Today I did two things that I’ve never done before, two things that I certainly wasn’t expecting to do when I woke up this morning.
One was unzipping the mouth of a gimp mask worn by a man standing shirtless inside a cage. He was also chained to the cage and had black crosses of duct tape on his nipples. None of this is a lie.
The other thing (and strangely this was the more unexpected occurrence) was teaching 2 hours of an adult drama class.
I’m only 18 months out of my own acting training, dealing with the day to day life of being completely unemployed and having no clear next step in pursuing my own career (which I assure you will be far reaching, long lasting and high profile) and for a couple of reasons I’ve never seriously considered teaching as a possibility in the short term.
Firstly because my stupid pride steps up and says that teaching = failure, as it’s not the career I want to be following. This is obviously stupid, and quite likely insulting to all my contemporaries who make their daily living from passing on their unique knowledge, but I’ve always found it hard to ignore the voices in my head.
Pride aside, the main reason is I’ve never really believed I have anything to contribute to someone’s development. What could I really have to offer? I’ve only just graduated myself, I’m still learning and making mistakes, surely the students will notice this! I’ve had visions of being chased from rehearsal spaces by angry amateur actors hurling copies of Stanislavski at me, shouting ‘Fraud!’ at my back as I escape down the street.
This is quite a common social fear for me – that I’m just not good enough. But I digress.
My extended unemployment has changed my mind about a few assumptions I’d previously made about myself, and when a mid-afternoon text message from an acting colleague offered me the chance to cover an adults acting class for cash money my wallet beat down my pride and fear pretty damn quickly.
A quick list of my favourite exercises jotted down, a scan through some old acting journals (my teachers were right when they said ‘you’ll be happy to have them some day!’ Damn teachers. They’re always right.), a chat with the owner of the space and an absurdly brief introduction later - suddenly I have 16 student actors in front of me. And they’re not throwing things.
2 hours later and I’ve taught my first acting class.
The most surprising thing for me was that I recognised these people. Amidst the shyness of a group of strangers and the tentative opening up to new exercises and experiences I recognised in them so much of the less experienced me. ‘That’s right’, thought I, ‘There was a time when I was an untrained actor, how did I forget that?’ Suddenly, knowing where I had come from and seeing the not insignificant difference of where I am now, I knew I had something to contribute.
The point of this realisation is that lately I’ve been swimming. Metaphorically. I do love metaphors, and it’s too damn cold for swimming in Melbourne at the moment. I’ve been swimming in my own existence. My life right now seems to be just meandering along without propulsion or true direction, and my biggest struggle has been to correct that. Quite honestly, I haven’t had the faintest idea how.
What I have forgotten lately is the past - specifically, my past. Everything that was dutifully noted in those acting journals has become to some degree a part of the person and actor I am today, but I often forget the reason I learned it or the importance it once held for me. I feel like the best way to make clear steps forward is to remember the steps I’ve made in the past. The best way to keep walking is one foot in front of the other, same as it ever was.
And this is the third unexpected thing I’ve done today – I’ve started a blog. If I can remember as I go what’s important and why, maybe my direction will become clearer. If I can recall my past lessons, maybe the future ones will be easier.
And maybe, if people read it, I’ll find that I really do have something to contribute.
One was unzipping the mouth of a gimp mask worn by a man standing shirtless inside a cage. He was also chained to the cage and had black crosses of duct tape on his nipples. None of this is a lie.
The other thing (and strangely this was the more unexpected occurrence) was teaching 2 hours of an adult drama class.
I’m only 18 months out of my own acting training, dealing with the day to day life of being completely unemployed and having no clear next step in pursuing my own career (which I assure you will be far reaching, long lasting and high profile) and for a couple of reasons I’ve never seriously considered teaching as a possibility in the short term.
Firstly because my stupid pride steps up and says that teaching = failure, as it’s not the career I want to be following. This is obviously stupid, and quite likely insulting to all my contemporaries who make their daily living from passing on their unique knowledge, but I’ve always found it hard to ignore the voices in my head.
Pride aside, the main reason is I’ve never really believed I have anything to contribute to someone’s development. What could I really have to offer? I’ve only just graduated myself, I’m still learning and making mistakes, surely the students will notice this! I’ve had visions of being chased from rehearsal spaces by angry amateur actors hurling copies of Stanislavski at me, shouting ‘Fraud!’ at my back as I escape down the street.
This is quite a common social fear for me – that I’m just not good enough. But I digress.
My extended unemployment has changed my mind about a few assumptions I’d previously made about myself, and when a mid-afternoon text message from an acting colleague offered me the chance to cover an adults acting class for cash money my wallet beat down my pride and fear pretty damn quickly.
A quick list of my favourite exercises jotted down, a scan through some old acting journals (my teachers were right when they said ‘you’ll be happy to have them some day!’ Damn teachers. They’re always right.), a chat with the owner of the space and an absurdly brief introduction later - suddenly I have 16 student actors in front of me. And they’re not throwing things.
2 hours later and I’ve taught my first acting class.
The most surprising thing for me was that I recognised these people. Amidst the shyness of a group of strangers and the tentative opening up to new exercises and experiences I recognised in them so much of the less experienced me. ‘That’s right’, thought I, ‘There was a time when I was an untrained actor, how did I forget that?’ Suddenly, knowing where I had come from and seeing the not insignificant difference of where I am now, I knew I had something to contribute.
The point of this realisation is that lately I’ve been swimming. Metaphorically. I do love metaphors, and it’s too damn cold for swimming in Melbourne at the moment. I’ve been swimming in my own existence. My life right now seems to be just meandering along without propulsion or true direction, and my biggest struggle has been to correct that. Quite honestly, I haven’t had the faintest idea how.
What I have forgotten lately is the past - specifically, my past. Everything that was dutifully noted in those acting journals has become to some degree a part of the person and actor I am today, but I often forget the reason I learned it or the importance it once held for me. I feel like the best way to make clear steps forward is to remember the steps I’ve made in the past. The best way to keep walking is one foot in front of the other, same as it ever was.
And this is the third unexpected thing I’ve done today – I’ve started a blog. If I can remember as I go what’s important and why, maybe my direction will become clearer. If I can recall my past lessons, maybe the future ones will be easier.
And maybe, if people read it, I’ll find that I really do have something to contribute.
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