I recently started teaching a new Basics course at SCR. One I the first things I do is to have people introduce themselves by asking them what brought them to the theatre TODAY. I always get great answers. People who plunge themselves into beginning acting classes tend to be very interesting, brave and bold. There are, of course, the college age folks, who are trying to get into the industry. There are also retirees, ready to try something they always wanted to do. The people that really intrigue me, however, are people who are mid-career, and aren't looking to become ACTORS per se. They are the one who come to my class for other reasons. In the group was this guy, seems funny, a bright professional. We all know guys like him, they come off a little brusque, a little different. He is very successful in his field. When it came time for him to tell us why he was in the room, he told us that his son had been diagnosed with high functioning Aspergers and consequently so had he. I guess a lot of things fell into place for him when he found that out. He told me he has to force himself to look at people, that he wanted to learn what it was like to "feel" emotions and a doctor had suggested acting classes. He mentioned to me that he had trouble being "empathetic." When he said that to me, it sounded like something an evaluator had told him. I'm not sure the meaning of empathy really resonated with him.

I work with a lot of people on the autism spectrum. I'm not a psychologist or a therapist and I don't claim to be. I am an acting teacher. And speaking with an adult who was coping with the diagnosis gave me insights that I never had with my kids. He doesn't "feel" emotions the way you and I do. To me, a lay person, I thought his description of not feeling sounded like color-blindness or tone deafness. He wants to learn how to act like he's feeling. The guy is definitely bright, and very interesting.

And intriguing, since my job is to teach basic acting techniques. There are styles that he could definitely apply, outside in, the British method. Commedia maybe. And anyway, how many of us actors haven't relied on the ghost of a sensation to twist our face into the proper expression of concern or interest when we are not feeling it? I can't teach him to feel, but perhaps a little like Henry Higgins, I can teach him to pretend he's feeling.

So much of emotion is bound up in muscle memory. A tense forehead indicates anxiety, tightly drawn lips equals hurt. Maybe I could invent a modern Del Sartre type method? I did have a kid once whose mother swore he became more affectionate after taking acting classes, because he learned to take the cues he was given, and would smile at the right time, or look like he was listening. Was he? Is teaching person with autism the gestures of emotion going to help him feel the emotions somewhere? And is he faking out if he pretends to be interested when in fact he really isn't? If so, we are ALL consummate fakers.

I'm sure much smarter people thy I have better answers, but really empathy is a taught emotion. Little kids aren't empathetic at all. And acting isn't an easy thing to teach to anybody. Fascinatingly enough, certain autistic people pick it up faster and are quicker to understand the purpose of things like objectives, getting what you want, sticking to your goal in a scene. A lot of the autistic kids I know become very fine actors indeed. Maybe because their slate is so blank, they have no bad habits to get rid of. Starting without their own emotions they can become a character without bruising or sacrificing their own ego. And become a gift to their acting teachers in the process.

I am drawn to these folk on the spectrum. I enjoy working with them, mostly because they can and do put their own feelings aside and become complete characters when in character.  I also really love teaching the Basics class. It is about teaching people to act, but more importantly, to connect. The flaws people come in with are usually the gems that just need polishing. Diamonds in the rough.

Resolves

I promise myself to have more fun and worry less about money.
(I almost didn't buy a hardback book today, because of the price. When did books become luxury goods? It's Murakami's 1Q84 and I've wanted it for months. And I had a gift certificate, and yet...)
I will break out of being boring. Last year was all about money, making it, keeping it, spending it. I was so panicked about staying within the margins that I had very little "fun". Not acceptable. I don't buy anything new, except food. Fun should be a priority.
I will try and be more like Lionel in his sheer good nature and willingness to throw himself into a crowd. And talk to strangers. I'm so shy, I hide when he's speaking to someone. So I miss out on human interaction, which I crave. And I will attempt to speak to the playground mommy's even though I find them a bit scary and normal for me. I'm sure we have nothing in common. Yet I am turning into a bit of a hermit. Why is it so hard to meet new people? Where are the gentle weirdos?
I will be bold about my dreams.
I will keep working on crazy fulfilling projects that will probably go nowhere.
I will engage my mind, to stave off dementia if nothing else.
I will do a theatre project that I can't afford (babysitting) for my soul.
I will continue to dress the way I want, even if I am getting a little old to pull it off. If I keep my legs looking nice I should be able to get away with it. I might even go big this year and shave my head into a Mohawk.
I will no longer sit full of jealousy and or schadenfreude while reading about other peoples successes/failures. I'm not allowed to think snarky thoughts if I'm not throwing myself out there the way I want.
I shall wash the sheets more often.
I shall be nicer to people who irritate me, even though I'm not that good an actress, and oh so VERY easily irritated.
I will write, a lot, since it's something I can do without a babysitter. There are a lot of episodes of Phineas and Ferb to help me out.
I will be very kind to L and T, since I love them so very much, even when they both drive me to distraction.
(as in right now when L steals my laptop to watch a video and I have to download and install a new app on my iPhone to keep writing.)
I will keep the bathroom clean, even though it fills me with a searing anger and loathing of all mankind. Or maybe, back to the second point, a housekeeper can be classified as fun?
I will read more. Which means getting the heck away from cyberspace.
I will play my guitar. It's one thing that gives me genuine pleasure, yet I rarely touch it. What the heck?
And I will eat whatever the hell I want, because I always get food poisoning with normal things like packaged lunch meat, which happened yesterday which rendered me way too sick to enjoy New Years eve. The point is, I'm going to eat as much crazy food as I can.
And then I will go to the gym, which isn't a resolution, I actually like it there, but I do vow to be nice to the resolutioners in there this month, even if they are using all the cardio machines in awkward manners.
And I will make the effort to see the people I love away from cyberspace.
And finally, I will dance as much as I can, because dancing makes me happy and is fun. And I need to have fun before the world ends. (again)

Crisis in Actor-land...

Here is what acting is to me: Pretend.
I've always said (and I stole this from someone, who I can't remember) when I get onstage I put on a funny hat and trust to luck.
I'm not much into actors that "live" their characters, in all their smelly, depressed, antisocial glory. I don't particularly trust them onstage, and I've noticed that these actors will throw you under the bus for their own ends. And gladly lap up the applause at the end.
If you are working through something, please don't do it onstage. The theatre is not a couch and the director is not a therapist. If you are feeling something, great. I feel things too. Deeply, crazily, intensely. Until the scene is over. The  I go into the greenroom and play scrabble. And at the end of the show, even if I've just lost my family in a holocaust, the kingdom is on fire and my life is in ruins,  most likely all I am thinking of is how much I crave a tub of chicken liver and a nice bagel from Jerry's.
I used to be embarrassed that I wasn't intense enough. In acting school, you knew the people who took it seriously, they were wild eyed, unshaven wrecks who burned with fever onstage, and couldn't cope with their job at the donut shop offstage. I never felt legit, until I started studying in England, and realized that THOSE guys manage to stay fairly clean, and sane. My feelings of inadequacy absolutely turned around in the pub backstage at the National Theatre of Great Britain, when mere minutes after a bloody, crazy, intense INSANE performance of Titus Andronicus, Tony Sher was gleefully showing off his new pasta maker, not an angsty wrinkle in sight.
Feeling the truth of the scene is great, but please, please, PLEASE, you need to stay in control! No re drawing the choreography because you feel like doing something different.
Otherwise there would a lot of dead wispy ingenues at the end of a lot of Shakespeares.  Hmm... On the other hand...

Ana and Carl's Art

Ana Mendieta Siluetas

Carl Andre

Weighing the options

I have a confession to make, and it's a none too attractive one: I have finally lost weight. And I am irrationally, unspeakably thrilled about it.
The loss of a few pounds and the gaining of some muscle mass has made me as happy as booking a job or falling in love.
Isn't that appaling?
I was raised in the free to be you and me era! Body acceptance! Eating disorder awareness! I'm old anyway!
Balls.
Being thin IS the best revenge, and you know why? Because it's HARD to lose weight. It's very, very hard work. It's boring work. It's giving up dessert and sweet potato fries and wine. There is no easy way to do it and stay healthy.
I am pretty disgusted with myself. I wish I didn't care so much. I'm not much of a feminist or a bodyist or whatever.
But this is a confession. And as such I have to admit it. I'm a woman in our society, an actress, we value our looks and fret when they begin to leave us. No not fret, we become tortured. We HAVE to look a certain way to be found attractive, because even the smart ones have to be attractive.  Even the character women have to be attractive. If not thin, then at least symetrical.
This is an exausting way to live, but much like the dog who expects his walk and treat at a certain time of day, I am conditioned to think that those four pounds mean the difference between social viability and a life in seclusion.
Good lord.
What an exhausting way to live.
Time. to hit. the gym.