Leigha Horton :: Greenroom
• • • • •

My agent called last month to see if I was available for filming down in Iowa early/mid-May, as a casting director wanted to see me for a Mandate Pictures indi-flick called Peacock, set to star Cillian Murphy (better known as freaky Scarecrow in Batman Begins) and Ellen Page (of Juno fame).

I found myself pained by the dilemma this caused: during the second half of the filming dates I was scheduled to visit my family in San Diego, and introduce my beau of 1.25 years to my California Parents. Plane tickets were purchased, rental car was reserved, lodging was secured, and California Parents were counting down the days.

Either the vacation with my far-off folks had to be shelved, or the possibility of filming had to be shelved. There was no room for compromise.

Turns out the braces-in-my-faces ended up making the decision for me. I was told that the movie was set in the mid-60s. I was aware that the casting director was calling me in based on my headshots – both of which feature a closed mouth. On purpose. I hated my teeth when those were taken, and had every intention of getting braces. I now have those braces (just eight more months to go – thank god). I can’t imagine that braces in a movie would be a big deal, except for the fact that the braces I have today were not invented until 1972. NINETEEN SEVENTY-FREAKING-TWO. I would have walked onto the set with a giant anachronism epoxied to my face. I shared that with my agent, who then politely declined with the casting director on my behalf.

Ahhhh, braces – fixing my teeth, and fixing my dilemmas. While I hate dilemmas, I still hate the braces more.

I recently viewed a profoundly moving speech given at this year’s TED Conference in Monterey, CA – it was presented by neuroanatomist Jill Bolte Taylor on the fascination she experienced when able to study her own brain while she was having a stroke.

The speech has haunted me for weeks, not only because of my generally-hidden passion for science as related to quantum physics and the consequent implications on the human body and psyche; but because it finally provided a clear, scientific answer to what I experience while performing on stage – the interaction between actor and actor, and the interaction between actor and audience.

First, for context, an excerpt of Bolte Taylor’s speech detailing the primary functions of the human brain:

Our right hemisphere is all about this present moment. It’s all about right here right now. Our right hemisphere, it thinks in pictures and it learns kinesthetically through the movement of our bodies. Information in the form of energy streams in simultaneously through all of our sensory systems. And then it explodes into this enormous collage of what this present moment looks like. What this present moment smells like and tastes like, what it feels like and what it sounds like. I am an energy being connected to the energy all around me through the consciousness of my right hemisphere. We are energy beings connected to one another through the consciousness of our right hemispheres as one human family. And right here, right now, all we are brothers and sisters on this planet, here to make the world a better place. And in this moment we are perfect. We are whole. And we are beautiful.

My left hemisphere is a very different place. Our left hemisphere thinks linearly and methodically. Our left hemisphere is all about the past, and it’s all about the future. Our left hemisphere is designed to take that enormous collage of the present moment. And start picking details and more details and more details about those details. It then categorizes and organizes all that information. Associates it with everything in the past we’ve ever learned and projects into the future all of our possibilities. And our left hemisphere thinks in language. It’s that ongoing brain chatter that connects me and my internal world to my external world. It’s that little voice that says to me, “Hey, you gotta remember to pick up bananas on your way home, and eat ‘em in the morning.” It’s that calculating intelligence that reminds me when I have to do my laundry. But perhaps most important, it’s that little voice that says to me, “I am. I am.” And as soon as my left hemisphere says to me “I am,” I become separate. I become a single solid individual separate from the energy flow around me and separate from you.

With these brain functions finally delineated in a way I could understand, I’ve been far more cognizant of how I experience the world – my surroundings, my relationships, my interactions. All in all, I tend to embrace and honor my right brain-ness, yet have a constant undercurrent of streaming left-brain narrative and evaluation.

That said, I found myself rather shaken after having what seemed to be a wholly right-brain experience at an audition the week before last. I was in St. Croix Falls, Wisconsin, participating in what turned out to be a six-hour audition. It boiled down to about 4% actually auditioning on stage in front of a director, 28% working scenes with audition partners or reading the sides over on my own, 32% chit-chatting with other actors, and 64% tedium.

There was one actor in particular (and thus to the point of my story) with whom I was assigned to read. We worked our scene multiple times, and then got to talking in generalities. The more we talked, the more we realized we had similar experiences with some of the same people, and thus, a connection was formed. Energy was shared. I didn’t realize the benefit of this exchange until we were in the audition room and our scene took on a whole new level of familiarity and spark.

When we were paired again later in the day, without the opportunity to first read over the scenes together, I was not concerned – it was like being at home on stage because I somehow trusted this actor implicitly. And he gave a powerful performance, and with it the finest gift – I felt this rush of strength and wisdom and insouciance being directed at me, and in turn it gave me license to summon up the same in myself and return it to him. He gave me the right to shine unabashedly, without censure. At one point, I had even put down my script because my character was done speaking but still on stage – I used that time to make physical discoveries, and to just live in the space. I did all of this without internal narrative – it just…happened.

Now don’t get me wrong, it’s not like rays of sunlight burst out of my chest and destroyed the onlookers, a la Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. Hell, it probably didn’t look like anything special to anyone beyond our little sphere of interaction. But it felt important.

And I got cast.

A year or two ago I discovered Fox Tax, a young, family-run business specializing in financial services for performing and visual artists and musicians. I made a mental note to call them once I took the plunge into freelance work and needed help with my assumably messy taxes. 2007 was the year of said plunge, and the 2007 messy tax reporting season is upon us. Call made.

Their office was pretty sweet – a re-purposed storefront in North East with hardwood floors, exposed ceilings, white walls, and a visual art gallery for their lobby. Their CPAs know their stuff and are informative to boot; one of the Foxes worked through my Federal and State taxes (including my renter’s return) in under an hour and taught me tidbits about reporting practices and deductions and reasoning along the way. And, while he was at it, recommended a book on creating theater with teens. You read that right.

The downside: I owe The Government money. For the first time. Ever. Hundreds. On the large side of hundreds. For an artist, “hundreds” is code for “a Big Deal.”

In all honesty, it’s not terrible once my renter’s return is factored in, but that won’t come until August – a long, long four months after the April 15 Big Deal due date. I’ll just chalk this up to dirty little life-lesson learned about freelance work and savings and withholdings and all of that. And with that lesson learned, I am now prepared to be a stealthy ninja unto next year’s taxes – I will go in, free my captive money, and silently return from whence I came.

I’m holding off actually filing my Federal Big Deal until the last minute – in the interim I keep randomly shouting a particular Beatles lyric, startling people and making me laugh every time.

TAX MAAAAN!

This isn’t exactly the newest of news anymore, but it’s still pretty relevant. After roughly twelve years of variations on the same hair-theme, I’ve finally gone and got the hairs cut for real. Take a gander:

(click on the thumbnails to view larger images)

Cool thing #1: I didn’t cry at the salon, despite 6+inch locks falling to the floor.

Cool thing #2: I didn’t cry secretly when I got home.

Cool thing #3: I like it. I really like it.

Point of relevance #1: I probably won’t be able to get away with my existing black & white headshot anymore, so will need a new one. Good thing my favorite headshot photographer has a brand-new, killer studio.

Point of relevance #2: It changes how I’ll be considered by casting agents. I went from trying-too-hard-to-be-voluptuous to easygoing-fun-sexy. Pretty sure that’s an upgrade.

Q: How many lighting technicians does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: [insert annoyed glare] It’s an “instrument,” stupid.

Q: How many Performance Artists does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: I don’t know, either. I left at intermission.

Courtesy of Leah Cooper and Beth Gilleland, respectively.

Well, gosh, since we’re sharing (okay, so it’s just me who’s sharing…there is a comments section and a contact form, you know. Do write. It gives me the warm fuzzies.), today I started the “Greenroom entries 2008” document and put the “Greenroom entries 2007” document to rest. But not before one last read-through, which led to the realization that I was a lazy blogger last year. There were a great many things I planned to share, and perhaps even drafted, but never posted for one reason or another.

But now the issues and any sensitivity surrounding them have passed; so here, for all the world to see, is what I didn’t tell you last year. Keep in mind that Deleted Scenes from movies are usually deleted for a reason. Take that as you will.

What I’ve learned at CTC
Date: February, 2007
Status: draft

1) Don’t compare physical appearance to that of teenagers – they have not been to college, they have not gained the Freshman Fifteen.

2) Rest assured that they will.

3) The costume shop folks are the best. Even when I’m supposed to look awful, it’s a good kind of awful.

4) ten-minute breaks are not enough time to wait in line to microwave food AND eat it.

5) Food microwaved an hour and a half prior is no longer appetizing.

6) I adore the acting company at CTC – so kind, so patient, so funny.

7) watch mouth!

8 ) Jerry’s kid is in The Hold Steady. Jerry is awesome.

9) I’m exhausted when I come home.

Prepping for the Great Unknown
Date: March, 2007
Status: draft

I love to write. Mostly because I take great pleasure in rediscovering old scribblings and their connection to events and memories and feelings I had long since forgotten – the act of writing is a promise of delayed gratification. But sometimes, like the last 19 days, I get so wrapped up in the joy of living that I don’t want to stop and remove myself from the process enough to comment on it. Sometimes the promise of delayed gratitude just needs to go suck on it.

I write now only because I find myself at a strange juncture – one where I still feel the bliss of the last few unscheduled weeks, but where I have also been hit by the need to mentally prepare for Monday and the days thereafter. Monday marks the beginning of a contract position in the Community Relations department at a very, very large corporation (one of many whose headquarters are located here in the Twin Cities).

I’m still honoring the great leap I took last December – I still consider myself an actress first and foremost – this is just a way to keep some cash flowing. It’s temporary and it’s flexible – that’s all that matters.

It’s like the sweet melancholy of the last week of summer vacation. The freedom and ease are still simmering in my bones, but the realization that it must come to an end wins a pause every now and then.

Something to Talk About
Date: July 23, 2007
Status: Draft

I’ve been struggling with this feeling that I’m not working (read: acting) enough, which frankly makes no sense because I just wrapped shooting for an instructional video on how to make preserves (a la Stitch & Bitch and You Grow Girl) called The Fresh Girl’s Guide to Canning, got cast as the voice-over narrator for a national Qwest commercial (which doesn’t seem to be happening now due to a script snafu with their legal department – go figure), did a read-through for a show with Starting Gate in the fall, sang a few songs at my best friend’s perfect wedding, filmed video components for The Ministry of Cultural Warfare’s Fringe show, and started rehearsals today for the gig that will take me to Nashville.

I honestly write this blog as much for you as I do for me…a visual reminder that I am working, that I am succeeding at performing as my primary source of income. But I haven’t felt like writing about what I’m doing, so I have no visual reminder. And I think I know why. I had a nasty little revelation recently that what I’m doing really doesn’t matter.

I base my disenchantment, my unessentiality (I worked at the Walker Art Center for five years, it gives me artistic license to make up words when the ones we have just won’t do, so step off) on the recent awesomeness displayed by my older brother. A couple months ago, he joined AirServ, a non-profit NGO (kind of like the Peace Corps for pilots) and left for the Congo in April to fly humanitarian relief missions around the country – then due to some weird administrative error, got transferred to Afghanistan where he would captain a much larger airplane. And I am so immensely proud of him, and so impressed by his writing, and so envious of his earnest involvement in working toward peace, that I realize that while what I do is fun and has its entertainment value, acting and my ramblings about acting really aren’t that important in the grand scheme of things. In the fight against hunger, in the fight to ease the hardships wrought by retarded wars waged by so-called “leaders,” in the fight to help other people in need, what do I do? I act on stage and on camera. BUZZ. WRONG ANSWER. I LOSE.

Yeah, sure, I’m sure there is some value (way, way, deep, deep down) in what I do – it’s just difficult to quantify it.

Music City
Date: August 16, 2007
Status: Draft

Thursday

It was early afternoon on Thursday when fellow Mrs. Man of God cast-mates and I arrived in Nashville. As we made our way through the cozy airport toward baggage claim, we passed a live two-piece band playing in a rotunda. Yes, live music in the airport. Really, really good live music in the airport. Thanks, Music City, for a sweet taste of something I would not get a chance to experience while there; you tease.

We walked outside into a special kind of hot. Temperatures ranged in the high-90′s with humidity in the 70th percentile. Weeks before my cousin had joked about a bringing a spacesuit. Turns out she wasn’t kidding.

Our director brought us over to the dorms at Vanderbilt University…he dropped us off while we made our way up to our suite on the 12th floor. We all remarked on the smell of fresh paint and immediately chose rooms (the boys got the best view of the Parthenon while I got a view of a neighboring apartment building; stupid boys). Shortly thereafter the director joined us with an alarmed look on his face, laughingly telling us that we were in the wrong tower. We inadvertently took the wrong set of unmarked elevators. So, we grabbed our things and headed back down and then back up different, also unmarked, elevators to the correct suite in the correct tower. Vanderbilt University Lesson One: No Students = No Signage.

We then re-chose our rooms, and I was able to snag a better view – this time scoring a quarter-peek of The Parthenon (ha-ha; stupid boys). We unloaded our things, settled in a little, then made our way over to the Couva Calypso Café for some food. There were nine of us, and our food arrived with alarming speed. And I know that I am prone to hyperbole, but this time I was really, actually alarmed – it couldn’t have been more than seven minutes from order to arrival – food for nine people. On the other hand, I didn’t get the drink that I ordered, or the amendment to the dish that I ordered (no onions), but I picked through it anyway not wanting to be the special-dish-diva.

We then hit the drugstore for two decks of playing cards – turns out that Dennis plays a mean game of Canasta and doesn’t cave under pressure, no matter how much smack I talk.

That night I settled in to my room, lulled to sleep by memories of my college dorm room, despite the prison/cinder-block décor. There is a sweet nostalgia tied to single beds…I slept well.

Friday
I slept soundly until 10 am – then popped out of bed to find our suite deserted. People began to trickle back in (they were in the suite next door having coffee), and Dennis and I made our way over to The Parthenon. 40-foot statue of Athena inside. Dane joined us.

Lunch at some bread place – $12. Yikes.

Daytime rehearsal.

The Stoles – When we walked into the event space where we’d be performing, I was taken by the stoles neatly hung two-high around the periphery of the room, out the door, spilling into the foyer and down the hall. There must have been at least a thousand of them – each with a short bio of the wearer. I perused several before realizing that these were all stoles of clergy who had been stripped of their credentials because of their sexual orientation. I was deeply moved, more so upon discovering that the stoles displayed were a mere quarter of the stoles they had received from clergy around the country.

Nighttime – performance. Lovely elderly lady next to me asked me why I was miked – so much for the surprise. The cast and director were given our very own rainbow stoles post-performance.

Post-show – Light bulb jokes about lighting technicians and performance artists. Vanderbilt University Lesson Number Two: No Students = No Toilet Paper.

Saturday
Passing the sign to Memphis and the Grand Ole Opry that we would not see.
Brochure for Dollywood (as in Dolly Parton) that we would not see.

The Payoff
Date: November 6, 2007
Status: Draft

I sheepishly asked to see my final Invisalign tray at the orthodontist’s office today, just so I would know what the end result will look like. It’s beautiful! I’m going to have beautiful teeth! There is a wonderful light at the end of this wretchedly painful tunnel! I’ve waited 16 years for this – I’ll finally be able to smile without shame.

I Just Want to Hug Them
Date: November 29, 2007
Status: draft

Denied CTC’s Peter Pan ‘cause there aren’t any bodacious female roles – but it’s okay… what a great audition!

The Ongoing List of Stuff to Write About
Date: 2007
Status: draft

*Centex Homes voice-over gig – FUN!

*Microsoft on-screen industrial gig as an extra – BORING! BUT FUN!

*Qwest voice-over gig – script issue in legal department – pulled spot. SUCKAGE!

*MSAB artist grant reviews – the most complimentary let-down ever.

*callbacks at BNW for their corporate team/wanting me to re-start the class-mill. Don’t wanna.

*60-second audition with John Command – huh?

*Audition monologues – start a monologue group?

*missed Monster of Phantom Lake screening due to trip to Jeffers Petroglyphs and a very bad run-in with a stupid Pheasant or Quail or some other large wild bird of that nature which threw itself in front of my fast car and therefore no longer on this mortal coil.

Thursday, December 20 – 3ish
Mon agent extraordinaire calls with the news that I’ve been chosen to be the voice of a marketing firm’s client’s (I know, I know) telephone system based on my demo alone, no audition needed. I’m so accustomed to getting audition calls that it takes a repeat for me to realize that I actually HAVE the gig. “Wha-really?-Sweet!” I’m told that I’ll be recording the next day, and that they’ll get back to me with a confirmation of time. Horton Happy Dance ensues.

Thursday, December 20 – 9:30 pm
Agent calls – still no confirmation of time. Cue sinking gut feeling. Dredge up memories of the Qwest commercial I landed back in June, but lost due to a script issue that went missing in the bowels of their legal department.

Friday, December 21 – 9:30 am
Agent says they’re still working on it. I am optimistically cynical – brain abuzz with trust that great things will come, yet tempered by bitter memories of former gigs lost.

Friday, December 21 – 1:21 pm
Agent calls to say that Client has decided to save money by going with an internal employee, without ever hearing my pipes. Saving money = no job for me, and deeply-Minnesota-accented telephone system for them. Turns out there is lining, however, and it is silver – Marketing Firm is very, very disappointed at Client’s decision, and looks forward to working with me in the future.

Friday, December 21 – 4:41 pm
Agent calls to say that I lost one…but gained another. I am wary. Yet I love my agent. Pensive Horton Happy Dance ensues. I’ve landed a voiceover for the Kansas Lottery, wherein I get to talk about my boyfriend in Topeka. Topeka. Topeka, Topeka, Topeka. It’s a fun word to say. Try it. Seriously. I’ll wait. See? It’s right up there with “button” and “pocket.” I imagine it’s going to be even more fun to get paid to say it.

Anyway, the recording is slated for late next week, but has yet to be confirmed… I shall hope for the lack of a theme here.

Anton in Show Business closed yesterday to the tune of a great performance and an excellent audience. Because I played the part of a critic, I had a small notepad with me at all times, and through the course of the run had taken some bizarre and hilarious scribblings that often read like the label on a bottle of Dr. Bronner’s Magic Soap. Each performance got a fresh page with “JOBY’S BOOK” written in all-caps across the top, the date, the run time for each act, and a page or two of notes.

Sometimes the day’s notes were an inspired, yet often unintelligible, in-character response to a confrontation; sometimes they were the result of the sheer tedium of sitting through the show for the twelfth time. I promised the Anton cast and crew that I would publish the notes at the end of the run – so, in memoriam, here are the highlights:

November 8, 7:30 pm (preview)

• Sodomizing!!
• offensive for the sake of being offensive
• really weird stuff going on with the stagehands
• Christine?

November 9, 7:30 pm

• Self-note: revisit overly self-aware/nervousness
• Jane Martin = John Jory <– a MAN!
• I can’t believe THIS OUTRAGEOUS Horrible “God” Artist!
• Ralph? Boy?
• come up with an answer for “How do you like it so far?”

November 10, 7:30 pm

• ALARM x2
• 2^nd time door issue
• broken bike
• I am so pissed right now

November 11, 2 pm

• Story idea: bad attitude – meeting people with bad attitudes – had hoped for better

November 16, 7:30 pm

• this is out
• iron Kate’s pants
• make notes for reserved seats – close call!
• Casey is threatening me

November 17, 7:30 pm

• chairs clanking backstage
• dressing scene – pen light running up ramp
• airplane scene super loud backstage
• flashlights, curtains
• I just can’t even believe this – this is ridiculous – insufferable. GOD?! NO.
• Story v. Interpretation <– dull, lacking feeling, hateful
• HAMBONE CHEESEBALL
• [doodle: Joby played tic tac toe with herself today. X won.]

November 18, 2 pm

• Door wrong every time this week – redress the former and satirize the latter!
• Director v. The People: When does ART become religion? FORCING people into faith without giving them the substance – the STORY – to go on.
• [doodle: A bit of long division to figure out that the “Theater Tickets All Year” (6 for $99) work out to $16.50 per ticket. Mental note that it’s a good deal for the Guthrie and others, bad deal for Walking Shadow and others.]

November 19, 7:30 pm (pay-what-you-can performance)

• LH: remember to make proper “reserved” signs + LAUNDRY
• I just can’t even believe this absolute nonsense. Zoe Benston is going down. “Challenging” the audience is unforgivable as a performer. (general note to readers – the Zoe comment was Joby’s doing – Leigha likes Zoe, and has no intention of taking her down).
• Is the word “masturbate” really used in Springtime for Hitler? I think I heard it.

November 23, 7:30 pm

• That is not a good answer to the race question.
• Art vs. God – WTF?!! Inappropriate! Tobacco interests right on the heels of religion – that is something…
• Kid: “Excuse me, did he say, ‘I will fuck you with my art?’

Joby: (breathe deeply) ‘yes.’

Kid: ‘Okay. Thank you.’

• Young fellow – it looks like he was looking for a band name.
• Walkout after makeout scene! Ha – prudes.

November 24, 7:30 pm

• THE DIRECTOR IS NOT GOD!!!
• “interpretation” v. “story” STORY OUGHT TO WIN.

November 25, 2 pm

• LH: remember to take home brown pants
• unbelievable – artist pitting art against audience. This is ____.

November 30, 7:30 pm

• Casey Mulgraw is bossy and just plain wrong. And that director – whooaaa boy – what a joke. He’s just a total nutcase. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
• BMSSG = Bargain Mart Suburban Shoppers’ Guide.
• BMSSG is a good start, BMSSG is a good start, BMSSG is a good start.

December 1, 7:30 pm

• I am so engraged. Rage rage rage. Great artist my ass.
• Casey Mulgraw is on the side of the fascist director.
• Okay, I feel better now. I am better than this. I am better than them.   (another Joby note, definitely not Leigha)

December 2, 2 pm

• Racial?
• Great Artist?! I think not. I think NOT. I don’t know how it’s possible that these artists are going to manage with this director – he’s crazy and crazy.

And that was all she wrote. Good night, Joby.

Anton in Show Business closes this Sunday, December 2nd, after a four-week run – and while I mean no disrespect to my colleagues, I’m really quite relieved.

In all honesty, I was never able to fully connect with this show. It might be because I sit in the audience the entire time – leaving the dressing room ten minutes before curtain and never joining the cast onstage until the curtain call. But it’s more than a psychological manifestation of a physical disconnect – after a few reads I realized that I didn’t really care for the script. During the rehearsal process there were a few lines in particular I came to regard as particularly grating. Around performance viewing #5 I wanted to throw things, and after #7 I just learned to tune the lines out. Add to that my occasional “phoning it in” (code for performing, but not really, um, present). Yes, I admit (with a wee jigger of shame) that I’ve been phoning it in.

SO – I will say this – I am thrilled that I had this experience and that it was a light return to the stage (three months hiatus is too long for me), and I am even more thrilled to get my mitts on my next projects… Anton in Show Business was my warm-up, my 5 minutes on the treadmill, my quick-stretch before hitting the weight machines. So thank you, Anton, for sparing me a pulled-performance-muscle. And thank you, Director, for not chucking me upside the head with your pencil. I know you know when I’m phoning it in, and I’m sorry.

I should also note that it was an honor working with such incredible women – the production team, the techies, the “rockstar stage hands,” but especially Mo, Muriel, Tamala, Zoe, Emma, and Bethany. And the alarming amount of baked goods in the dressing room. Note to directors – if you’re the hungry sort, cast a bushel of women; the brownies are out of control.

Anton in Show Business – closing weekend – 11/30-12/2

Friday & Saturday, 7:30 pm; Sunday, 2 pm

Mounds Theater, 1029 Hudson Road, St. Paul

Three of us in the cast and the director of Anton in Show Business visited the Jazz88 studios this morning for an on-air interview. I swooped in about 120 seconds before we went on the air and then succeeded in using the word “schmoopy.” Man, I love live interviews.