Student Blog: For the Love of It

Something I have heard many times from actors is that we act because it allows us to be another person. I said it myself for years. Putting on a character seemed to conceal our true selves from the world. We grew up under the assumption that the best part of being an actor is the idea of getting to be someone else for a change, so that no one can see who we are. Anxieties, quirks, insecurities, are enveloped in the character of another person. For a moment, the world cannot see all the things we wish we could change or all the things we are teased about. While wearing someone else's clothes might allow an actor to possess a different personality, there is a degree of selfishness in this way of performing. This approach is more concerned with fulfilling a social desire and does not represent a need to communicate, which I have learned is much more effective.

A brilliant professor of mine held private meetings instead of a few classes and allowed each student to do whatever they needed. We had been working on releasing tension and restructuring the breath though Fitzmaurice Voicework, so I brought him my feelings of emotional tension and we started to discuss. Eventually, our conversation came to him asking why I am studying theatre. He proposed I was battling the need to complete something that was started or working to make the financial payment worth it rather than communicating in the way my heart needs. He said something that struck me, which was that he knew I was studying it for the "right" reason, but that I had been blinded by extraneous factors along the way. It made me question everyone choice I've ever made while lying on my dorm room floor, but it more importantly provided clarity.

Catharsis is a feeling sought after, and theatre provides that relief. Audiences have gathered for escapism when the real world gets too dark. Spectacular shows capture the audience just long enough for problems to slip away. Heavy plots steal the charge from the room and channel it into themes that many can relate to. There's duty in acting then, see? There is a duty to speak for those who can't or convince people that there are others out there struggling too. There is an obligation to move the audience somehow, whether it's to tears or to the lightness. An actor must be representation for all. How could an actor possibly perform with selfishness, then?

Intention is very important in performance, both as the character trying to achieve an objective, and as the actor trying to communicate effectively. If the actor intends to escape themselves in the life of a character they are doing a disservice to both the audience and themselves. As students, we have heard the horror stories of getting unhealthily involved with a character- the absorption of their toxic qualities in the actor's daily life without the resolution the character receives. A balance between realism and distance from character is needed for authentic portrayal, as my professor recalls, "me and not me." Once intention, preparation, and authenticity are established, the product is magic.

When I was a junior in high school, I learned what it is like to perform while craving connection. I portrayed "Maizie" in The Taste of Sunrise by Susan Zeder, who is a hearing girl who works at a school for the deaf. Her parents and friends are deaf, therefore most of Maizie's communication is through American Sign Language. I studied the grammar, tried my best to translate accurately, and had an interpreter checking me along the way. The more I learned about the deaf and hard of hearing community, the more theatre started to make sense. Productions featuring other cultures educate as much as they provide representation. Sure, I can verbally communicate the same fears and struggles Maizie experienced, but signing her plight brought an inclusion I had not experienced before. The show was arranged for a theatre festival, and one troupe cared for the show so deeply they asked us to bring it to their school and perform for deaf and hard of hearing students. We spoke with the students after the show, signing our names and genuinely communicating. The students told us that they thought it was so cool to simply watch the actors speaking instead of having to flick back to an interpreter the entire time.

This show was an incredible experience for me as an actor in general, but there was nothing more gratifying than what I learned from the community. The wonderful students I met dropped a bomb of truth on my head and helped me see why theatre is so powerful and so important. I knew that theatre could provide catharsis. I knew that acting was fun for people and helped them branch out. I knew that brilliant actors study up until the day the project is over. But, I did not truly know the power of communication. It seems painfully obvious when you recognize purpose for the first time. I suddenly knew that I was an actor to tell people's stories, and my college essays can corroborate that discovery- trust me. I realized that my duty in this world was to communicate as clearly, honestly, and as loudly as I can so that others feel heard, represented, valid. Though, I will admit I lose it sometimes. I lose why I love theatre- in fact I did this year. My professor saw right down to the core of my soul, but I had no idea. The joy of communicating with people, despite age, race, gender, religion, language, or disability is what is beautiful about our art of storytelling. When I talk about my favorite shows or personal experiences, I somehow dance around the idea of what I deeply love about theatre. I adore connecting with anyone, everyone, on stage. Yet, I suppose this year I forgot.

I can't imagine I am entirely alone. As I mentioned, my peers have also confessed that they started doing theatre for the "wrong" reasons too: to hide. When the world becomes a swirl of pain and chaos we turn to the outlets that bring us joy, but we don't always recognize why they satiate us. It is easy for a student, studying during a pandemic and trying to become Broadway's "next best thing" when Broadway is dead asleep, to forget the right reasons. It's hard to remember the tears that streamed down my face when I communicated in a show for the first time with all these distractions buzzing around. I'll admit a million times that I still haven't learned everything about this industry, or the craft, or even life in general. Though, I will strive to highlight the things I learn and I am so thankful that theatre exists to give voice to the people who cannot speak loud enough. I have forgotten before, but I am hoping that my new awareness will help me remember what I do for love.

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