Leigha Horton :: Greenroom
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Any questions?

This here tidbit (after months and months of silence, for shame) has dual purpose:

1) To see if I’ve properly figured out how to embed videos in blog entries;

2) To advise you that I’m coming back, and with a soupçon of snark no less.  You see, I just had me a birthday and realized that I will probably never ever play the ingenue again.  And hell, being a yes-girl was terribly boring.  So let’s see what kind of critters go a-crittering when I rustle the shrubs a bit, shall we?

Enjoy!

I got a call from my friend Craig last week that went something like this:

C: You’re in an ad for The Guthrie?! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!

Me: What are you talking about? – I’m not in an ad for the Guthrie.

C: Yes you are – it’s plainly you. You’re telling me you didn’t know about this?

Me: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!

C: You haven’t seen this week’s Vita.MN?

Me: No, I haven’t.

C: Open it up–first page–an ad for The Guthrie Learning Center. You’re blurry and you’re looking at some guy holding a beer.

Me: What? Do you have a copy there? Can you send me a picture?

C: Yeah, here:

(click on images for larger views)

So yeah, I’m in an ad for the Guthrie.

I remember when it was taken, too – I attended a small brainstorming session for Minnesota Public Radio’s In the Loop several months back (that happened to be in a Guthrie lounge space) and remember a photographer there, but thought the photographer was an MPR staffer, not a Guthrie dude. The guy holding the beer is Jeff Horwich, host of In the Loop.

So the first question is this: even though the Guthrie’s Marketing & PR department has no idea who I am, and I’m not a model, and I was on the premises for a completely different reason, could I still theoretically put this on my acting resume as a print-credit for the prestigious Guthrie Theater?

Further questions are these: Do you think the Guthrie would actually want to know that it’s Jeff and me in the photo, just for their files? Is it weird that Jeff and I are both professional performers and that we didn’t get credited or compensated for this photo, or even get asked to sign a release? On a broader scale, is being on the premises of an organization automatic consent for that organization to use your image for advertising?

Frankly, I’m flattered. Intrigued by all of the big-brother-esque social issues this raises, but flattered nonetheless.

Me. Not the web site. And no, I’m not talking about plastic surgery or physical, um, augmentation (lord, like I need MORE? – definitely NO); I’m talking about my pearly whites. I have finally taken the financial plunge into getting the braces that I should have gotten when I was a teenager. Yes, braces. As an adult. Whoa boy.

I somewhat liken it to road repair – the road is in questionable condition, but they have to make it worse before they can make it better. My worse? Well, in addition to the braces themselves, they had to do a little rearranging on my bottom row. Which involved removing a perfectly healthy tooth. IN THE FRONT. Jesus. Someone on YouTube said that I looked like a hick – well check me out NOW, sucker! YEE-HAW! C’MERE AND GIMME A KISS! GLAUGHLLLLALAGGLALAAaAaaa…

Gross.

I have to admit that I felt rather violated having a perfectly healthy tooth removed – I don’t have a single cavity, and I don’t drink coffee (ever) or soda (well, rarely), so these puppies are in primo condition. I talked my dentist into letting me keep the extracted tooth. I don’t know why I wanted it or what I intend to do with it, but I have it, and that makes me feel better.

So here’s the plan – standard braces on the bottom teeth; the glory of Invisalign on top:

8/28/07 – I get separators installed between my lowers in addition to the Invisalign impressions for my upper teeth;

9/11/07 – The brackets go in, begin 18 months of metal-mouth torture;

10/8/07 – The Invisalign trays arrive and I start the oh-so-clear straightening process for my uppers;

11/13/07 – Roughly the date that the tooth they pulled will be fully replaced by the tooth waiting beneath it, thus quelling general feelings of hickness;

3/11/09 – ¡LIBERTAD!

And what have I learned from this experience thus far?

Acting Professionally : Vanity :: Vanity : Pain.

Therefore…acting professionally equals pain? Yep.

The Wednesday before last I went over to The Wehmann Agency to meet with the agents for voice, on-camera, and live trade…their office was positively humming (very busy agency = higher potential for gigs = happy Horton) and after about half an hour I walked out of there with new representation. Yep, I’m in. I AM IN! WOO-HOO! There is still plenty of self-promotion that I need to do in the interest of drumming up some business, but it’s a relief to finally be in a respected agency’s ranks again. And the cool part is that my agent for voice said she doesn’t have another voice like mine in her cadre….again, higher potential for gigs; again, happy Horton.

Meanwhile, I was called back into Undertone Music to voice incomprehensible conversations for Pixar-style animated coffee cups, the dots on top of “i”s, and bouncy balls. There were three people observing and engineering the session, and at one point I actually had them in tears from laughter – they tweaked pitches for a few of the spots, so I threw in seemingly appropriate references to Baby Jessica and making out with a jar of mayonnaise. For some reason those didn’t make it into the final product. Curious.

And now for the gritty of all this nitty: I’ve been putting off writing about any of the good news for many, many days because I’ve been far too busy panicking. It’s hard to write anything more than “GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” when one is consumed with panic. I am, and for two weeks have been, in a perpetual state of sheer terror over where my next paycheck is coming from. My show at The Children’s Theatre closes this Sunday afternoon, and I don’t have any confirmed work coming down the pipeline. Up until now I have been a responsible girl with my ducks (oh, how I love ducks) neatly in a row. Now the ducks are hither and yon. Nothing is more disarming than a paddling of wayward ducks.

I signed up with a temp agency this week and had a meeting/paperwork-marathon with them today – hopefully that will generate some temporary income – I’m also filing for unemployment on Monday. Seriously, unemployment. Me. What the hell? Oy. The whole concept makes me feel sick to my stomach – not having a solidified plan to make sure my basic needs are met makes me feel irresponsible, careless, and immature. Granted, I could easily return to the full-time corporate/desk-jobby world that I once ruled, but I am not ready to do that just yet. I want to take a low-stress, no-obligation job that I can leave at any time to take stage, voice-over, or commercial gigs. I’m determined to remain available to opportunities because I’ve short-changed myself via benefits-paralysis for years now. It’s time to do things my way. Hey, ducks! You come here. RIGHT NOW!

*Every performance involves a section wherein a majority of the cast, including me, stands frozen on stage for approximately eight and a half minutes. Over the course of 58 performances, this adds up to 8.22 hours. The following is an excerpt from last week’s thought process:

Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd FREEZE! Here we go. Helllllooooooo second-balcony EXIT sign. We’ve become chums, you and I – I bet never has anyone spent as much time staring at you as I have – the audience can see my eyes better this way – although I don’t know if anyone in the audience can see my eyes anyway because of these crazy glasses – it’s probably all reflection. Whoa boy – this is going to suck today – my feet are KILLING me. Son of a…OW! I hate these shoes. Hate them. Hate them. Hate them. Hate them. Seriously – three-inch heels on a raked stage along with huge gaps in the billboard platform which are perfectly great for falling into – whose bright idea was that? They’re awfully cute shoes, though. Wow – what a total “Sex and the City” viewpoint – ‘gee, I’m dying here, but the shoes are cute!’ I can’t believe I got my foot stuck in that billboard crack today – that was sure embarrassing. I wonder if anyone noticed. AUGH – HAND SPASM! Dang-it. I wonder if anyone noticed. Oh, and there goes the feeling from the toes – going, going, going, numb – DAMN. Tomorrow I’m freezing with my feet facing the other direction – maybe that will help – this is seriously going to kill once we unfreeze – I wonder if I’ll even be able to walk without falling over – whoa, what’s that kid doing up there? – don’t look, don’t look, don’t look – oh, he’s just jumping – WHY DID I LOOK? – relax, it was only a couple of feet over and it was so far back, I’m sure my eyes didn’t noticeably move – it’s not like they can see my eyes anyway – or can they? – ITCHY NOSE ITCHY NOSE ITCHY NOSE ITCHY NOSE itchyitchyitchyitchyitchyitchyitchyitchy STOP THINKING ABOUT IT itchyitchyitchyitchyitchyitchyitchyitchy UM, UM, UM, UM, UM, EDWARD NORTON IN THE ILLUSIONIST SUPER HOT MEXICAN FOOD FOR DINNER SOUNDS GOOD SHOULD STOP AT KOWALSKI’S NO WAIT UNTIL MORNING ‘CAUSE THAT’S WHEN THE CUTE PRODUCE GUY IS THERE okay, no more itching – god, I hate that. Holy Hannah if this damn scene was any longer I would just die – yes, this is the longest freeze known to mankind – maybe this is punishment – maybe this is a director’s way of passively telling us that he hates us – WHIT – WHY DO YOU HATE US? I bet onstage freezes are from some director’s ancient oral history – “if you dislike your actors, choreograph an obscenely long freeze in uncomfortable positions – that’ll show ‘em. And if you can put them in heels and have them on a rake, all the better.” Ohmygod girls, please don’t do any dramatic pausing here, for the LOVE OF GOD, DO NOT GET DRAMATIC AND PAUSEY. Oh. My. God. My. Feet. Are. Dying. It feels like daggers jammed straight up through the balls of my feet up toward my ankles. Dying. Thinkaboutsomethingelsethinkaboutsomethingelsethinkaboutsomethingelse – I should come up with a cool limerick for Rick for tomorrow’s mic-check – he’s gotta be so bored with me by now – “there was a sound guy named Rick” – oh, bad idea – only dirty things rhyme with Rick. No, wait – quick! That’s not dirty! “There was a sound guy named Rick, who needed a mic-check but-quick.” Oh, god, this is stupid. Rick, you’re not getting a limerick buddy – get your yuks from someone else, bucko. Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow – My feet feel like they’ve been plunged into a vat of boiling oil. Thinkaboutsomethingelse. Okay, uh, uh, uh, OW, uh-what’s on my to-do list these days? I need to continue getting in shape, maybe I should sign up at the Y again – I really can’t afford it right now, but on the other hand I could certainly take some of my savings and pre-pay for six months – oooh! that might be a good idea! – and I think that if I sign up in January they waive the joiner’s fee – I wonder if that works for people who have already been members – I hate the gym – yes, I love it when I’m there, but it’s the getting there that’s the problem – OH! LUVERNE IS COMING DOWN THE LADDER -WE’RE ALMOST DONE! – SWEET! Don’t look at Luverne don’t look at Luverne don’t look at Luverne don’t look at Luverne GAH! WHY DID I LOOK? I wonder if anyone noticed. Please hurry please hurry please hurry please hurry please hurry I can’t believe Whit made this freeze even longer right before we opened – we would have been unfrozen by now – we would have been unfrozen by now – we would have been unfrozen by now – I wonder if I’ll be able to start walking this time without hanging on to the billboard? OWWWW! I think not…damn. And, and, and, and, HERE IT IS GLORY TO THE HEAVENS WE CAN MOVE – OH MY GOD MY FEET OWWWWWWWWWWW!

I’m in a spot for H&R Block on YouTube called “Plastic”…it’s only been up a week or so and has already been viewed over 60,000 times. I think it’s because people think I’m naked.

I will admit, however, that reading the comments has been a painful lesson in turning the other cheek – while most of them are pretty complimentary, there are a handful that are either clueless (they didn’t get the joke), or hateful (vicious remarks about my looks). On the other hand, it’s a relief to finally cross getting called a “screwed up hillbilly” off my list of Things-To-Do! HA!

I’m at a bit of a loss on how to begin this post – the title is a bit dramatic, no? I guess I’ll just break it down by time and see where that gets me. Have patience:

YESTERDAY
Yesterday was my last day of work in the Performing Arts department at the Walker Art Center, my last day in Deskjobville. I was a puppy when I started there five years ago, and now I’m a bitter, jaded, crone. Kidding. Mostly. I’m still friendly and fresh-faced, I just know a hell of a lot more now than I did then and I’ve gained some snarkiness, to boot. If I hadn’t been absolutely slammed with work yesterday, I might have gotten all choked up about it.

At the end of the day my department threw me an incredible going-away shindig backstage at the McGuire, Hollywood style – there were stars on the floor and there was champagne and chocolate and paparazzi and cake and wine and roses and sunglasses and a feather boa and bouncers and my headshot plastered everywhere and tons of people. And there were speeches, and there was a goodbye card in the form of a filmstrip with beautiful parting words from everyone. I was honored and deeply touched. And had I not been so surprised by the whole thing and overjoyed to see everyone, I might have gotten all choked up about it.

When I finally got home I was so overwhelmed that all I could do was read the good-bye messages, run myself a hot bath, sit in it and have a good cry. I’m going to miss my people.

TODAY
After spending most of the night fitfully dreaming about work, I woke up with an e-mail to my department colleagues already crafted in my head (I gave them the official hand-made farewell cards yesterday…don’t want you to think I’d send that kind of message via e-mail – that’s tacky). After sending it off (had to get those loose ends out of my brain), I fully realized that I am now a full-time artist.

I answered a couple of sweet congratulatory e-mails this morning welcoming me to my new life (thank you!), thought of different ways to write this particular post, did my dishes, cleaned my living room, arranged last night’s roses into a nice vase, and started packing for tomorrow’s mini-break.

The spirit of the day was formalized by two e-mail offers for gigs and an introductory call from CTC’s Stage Manager for the Pouch Play.

This feels good. And it feels right. Finally.

I was lurking around The Callboard, an online discussion forum for Twin Cities actors, the week before last and stumbled upon a conversation about auditioning techniques. Someone suggested that everyone should read Michael Shurtleff’s Audition. Then roughly 20 more people responded that they too had read it and found its advice invaluable.

This lead me to two questions, 1) where the hell did everyone hear about this; and 2) what rock have I been living under? This just reinforced that I received a phenomenal liberal arts education in college, yet a highly uninformative (on a practical, business-level) theater education. I can tell you all about plays by early American women, but I can’t tell you why you’re supposed to wear the exact same clothes to callbacks as you did to the initial audition. Here I am, many, many thousands of dollars later, learning practical, business-level stuff on chat boards. Great. Somewhere I hear someone’s mother singing a hollow, yet loving, “I told you so.”

Anyway, reading the conversation on The Callboard made me feel embarrassed and a little ashamed… if I am to take myself seriously as an actor, it is my responsibility to be not only professional, but informed. It had immediately become apparent that I was not as informed as I had previously thought. And it had immediately become apparent that I have some work to do. So I hit the pavement. Last Sunday I walked into Uptown to scout out Audition at some of our wonderful independent and second-hand bookshops and found a lightly-used copy for three dollars. I also discovered a copy of Robert Cohen’s Acting Professionally: Raw Facts About Careers in Acting (had it in college, didn’t find it immediately useful, got rid of it…or so I thought. I came home to discover the college copy on my top shelf – oops.), Richard Brestoff’s The Camera Smart Actor, and a reference book entitled The Independent Film Producer’s Survival Guide. All for under $25.

I immediately sat down when I got home and read the first 25 pages of Audition. Thankfully, there was plenty that I already knew or had learned (the hard way, of course) over the last several years; but I also learned a handful of new tips and tricks that I had never before encountered. Those three dollars were the best that I have ever spent. Not bad for reigniting my practical performing arts education.

I just realized the Ivey Awards are happening right now. And I’m at home. Ooopies.

I had a blast at last year’s Iveys playing Waldorf and Statler up in the balcony with my MoCW compatriots… alas, it just wasn’t on my radar this year; it got overshadowed by Elevator Repair Service’s masterpiece, GATZ.

Ah well; next year. Until then, I’ll leave the Iveys with a topical quote from two of my favorite old men:

Statler: What's the name of that famous song Tony Bennett sings?
Waldorf: "I Left My Heart In San Francisco"
Statler:  Big deal! I left my teeth in Minneapolis!
Both:	Dooh ho ho ho ho!