Thursday, July 30, 2015

Pay What You Decide or Take the Doughnut

The Guardian just published an article about a theatre company , specifically ARC, who tried something pretty radical and awesome: Pay What You Decide ticket prices.

(Awesome Right?!)

Audiences still had to reserve tickets and could do so online but they were under no payment obligation until after they had seen the show, at which point they were able to pay whatever amount they were able or desirous of paying. After a six month trial, the results were in!


"Six months on, I’m pleased to say it has been a huge success, with some startling results. Audience numbers are up by 58% on the same period last year and income is up by 82%, increasing our average ticket yield by 15% – all way beyond our expectations."

Yes! Viability!

How crazy cool is this??

Not only did it result in a rise in audience attendance, because it removed the pressure of knowing if the show was good before attending, but it also resulted in a rise in revenue!  Income up by 82% hell yes!

Coming off of reading Amanda Palmers fantastic book The Art of Asking, in which she discusses how a career in busking led her to the passing the hat instead of the bill, my partner and I devised a production of 448 Psychosis by Sarah Kane. We didn't expect high attendance and decided to do a pay what you can jar for the end of the show, since most of our friends (expected audience) are broke performers like us. We were excited to absolutely break even, and after the shows and talkbacks we had friends offering to donate more to keep the production running for further audiences to see and engage with!

(Talk back with audience post show)

It was the most wonderful, engaging, and exciting experience of generosity on the part of our small but present audiences. The action of spending time with them in a talk back after and then simply asking them to pay what they could turned out to be both more rewarding (in terms of connecting with them) and more financially legit than we expected.

To see this kind of experiment not just for a single show but for a theatre company over 6 months is such a joy!

Words like Accessibility and Viability flash in my head, but I think it ultimately comes down to what Amanda Palmer describes as taking the doughnut.

We make ourselves vulnerable by spending time and energy creating something. Then we want to share it, when people are willing to give back to us we can take the doughnut. It's part of how audiences give back to us for the time and love we spent on what we are sharing with them.

(Take the sugar free, craft doughnut!)

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Juliet

Today I'm thinking about Juliet.

(Yeah, that's her)

The above photo is of a poster of R&J for a production of the play that I saw at the Satirikon in Moscow. The production concept was an amusement park on the sun--as many of my friends who saw it, affectionately (and not so affectionately) pointed out repeatedly. 



The set was broad and had a huge half-skate bowl in the center. It had ramps to stage right and left, and the gentlemen entered on BMX bikes riding up and through the bowl and around the stage. 



All this is cool icing, but Juliet is what I wanted to talk about.

The Juliet that I used to be familiar with and who I am sick of seeing is naive ingenue Juliet

(Sorry Olivia Hussey)

Even: 
(Claire Danes... lovely as she is)

I am sick to death of the BLANK SLATE JULIET. 

You know this Juliet. She is pure and unsullied. Her forehead is smooth. Her eyes are wide. She is beautiful and smooth and we know nothing about her except that she is young, nubile, and ripe for love. 

She is the perfect blank slate. 

I don't have anything against this Juliet. I played Juliet once and I'm fairly convinced that, aside from being a particularly joyful Juliet, I played in this vein. It's definitely a step up from dead Juliet. 

But the fundamental problem I have with the blank slate is that she's boring!

Why do you love her Romeo? How is she better than Rosaline except that she's available (if just)? Is she just a convenient way to both piss of your family and get some tail? Are you actually shallow enough to get married to your enemy just cause she's gorgeous and has wide lovely eyes?

It's problematic because not only does it make Romeo look like a douche who doesn't really care about anything but being in love, but it also turns Juliet into a simple object. Both characters quickly lose both their appeal and their individuality--Of course, everyone hates R&J. Of course, everyone thinks they're the epitome of stupid teenagers. 

If it's a blank slate and a boy taking advantage of her, two kids who kill themselves in order not to live without each other, yes, it starts to look like a stupid story.

The question is: Why do they fall in love?

The first time that I began to think it might be more than just stupid empty headed characters was at an audition in New York. I was doing a callback for Columbia's MFA program and Kristin Linklater asked us to pair off and do the Palm to palm sonnet. She was really specific about what needed to be included in the scene, but what she said that really got to me was that Romeo and Juliet share this sonnet. They complete the lines in perfect meter and rhyme together. This communicates poetically that they are on the same page mentally. 

Ex: He tells a really obscure joke and she not only gets it, she adds to it. They go back and forth and realize they really get each other. 

Here's the sonnet:

Romeo:Juliet:


If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.
Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.

Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
Give me my sin again. 
You kiss by the book.

Anyway, returning to the personality theme. I realized that there could be, should be, personality to both characters, but I didn't realize how much until I saw the production at the Satirikon featured in the poster at the top.

In this Russian production, Juliet entered in her first scene running across the top of the set upstage while Lady Cap and the Nurse called for her from down center. She was running in overalls and carrying a rifle that she was trying to shoot something with off-stage. Then the Nurse and Lady Cap have to wrestle her into a dress for the dance. Literally wrestle. At the dance, instead of seeing her in the middle of some demure dance with Paris (as is often the case) Romeo sees Juliet wrestling other party guests for the entertainment and when he is thrown in the ring to "dance" with her, she soundly beats the crap out of him!

I was fabulously floored.

When they do the sonnet, Juliet actually leaves then returns to kiss him. Then once she kisses him, she's not sure if she likes it and she runs off... stops turns around thinks about it then sprints back and jumps him, and begins to kiss the crap out of him.

She was such a live wire that it was no wonder that Romeo was swept away with her. No blank slate here. Juliet was a juggernaut! All this without adding lines or extra scenes but rather just letting the character be more than a blank slate. 

May we never make that mistake again. I implore you, if you're going to do this play. Juliet doesn't have to be into guns, but for godsake would you please let her have a personality!

For more awesome photos of this production: check out this webpage



Monday, July 27, 2015

"Jane Heeerrrrrrrr!"

Jane Eyre rehearsals this week were few because Out Loud was performing Plank, a collaboration with John Greiner-Ferris. We had a hiatus of four days with no rehearsal, and, man, did I miss everyone!

Four days off provided a little time to work on memorizing and to spend time with the Bouchers--hanging dinner together and hanging out for conversation after dinner. You know, sitting outside after dinner and enjoying the evening while talking is awesome enough to make me want to start decomissioning TV's again. Out with the TV in with the hanging out on the porch. Grab a beer, a water, a lemonade and enjoy the company of others. Boo to watching movies! Yay to conversation!

I also went hiking this week, which was an interesting experience. Mostly, because in California I never would have gone hiking alone. Most hiking trails are far enough out of cell tower range to cause problems if you are injured, lost, or otherwise in need of assistance. But this trail was right close to a main road, fairly gentle in terms of footing, and in totally 3G cell coverage. So, I felt confident enough to tackle it by myself. It was just a couple miles and didn't quite loop all the way around the little lake--pond--thing that it started near. It had some small hills and some interesting features: two gravestones and a plaque with a headless action figure nailed to it. 

The bad news was that in thinking about all the safety, I hadn't recharged my phone. Combined with poorly marked trails, this led to quite a bit of anxiety. There were also way more bugs than I'm used to! There was, for thirty minutes, a fly or flies that kept getting into my hair just on the crown of my head on the left side of my body. I would throw my hand out that direction and the sound would stop, but not for long. It was intensely irritating and caused more trail running than I had planned to do. By the time I got back I was pretty tired because I'd power walked and run a good portion of the trail, but the forests were really gorgeous. 

All together a pretty successful artist date.  If there could be no flies or at least some deet next time. That would be great. 

We go back to rehearsal tomorrow night. We finally ran Act 1 on Saturday and Act 2 on Sunday. I'm pretty proud of us because the flows in these acts are damn good. I do a lot of running and a lot of physical work, which is really satisfying. The actions makes getting to the emotional depths of the character easy because it physicalizes the inner emotional journey that Jane keeps under wraps. Again, I think that this is one of the biggest strengths of theatre--we don't just illustrate the realistic happening, we have the opportunity to enact the emotional journey in a physical way to tell the story.

Thursday, July 23, 2015

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Be Kind to Yourself


In the Artist's Way, Julia Cameron discusses a lot of negative and self-destructive habits that artists fall into out of fear and habit. Mostly fear I think. There's a couple passages that are hitting me where I live right now.

"We strive to be good, to be nice, to be helpful, to be unselfish. We want to be generous, of service of the world. But what we really want is to be left alone. When we can't get others to leave us alone, we eventually abandon ourselves. To others, we may look like we're there. We may act like we're there. But our true self has gone to ground . . . Afraid to appear selfish, we lose ourself. We become self-destructive. Because this self-murder is something we seek passively rather than consciously act out, we are often blind to its poisonous grip on us." (98)

Cameron describes artist who are self-destructive as lashing out when they reach a boiling point. They lash out and they are unable to accept help from others because they've been so destructive to themselves that when someone offers them something kind, they reject it because they believe somewhere deep that they don't deserve it or that it isn't real.

The really rough thing is that this behavior isn't clearly destructive either from the outside or the inside. It's hard to see because it's a constant denial of self. The sentence "Afraid to appear selfish, we lose ourself" strikes me so hard. I realized this week that I really don't know how to communicate when I am afraid and hurting. I try to behave in a logical, clear way so that conversations can continue and so that things can develop and I lose myself in whacking around with a baseball bat.

I also have to remember that I have needs and my fears often exist where I haven't taken care of my needs or where I am particular tender/wounded/recovering. But I fear that I have self-denialed and then judged myself for it for so long that I've lost touch with my self and the reactions that I am having. I don't understand the suffering anymore.

When I was in college, I was in a relationship with someone who was suffering themselves. At one point, in one argument, in reference to my excited recounting of my days and my activities, he snapped at me that I was "selfish" I never asked him how he was doing or what was happening. I told him that I expected that he would want to tell me and so asking wasn't necessary, but that word rang in my head like a cathedral bell:



It seemed to fill me up and not in the good way. I began to think that even if I couldn't see how, even if I was trying to take care of others or wanted them to be happy, everything I did was secretly selfish and harmful to others. The lesson I learned was this:

When I am excited about me and my things, I am selfish and therefore hurtful to others, especially those I love. 

Looking back, I can see that he was a blocked artist lashing out at my happiness and joy when he wasn't feeling any. He has since apologized to me and I have been recovering. I can't blame him for it, because he was hurt too.

I suppose that should count as some grace towards myself today when I accidentally flail. Provided that I try to make it right. Or maybe not even then, because self-care means to be gentle with the self. It means to take care of the self.

It's problematic and difficult for me because the Selfish label compounded with lessons I learned from church and bible school as a young Christian. I learned that selfishness is the only way to separate yourself from god--thinking you don't need him, that your self is more valuable than his is the fastest way to turn your back on him and therefore happiness and life-everlasting. The idea that happiness and peace come from god and that self-denial is the way to get them from him--of course, not because he is a withholding god, but because happiness naturally flows from following him--this idea underpins so much of the ideology of the social group in school and church of my childhood. God is Love. To deny yourself is to love god. God is an endless source of love if only you will deny yourself and follow him.

To realize that I was the selfish thing that kept god away was the biggest psychic whoops that I absorbed. Self-denial then = happiness and love. To get love to give love, I needed to deny myself and give give give give give.

My parents were remarkable and always made love available, which I think is a big reason why I'm not more of a mess today. But you see the problem don't you?

If you view self abasement, self denial, which really is self-destruction as the method for giving and receiving love, you fall into this trap that Cameron describes. You break yourself into a million pieces and shove them under the rug in order to care for others, lying to yourself that this is a loving act.



Under this paradigm it's no surprise that offers of care are met with terror. If someone wants to come in and care for you, you will find every explosive way to hide the mess that you are because you can't ever really hide from yourself just how hurt you are. Fear of discovery of that mess leads to all kinds of behavior. And if you're trying to communicate that mess, you're trying to communicate a hot ole mess. A hot, hot, hot mess. It's easy for that to feel like an atom bomb detonating everywhere.

So where does that leave you?

Julia Cameron has morning pages (writing every day) and an artist date that you must weekly do, alone, that feeds your soul. She also, in this particular chapter suggests writing down the list of things that you would do if they weren't too crazy or expensive or if it weren't too selfish.

Just now, none of that feels like it helps.

Most directions for self-care are like "take time for yourself, take care of yourself" How do you fucking do these things? Especially if most of your day, you already sit by yourself trying to work on things. I don't know. Very little of it makes sense to me. I suppose that's fair if most of my time I've been ignoring self and teaching myself to make that the standard of normal. The idea of self-care might be a confusing one.

In looking up images for self care, this one seemed helpful:


It allows me to address myself directly and the "You Have Permission" is a bolstering phrase and directive to have at the top there.

So let's try this.

Today I have permission to be kind to myself. No matter what, even though I think I have behaved badly, I will be kind to myself. Because I deserve to be kind to myself. Because I cannot be kind to others until I am kind to myself.

Today I will be kind to myself by: wow.... I can't believe how empty my brain is on how to finish this sentence.



How are you kind to yourself?

Monday, July 20, 2015

The Purpose of Rehearsal

"How high do you set the bar when you enter a rehearsal hall? What necessity walks in the door with you? And then, what are you doing? Is a rehearsal about finding and practicing the blocking? Or is it about discovering the necessary energy required to embody the character and illuminate the play? In performance, an audience senses an actor's reason and necessity for being on stage. The depth of and degree of that necessity are palpable, and this drives their expression. Energy and necessity generate presence."
          ~Anne Bogart, And Then You Act page 111

I'm discovering with this rehearsal process that the act of searching for the energy the action that will help me/us to embody the characters and illuminate the play is exactly the process that is most interesting, exciting, and conclusive in it's results in terms of dramatic moments.

It's a short one today.

Why do we rehearse? Technically, if the blocking is all known, we could learn it all and only have a couple rehearsals. Or we could simply receive direction, do it, and move on when it's right. --But that's boring and frustrating for directors who can't communicated with actors or who are lousy at blocking that tells a story.

The question of why do we rehearse is huge. The question of why do we rehearse without an audience is also interesting. Why rehearse without and audience? How will you know what works if only 1 person is giving it an ok? I have been kicked out of rehearsals (as an observer) because of the necessity for "cast bonding" or to keep the rehearsal environment from being corrupt/polluted. This now seems strange to me--how can an audience member screw up a rehearsal--seems like it would only help to be able to see how what you're doing affects watchers--that's the goal after all.

Anne Bogart also notes the the content of theatre is other people. It is by it's very nature about people.  It cannot be other than that because it is people who perform these stories about people for an audience of people.

So what do we use rehearsal for?

I think that the search for meaningful and right action in the telling of the story is absolutely the search we should be doing in rehearsal. That might mean that productions are more fluid and rehearsals may take more time, but ultimately this is the kind of process that results in beautiful shared experiences with audience and performers.

What do you think the purpose of rehearsal is?

Thursday, July 16, 2015

On Theatrical Magic: Jane Eyre

I’m reading and then, you act: making art in an unpredictable world by Anne Bogart. It’s a meditation on the things that make theatre art, how it’s distinct, and what is needed to create compelling and meaningful theatre. Hitting me this week are the discussions of magic and alchemy in theatre. I think specifically because she talks about the transformative nature of live performance due to engaging the audience’s imagination. In Anne’s words:

“The theatre is an ideal vehicle for magic and alchemy because it can ask an audience to make an investment of imagination.” (89)

I’ve been discussing the relationship and role of the audience in theatre for several years now, trying to figure it out. Of course, Bertolt Brecht argued that the audience needs to be active. He developed his theatrical style in response to the sentimental theatre of the time, which he felt, lulled the audience into a sense of intellectual complacency due to it’s reliance on emotional catharsis. He sought to create theatre that disrupted the audience’s emotions and thoughts by forcing them to reevaluate what was happening on stage and in the story. He theorized that by reminding the audience that they were watching actors who were telling a story that had been crafted, the audience would remember not to trust everything that they saw. The audience would have to think about the events in the play and by extension the world around them.

I think this insistences on revealing the trick rather than hiding it is especially useful for theatre. Movies are a province in which CGI and post-production can clean up and hide the wires and this process is fun and riveting. I think theatre can invite the audience to be part of that process, specifically by admitting and embracing that, as Keir Elam writes, everything onstage is a symbol because it is on the stage.

This is especially significant to our production of Jane Eyre.  By representing the novel in a black box theater without significant period costumes, props, and scenery we enter this realm of magic and alchemy. Our black box is a place in which

“Space does not have to be descriptive, literal or representational. Space can be magical and alchemical. Space can be transformative.” (Bogart 91)

Our playing space transforms multiple times by arrangement of bodies and chairs. The center of the playing space is alternately Gateshead, Lowood, Thornfield, a moor, an attic, and even the inside of Jane’s mind. It is these places because they are where Jane is. The ensemble of actors recreates the space through movement, physical relationship, and sound—it’s a magical combination which is equal parts specific choreography and emotional upheaval. As the rehearsals progress we experiment with different movements, choreography, moments, and actions, testing them out to see what best tells the story. 

Bogart describes working through this process as response to a couple questions: 
“What is the least that you can put onstage in order to allow the most space for the audience’s imaginative participation? What will release the power of the audience’s fantasy?” (91)

In Jane Eyre we are discovering this with a wonderful sense of the magic of the human body(ies) in space. There’s going to be a lot of room for the audience’s imagination and fantasy to fill in the world around us as we transition between the patterns of Jane’s life. The most interesting part of the process for me is discovering the connections between characters. Jane is frustrating for me because she feels so isolated and she continues to isolate herself in a mistake bid for affection. This means that every time we find a way for Jane to connect and hook into the space, which really is established by her relationship to it is both a heartbreaking and comforting realization. The ensemble is such a gift because while they are separate from Jane/Bertha who are one, they are also the same.

We are all the mind of Jane, as it were. 

The sense of separation is an effect of perspective and not of reality. I am always already part of them and they are always already part of me.

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

Monday, July 6, 2015

Helicopter Directing

Today I read an article on Slate.com about the collegiate effects of Helicopter parenting. Specifically, this article noted that children who's parents were overprotective and over involved have mental health crises in their college years, suffering with lack of motivation, depression, feelings of being overwhelmed, inability to deal with failure etc. The quote that really jumped out at me was this one:

"The data emerging about the mental health of our kids only confirms the harm done by asking so little of them when it comes to life skills yet so much of them when it comes to adhering to the academic plans we’ve made for them."

Little alarm bells went off in my head and suddenly I wasn't just thinking about growing up with parents who are over involved, I began to think about acting in the academy with directors and acting coaches who are over involved. I thought of the idea that, (as I badly paraphrase someone's genius) that the American Actor suffers because too little has been asked of her/him. These two ideas clicked up and linked in my head. So I started to think about this some more, I wondered if there might be a correlation to directors, acting-coaches, who feel very close to the actors and see so clearly once an actor has walked through it, just precisely what it ought to be, could be should be. The benevolent fixers who have positions of authority.

I know the impulse. Having directed bachelor students in a university setting, where I was expected to teach and instruct as well as put on a production, I remember trying desperately to make places for them to make choices and then jumping in when I saw a great choice for them to try. I have observed several professional directors since then and have noticed a trend in directors who are generous and have been actors and who really do want the best for the actors in their productions.

Let's look at a brief example.  The director in this scenario, let's imagine them having been an actor themselves [well aware of dictatorial directors who treat actors like shit and wanting to avoid that] and lets imagine them assuring the actor that if they're uncomfortable or don't like it, it can change. The flow of rehearsal goes something like this:

Run through of scene 1x--Actors stumble through, naturally, scripts in hand, first time on their feet. They make some rather bland choices, some fun vocal choices, and move around the stage.

The director, jumps up, "Ok! Good stuff. I really like how you did this and this--it's beautiful. Let's try this, would you put your arm around her here? I think you could turn this like half skip you did into a joke, just take it further. And if we could start it all by entering this way and ending up here--the wander was great, but I think this will make it more specific."

The Actor 1-yeah, that sounds great! Ok! Actor 2-But I'm not sure why I would do this here...
Director--spends 3 minutes discussing the motivation of the character, who they are, their function in the play, and what the mood is to help the actor understand the character better and what the director is seeing/imagining; alternatively, the director acts it out.

Run through of scene again with changes. Actors make this additions, filling them, and the director is ready to move on.

Clearly this is a fictional abbreviation, but what I'm getting at is that the actor is bowled through by the director's choices, even when the director is building on a gesture made by the actor. The director is making choices based on the actors' choices, yes. The director is sensitive to the actor's desires, needs, distress, and even to their impulses. And yet, in this scenario, who did something? Who made choices, who acted? The director.

According to Wikipedia on Today at 4:54pm: Helicopter parenting is defined as follows:

"helicopter parent (also called a cosseting parent or simply a cosseter) is a parent who pays extremely close attention to a child's or children's experiences and problems, particularly at educational institutions. Helicopter parents are so named because, like helicopters, they hover overhead."

I want to submit that Helicopter directors are those who pay extremely close attention to the actor's experiences and problems, who want to make sure the actor feels cared for and succeeds in the process to create a performance. These directors--as I have seen them--tend to turn out excellent shows. They have a good eye and can navigate the possible actions of an action with ease. They are also overworked and emotionally strained.

This director is essentially playing all the parts in their head and working out as many possibilities as possible during a short rehearsal process. They are emotionally strained because they are so closely following, monitoring their actor's emotional states.

Their actors are also dependent on them. As friendly as this rehearsal process is, as much as it works with what the actor does, this process does not encourage active actor artistry except within the defined vision of what comes from the director's head. It doesn't ask anything of the actor--inherently. An actor can show up to this rehearsal having only tried to memorize theirs lines and thought about the emotional text of the play and can be directed through the process with ease.

I once had a director, the play was As You Like It, one of the actresses asked what she should do at a given point. The director replied that the actress should make a choice. Then she said, "Don't make me take your choice away like you're less than a child. Even my child actors make their own choices."

Taking actors who have had helicopter directoring into a process in which they are asked to make decisions based NOT on "directorial rightness" but rather on what the actor wants to do [which after all is the basic function of theatre--What the Actor Does] turns the actors into sullen, fearful, and paralyzed performers. They've been working with directors who have taken their artistic responsibility from them:

How do I know if it's right?
My impulses are always wrong.
I don't know what to do.
What should I do here?
What do you want me to do?

These questions and statements are all a symptom of having had the responsibility of artistic creation lifted from their shoulders and fed to them by the often loving and concerned hands of acting coaches and directors who are anxious for these actors to succeed. The above questions can lead to serious existential crises when the support structure is removed. I spoke to an actor today who reminisced that she hadn't been in school for years and missed having people tell her how to make acting choices, tell her when it was good and wasn't, tell her how to improve.

"Karen Able is a staff psychologist at a large public university in the Midwest. (Her name has been changed here because of the sensitive nature of her work.) Based on her clinical experience, Able says, “Overinvolved parenting is taking a serious toll on the psychological well-being of college students who can’t negotiate a balance between consulting with parents and independent decision-making.”"

This hit me like a ton of bricks: as an actor (as I am now) what is the difference between consulting the director and making my own artistic decisions? Where is the line between the director being a painter who uses glow paints [metaphor: the glow being the actor's ability to light up the frame work of the director's choices] and a collaborator who is genuinely working with actors who bring more than their bodies to the table?

I find these questions really fascinating. Especially because being an independent artist who works in collaboration is important to me. I have only recently begun to place the locus of my choices and my measurements of success in my own knowledge and power. I once had a director say of me "She's an actress who needs a firm male director to get the best out of her." This statement seems insultingly erroneous! That an actor just needs the write director to make them good.

I struggle with this because I also see the directorial role as a facilitator of communication and collaboration. I want the director to be able to be the captain who steers the ship but also to be able to trust the actors to make their own choices. When actors don't make their own choices it's easy to become frustrated by the process because, come on! It's easy when you get ideas and see what might be to jump in and give it; it's hard to give up the control of making it one thing when it could be anything.

This is not to say that all actors or all kind directors fall into these traps. It is to say that I am a director who has been frustrated by actors who bring just themselves to rehearsal. It is to say that as an actor, I have been deer-in-the-headlights in response to directors asking me "what do you want to do here? What do you think this looks like?" It is to say that I am tired of fear, confusion, and self-distrust in myself and other actors who are afraid that the director will tell them its wrong--not because they are afraid to be wrong but because they don't think they know what's right.

And I wonder, if we can't find some way to give actors back the responsibility of doing things and making things happen. Can we re-unlock the permission to make dangerous choices in safe spaces? And how much safety is too much?