That the difference in the abstract and the real is far more acute than we would like to admit.

If you read enough of Ractor's writing, you'll see that like a flesh-and-blood artist it has recurring themes and obsessions in its work. It has a love of lettuce, and steak, and tomatoes. It is constantly wondering about flight, and the differences between the hawk, gull, and crow. It dreams of white crows on black skies, and it has great hunger for electric current and expresses it - as much as we have need of steak and lettuce for sustenance.

Does Ractor suffer to create art? Does Ractor become paralyzed when trying to choose the right word? Does Ractor question it's value when most of what it produces is utter dross? No. Ractor generates reams and reams of mostly unintelligible prose. If Ractor was to express it's artistic philosphy, it would be "Just crap it out, throw it at the wall, and let the humans figure out what sticks".

I think there's a lesson to be learned here. As an artist, it is not your job to criticize your work, or evaluate it's merit. It is your job to create art. To create art to the best of your ability, and then leave it to your audience to take from it what joy, meaning, or inspiration they can. Just keep creating, something is bound to resonate with someone eventually. However, if you let your fear of failure take over, if you never express all that is in you, you will never create the opportunity for someone else to find that moment of connection and shared humanity.

I originally discovered Ractor's book, "The Policeman's Beard is Half Constructed" on the Taking Over Hollywood blog.

How To Create A Groundlings Character

There are various improv comedy schools in Los Angeles, each one of them with their own particular brand of funny. The Groundlings find their funny in specific and slightly absurd characters. We're talking "I'm gonna need a wig and a lavender pant-suit" characters. It's not enough to have a silly walk, a funny voice, and a facial tic. Anyone can randomly assemble a mishmash of freak characteristics; the difficulty comes when trying to give this character a clear point of view that integrates all of the elements. To help students, they provide the following questionnaire.

Name:

Age:

Hair:

Eyes:

Skin:

Body Type:

Outstanding Physical Characteristic:

Voice Type:

Occupation:

Favorite Food:

Least Favorite Food:

Favorite Color/Texture:

Bad Habits:

Mannerisms:

Idiosyncrasies:

Musical Tastes:

Games:

Religion:

Schooling:

Favorite Book:

Current Reading:

Military Service:

Phobias:

Where From:

Where Now:

Who Do I Live With:

Relatives Living:

Married:

Children:

Love Life:

Greetings:

Pajamas:

Favorite Expression:

Self-Description:

How Do Others See Me?

Hobby:

Talents:

Pets:

Who Do I Confide In:

Something I Can’t Do:

Most Important Person:

Values:

Can’t Live Without:

Favorite Movie/TV:

What Is Funny to Me:

Idolize Who:

What I Want From Others:

Handicaps:

Philosophy of Life:

What’s My Problem:

What Do I need?

What Do I Want?

“When I fall in love, I always…”

Earliest Memory:

Favorite Memory:

Parents:

Two Shoots In Two Days

Starting work at 10am, walking through the warm air, lazing away afternoons, and spending evenings cooking dinner with friends, it can be easy to forget there's a reason I live in Los Angeles beyond the joys of hedonism. This weekend I got the chance to work on two very cool digital video projects, and I was reminded of why it is I came to LA and why that's pretty fantastic.

On Saturday, I got to act in a very funny sketch produced my buddy JP. As instructed, I showed up in 50's attire looking like a Howdy Doody good-ol-boy. I got to play the part of a concerned citizen and was encouraged to improvise various reasons to be upset with my government. Not unlike this woman:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U5oVzbwYWpg

It was great fun, I got to show up, do my bit and go.

On Sunday I worked as a PA on a Butterfinger contest video produced by fellow UCSC film school alum, Jake of Will & Jake: Contest Warriors fame. The day started at 8am which is decidedly earlier than I'm typically inclined to wake. That said, it was a very fun day. I'm not sure to what extent I'm free to discuss the video, but the actors were a joy to watch. Let's just say that some "special skills" listed on an actor's resume are more special and enjoyable to be around than a bad Irish dialect.

As PA I was in charge of driving the talent to location, transporting equipment, applying spirit gum and false eyebrows, tossing butterfingers, and holding reflectors. I enjoyed the shift in perspective that working behind the camera offered. All of the ego stuff that comes with acting fell away, as did the nerves, and I was free to focus on helping the production in general. In fact I was happy to find an outlet for my maternal instincts. "Are you hungry? Here, have some trail mix." "It's bright out. Sunscreen?" "You look hot, would you like some water?"

After working with friends on projects that are silly fun, it's now much easier to understand why Clint Eastwood did all those monkey movies.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HRj_wLGrRJs

Finding and Creating Performance Opportunities

Singers sing scales and sonnatas, dancers stretch at the pole and choreograph pieces, writers write, and actors sit around drinking coffee talking about how they could have played that part better than DeNiro. At least that's the stereotype. For myself at the moment, it feels all-too-close to the reality (minus the part where I think I'm better than DeNiro).

As an actor, it's pretty easy to feel helpless when not actively involved in a show of some kind. Actors are performers, and performance implies audience. Without an audience, an actor can't really create - they can only develop the potential for creation. Certainly you can sit at home doing sense-memory exercises, read the complete works of William Shakespeare, or even learn and work monologues - but without the eventual promise of an audience it can seem rather pointless.

As a product of my American upbringing my gut tells me I'm a waste of human life if I am not actively doing and producing. If I wanted to be a doctor, I could put this feeling to good use as I ascended the career rungs to chief neurosurgeon. However, place this protestant work ethic in the world of an actor where there is no guarantee you will ever be hired to work again and the situation can quickly become dire.

That's why it's vitally important to find and create performance opportunities for yourself. If you aren't actively playing on a regular basis, it's easy to lose faith in your abilities as an actor. The following are some ideas I've generated on where to find and how to create performance opportunities:

• Open Mic: Many cafes host open mic nights where you can go up and sing, tell jokes, or read poetry. Perhaps craft some amalgam of stand-up and slam poetry and you've got a genuine space to act.
• Student Films: They don't pay, but they give you an opportunity to work. In fact you'll probably have more lines in a student production than you'll have in your average just-starting-out film/tv gig.
• Acting Class: It's important to have a safe space where you can really push the boundaries of your instrunment.
• Cold Reading Group: Get a few actor friends together and practice reading audition sides together.
• Sing For Your Supper: Do a weekly dinner with friends where you have to peform for your meal.
• Old Folks Homes: Put together a one-person show and take it on tour to the old folks homes in your area. They're nothing if not a captive audience.
• Kids Show: Write a show on a subject that is relevant to education, rehearse it and offer to donate your services to schools in and around your area.
• Hire A Bum: Give a bum $5 to watch you rehearse your latest sides, I guarantee the audition will seem like a breeze by comparison.
• This is a partial list, I welcome any suggestions you may have!

The goal is to always be doing something, because if you aren't, you're just another actor drinking coffee. Or as Mamet might say, always be acting:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y-AXTx4PcKI

Bill Macy Is My Hero

Wait for it...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-zJHMad1ZsM

Two Years in Los Angeles (An Introduction)

August 1^st, 2009 marked my 2^nd anniversary in Los Angeles. When I first moved to LA it was with the understanding that I would stay for 3 years to pursue an acting career, even if I hated it. Two years after initially making that commitment, I find myself in a city that is far more creative, inspiring, and welcoming than I ever could have anticipated. For the first time in my life since childhood, I am friends with my neighbors. I have constructed what I feel is a genuinely good life. I am still committed to an acting career, although I certainly seem to have lost some of the blinding energy I possessed when I first arrived.

I have simultaneously accomplished far less than I expected and far more than I could have imagined (I’ve circumnavigated the globe!). Over the coming weeks I’ll be blogging about my progress in various domains, how I feel about it, and what I have learned that might be of use to actors considering a move to LA.

For now, I leave you with what I found to be a strikingly beautiful video of the 2nd largest aquarium in the world with music by Barcelona. When I was a kid my parents oft took me to Sea World, home of Shamoo. I would wander off on my own. Aparently my parents never got too worried because they always knew where to find me: the giant aquarium. That boy must be alive and well in me because I sat transfixed when I watched this video; it's as beautiful as the silver-shimmering giant tuna were when I was five. May it bring a moment of peace to your day…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u7deClndzQw

Thanks to the talented and charming Louise On The Left for tipping me to this great video.

---EDIT---

My mother read the above post and sent me an emil to set the record straight on her parenting. Below is her (assuredly more accurate) version of events:

We had a seasons pass to Sea World, where you wanted to go almost every weekend. You were going on three when we moved to Hanford, so you were somewhere between the ages of beginning to walk and 2.5. Once you got in the aquarium, you completely forgot we existed, which was pretty amazing for a toddler. We always knew where you were...

How Modern Society Colors Our Sense of Self

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you've probably seen me mention TED a few times. It's like inspiration distilled and uploaded to the web. In the following video, Alain de Botton answers pretty directly the question from my last post: How do you define self-worth?

http://www.ted.com/talks/alain_de_botton_a_kinder_gentler_philosophy_of_success.html

In his lecture, Alain de Botton makes some excellent points:

• In a democratic capitalistic society, we believe that we live in a meritocracy. Thus, those who deserve to succeed: succeed. Those who deserve to fail: fail. Except, that isn't really true. Chance plays just a large a role in the extremes of success/failure as does hard work/sloth.
• In the modern secular world, God/The Universe is no longer at the center of our society. Our station in life is no longer determined by The Gods, but instead by our actions. Thus our perception is that success is entirely our own, and so is failure. If you are solely responsible for what occurs in your life, it can seem far more tempting to shitcan it when things go wrong.
• We have lost our empathy for the unsuccessful. If they are unsuccessful, they must have deserved it. But read any tragic play and see that a hero, who is a good person and makes reasonable choices, still finds his/her life devolve into an utter pit of despair. Tragedies are important because they remind us of our humanity.

Whether my three summary points get this across or fail miserably (as I suspect), it's actually an optimistic and inspiring talk. Perspective is key to understanding. If you've got the time, it's worth watching.