“I have forced myself to begin writing when I’ve been utterly exhausted, when I’ve felt my soul as thin as a playing card…and somehow the activity of writing changes everything”–Joyce Carol Oates
Let’s hope you ‘re right Joyce. With a jolting screech of the brakes, my life has halted into a mind numbing hiatus. A software update is taking place in my cerebral cortex. A deletion of old cookies and installation of the newest upgrades and installments with which I will now operate. All systems say go. This is your new life. I am waiting for a “sign”. An impulse. Which way to go next?
I am in what I call the “in-between”. No scheduled shows. Breathing time. Living time. I feel incredibly lazy. My mind wanders between books, sprawling through the fall fashion magazine spreads, and watching romantic and historical movies. If I can’t afford to go on vacation, I will bring vacation to me. And so what if I labor on Labor Day weekend? As long as my mind is calm, I could be anywhere. No one bothers to think about the mental health of a struggling Actress. How are we to get any relaxation if we can’t take a vacation? It must be self-imposed. Batteries must be recharged. We must physically stop and make a conscious space to rejuvenate ourselves. And we must not allow guilt to permeate this sacred vortex.
The life of an Actress. Je ne sais quoi. It’s a lot to bear. Even for the most stable and strong. There is no guidebook. It’s quite simple, survive or get out of the business. No need to make a fuss of it. But we are dramatic beings so of course and our off-stage lives needs some “juicing-up”. A French director once told me that I am always performing, even in conversation. Not to say that he thought I was insincere, but just a bit “heightened” in expression.
But such is the price we pay for those of us who have been struck by Athena’s spear. We bare a passion for art. For expression. And sometimes it cannot be shared. I recently watched the Oscar winning movie “Amadeus”. The character of Antonio Salieri bemoans his fate as a composer who can never reach the heights of his contemporary, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart:
“All I ever wanted was to sing to God. He gave me that longing. And then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If he didn’t want me to praise him with music, why implant the desire like a lust in my body…”
And harmonious to this point, is the life of the grand operatic Diva Maria Callas. I’ve spent the summer devouring the book” The Young Maria Callas”, edited by her close friend, Bruno Tosi. The book is filled with personal recollections from people who knew the singer intimately.
Here is a woman, who according to her mother, began singing in her crib. Fresh out of the womb, the woman was destined to become one of the renowned opera singers in the world. She was a perfectionist and her unyielding commitment merited her enormous success. And yet she was inwardly tortured most of her life. Plagued by harsh critics, hurting her voice prematurely in order to force her body into a petite submission. She often said that ‘Her voice played tricks on her”. But no one can refute that this woman lived her life with fortissimo!
And like Salieri, she respected art like a religion:
“If you serve art well, everything will come automatically: you will be great, you will have money, there will be fame. But the work is hard, in the beginning, during and afterwards. But it is a privilege. I consider myself privileged because I have been able to bring truth from the soul and mind, give it to the public, and have it accepted, not everyone can do that. It is one of the greatest powers one can put at the service of one of the greatest arts: music.”
These words are of great comfort to me. I, too, feel the sacredness when creating a role. But like Callas says, it lies in the intention with which we approach it. It must be absolute.
You wouldn’t expect anything too deep from a TV show about a male prostitute who is “HUNG” but that’s exactly where I stumbled upon this sentiment that hit oh so close to home. The character on this HBO hit asks the question:
“When did life become something you buy?”
I second that. And it begs an answer. Does an empty wallet equate to an empty life? Life offers a huge array of hors d’oeuvres to sample but if you can’t afford the toothpick, you aren’t getting any crudités from the tray. Now I’m not speaking about life’s beautiful and simple pleasures (because they are countless) such as watching sunsets, walks on the beach, swimming in a lake. I’m talking about traveling to new places, sampling new cuisines, stylish haircuts, vacations, new clothing, theater, clubs, and concerts. And more mundane but dire…health insurance, dental fillings, Dermatologist skin checks, …We must even buy our health. That is, if we want to preserve it. But the majority of us can’t. Or at least without great struggle. I know plenty of artists without Insurance who skip important routine exams. There are incredible organizations such as The Actor’s Fund and The SAG Foundation that can help. But the question still remains “When did life become something you buy?”
I grew-up upper middle class. Had I not become an Actress, I may not have ever struggled, professionally and financially. But seeing the silver lining in the cloud (as I usually do) I am grateful to have walked through life on many different roads. I’ve worked in restaurants and appreciate what a good tip means to a waitress who has been on her feet for eight hours in between cleaning ketchup bottles. I have worked in retail stores and know the desperation of selling that extra shirt so I can make a much-needed fifty-dollar bonus. The people ” behind the counter” are my fellow soul journeyers. Whether I gain fame or money or not, I know the price of being able to enjoy life. I have experienced strenuous if not tedious work. I have the understanding of what juggling four jobs means. I’m not afraid of doing what I must.
What price are we willing to pay to be an artist? Must we all be Van Goghs and be appreciated after we die? Kandinsky ran out of paper to paint on in the final years of his life. There is still no gravesite for Mozart because even with all that immense talent, he was in such debt that he was buried in a mass pit.
And how “Unbourgeous” to speak of such things. But the greatest artists cannot afford to be too lofty in mind and spirit.
We are storytellers. The more diverse and uneven our lives are lived, the more we can slip in and out of roles with a true understanding of the characters we portray. So embrace your misfortunes while appreciating and striving for easier and more lucrative times.
“Life beats down and crushes the soul and art reminds you that you have one. ” ~Stella Adler
Cling to art. Stay true to your calling. You are part of a noble lineage and profession.
Like you really have a choice anyhow. Ha. Sing me another aria, I’ve already heard that one. We artists are bound to our destinies. Just ask La Divina Callas.
