Come Hell or High Water

Between Projects & "Up Next"

2012-03-10T14:54:00.001-08:00

Unscreened (<--go ahead, click that link on your iPad! Firefly site is now device compatible!) closed to a standing room house nearly two weeks ago. (Seems like ages ago.) All in all, a great success, but I still feel more aware (as I often do) of the things yet to improve than I am of the things achieved. All houses were at or close to capacity, so that's great in an external, business sense. Creatively: the time we took to develop the plays with the writers this year - a process led by Jordana - was stronger, and the plays got closer to their full potential earlier in the process, which made for a better time for writers and early audiences. The writers, directors, casts were great all around. Overall, great. And I miss our fun little family.

Noah Segan, Chris Klein, and Michelle Morgan backstage and in their own little digital worlds.

BUT: next year, we're going to run a brief Theatre Bootcamp for our writers and directors to try to get everyone working through a rehearsal and tech process that's more informed by how theatre runs and, done right, how it works best. (Let your actors get all the way through the show, rather than directing each beat as you might on screen; we need to focus on tech, and your show will feel like its sliding backwards on those days, so let it; sacrifice verisimilitude of art direction in favor of fast scene changes, etc.) I'm eager to see what that will yield. Something about Unscreened fits so squarely in the Firefly vision that I can't help but keep chewing on it.

Now, in addition to playing a small role in an indie film, pitching a new little film around town and developing another (gotta stay vague for now), waiting on some potential investment for a new doc, scheming a couple of plays for NYC, and waiting on a legal deal for a studio film, I'm mostly in the often-painful (for me) Between Projects Phase. All that stuff is simmering, as I like to say, but nothing is boiling. I like the boil. So I'm trying not go nuts, and I'm deeply thankful in this phase for having the life part of life going so well, getting married and all. (And what a blissy phase that is!) I'm thankful, too, for having to prep for doing the Up Next Podcast in NY next week. I think what John is doing is of great value – I would have loved to have had it to listen to in my early days – and I want to use his listeners' time well! The scariest part for me, and thus what I know I need to do honestly, is talking about the day job. There's still shame for me about having one...but that's a whole 'nother blog post. (Which will come!)

"It's a Mystery"

2012-02-11T13:39:00.000-08:00

Unscreened's opening night was a sold out blast, getting a fun plug on Flavorpill, and I sit now looking at our sold-out ticket reports for tomorrow and Monday night's shows as well. Once again – and still, after 25 years, in a way that's largely mysterious to me – theatre worked its magic. The kinks and fears of dress rehearsal brought out the best of everyone, and even (perhaps especially!) those who played a stage for the first time in their lives, like the great Noah Segan, kicked butt. Even a last-minute need to change the order of the short plays to accommodate a busy actor's double booking ended up a brilliant blessing, with the new order speeding scene changes and working wonderfully for the evening's tone. I've rarely had so satisfying a post-show drink. Cheers to all.

Equally great: that theatre-driven feeling of family kicked in, with the disparate casts of the four short plays finally getting to know each other and build camaraderie backstage. The Unscreened 2011 team still feels their connection a year later, and the idea of building a long-term "alumni" community is one of the goals of the project. I look forward to furthering that journey tomorrow.

There are more fun photos in the Unscreened 2012 album on Facebook, but here's a favorite of mine to sign out on...

the ADIOS ASSHOLES cast hanging out after understudy rehearsal: me, Ryan Harrison, Abby Miller, & Noah Segan
(in a play written and directed by Anna Christopher)

Unscreened Opens Tomorrow to a Sold-Out House!

2012-02-05T21:13:00.000-08:00

What an innocent little blog post that last one was, announcing Unscreened. So filled with hope, so "hey everyone, here's news on a fun new show!" Today was our dress rehearsal, pre Super Bowl. It scared us all, especially the film and TV folk who don't know the good luck of a rocky dress rehearsal. I do...but that doesn't mean I wasn't shaken, too.

the cast & team posing with our Kickstarter thank you poster

Unscreened – for which Black Sheep Entertainment and Firefly invite great screenwriters to bring their talents to the stage, giving them the opportunity to work on a full production of their writing in a hands-on way that is rare in their other work – lives right in the complexities of the screen-stage intersection. Last year, when Unscreened was inaugurated, we worked in a far more limited space and with fewer resources. On the downside, that meant we had to limit our plays and casts more. On the upside, that meant the evening was "forgiving;" a small space means screen actors who aren't used to projecting can be heard, a simple layout means simple blocking with few challenges, and a limited set just puts more onus on the very capable imaginations of the audience. This year, after last year's success and the help of wonderful Kickstarter backers, we have more resources. On the upside, this means a far nicer audience experience, more set and lights to help shape the directors' visions, more time with our writers and the process overall. On the downside, this means a far less forgiving environment in which we have to realize our visions for the stage...or feel more fully the ways in which we don't.

What will happen? Don't know yet. But theater does have a way of coming together when the energy of the audience jumps into place, and our entire team is talented, committed, and professional. Especially in the rocky times, this is a team to trust.

We will, I know, enjoy the ride, which starts tomorrow night at 8pm with a sold-out house and continues Sundays and Mondays this month.

UNSCREENED Begins

2012-01-15T10:34:00.000-08:00

Halfway through January. Welcome to 2012.

We’re off to the production races with this year's edition of Unscreened, the idea for which was drummed up by Jordana Mollick of Black Sheep Entertainment. Basically, she realized that many accomplished screenwriters have rarely, if ever, seen their work in production and, meanwhile, actors want to work with them. So: an evening of new, short plays by these writers with a great cast. We debuted the concept last year, it was a hit, and we’re turning it into an annual event. It feels deeply needed in the LA scene. There will be more to write about this creative process – which includes working on stage with some very talented film folk, including some who have never done theater before and are learning the new language fast.

We start rehearsals this week…and folks are worried, stressed, excited, and hopeful. We also have a killer team. Plays are by Anna Christopher, Michelle Morgan, Dahvi Waller, and John Whittington. Our directors, in addition to Anna and Michelle, are Susanna Fogel and Robbie Pickering. And our cast thus far: Chris Klein, Josh Fadem, Jasper Grey, Will Greenberg, Anne Gregory, Tig Notaro, Maria Thayer, and me. More updates from the trenches.

Meanwhile, if you’re in LA, go see Our Town, David Cromer’s production transferred from NY. It’s not quite as perfect in the Broad Stage space, but it’s numinous nonetheless.

The End of An Era (Not 2011, but When Theatre Had Political Power)

2011-12-25T22:56:00.000-08:00

When Vaclav Havel passed away one week ago, I felt an era end. He rose to be president of Czechoslovakia and the first President of the Czech Republic after leading the Velvet Revolution that peacefully overthrew Communism. He rose to be a leader of the Revolution...by being a playwright. (We performed his Cahoots Macbeth at Brookline High School. It rocked.) The voices and ideas he put on stage spoke powerfully against oppression and ignited and inspired his audiences to action, so much so that his plays and performances were first restricted and later simply banned.

Only two years earlier, Augusto Boal died. In Brazil, he rose to both indirect and direct, elected political power – as a City Councillor in Rio – through theater writing, creating, and directing. The leftist, Brazilian-born nature of his theater work in the 50s and 60s led to his being kidnapped, tortured, and exiled to Argentina after the 1964 Brazilian coup. In exile, he codified his work in the now-classic book "Theatre of the Oppressed." His work from then to his death – including returning to Brazil in 1986, getting elected to public office, and using theatre to generate and enact voter-written legislation – used theatre to empower oppressed communities around the world.

Today, it's rare to find someone who, asked to list influential people, would name a playwright. Celebrities would abound – and perhaps a filmmaker or two – but not playwrights. We lose something when we minimize theatre's voices, for theatre is a storytelling form that's inherently populist, much freer from corporate and governmental pressures, much more local in its nature than are broadcast media.

In the wake of Havel's death, I've been remembering when I've most doubted the value of continuing as an actor and producer, whether doing so mattered at all. (I have doubts and fears regularly – that's just part of the game – but I'm talking about deep, existential doubt, which is rarer.) In 2009, I was doubting a lot, just feeling like telling a bunch of stories was no way to make a difference, and the world is too damaged to let myself – a smart, effective person – not make a difference. I started to ask around about how to get directly involved in public issues, from nonprofits to White House Fellowships. I talked to everyone I knew who seemed to be making an impact, from veterans to counselors to clergy members (I thought semi-seriously about becoming a Rabbi).

Simultaneously, I started work on Stage Matters, a short documentary on why/how/if theatre matters that Firefly made for Theatre Communications Group (TCG) to kick off their 2010 National Conference on Theatre. (I'll get to the video below.) Through late 2009 and early 2010, we traveled the country talking to the people who make theatre. Every last person we interviewed was inspiring – dedicated, passion-driven, bright.

By the spring of 2010, I found myself sitting at opening night of Firefly's off-Broadway production of Geraldine Hughes' Belfast Blues, and I was recommitted. Geraldine tells her story of growing up in war-torn Belfast, and I realized how profoundly and inherently political, how wonderful a use of the First Amendment, it is to sit together in a dark room and hear directly from the unflinching voice of a child of war. The discomfort and catharsis of the audience on that night brought home the truth of what TCG's Board Member Bruce Johnson said of good theatre when we interviewed him: it should "comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable."

As the end-of-year contemplative time approaches, I remember with gratitude the life and work of Vaclav Havel and other artist politicians like him throughout the ages.

Happy Chanukah, Merry Christmas, and soon, a Happy New Year,
SK

As promised, Part 1 of Stage Matters...

Stage Matters pt. 1 from Theatre Communications Group on Vimeo.

And for those interested in the more insidery exploration of the challenges facing theatre today, here's the brief Part 2...

Stage Matters pt. 2 from Theatre Communications Group on Vimeo.

And lastly, for an amusing look at some of theatre's impact throughout the ages (it's been banned often), here's a link to Firefly's amusing animated short, The Complete History of Theatre, Abridged.

Being Bi-Coastal, aka "Living the Dream"

2011-12-17T20:04:00.000-08:00

I take the end of each year seriously, feeling great pressure to get closure on projects, set everything up for success the next year, and leave enough time before New Years to dig in to ritualized introspection. For a decade, I threw a weeklong New Years retreat with a bunch of friends. We’d head to the mountains of Lake Arrowhead, get a cabin, and discuss our year past and to come while enjoying lazy days and some bacchanalian nights. They are treasured, youthful, life-loving memories, and they’ve also instilled this state I enter every December…a state that, apparently, challenges blogging, given my absence.

We’ve also begun work on the 2012 iteration of Unscreened, an evening of theater that was originally thought up by Black Sheep Entertainment and which we produce together. We invite brilliant, buzz-worthy screenwriters to write short plays. The immediacy of theatre production them gives them what is always a rare and sometimes their only experience of working directly with actors – including me – on the words they write. It’s been absorbing. But more on that in posts to come.

I was going to write only about Being Bi-Coastal. I live in both Brooklyn and Los Angeles, with apartments in each, and I don’t have a trust fund. Artists often dream of this life – as I did years ago – and folks ask "how" often enough that I thought I'd say: there are a few tricks worth mentioning. Of course, you have to have built your career and/or sustenance job to a point that you can have some freedom. But, as you gain that – which is much less than you think – you’ll see people around you start spending more on...well, just about everything. Don’t. To boil it down: (i) Don’t ratchet up your standard of living while those around you do, even as you start to gain your first success. This is a key to lifelong living as an artist anyway. Live within your means. (ii) When others start moving into nicer digs, allocate for two cheaper apartments instead. With time looking, you’d be surprised what you can find. (iii) Double clothes and toiletries and put some at each place. (iv) Here’s the trick: you’ll pay for far fewer flights than you’d think. Get a credit card with airline miles attached and build points. Especially if you charge portions of production and start well ahead of your Bi-Coastal Launch, you’ll find you pay for only a minority of the flights you take. (v) You're done. You've come out as bi-coastal. You can fly with just a carry-on, knowing there's a toothbrush at the other place. And you can head to NY for foliage and LA for...well beautiful weather always, if that's your thing.

But it’s also interesting to me, as evidenced by my blog lag, how much I resist the whole Social Media thing, even as I recognize its power. I feel sometimes like my dad staring at a DVR. I never understood his hesitation before. But, yes: given what I do, my resistance is something I’m working to overcome. Speaking of which, a reader sent in an amusing and related link thinking back about how tweets from artists now gone might have changed things.

Hope the holiday build-up goes well!

Dreaming of A Life in the Arts is Like a Bad Dating Pattern

2011-11-21T18:07:00.000-08:00

In my dating days, I routinely projected all kinds of need- and wish-fulfilling things onto various women. It didn’t help dating. In fact, it often shot it in the foot.

Similarly, back in the day, I projected all kinds of need- and wish-fulfilling things onto “being an actor,” “being a filmmaker,” “being a theatre-maker,” or basically “being an artist.” And it did not help me create a single thing or advance my career.

Both romanticized ideals, of love and art, can be motivating in a raw sort of way. The desires to have “that” in my life got me up and working. But they did significantly more harm than good.

If you look forward dreamily to a vision of how wonderful your life will be once you “make it” in some way as an artist, quit it. It’s the very thing that’s stopping you from getting down to the real work.

A month ago, I officiated at a friend’s wedding. The following is part of what I said…

“But I’m still left with an abiding sense of humility in the face of the invitation to speak today. I want to say something like ‘I am in no position to give a homily about love.’ Not with authority. And that’s true. But it’s also true of all of us…a few saints and poets excepted.

I have been joyfully thinking a lot about marriage and commitment and love of late. (Caught me at a good time.) And I’ve been looking at the fear that can come along with or may even be a part of marriage and commitment and love, in the way that it’s a part of those things that make us grow the most. I’ve come to some clarity on what love is not. I used to think that love – marriage love, the finding of a partner – was something that would happen to me. I would receive it, almost passively. Some gilded woman would enter my life and – merely by her presence – would fix all my problems, alleviate all my fears; she would make me whole.

[Hopefully a laugh]

I really thought this! Not always consciously, but somewhere very deep. And we’re all shown and taught images of this story of love – a love that takes no strength because it asks nothing of us; it takes no wisdom because it is so obviously cosmically correct that it annihilates all insecurity; a love that, in a sense, takes no commitment, because the commitment is forced by the universe.

So when I came to the cliff’s edge of my marriage-bound relationship, when I came to the point in our dating when it was time to commit – or not – I was painfully, really painfully, aware of my humanity. I still had problems! I hadn’t been made whole! The image in my mind was literally that I and we were standing at a cliff’s edge. The path of our relationship had been beautiful and wisely walked, but now I stood at that precipice. And I looked out into thick fog. I saw only a few inches down and a foot or so forward. So I did what any man would do. I stood there. Frozen. Waiting for the fog to clear. Figuring that, once it did, either there would be no actual drop – maybe a foot or two and that’s it – or the path would rise up to meet us. That, in some way, it – the future – would all become Certain.

But then I realized: our futures will always remain shrouded in fog. The cliff is a cliff. The question is not ‘who will make me whole and all things certain?’ The question is: ‘Whom do I want to leap with?’ It is a leap. And that takes guts. It takes strength, wisdom, and more. This is the commitment.”

This paradigm shift I’ve – thankfully – had about love in the past many months took me years longer than the one I was forced to have about my life as an actor and producer. But it's essentially the same shift.

Years ago, despite the fact that I was already making and acting in theater and film, I spent emotional energy looking forward to some gilded future in which I would “be” an artist in some way I deemed more legitimate. It wasn’t about accolades or praise, it was about a kind of peer recognition, a sense that “they” – or even “you,” since many of you readers are theatre- or filmmakers – would see me as “really” an actor and producer, and then I would feel…well, great, I suppose. Or, more apt, Certain…about my future, my identity, having made the right choices. Certain.

And, because I didn’t feel Certain, that implied to me that I wasn’t yet legitimately an artist. I knew I wasn’t perfectly gilded, so I figured I must not be ready to enter the perfectly gilded future I had dreamed of since I was a kid.

Except here's the thing: making art isn’t gilded. Just like real, beautiful, deep love, it’s sometimes messy. It makes you face parts of yourself you don’t like or, even scarier, don’t even recognize at all. It requires of you that you bring, explicitly, the non-gilded parts of you into the world and let ‘em all shine. It was only when I realized that just the normal old me doing normal old day-to-day work is all that art making ever is that I started to both do my best work and to see the right external success for it.

Just like standing at that cliff, the very belief that Certainty even matters got in the way more than anything else. Art making isn’t Certain. If you’re not doubting and sometimes afraid, you’re not reaching far enough. No matter how fancy the rooms you start to enter, there are always people in them that are less than brilliant. Nobody’s gilded. At best, we’re all just folks who work hard, most of us not hard enough, to make stuff. Some of the stuff turns out to be good, some of it turns out to be successful in the market, and some of it turns out to be both.

Or, as Charles Bukowski said better than I: air and light and time and space.

John Wayne, the Cab Driver

2011-11-14T18:20:00.000-08:00

Back in LA and despite the jet lag, I am compelled to write one more Thailand-related entry.

I was picked up "this" morning in Bangkok by a 50-ish Thai cab driver who learned to speak English by watching John Wayne movies. The result: a truly bizarre and wonderful dawn discussion about life with what sounded like a darn good Vegas John Wayne impersonator trapped inside a tiny Thai man.

Darn right, he speaks English

Then, from the airplane window, I caught one more view of the floods before drifting off into as much airplane-induced productivity and sleep as I could muster...

Yes, those are residential and business districts, not rice fields

And now I dive back into life, projects, and PDT.

MAKE BELIEVE’s Chaing Mai Premiere & The End of My Travels

2011-11-13T05:41:00.000-08:00

I admit it. I’m looking forward, deeply, to some good ‘ole American, especially Californian, cuisine.

And also note that this is the last travelog-y post for now. Starting the end of this week, I will continue with weekly writings on themes and experiences relevant to being a generative artist. Or such is the idea.

I sit now at the Chiang Mai airport, ready to fly back to Bangkok for the final night before an early flight to LA via Tokyo. Eager to return to work on new projects, even as I am profoundly grateful for this opportunity to experience diplomatic efforts and civic engagement through Make Believe.

Yesterday:

The morning was spent taking a fun group excursion to the beautiful Doi Suthep, the old temple on the mountain overlooking Chiang Mai.

Nobody explained to me what this scary lizard has to do with "Mom." But I like it.

A monk tending the garden in beautiful light.

The gilded roof.

Well, we tend to youngsters, so...

We followed that with a visit to Orchid Jade, a leading jade store run for a generation by a leading Chiang Mai family. The matriarch, Nan Pongcharoenkula, a long-time friend of Dr. Kanittha's, was on hand to give us an enriching and fascinating education about jade along with a tour of the carvers’ workshop.

Nan then insisted generously on feeding us a spicy, wonderful lunch of local flavors, including Chiang Mai noodles (chicken, egg noodles both soft and fried, and a curry-based broth), Chiang Mai sausage, larb, and more. It was wonderful.

We then rested up before dressing up for the opening night of the American Documentary Showcase, screening six of the program’s films at Chiang Mai University, where we walked into a bustling reception of about 300 audience members split 50/50 with Thai locals and expatriates from the US, Australia, Europe, and South Africa. The eager student volunteers running the festival did a superb job, setting up a nice display on all the films in the lobby and a very solid sound and projector setup in the auditorium.

Both New Frontier and Make Believe were successes, with lively and fun Q&As. And I think the success made progress on opening the door for a return trip by Clay, who I know would bring tremendous value to Thai students and audiences at the World Film Festival in January.

The night ended with a visit to the colorful, local Wua Lai market and a return for a late-night snack to the more touristy Anusan Night Market. Then some work, some failed skype attempts, and some sleep.

And now: back in Bangkok for a final night of pre-travel rest. Goodnight.

Truth v. Fact & The Final Day of Work in Thailand

2011-11-11T08:31:00.000-08:00

Now I’m sitting at the Anusan Night Market, more Sky Lanterns filling the sky, fireworks exploding. And I once again sought the joy of Thai Pakastani food, so I can combine curry, hummus, and tikka masala.

It was our most full day in Thailand, with an early departure to teach classes at both Chiang Mai Rajbat University and Chiang Mai University, both of which were excellent. Since we know our students will be coming to the full, public screenings tomorrow night, we could focus on technical discussions and examples in our work and theirs. They were engaged, questioning, and bright. The afternoon was spent with local filmmakers – Chiang Mai is branding itself as an arts hub, and the artists we met were inspiring…and very eager to be introduced to Kickstarter! Then a radio interview

and back to the hotel to rest.

Given the brevity of the day, I’ll insert something I wrote to a friend of mine in an email about our teaching here on Truth v. Fact, a theme that’s arisen in both Vietnam and Thailand and that Clay and I started to articulate on the festival circuit last year.

“In our lectures here in Thailand and last week in Vietnam, I talk a lot about the difference between ‘truth’ and ‘fact,’ and how I see ‘truth’ as being of equal value to an artist and a journalist, while ‘fact’ is of much more importance to the journalist and sometimes of no importance to an artist. When making a documentary, and thus straddling the line between the two, these are important concerns. Audiences today are especially vulnerable to blurring, because we still haven't generally accepted documentary as being non-journalistic, nor have we fully accepted how creative much of today's 'journalism' actually is. I find these ideas interesting in the US. In Vietnam, they were far graver, given the state-controlled media, and were especially wonderful for sparking discussion with local filmmakers and artists, who face the pressures of censorship daily and bravely.”

Lastly and amusingly: worth noting we heard that our crazy Thai VH1-like interview aired today.

Loy Kratong Is Indescribably Beautiful

2011-11-10T09:08:00.000-08:00

That's a teaser.

Fireworks are booming out my window in Chiang Mai. It’s unbelievably beautiful. Plus, I’ve just had an hour-long foot massage, so I’m feelin’ pretty great about life right now.

This morning, I taught sort of one and sort of two classes at Stamford University outside Bangkok. (Attendance is down 65% from the floods, so class schedules are wonky, and we ended up having a bunch of new students join the class after we had screened the film.) It was one of those times – frequent in creative pursuits – when it just seemed like it was going to completely tank (students were rotating in and out, some had seen Make Believe and others had not) and you just have to leap…and it ends up great. The students were inquisitive and curious, and we exchanged many ideas as we looked at clips of the film, talked about story structure, and discussed just how blurry the line between truth and fiction can get in doc and media generally. Melinda has talked about how social media has turned everyone into a documentarian, and it seems true; when put in the context of Facebook and YouTube, these kids were eager to discuss how to creatively use footage from their lives.

Then back to the airport.

I'm glad Monks board early, but they're also probably more patient.

We’re in Chiang Mai in the midst of Loy Kratong, the same festival we saw the high school students practicing for in Mahasarakham. The festival is celebrated widely and loudly in Chiang Mai, and its two principle rituals are floating a small, candle-carrying raft in the river as a symbol of letting go of bad parts of ourselves and flying a “Sky Lantern” or Khom Fai. This is the same festival a professor in Khon Kaen told me is a night many young Thais lose their virginities, and I must admit it’s pretty inspiringly romantic. Couples are supposed to launch a Sky Lantern together, as I mention in the video above, with the flying light a symbol of their soaring future.

So, since we had plans to see the festival with Dr. Kanitta as our local guide, I unpacked quickly to meet up with her, Jose, and Melinda at the diplomat happy hour. (Travel with diplomats. They have happy hours everywhere. Like in spy movies, but safer.)

Then I glanced out my window.

The whole city night sky is filled with soaring orbs. Seen Tangled? It’s exactly like that, but not animated. (And do see Tangled!)

After a quick drink and bite, we wandered for hours, mesmerized. Here are a few photos and videos to try in vain to capture it, including a video of me launching my own lantern in honor of my coming marriage.

Then I got my foot massage. Next: bed.

People launching their candle-carrying rafts in the river.

Final Full Day in Bangkok

2011-11-09T08:55:00.000-08:00

After leaving a little surprise for the in-room DVD collection of my Mahasarakahn hotel room,

Enjoy a great new film, next hotel guest!

I joined the group for the hour’s drive to Khon Kaen University, school of Fine Arts.

[Note: this entry interrupted by the arrival of Hummus (Hummus!) at my table at Akbar, a middle eastern restaurant (sort of) a short walk from the Conrad, where we’re staying in Bangkok. Oh goodness. How I have missed non-Thai tastes! Now back to the regularly scheduled entry.]

There, Melinda taught a class while I drank sweet coffee, did work, and snapped a painter at work.

(Work was largely focused on navigating the complexities of the contracts involved in Make Believe’s next stage of distribution, digital platforms. I'm quite pleased with the solution we found, and I can write more later about such things for small indie films.)

Then we hit the airport and headed back to a flood-muffled Bangkok, where Melinda and I both opted to focus on work, exercise, and rest. (The waters have closed in on the city's center since we left, and things have slowed even more.)

This time, a city-view room, so far better sunsets

Today, we had a quick interview on Radio Thailand before I skyped with folks back home, headed to admire the Golden Buddha recently dried from flood waters,

took a tuk-tuk to the banks of the swollen Chao Phraya river,

had my second fitting for a custom suit at Pinky’s Tailors – testing him as a possible wedding suit maker, but I can’t tell yet – and since have been finishing my in-box of assorted reading. I was most pleased with reading more Michael Walzer, this time an essay in Politics and Passion on the coercive nature of cultural identity and the challenges it faces to a liberal society’s desire to include even subgroups who want to self-educate actively or by-omission against the larger commonweal. But if I say more about that, my fiancée will totally win the debate on whether or not I’m too essay-like on these pages.

Instead, enjoy a ride on a tuk-tuk!

Oh yeah: forgot to mention nights ago that, when Melinda and I were heading home from our day of flood hiking, we ended up stumbling into a Wat that had a wide, open, public meditation park, complete with 24-hour-a-day guided meditation in a large, inviting gazebo. We couldn’t help but wonder at how such a thing would improve every American city.

Mahasarakham, Northeast Thailand

2011-11-07T07:17:00.000-08:00

Those were not sand bags being filled yesterday. Those were what we’re told are “Em Balls,” or packed spheres of various microorganisms, charcoal (maybe?), and other absorbants that will be dropped in the flood waters to eat the waste. They were apparently invented by a Thai professor, and the volunteers in the photo were making the actual hand-packed spheres for distribution. We fly back to Bangkok tomorrow, so I hope they work!

Yesterday was a travel day, from Bangkok to Mahasarakham, a university town in the middle of an otherwise rural agricultural area in northeast Thailand, an area called Isaan.

We spent the day screening – MAKE BELIEVE and both of Melinda’s films at last, since we had all day with our students – and teaching at Mahasarakham University.

MAKE BELIEVE in Thai!

Some of our Students

Last night, we had dinner with a few faculty after landing at the local airport. Brian, an American expatriate who teaches PoliSci, was a helpful resource on the hour-long drive to our hotel. He described this as Thailand’s “flyover country,” including that, like America’s, it contains in its heart some of the most real and grounded places in the country. It’s ethnically Lao, but it’s been part of Thailand for a long time, and its population has a complex cultural relationship with northern, central, and southern Thailand. The Isaan people also very open to and curious about foreigners, and the area was host to one of the US’ largest bases in the 60s and 70s, resulting in frequent Isaan-Marine marriages, I’m told. (Brian loves it here, and his enthusiasm is infectious.)

Speaking of infectious, I spent all day yesterday and most of today suffering from the ol’ traveler’s illness. All right then. So I didn’t really participate in dinner last night, but it smelled amazing, and this area is known for some of the most adventurous and spiciest cuisines in Thailand. (I’m writing this at dinner now, and I’ve just had real larb, an Isaan dish I’ve had pale imitations of in LA. Whoa, is it good here. A blend of minty sweetness and deep, hot, earthy spice.)

After class, we toured the campus, which is expanding in every direction;

Part of the new Humanities Building, which will host an American Corner

saw a site preserving some original Isaan architecture;

That's the University's new Dean giving us the tour of the Preservation Site

witnessed students lined up for the elevator;

"We don't take the stairs," our guide said

caught a glimpse of high school students preparing for their Loy Kratong Festival parade (more on that in Chiang Mai on Thursday);

and finished off with a beautiful country sunset.

I then took a nap I hope will end the stomach troubles for good and now write this over dinner. Tomorrow: travel again!

The Bangkok Floods

2011-11-05T07:21:00.000-07:00

"It's probably like Carmageddon," I claimed this morning, "when public officials have a choice to overstate or understate, and they'll err on inciting too much fear over losing to a huge problem arising." After all, the Thais in central Bangkok, where we're staying, are relaxed, smiling, shopping. Sure, there's an odd smell from the tap water - occasionally you wonder if it's in the air, too - but how bad will it be...?

So after a morning of work, video skyping with the lady - how did couples handle distance before? I have a new honor for the spouses of people who are forced to travel for work or life, like soldiers, the astronauts who "landed" yesterday - I met up with Melinda. The plan was to grab lunch; update our curriculum for Thai audiences since we have her film, New Frontier, subtitled here as well, and thus have far more freedom in class; and then take the Sukkumvit Line of the elevated train north to Maw Chit, the last station, so that we could view some flooding from the platform. It was going to be a quick trip, and then I figured I'd go for a run in the nearby Lumpini Park and maybe go out for dinner on my own.

The first thing Melinda tells me is that the morning paper warned of advancing water. And indeed: the sandbags are piling up outside our hotel.

With a few blocks, we pass a group of volunteers filling more.

Lunch goes quickly and we get our work done in the weirdly comfortable oasis of Siam Paragon, one of the many malls around Siam Square, where we have been instructed to go for food. (It was good, despite being mall food, but I did wonder why it was so highly recommended as an experience.) Then we board the train and head out of the city center. At first, there's no sign of anything. Then, we see a parking lot filled with an inch or two. Then an outdoor shopping area is wet. Then we come to the end of line, and everyone who gets off - 90+% Thai - pulls out a camera. This is, apparently, the place to go flood viewing, but we can only see a park's lake that seems too high.

Notice the bushes that are in the lake and probably shouldn't be.

And I think to myself, "If Thai people are also here with cameras, it's probably because this has been hyped. They, too, haven't seen evidence, so they've come to try, just like us." Melinda suggests we walk down the stairs to try a march up the dry streets below. Then, before even descending, we discover what's underneath our elevated platform.

Ah.

Each block we walk, it gets worse.

Note the cyclist, just out for a ride.

We ended up spending hours exploring, jaws dropped. We left when we couldn't go further without getting wet, our eyes started to sting, and the water seemed to be rising. The walk back made us realize that the park was bad up here, too.

By the time we hit the hotel, we were exhausted from the onslaught of feelings and sights. We enjoyed the diplomat's happy hour, and here I am, getting a bit of work done before deciding what else is on the agenda. At least we can rest assured that Ronald is safe.

Thai Ronald is Grateful for his Sandbags

Bangkok, Floods & Snakes

2011-11-04T08:27:00.000-07:00

All right kiddos. First, let me say officially that this blog will deal with more generative-artist themes, like the first entry, as I go. While traveling with the American Documentary Showcase, I'm using this as the travel report that's required as my homework anyway, thus giving me the motivation to get the blog going at last. As a teaser: I know upcoming entries will deal with the challenges of navigating friendships that are also collaborative partnerships and how a mature sense of "being an artist" is like a mature sense of being in relationship, among other topics.

For now, a brief travel update. We flew from Ho Chi Minh City to Bangkok, navigated immigration, and met our our Embassy reps, Jose Collazu and Dr. Kanittha Navarat. Both the welcoming warmth of the Thai people and the presence of the flooding, which I'll visit tomorrow, were immediately apparent. (Cars were parked all along the edges of the elevated highway, because people are just leaving them there to keep them high off the ground.) Our hotel is sandbagged...

...as are the Embassy and other streets and buildings nearby. And there's a slightly "off" smell, including from tap water, that locals are attributing to the floods. But otherwise: nothing except the warning of some loose snakes and crocodiles of which to beware.

The day was travel, hotel check in, an interview with a lively, colorful popular youth TV host (they told us she's like an MTV or VH1 hostess)...

...and then more unpacking, dinner (not great, sadly, but we were kept safely within the mall by Embassy folk and will venture out tomorrow), and now some email catching up and work to allow me to maximize a (flood-caused) day off tomorrow!

Hanoi -> Ho Chi Minh City in 3 posts (#3)

2011-11-04T07:05:00.000-07:00

(written in one sitting with previous two posts...)

Remember that HTV interview yesterday? It brought up themes that continued today. I’m beginning to feel a difference between “corrupting influences” – which we suffer from on all political sides in the US thanks to our lack of campaign finance reform – and outright corruption, which is on display and openly discussed in Vietnam. Apparently, the press roundtable we had yesterday was rare because the US embassy doesn’t hand envelopes of cash to reporters, which is usually expected. And for my interview with state-controlled (like all TV) HTV, I thought it would be fun to wear my little US-Vietnam flag pin the Embassy gave me. Just before we started rolling however, the cameraman whispered to the reporter, and her face flashed first concern and then a big smile. She whispered through a giggle, “I’m sorry, this is just for fun and entertainment,” and she removed my pin herself while the DP pushed in to cut off the US State Department seal that was on the Make Believe banner behind me. I caught Ted Diehl’s eye, and we shared a smiled. State-controlled media in action. Even while I remain aware of the need to fix very real and threatening problems of media and power influence in the US, talking to Vietnamese artists made me grateful for how historically free we are.

The HTV Interviewer & the Banner

Speaking of state control, our original morning – some complex program of presenting both our films with public discussion – was canceled last-minute by the Vietnamese government, who had the final say because it was held in a public venue. The quick replacement, visiting a private post-grad film school – the only one with a 35mm camera in Vietnam – was amazing. We got to watch and comment on Vietnamese short films, which was a superb honor. One, a short doc on stone workers in Vietnam, found a star, a beautiful little girl that works hard at school and dreams of being a teacher, but whose poverty might trade her schooling for stone work next year. When I praised his discovery of her as a character, the filmmaker teared up. It was an honor deeper than I deserve, especially since it was in the context of praising Clay’s work on Make Believe, which the whole school had seen and loved. The other doc short covered the burial of an aborted child, a devastating and uncomfortable film, but one really about burial rituals, not abortion. That said, the Embassy was clearly uncomfortable, as they didn’t want a hotbed political topic to anger me or Melinda. The politicos clearly underestimate the artist’s comfort with discomfort, as Melinda and I cared far more about a Vietnamese filmmaker covering something daring than what either of us think politically. (It makes me most uncomfortable to imagine the US Embassy behaving like the Vietnamese government and censoring a local filmmaker’s presentation to us!)

Then: lunch at Bonjour Café, an artists hangout, to screen Melinda’s film New Frontier, which was nice to see again, especially with a Vietnamese audience, who were enraptured with the beautiful shots of rural US. One of the most moving moments of our time in Vietnam came when Melinda answered a question about her hardest film experience – documenting the death of her father – and Linh started crying when translating, because she recently lost her mother. It instantly connected us all across cultures far more than any treaty or summit ever can.

Afternoon: a full Make Believe screening and Q&A at a middle school, which was delightful, even if the discussion centered a bit more on what famous people I had met than I would have ideally liked. Kids, I suppose, are kids. And the little girls liked Derek and Hiroki just as much here as they do in the US!

Then home to get some work done and walk to this restaurant. So there. Tomorrow; Thailand!

Hanoi -> Ho Chi Minh City in 3 posts (#2)

2011-11-04T06:38:00.000-07:00

(written in one session with previous post)

Notre Dame from my Window

Unfortunately, I barely experienced HCMC on my own yesterday. Tonight’s walk and this very dinner are making up for it. (Just finished an amazing chocolate mousse that followed one of the simplest and best fish preparations I’ve ever had – cubed, lightly grilled, and dusted with salt and chili. I keep being reminded this was French Indochina, and the Vietnamese can deliver on both their own flavors and on French food…and on American breakfasts, actually.)

The Fish & Blog Writing

Yesterday, we had a thorough briefing at the Consulate followed by a big press roundtable that’s generating articles today, and then, at last, another full screening of Make Believe, for about 180 students and young people. It was followed, brilliantly, by exactly one magic trick by me and a few minutes each by two great Vietnamese magicians, complete with a tuxedo and doves. During the screening, I was interviewed at length by HTV. More on that in the next post.

Lunch. (What is this, a food blog? Food is, for me, is an aesthetic, artistic experience, so it’s relevant to an arts-related blog in my mind.) It was at Ngon, a restaurant concept that must be adopted in every country everywhere. In short, the owner scoured the country for the best street food vendors, paid them a salary, and brought them to his restaurant. To be clear: not their recipes, not their concepts, but the actual street vendors. So you sit in a courtyard, at a table, served by waiters, with a menu, but all along the edges sit little old women, young men, teams of girls, all with their own little carts, now kept sanitary and supplied with the best ingredients. Oh My Goodness. Linh, our Cultural Affairs Assistant, ordered for the table, and every bite blew my mind. Portland, OR? Austin? LA? Take note. Brilliance.

Linh & Ted, our Brilliant Consulate Team

Next, we were guest presenters at an awards ceremony of a franchised graphic arts and film/media school called Arena, apparently started in India and opening all over. The winning work was very good. But, the Vietnamese have a funny habit that came up over and over again – they often put people on stage to have a very lengthy, sort of private-seeming discussion, but with microphones and in front of a lot of people who only partially pay attention. So a lot of the ceremony was us watching a long discussion we didn’t understand. But it was all fascinating, and the banners they made about each of us more than made up for the ceremony running long.

Home, jet laggy nap, and a night of staying in and working, feeling lame about not exploring the city but needing to get a bunch done, from some script reading to trying to trim the budget on a new movie we’re discussing with a finance partner.

Hanoi -> Ho Chi Minh City in 3 posts (#1)

2011-11-04T05:59:00.000-07:00

This will be a 3-part post, covering 3 days. I do think my per-day word rate is dropping, at least.

I’m sitting in Temple Club, a restaurant in an old Buddhist Temple in Ho Chi Minh City, finally treating myself to a drink and a breath in this whirlwind. Writing this blog is my only task – other than savoring the food – and I’ve brought copies of our official itineraries, because I have essentially no idea what has happened over the last two days. It’s a blur.

Meanwhile, my fiancée has felt these posts have been too essay-like. (By the way, one of the lovely things about having a fiancée, at least a good one, is having someone who can be critical without being remotely shaming.) I figure writing with a whiskey next to my computer and good food heading my way will help counter the essay tendencies of my mind.

Speaking of which, “essay” comes from the French “essayer,” for “to try.” Which I love. When I was taught essay writing in school, it felt much more like “to execute well,” as if one had to write an essay with a strong point already derived, rather than writing the essay as the tool for thinking, writing from the actual process of deriving. So even writing these early blog entries in a style that doesn’t stick is, itself, the truer form…

But there I go again.

At any rate: I started the last entry during what was our first full screening of Make Believe.

Derek McKee...in Vietnamese

The screening followed a morning with another class – some students enthralled, some texting during the discussion – and then a good lunch with a group of established Vietnamese filmmakers. Talk about tough and inspiring. These are artists who struggle daily with government censorship and real dangers in pursing stories they care about, and they do it anyway. They were bright, funny, and good guides to lunch.

Dragon Fruit is my new favorite.

The screening: so much better than having a class, Clay’s directing in action a better teacher than me talking about it, and the audience thrilled even by my magic, which did not ruin US-Vietnam relations. Then a rush to the airport (cows in the road!), only to sit for our delayed flight to Ho Chi Minh City, on which Melinda and I both struggled, and failed, to stay awake. Two thoughts to chew on from the last day in Hanoi, which was sad to leave: about two-thirds of the Vietnamese population was born since the war (!) and one of the leading women filmmakers is about to be fined for defiantly having a 3rd baby, in violation of the two child law.

Ho Chi Minh City

Is amazing. When I visited China, I remember describing Beijing as like DC and Shanghai (which I loved deeply) like New York. In the short drive to our (beautiful!) hotel, Ted Diehl, our Press and Cultural Attaché, used the same analogy for Hanoi v. Ho Chi Minh City. It felt right, with HCMC buzzing with a wonderful energy, our hotel buzzing with life even at our late arrival, and me buzzing with resonance for the city.

Day Two, Vietnam (Yesterday)

2011-11-01T10:26:00.000-07:00

Last night, blogging fell victim to a full day of teaching, jet lag, and what I’m fairly sure was an MSG-laden Chinese dinner. I’m writing this section while sitting in the back row of our first full Make Believe screening, at the US Embassy in Hanoi. I am pleased to say the film is playing well, including getting a big laugh for “I want to be Asian when I grow up,” which is an uncertain line with an entirely Asian audience!

Jet lagged helped my cause in the morning yesterday, as I popped awake a half hour earlier than intended, just enough to be productive but not enough to have ruined my sleep. After breakfast, Melinda and I were met in the lobby by Lan Ngo, Program Assistant at the Embassy and our main liaison and escort, and by David Moyer, the Deputy Public Affairs Officer in charge of the execution of the American Documentary Showcase here. They are a great team, and we dove in immediately to learning about our upcoming audiences and the day’s program.

After a brief drive through the insane morning bustle – apparently, I’m in Hanoi! – we found ourselves in an weighty conference room, complete with bust of Ho Chi Minh, at the Hanoi University of Theater & Cinematography.

David Moyer, standing, Greeting the Rector's Party

Our class outline had us showing clips from our films to discuss: • documentary as just another form of storytelling, still driven by story, character arcs, and themes; • truth versus fact, or artistic creation versus journalism; • how complex human beings need to be distilled into characters and archetypes in a doc; • examples of techniques that can up the cinematic feel of a doc; and • American ideas/themes/questions that arise in the films. Instead, we found ourselves plagued with technical difficulties and had to largely wing it. Thank God for Melinda’s daily practice as a university professor and for Ms. Pham Viet Ha, our brilliant interpreter.

I felt deeply frustrated by my inability to deliver the quality of class these students deserved and looked forward to regrouping over lunch. I did get a healing moment when I popped my head into a black box theater across the hall and caught a glimpse of eager theater students rehearsing a play.

Lunch at Koto, an NGO that trains at-risk youth in life skills and restaurant management, was delicious. I learned from Lan how to properly roll my rice pancakes, and I did have two more Cafe Sua Das.

Me & Melinda Levin

Our afternoon class at the College for Social Sciences & Humanities in Vietnam National University was a leap forward. This time, we had a working copy of Make Believe with Vietnamese subtitles, and our students dutifully noted the filmmaking tricks and techniques we revealed. The students asked many probing questions about whether we felt it was our responsibility to tell audiences that we were willing to "manipulate" some facts in search of a clearer, true story. (I asserted that, as an artist and not a journalist, it was not, and that it is every audience member's responsibility to be very skeptical of any and all media put in front of them, including journalism.) It's a big question in a country with state-controlled media and censored films. They were also glad to see small, achievable ways to make a documentary more cinematic without spending a lot of money. We earned the flowers they gave us.

Our drive back to the hotel fell in the middle of rush hour, and it made LA traffic seem downright wimpy. For much of the drive, walking would have been substantially faster. I barely remember walking into the hotel room before crashing for a cocoon-like nap, but I managed to drag myself up for exercise, that Chinese dinner at a restaurant with a view of the large West Lake, and for a bit of work before bed.

Day One, Vietnam

2011-10-30T09:41:00.000-07:00

On the surface, today was a day for Melinda Levin and I to plan our lessons for the various screenings over two days in Hanoi, to explore the city and learn its background, and to fight jet lag with some sun. Underneath, it was a day of thinking about what it means to be an artist representative of the US.

I started the day pouring over the Embassy’s briefing booklet; the State Department’s background on Vietnam; and the map, Time Out, and pamphlets I could find. While my generation grew up with a Soviet Union and then a Middle East as conflict zones, my parents came of political age with tensions in Vietnam and Southeast Asia, and reading up on history was awkward. The official briefing of the US Department of State made me wonder what was being left out. Searching other sources, in contrast, made me especially grateful for living in a country that would send an artist abroad with no restrictions on speech or thought, so that I can speak openly to filmmakers and students who do not always have that freedom. (Vietnam has criminally convicted one political dissident a month for the last two years.) It was also personally interesting for me to note that the official listing shows zero Jewish community here, even as legal religious reforms have opened the country’s attitudes to religion generally. I take so much of the comfort I’ve had in Boston, New Haven, Los Angeles, and New York deeply for granted.

My reading and some other work done, I met up with Melinda for a lunch in the fascinating, loud, and lively Old Quarter where we hashed out our ideas for tomorrow’s classes, ideas which I’ll write more about tomorrow (if, indeed, they end up being good ones). Lunch itself was a delicious local white fish, stewed tableside and served with rice noodles and an earthy, spicy red pepper oil.

Lunch

During a stroll through the more of the Old Quarter to reach the Hoan Kiem Lake, we drank Cafe Sua Da, recommended by my cousin, the amazing chef Erica Wides, as “like crack.” She’s understates it. It is, apparently, a strong iced coffee with sweet condensed milk. I will have 14 more tomorrow.

The day’s adventures finished with a long walk back to the hotel via numerous death-defying street crossings.

Sites included the Army Museum, the Hanoi Flag Tower, the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum and Museum, and the One Pillar Pagoda. After a nap, exercise, and dinner, I’ve been prepping for tomorrow and have just finished pulling Make Believe clips to illustrate our lesson plan. Now, some time to read a script before talking to my fiancée and getting some sleep.

The First Post

2011-10-29T11:43:00.000-07:00

I’m sitting in a hotel room in Hanoi, Vietnam, more than a little travel weary and bewildered. I’m about to begin a two-week stretch here and in Thailand – floods permitting – to screen Make Believe across the two countries. It’s part of the American Documentary Showcase, so I have the honor of combining my passion for storytelling with my desire to be an active citizen. Suddenly, I find myself representing the US overseas, using film as the impetus for discussions with people of an entirely different culture. I am excited to see what this adventure brings!

Documenting this work-driven travel gives me a reason to begin a long-overdue blog. In short, the blog’s theme, core to my life, is about being a generative artist. Beginning it as I begin a trip resultant from Make Believe feels appropriate.

Since there is little to report travel so far – 20+ hours in planes and airports aside – I will begin with printing the more fleshed-out draft of a piece I wrote for Back Stage West, a trade paper for actors, last year. The original, cut down to 600 words, can be found here.

The fuller version, which gets at more of the underlying philosophy of this blog, follows….

"The Acting Career You Dream of Doesn't Exist"

If Only The Button

If I had a button that ensured I was given great, meaty roles in strong projects for the stage and screen; that these projects had brilliant scripts, were directed by visionaries, and that I worked with wonderful artists on sets without crazy people; that the projects were overseen expertly into their final editing or production, and that they were delivered to market intelligently so that people actually saw them…if I could have all that and “just be an actor,” just show up and act in these miracles? I would push that button Now.

Here’s the thing: that button doesn’t exist for anyone. It doesn’t exist for me. It doesn’t exist for George Clooney or Julia Roberts. And it doesn’t exist for you.

To Counter Unhelpful BS

It took me nearly a decade to accept this. I had fallen into the trap evident in the whispers you hear at acting programs everywhere: “I just want a future in which I have my choice of projects.” And believe me, I used to be one of those – like a lot of you – for whom the word “actor” was tied to my very identity. I fell in love with the craft when I was nine, and something in me has been pulled, pushed, forced, and drawn to tell stories ever since. Over the years, I’ve learned that many of my old ideas about “being” an actor came from ego, and ego rarely serves art. Letting go of those old ideas and replacing them with more useful ones was always challenging, often painful, and is one of the smartest things I’ve ever done – leading to more access to better work.

The Lesson: Interpretive to Generative

I used to think of myself as the kind of actor willing to do the dirty work necessary to give myself a job as an actor. Then I realized this dirty work is called “producing.” And I was already doing it: helping to get plays off the ground in random spaces, starting a theater, starting a film collective to make digital shorts, all with only the conscious identity of Actor and with a strong resentment of someone wanting me to produce. I was tied to the idea that being an actor was to be an interpretive artist only: to play the stories generated by others. To make a very long tale quick: I finally embraced the power and depth inherent in becoming a generative artist, including as an actor, but – by definition – not exclusively so. The journey between those ideas, from interpretive to generative, taught many lessons, and I have tried to distill them to practical points below.

Start Making: Don’t be precious. Don’t try to make the Best Thing Ever. Just make. Hell, make badly. And in making, learn. Put up a play. Shoot a short film. Then do another one. Don’t over-market these projects, don’t make it about people knowing you’re doing them – do them small, let them suck, don’t put yourself out there yet. Just start the journey of generating. You may know “how to act,” but give yourself time to learn how to take the reins as a generative actor in the professional world.

Bet on People, Not Projects: When you’re doing the above, bet on people – your collaborators – not on the projects you make. I know you’ve wanted to play Hamlet or Lady M since you wept at summer Shakespeare when you were 11, but that urge is on your behalf, not your audience’s, and, years from now, it just won’t matter that you played Hamlet in a small production. The very fact you can identify “I want to play X role” means that X role is already in the public consciousness, and that makes it something tough for you to profit from. If, on the other hand, you try to think “I want to work with X person” – be it some director you saw put up a reading, the best actor in your class, the emerging writer who just had a short play published in an anthology but who’s yet to get a break – then you can be part of discovering and creating value. As you travel through the industry, it’s these relationships, not the specific projects you generate, that will serve you. As each of you progresses in your separate careers, you will still have access to each other and to continuing collaborations, and those will become professional gigs with real budgets. (For this to be true, you must pick collaborators because you truly admire their work, not because you think they’ll go far. You must resonate creatively. Only if you truly share tastes about what is good will these collaborations be satisfying to everyone, and only if they are satisfying to everyone will they build sustaining allegiances.)

Redefine “Business” to Serve You: Somehow, artists have agreed to teach each other that “business” is a dirty word, synonymous with “selling out.” When you buy into that, the only thing you achieve is handing over all creative power in the marketplace to people who shouldn’t make creative decisions. Learn that business is a tool. It is the process of getting anything done, including creative projects. Take a business class, learn how to write a business plan, learn how to think in goal-oriented business terms. Being a generative artist is being an entrepreneur, so equip yourself for that road. Have we forgotten that Shakespeare’s company was run by its artists?

Get Over Yourself: Nobody cares about “what” you are or what you dream of, in part because they’re busy caring about whether you can help make their dreams come true. As an actor, you don’t serve other people’s dreams unless you’re valuable in the marketplace…yet you somehow expect other artists to care about giving you “a break.” But if you learn to generate – as a writer, director, producer, etc. – you are inherently of value to others. You can help their dreams. Then, you can leverage that into having them help your own. A less gain-oriented way to express this: stop worrying about “what” you are. Worry about The Story. Find great yarns to spin and let go of your ego about having to act in them. Do whatever gets the good story told, and learn that your true job as an artist is serve that story, not your ego. (A secret: this attitude will also make your acting work stronger.)

Realize that All of the Above Is Acting in the Pros: Sure, every now and then someone wins the lottery – books some role early on, does it well, and never hustles again. Go ahead: play the lottery. Otherwise, recognize that wanting to “just” act is like wanting “to be a lawyer” when you mean “making great speeches in courtrooms,” simply ignoring that every minute a lawyer spends in trial is backed up by dozens of hours of painstaking research, briefing, precedent checking, etc. If you don’t find some form of entrepreneurial hustle just as invigorating as actually getting on stage, then I’ve a newsflash: you don’t like being an actor. You like learning a craft in acting class. Which is great. But don’t sadden yourself by confusing the two. If, however, entrepreneurialism does invigorate you, makes you chomp at the bit – even to prove how wrong I am – then you are good to go. So: go.

Break a leg.