I'm trying to figure out if I'm a sell-out or not, or what a sell out actually is.
Some fringe artists seem to believe that any time you get money for doing something, that's selling out. I'm not that anti-anything to fall near this camp. I know another actor who gladly admits to "selling himself out" for any and every commercial over the span of fifteen years. He seems comfortable in his life. Not super famous, but been in pretty much everything as a day player. Is that selling out? Working your craft?
My issue right now is that I got cast in a commercial for a company I do not support. Does this mean I sold out? I'm an extra, so my face probably won't be seen, even if I'm not seen, it doesn't change the fact that I'm still doing it. Is it okay because I'm taking their money, or not okay because I'm taking their money? Work is work, but not all work is created equal. At this point, I'm not doing anything against my personal morals, but yesterday morning I never would have thought of working for them. Ever. Now I apparently will.
All steps to get my own stuff produced, like I am gaining points for doing all these other things, and when I get enough points, I can cash them in for my own project. In that sense, I think the means and the ends are not that different. As of now, I am content in my choice. It does not not change who I am. It does remain an interesting question; what does selling out look like?
Bite size nuggets of self-helptual inspirationality.
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art. Show all posts
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
Apparently specific
Crap, I forgot I committed myself to doing this every day. I think that was only one or two blogs ago. Life happens. I just need to deal with that fact...no, I just need to accept that as fact. The two might look the same from the outside but make all the difference inside. The point is, I'm here saying things when I have nothing to say, but so much I want to say.
I want to talk about my first improv show at the Brody (level 3 class), and compare the art form to Hopi sand painting. Etherial, temporal. You have to be there to see them, because they are not built to last, they are built as a brief experience alone, like life itself. I want to talk about how I am happy to have gotten an email from the Brody people saying I am invited into level 4 performance lab, which means more chances to to this in front of people, but also means new people, which is what it is.
I want to talk about how I'll miss some of the people I've worked with, knowing that even if we all move on to 4, it will be about 16 people strong vs the 5 people intimacy of level 3. I want to talk about the past classes, how through all of them people have come and gone, with only, what, 3 or 4 of us that went through levels 1, 2a, 2b and 3 together? I want to talk about how my life has had wonderful moments with people flitting in and out of it, and that the moment is really all you have...or maybe that's just the song from the recent 30 Rock episode fumbling through my thoughts.
What I really want to talk about is life itself; the mystery. Though I guess I did, looking up at what I wrote. The more specific I am, the more people can relate to it. That's one of my favorite paradoxes in writing, or creating. The sheer volumetric power of specificity.
I want to talk about my first improv show at the Brody (level 3 class), and compare the art form to Hopi sand painting. Etherial, temporal. You have to be there to see them, because they are not built to last, they are built as a brief experience alone, like life itself. I want to talk about how I am happy to have gotten an email from the Brody people saying I am invited into level 4 performance lab, which means more chances to to this in front of people, but also means new people, which is what it is.
I want to talk about how I'll miss some of the people I've worked with, knowing that even if we all move on to 4, it will be about 16 people strong vs the 5 people intimacy of level 3. I want to talk about the past classes, how through all of them people have come and gone, with only, what, 3 or 4 of us that went through levels 1, 2a, 2b and 3 together? I want to talk about how my life has had wonderful moments with people flitting in and out of it, and that the moment is really all you have...or maybe that's just the song from the recent 30 Rock episode fumbling through my thoughts.
What I really want to talk about is life itself; the mystery. Though I guess I did, looking up at what I wrote. The more specific I am, the more people can relate to it. That's one of my favorite paradoxes in writing, or creating. The sheer volumetric power of specificity.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Burning in the New Year
Moral:
If you don't like something, burn it and hope that makes it go away.
Full meal deal:
Last night I was introduced to a new (to me) New Year's tradition. Before midnight you take a piece of paper and write down something(s) from the previous year you want to let go of for the new year. Basically, instead of taking on more stuff in the form of a resolution, you get rid of some old stuff by burning the word of it (and words have power, do not doubt that).
Super sized:
I somehow still turned this letting go of the past into more work for the future. I chose to let go of my need for approval from others. I've mostly lived my life as a good improvisor and said yes to most things. Someone suggests I try something, I do. That's why I jumped out of a plane in New Zealand (but that's a whole different kettle of walnuts). As an actor still figuring out my thing, it was strongly suggested to me that since I wear glasses (as a person), I should get more prominent frames. I assume it's also a suggestion to make bolder choices in life and art. I pondered this for quite a while and as I am getting new frames, I looked at quite a few options. I really sought out bigger frames that say "Hey, look at me, I'm glasses. Dig me, or whatever." However, I have a thing about artists (pronounced arteests): I don't like them. It's odd to be an artist (pronounced the way real people say the word) in Portland, Oregon, enjoy mostly indie music, have a closet full of the equivalent of life costumes and still despise hipsters, but here I am. There's probably a French saying that would fit well here, but again, I'm not that kind of artist.
What this all comes down to is, I did not go with the strong suggestion from my professional actor friends. I burned that option. Gladly. It turns out that I do not want to look like someone I don't like. I'd much rather look like me. That's quite enough to deal with, and one less thing I'll have to burn next year.
If you don't like something, burn it and hope that makes it go away.
Full meal deal:
Last night I was introduced to a new (to me) New Year's tradition. Before midnight you take a piece of paper and write down something(s) from the previous year you want to let go of for the new year. Basically, instead of taking on more stuff in the form of a resolution, you get rid of some old stuff by burning the word of it (and words have power, do not doubt that).
Super sized:
I somehow still turned this letting go of the past into more work for the future. I chose to let go of my need for approval from others. I've mostly lived my life as a good improvisor and said yes to most things. Someone suggests I try something, I do. That's why I jumped out of a plane in New Zealand (but that's a whole different kettle of walnuts). As an actor still figuring out my thing, it was strongly suggested to me that since I wear glasses (as a person), I should get more prominent frames. I assume it's also a suggestion to make bolder choices in life and art. I pondered this for quite a while and as I am getting new frames, I looked at quite a few options. I really sought out bigger frames that say "Hey, look at me, I'm glasses. Dig me, or whatever." However, I have a thing about artists (pronounced arteests): I don't like them. It's odd to be an artist (pronounced the way real people say the word) in Portland, Oregon, enjoy mostly indie music, have a closet full of the equivalent of life costumes and still despise hipsters, but here I am. There's probably a French saying that would fit well here, but again, I'm not that kind of artist.
What this all comes down to is, I did not go with the strong suggestion from my professional actor friends. I burned that option. Gladly. It turns out that I do not want to look like someone I don't like. I'd much rather look like me. That's quite enough to deal with, and one less thing I'll have to burn next year.
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