How Size Matters

When fresh out of school, I had no access to projects that would pay me. I was, however, perfectly willing to work for free, to come home from waiting tables only to stay up ‘til the wee hours rehearsing and building a set. This passion to make opportunities for myself – yes, “come hell or high water” – led to years of regular small theater work and the creation of anearly digital short film collective. It got me started on the road to paying work. On the way, I made a decision that was helpful then but which I am reconsidering now.

In late 2006 and early 2007, I was so busy making “small projects” of short films – by that point 35mm and 16mm shorts with folks like Ron Perlman (No. 6) 

 

Now available on iTunes!

and Eric Stoltz (The Grand Design)

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– and 99-seat LA theater, not to mention working the day job, that I had no time to works towards a “big project,” like my first feature. (I had started traveling for regional theater work in Philly and off-B’way, so it did/does seem the small theater started to pay off, but that doesn’t really pay bills, and the travel time, while thrilling, made it even harder to put together a larger project.)

So I made a decision: I swore off small projects. I said “no more short films” and “no more small LA theater.” The idea was to take all that time and energy and pump it into fewer, larger projects.

In part from that decision, I cleared the space to make Make Believe in 2009 and 2010. It was a wonderful and fulfilling ride. It also opened doors, allowed me to set up a film idea at a studio, and led to more and larger theater and indie film projects in the pipeline. But by the end of last year, as the Make Believe hubbub quieted, I found myself in a tough position: many projects in the pipeline, but nothing that would exit the pipeline and become real any time soon. And to not be working, to not be actively engaged in creating is both painful and bad for my craft, especially as an actor.

So I started to realize: the nice thing about small projects is that you can make them happen entirely on your own or with only a small crew of collaborators. Big things, by definition, require the market and a bunch of other people to respond. In so harshly cutting off small projects, I cut off my independence, something I prized and had worked for.

Now I’m feeling it’s time to reconnect with that passion. It’s time to find small projects I know I can make regardless of the market, so that I am doing in a way that only requires my will and the dedication of collaborators. Thus: I’m off to scheme.

The Five Cs

My manager, Aaron Kogan, came up with “The Three Cs” to clarify some things one must weigh when beginning project. These are handy things to keep in mind as an entrepreneurial artist, for we must always compare priorities and choices and must fight for some and give up other aspects of our vision to make things happen.

(Somehow I have no photo of just us two, so here we are with the brilliant Roya Weiner,
 me on the left and Aaron on the right.)

The Three Cs are:

• Credit,

• Compensation, and

• Creative Involvement.

Credit: Varying levels of “official” credit – are you a producer, co-producer, associate producer, no credit at all?, do you fight for a “story by” credit for your idea or no, etc. – can be valuable in and of themselves, as they often correlate to levels of compensation and can help establish your position on the project.

Compensation: How much will you be getting paid? In cash? In revenue or profit participation?

Creative Involvement: How much do you contractually obligate your partners to involve you in – or have you lead – the creative development?

Each of these things must be weighed. (This is also true for small projects you’re doing with friends – you could be doing a different small project with friends, so why choose a given one? Assuming small projects have little Compensation, can they give you Credit for real leadership and a true chance to express your voice through Creative Involvement?) If a company is pushing down your money, can you push up the other Cs….?

Now, in managing me – yes, Aaron, I’m taking some credit for this – Aaron has had to expand The Three Cs to, count ‘em, The Five Cs. For the Actor-Producers among us, we can add:

Casting, and

Communications.

Casting: Are you cast? If so, how large a role? Is it the right size and type of role – getting you what you need as an actor while also being smart strategically for the scope of the project?

Communications: Poor guy, it's the only C with a slightly awkward name. When public announcements, interviews, etc. about a project occur, are you mentioned, included, interviewed? Is this contractual? Are you allowed to make mentions or announcements on your own? Like credit, this is a “soft” or indirect value, but it is always better to be conscious of these potentialities than to let them unfold without clarity.

Now go make something. (I say also to myself.)

O, the Shame

First: anyone reading this should probably be listening to John Russo’s Up Next podcast, which explores the challenges, processes, and lives of artists who are “up next” as they/we build our careers. You’ll note in my episode that I mention the shame I feel about having a “day job,” despite my love of and pride for the business I’ve built, a business that frees me as an artist every day.

I’m not sure what to write about this phenomenon, but I know it needs addressing. In a way not dissimilar to the blurring of Good and Popular, I think we too often blur, when measuring artists, Good and Making Lots of Money. We blur when measuring each other, evaluating opportunities, and  assessing ourselves. Making Good art is a core goal, yes, but Making Lots of Money is entirely worthy, too. Just don't blur the two or their metrics.

To continue honing my practice of blogging briefly, I’ll stick with this: as an artist, you need to build a life in which you can provide for yourself financially as you see fit. You also need to make your art (or you're hardly being an artist). So long as the total money coming in and the total art “going out” are working for you, care a lot less about what comes from where. And: keep that wisdom even as the art starts to make real money; don’t let that morph into believing that a creative project that pays more is always better than one that pays less. 

And speaking of John Russo, here's a picture I took last Tuesday evening while walking along the Hudson river and talking shop with John and fellow Up Next alum David Ingber.

Good v Popular, a Theory of Selling Out

When I left theater school and years of working on stage to head to LA, I had fears of “selling out.” Artistic integrity – I vaguely remember – was something we young folk talked and thought a lot about, and I feared LA’s business focus, as opposed to NY’s more womb-like creative community, might be a threat to mine.

Flash to six or seven years ago, when I was given the opportunity to have breakfast with a big Hollywood director. (Read: a guy with multiple films that have made more than $100M along with multiple TV series.) At the time, just having access for a chat was an exciting opportunity.

During the breakfast, the film CONGO came up. “That was terrible,” I said. The bigwig sternly corrected me: “It made a hundred million dollars.”

And there it was: Selling Out. In the brief exchange that followed, it was crystal clear. This man thought that making a lot of money is the definition of being good.

Very quickly after that breakfast, I started to arrive at this: Good and Popular are two very different, entirely worthy goals for a creative project.

Contrary to what is often implied in our schools and artsy communities, artists should feel no guilt or shame about working hard, explicitly, to make something Popular. Doing so is a challenging, fascinating puzzle. It requires great skill and a rare ability to either listen well to audiences or, even rarer, to intuitively resonate, like a tuning fork, with what audiences will enjoy.

We are told over and over, of course, that artists should feel no guilt or shame about pursuing something Good. And this, too, is a wonderful and deep goal, requiring honing your craft, knowing your personal voice and its strengths, and, in the end, finding and having something powerful to say.

Selling Out is thinking that something Popular = something Good. (And, by the way, Being Pretentious is thinking that something you find Good should inherently = something Popular.) 

The greatest dream is striking both Goodness and Popularity in a single project, of course. But don’t be afraid of working on both Goodness and Popularity as key jobs of the professional artist in the marketplace. Shakespeare alive today would not be some avant-garde off-off-Broadway director, no matter how Good. He would be creating massively appealing, successful stories across the biggest stages and screens of our day.