You know what, "Acting?"...

I release you.

...here is what I mean:

You know those movies or novels or tv shows or actual life-stories-happening-around-you-or-maybe-TO-you where the person is SO IN LOVE with the other person (who just likes 'em as a friend) that they only focus on them, and thereby miss the other person or thing or things that would give them what they actually want & need?

You know??

So...that's TOTALLY me and Acting now! He's thrown me some amazingly true, heart-melting smiles this year (in the form of a truly brilliant, anime-inspired kids' show, and a truly inspiring all-grrrl Shakespeare romp), but inbetween, I got no love.

...A dear friend likes to remind me that I had to turn down a few shows this year due to Hugely Pregnant-ness, which is true. BUT. I am taking this as an opportunity to do a big ole Look-Back, and what I have found is:

Acting does not love me as much as Theatre in general does.

I have so stubbornly held onto "Actress" as my profession, as how I identify myself and present myself to others. What this does is undercut the other aspects of theatre that make up my career...that give me creative energy and helpful paychecks. Things like playwrighting, directing (this past year!), and most of all, teaching, a thing I have truly grown to cherish in my life.

So I am an Actress no more. I will now be callin' myself a Theatre Artist. Or a Theatre Monkey. Or some variation thereof:). And I tell ya, I am awful grateful & proud to do so.

Me & Baby Professor at school. 
We were teaching the student actors about, uh, hunger!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

brief & total beauty

“Whatever it is 

that pulls the pin, 

that hurls you past 

the boundaries of your own life 

into a brief and total beauty, 

even for a moment, 

it is enough.” 

  [Jeanette Winterson]

 

 

Actor Family adventures continue! Hubby got called in to do some voice work for an audio book, and took the kiddo with him. While Dad acted in the booth, baby slept in the director's arms (her comment on the whole situation? "I'm in love.") I booked my first postpartum gig thanks to my AWESOME BABY, who was the only person I was able to practice my monologue on before the audition. (P.S: Baby-talk Bard is apparently one of little dude's favorite things.) Friday is the only day when hubby & I work at the same time, so baby came with me to teach film seminars this past Friday. He made an excellent assistant, hanging out in my arms or those of an excited student. It was oddly satisfying, feeding my son a bottle while giving acting notes. :)

 

I am really here today, though, to talk about a moment of transcendence. ("Whatever it is that pulls the pin, that hurls you past the boundaries of your own life....") 

 

Hubby and I were invited to a Hootenanny Retreat this past weekend. What on earth does that amazing-sounding event consist of, you might ask? WELL. I can't speak for other hootenanny retreats of the world:), but this particular one was the gathering of a brave and joy-filled band of theatre artists to a horse farm an hour outside the city, to workshop new pieces of theatre between cook-outs, jam sessions and dips in the pool. 

 

Read: HEAVEN.

 

We were graciously invited to bring the young'un, but since he can't quiiiite watch himself yet (2-month-olds. Yeesh.), having him there meant that one of us had to not participate as much. Musicians were needed and hubby plays guitar while I can't even figure out a kazoo half the time (humming is hard, man), so that decided it. Baby and I would be groupies/audience.

 

What with our work schedules, we could only come up for one day of the weekend, so we were asked to be part of a bluegrass Shakespeare adaptation. I was actually given a song to sing at the end of the piece...the thought being that hubby would be done with his part, and could take baby from me so's I could croon for a few minutes.

 

I tried to put my little boy in our baby carrier, but he only lasted about an hour before it made him suddenly sad. (2-month-olds. Yeesh.) So, I spent the bulk of 9 hours holding my son in my arms. I held him on the outskirts of the rehearsal...I held him during the cook-out...I held him during the presentation that evening. And you know? I did not mind the holding at all. My arms even held out! But I will not say the day was easy. Especially during rehearsal, any time he threatened to cry, my heart would race as I searched for what would keep him calm and happy. And I still sometimes feel awkward with the little guy in public...like people are watching me (even people I know and love!) thinking, "Ohhh my goodness, what is she doing??" So, I actually spent a lot of Heavenly Hootenanny Retreat being a bit stressed....

 

Then came the presentation. We gathered with a small invited audience (they poured each other glasses of wine around citronella candles as a storm approached, moving us indoors after scene 1). Actors sat in wooden chairs or rocking chairs, hopping up for scenes. I opted to stand tucked away in a corner, in case baby needed bouncing/soothing. The "show" was totally delightful--a great cast, a great concept, with sudden bursts of boisterous bluegrass--and my son slept or quietly hung out in my arms for the whole thing. Along with my finale song, I was asked to cold read any little part that hadn't been given out. Baby was an especial champ when it turned out that I had to play two such characters in a fight with each other on one page...until the next page when a THIRD character of mine entered the scene! He chilled there while Mommy bopped up and down and played with various excitable intonations:). Not a peep from this guy!

 

The play ended, and the idea was that before the audience could clap, I would hand baby to hubs,  make my way to a rocking chair and sing the final song:

 

 

...did you listen to the song?? It is GORGEOUS. I was thrilled beyond belief to get to sing it. And *honored!* I learned it with baby during the week. 

 

So the play ends, and I can't make it out of my corner before the little audience begins clapping. And I can't figure out how to make it to a rocking chair and explain to the actor sitting in it that I need it (I had worked this part out with an actor earlier, but it was before we moved indoors, and now different actors were occupying the rocking chairs), and I felt really compelled to keep hold of my little boy, so...the clapping died down and I was standing in the middle of the actor semi-circle and I began to sing. To my son, to myself. He started squirming a bit at first but I managed to give him a pacifier while singing and he immediately calmed. I don't remember much after that. I don't even remember the guitars coming in after my first verse, which I knew they would.... I remember swaying, and the pounding of my heart (singing still scares the bejeesus outta me, though I love it), and the feel of my child. I remember quiet. 

 

The photo toward the top of this page is me and my son, about an hour and a half before everything fell away. And there, with my husband somewhere behind me, I had EVERYTHING.

 

The Family Business

Here is what rocks about being an actor family. ...that sentence right there. That is what rocks. That we are an actor FAMILY.

I explain.

My son is just coming up on 6 weeks old, and he has already done some work in this area. (Six weeks old, people. He can't even hold his own head up yet.) Both of us did voice-over for a Fringe Festival show this summer (I spoke words, he cried them), and yesterday, baby, hubby & I were in a promotional video for ThinkGeek.

Plus, at least two "bosses" (the acting school where hubby & I teach, and the company we create baby theatre with) are encouraging us to bring the little guy to work with us. During rehearsals for our next baby theatre project, he will be 9 months old--astonishingly, our target audience!!

Hubby & I have had an amazing time both being at home with our new son...reading to him (he really does focus on the pictures! Intensely!), caring for him, napping with him, singing truly stupid songs we make up on the spot:). But this time has taken a toll on our finances. We are freelancers, after all--no one was paying us for this maternity/paternity leave. So as we approach the end of it, we have money on the mind more and more...it is so, so lovely to realize that our career means No Maternity Leave AND Bring Your Kid To Work. No "Steady" Work AND Baby Can Be Part of This. Dark and light. The "light" in this case being family.

Instead of being discouraged, I feel like we are being encouraged to be a family. And yeah, steady income and benefits would be quite encouraging:), but that was never the path we chose. What I love and what is giving me such hope as I move forward in the new incarnation of my life is that our career seems to understand that it is not family-friendly in a financial sense, so it seeks to be so in whatever other ways it can.

Whatever my son grows up to be and do, he is part of an actor family. And not one confined by the walls of our apartment. Not at all.

(Baby bump in rehearsal...the start of the journey)

My Buddy: My Body!

This is a post about my body. Is that awkward?

I heard that Paul Auster wrote a memoir based on his relationship to his body. I love that idea. How do you *relate* to your body?

For me, (like many of us, I'm sure) the answer to that question depends on when you ask(ed) it. Middle School Me would have a MUCH different answer than 32-year-old me (and 32-year-old me would have a slightly different answer on that 32nd birthday--before knowing she was pregnant--and now, after giving birth).

Maybe you've heard an actor refer to their body as their tool. Actors see themselves as toolboxes, you see: body, voice, memory, imagination. We use all of these things to create each distinct role. I think now that my body isn't just my tool, though...it's my whole dang workshop.

My body makes choices for me. No joke. I will think about a character without having an idea how they might hold themselves or move, and then when I'm up on my feet, stuff just HAPPENS. Motion just HAPPENS. Of course it's not always "right" right away, but the point is, it feels like I've got this partnership. My brain can do some work, my body does some work, and I feel like the "I" is with the brain, see, while the body is a trusty old pal I don't have to oversee. She just comes to the meeting with the visuals for my presentation, much to my delight. As a matter of fact, when I TRY to oversee her, or dictate to her, at least early in the rehearsal process, that's when things turn out not so great. That's the crummy work, when I didn't trust.

The most recent (and, to me, most AMAZING) feat my pal, Body, has performed was the creation, growth, sustenance & ejection of my son. Holy smokes!! I feel like "I" had just about nothing to do with that. That was allll Body. That was allll ancient blood-and-cell-deep knowin'. It was astounding to be part of.

This is all to say: I've been to some auditions for the upcoming season, but I've got no bites yet. The last few seasons, I already had a few shows on the calendar at this point, so, yeah, part of me is a bit bummed and a bit scared. So it's nice to think that this theatre stuff? Storytelling? It's in my BONES. I'm no ancient lady, but this art is. People have been making both people and stories for many, many centuries. I'm part of such a long line in both regards that I don't even have to know much about either at the end of the day, really. My body can just DO them.

And while my boy may be the only child I have, I feel (blood-and-cell-deep) many, many more stories hidden in this little body.

Dead Woman Waddling

It is currently Monday, May 13th, 12:32pm Eastern Standard Time.
My son is due on Friday, May 24th.
There he is up there, making me look like a bad beach-ball thief...and it occurs to me, as it has periodically over these 9 months, but perhaps more forcefully now that we are SO CLOSE:

nothing will ever be the same again.

I remember counting down to college. I was so excited to move to the big city, and learn only things that I really wanted to learn. I was terrified too, but it was all mixed in with the excitement. For teenaged me, college felt like the first thing I would truly do *on my own.* A passageway to Adult Me.

My wedding (a mere 22 months ago) prompted a countdown as well. I was so excited to gather family & friends and start a new phase. I wasn't as terrified, since I already felt married to this man (it happened sneakily, over our time together), but there was certainly still an element of "the unknown," and much reverence for what it meant: it meant that not only the two of us, but the OUTSIDE WORLD would view us as partnered. It meant that we would be responsible for each other, in our hearts and *also* our actions, *also* every decision made hereafter.

Is it o.k. that this (behold the baby bump) feels even bigger? Er, so to speak?

My hubby is my very favorite person. I tell my son that he will be my other favorite person:). I have granted myself two. But starting favorite #2 from SCRATCH??! Being with him for every bit of his childhood and young adulthood? Watching him pass through *countless* phases as he forms as a person?? I can barely hold this concept in my brain. I feel like nothing so radical has happened to me since my OWN birth.

And from hereon out, I will be a mother.
Reading a book, taking a walk, going to an audition, acting on stage, hanging out with friends -- everything, everything I do, whether he is physically there or not, will involve HIM. My son. As my husband is part of everything, this person will be, but in an even deeper way, it seems, because he CAME from me. It is romantic to think of your lover existing only for you, ultimately, but here will be a human that exists only BECAUSE OF me & my husband. He would have no existence without us.

Again: can't really fully fit this into my brain. Maybe this is the kind of information that lives in you in some other form. Once our son is here, and we hold him and touch him and see him and start to get to know him...maybe then all of these insane truths will settle into my blood, my bones, my breaths. And I will know what it is to be a "parent." And I will be something new...something different than I was. Re-born.

A single birth is the making of THREE new people, not just one. My partner and I, we are moving to a whole new world.