Slings & Arrows

I don’t watch TV. This is not a higher-than-thou artiste assertion; actually quite the opposite. I have deep-seeded slovenly tendencies and the pretty shiny light box nurtures my inner mouthbreather; it’s better to just avoid TV all together. I DO, however, have a TV. To which a DVD player is connected. In which I play movies and quality, commercial-free, scripted television shows recommended by people I trust. If I’m going to drool and stop blinking for thirty minutes at a stretch, it better be for something really, really good. Which brings me to the following public love-letter to the creators/writers of Slings & Arrows, a bitingly accurate and stunningly hilarious Canadian television show following a loose-cannon director, the gritty rehearsal process, and the bureaucratic hell of arts administration. It is brilliance. Having worked for fifteen years as a performer, five years in arts administration, and a year in a granting organization, this show slays every single aspect…from the fights with Development over corporate sponsor logo placement to the angst of the performing apprentices in the wake of some diva’s breakdown. And yes, in case anyone was wondering, it appears that being a stage manager really is as thankless as it looks – those people should be sainted.

Written by Mark McKinney of The Kids in the Hall, playwright Susan Coyne (who coincidentally plays here one of the best understated comedic roles of all time), and a comedian named Bob Martin, it served as a perfect peek backstage for my non-theater-person mate...finally something that accurately demonstrates what I experience during rehearsals; because really, there are no words that do rehearsals justice. Granted, there are plenty of over-the-top ridiculous elements in the script, but for the most part this is spot-on honest in its portrayal of life backstage. Paul Gross nails the role of the director – an incredibly nuanced performance that had me awed into silence and energized simultaneously. THIS is really, really good television.

And here, compliments of the series of tubes known as internets, are the first ten minutes.  Enjoy.

Beware the Interns

Interweb search for “Playwrights’ Center” + PlayLabs + Slasher yielded this little treat…turns out that sneaky-pants Playwrights’ Center has a blog about this year’s series. And here I thought the interns and observers of our rehearsals were a benign and kindly sort. Boy, was I wrong – they’re in there digging up conspiracies.  Can’t I have anything nice in this house?

Although kudos where kudos are due to capturing the Last Supperishness of our first read.

Slasher

I’ve been in rehearsals all week workshopping a script for the Playwrights’ Center’s PlayLabs series, and tonight is our first (of two) public staged readings of Slasher, by Allison Moore.  The script is a hilarious take on the making of a low-budget horror flick (fortunately, my ACTUAL experience making a low-budget horror flick was far less bloody and psycho-mother-ridden, but that doesn't give me much to draw from, now, does it?). I’m playing seven roles, which amount to a Christian fundamentalist with an agenda, four scantily clad girls/meat who are scripted to meet horrific ends, a news reporter, and a car hop.   No one else is doubled up, much less septupled up, so this is great fun despite its schizophrenia.  I have to admit, though, when it comes to wooing prospective directors, I’m not sure if the multiplicity fits very well in the plus column.  It’s the old “many roles shallow” or “one role deep” conundrum.  Alas.

Regardless of my personal neuroses, if you’re up for 90 minutes of great writing and some excellent performances to boot, come take a look-see:

The Playwrights’ Center’s PlayLabs: Slasher 2301 East Franklin Avenue, Minneapolis, MN 55406 Tickets: 612/332-7481 x16 Thursday, July 17 – 5 pm Saturday, July 19 – 8 pm $10

Written by Allison Moore, directed by Josh Hecht, dramaturgy by Liz Engleman. Cast: Annelise Christ, Angie Haigh, Peter Hansen, Leigha Horton, Ashley Montondo, Sherwin Reurrecion.

In Your Radio 3.0

Last month I recorded a couple of radio spots for Target. Yes, that Target. I had to keep mum on sharing the audio files due to proprietary-product-launching-somethingorother-yadda-yadda-yadda, BUT – here, finally, they are:

[audio:http://www.leighahorton.com/docs/audio/Final_Mix_QDAF-7671_TargetHP.mp3] Target - “HP Pavillion Notebooks” Recorded and Produced by Babble-On Market: Our entire Estados Unidos - Baby’s first truly nation-wide spot. Line: All of them. I am Narrator; hear me roar!

[audio:http://www.leighahorton.com/docs/audio/Final_Mix_QDAF-7695_TargetToshiba.mp3] Target - “Toshiba Laptops” Recorded and Produced by Babble-On Market: U.S.A.! U.S.A.! Line: Same as the HP Pavillion Notebooks spot. Rawr!

Ta-DAAA!

all things green

My first crush was for the Jolly Green Giant. It even preceded the exchange of smiles with Jesse, the cute boy with blonde spiky hair and the earring (I always liked ‘em bad), who let me sit next to him at the top of the jungle gym in the second grade As an adult, I was reminded of this long-forgotten love off-handedly – (the tall green guy, not the short blonde kid) probably during some late-night inane party conversation about hot cartoon characters. The oddity of that particular recollection stayed with me and I began to dissect it. What was the draw? Why did I foster the notion that I would be forever safe in the arms of a cartoon character created to push broccoli? I finally decided that on a subconscious level, I found him strong and handsome; he was an embodiment of all masculinity: husband, teacher, protector.

Around this same time of curiosity and subsequent dissection, I purchased XTC’s stunningly beautiful album, Apple Venus, Vol. 1. In it is a song called Greenman, which is about the pagan mythological being purported to be the male yang to mother nature’s yin. The song is immense in its orchestration, yet simple and pure in lyrics, a fitting musical ode to the essence of the idea. It was then that it hit me: the Greenman was the adult manifestation of my childhood Jolly Green Giant. He was present in my consciousness before I even knew what to make of him…that makes me…a dirty pagan hippy. HELL YES!

None of this should have come as a surprise - I have harbored a long love affair with nature. I have spent countless hours in the wilderness contemplating trees, paddling through still waters, communing with fauna, awed by the richness of this earth and appreciatively breathing clean air. And recently I’ve forged a new relationship with vegetable gardening – I’ve planted tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuces, herbs, and strawberries, and walked away dirty, soaked from rain, grounded, and happy.

So now we get to the point of reference for this here green room – the way this all relates to my life as a performing artist. Yes, yes, I’m big on exposition, whatever, my point is more supported if I take you along on this ride rather than just slap down meaningless truths without background. As I was saying:

The point of reference to my life as a performing artist is twofold, really: one, pushing soil through my fingers gives me a basis for reality, for the tangible. We as actors often get so swept up into our own dramas and the delving into character minutiae that we lose ourselves completely. I do indeed have my head in the clouds, but this makes me stretch my legs extra-long, to keep my feet on the ground at the same time.

Two, this relates to one of my more recent voice-over gigs for a video which highlights the relationship between a decades-old green company called Landscape Structures, Inc., and the American Forests’ Global ReLeaf initiative. That last sentence sounds like a commercial, I know, but bear with me here - before we began recording, the producer/director sat me down and explained to me the history of the organization, and explained, in detail, their participation in Global ReLeaf. It was incredibly fulfilling to not only do the voice-over work in the studio, but to participate in something I support whole-heartedly. Just posting the name of the company and the raw audio, as I did below, without video animation, without music, without context, seemed too cold, too irreverent.

I feel better now. And you have good ammo for the next time you want to embarrass me. “Ho, ho, ho!"

In Your Radio 2.0

Just when you thought I was getting a little too quiet…again…

[audio:http://www.leighahorton.com/docs/audio/050708IWantVers1.mp3]

Cellular South – “I Want” Recorded and Produced by Babble-On Market: Mississippi, Southwest Tennessee, Coastal Alabama, and the Florida Panhandle to Destin – so, basically, the old confederacy – or the Dixie Cup of Shame, if you will. Line: “I want to find my friends online.”

[audio:http://www.leighahorton.com/docs/audio/VOeditedselectGlobalReLeafvideo.mp3]

Landscape Structures, Inc. – “Global ReLeaf Video” Recorded and Produced by Babble-On Market: Industrial and Internet – so, uh, I guess the market is worldwide. Line: All of them. I Am Narrator. Rawr!

I had me a blast over at Babble-On for these two gigs (one Wednesday right after the other – score!). Although my allergies were getting the best of me for the Cell South read, so I’m not thrilled with my contribution to that one; pollen is my kryptonite. Damn you, pollen! Dammmmnnnnnn youuuuuuu!

In summary: Spend more time in the studio? Check. Foster diabolical plan for world airwave domination? Checkity-check. Make more friends and contacts while doing so? CHECK, baby. CHECK.

The Anachronism in my Face

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.

Everywhere Signs Fall

In passing, the director at an audition last weekend said to me, “I saw your show the other night – it was fantastic!” I was bewildered – and frantically paged through my mental catalog of recent performances. Because I’m in the process of moving, I had specifically turned down shows so that I would be uninhibited during these few weeks. It never occurred to me that he could be mistaking me for someone else; I was convinced he saw me in something that I’ve since forgotten. I managed an audible, yet perplexed, “my show?”

Turns out he was referring to Everywhere Signs Fall, in which I appear for a brief monologue on video. Frankly, the top floor of mission control is so fried right now, I had forgotten I was “in” it. I’ll be seeing it Saturday night, perhaps that’ll make it on to me olde hard drive.

Anyway, I’m thrilled that the audition-director liked it, and I’ve read great reviews. I’m not surprised, though - it’s got some stage goliaths, directed by my favorite director-friend (who happens to share my name), and written by a playwright whose work I deeply admire. I’m also thrilled to announce that they’re offering two-for-one tickets to tonight’s performance – so, go see!:

Photo by Travis Anderson

A thrilling psychological rollercoaster ride through mystery, tragedy and romance in a steamy motel room in hot, seedy Phoenix, Arizona

Graydon Royce of the Star Tribune calls it "a fearless endeavor" and "taut and aggressively acted" full of "gripping performances" and "cracking dialogue." "An ambitiously smart play!"

Quinton Skinner of City Pages agrees. Through it all is "a genuine beating heart, and a labyrinthine story that unties its knots by the end with a satisfying, deadly conclusion."

Now playing through May 11 Thursday-Saturday at 7:30 p.m. / Sundays at 4:30 p.m. Pay what you can Monday, April 28 at 7:30 p.m.

Tickets $18 $15 seniors and Fringe button holders Under 30? Pay half your age any night!

For tickets, call (651) 228-7008

Loading Dock Theatre 509 Sibley St., Saint Paul

Presented by Gremlin Theatre Starring Paul Cram, Tracey Maloney* and John Middleton Written by Alan Berks Directed by Leah Cooper Technical direction and design by Carl Schoenborn Sound design by Mike Hallenbeck Video by Kevin Obsatz Costumes by Annie Cady Props and construction by Carn Schoenborn and Pete Hansen Fight Choreography by Mary Karcz Stage Management by Rose Johnson Sound board operated by Katie Burger Cameo video appearances by Muriel Bonertz, Leigha Horton, Jon Mikkelson, Dana Munson, Rik Reppe, and Eric Sharp

*Tracey Maloney appears courtesy Actors' Equity Association

The Science of Acting

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.

TAX MAAAN!

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!

In Your Radio

Just when you thought I was getting a little too quiet…

[audio:http://www.leighahorton.com/docs/audio/Centex_Breakup_40.mp3] Centex Homes – “Breakup” Recorded and Produced by Audio Ruckus Market: Minneapolis I play the ummm, erm, “snotty” daughter. Biiiiiig stretch, right mom? It was pretty easy to channel that character, as the attitude was clearly mine from roughly 1992 through 1999.

[audio:http://www.leighahorton.com/docs/audio/KL8025A.mp3] Kansas Lottery– “Keno Radio: Questions” Recorded and Produced by a confounding digital relationship between Minneapolis’ Babble-On and Kansas City’s (yes, MO) Evolution Audio. Market: Kansas I am the ditz: “My boyfriend went to Topeka and played Keno…should I be concerned?”

[audio:http://www.leighahorton.com/docs/audio/RLTF8008.mp3] LifeTime Fitness – “In My Lifetime” (1 of 2 – my favorite of the two - it positively smolders) Recorded and Produced by Audio Ruckus Market: Minneapolis, Dallas I am the dreamer: “In my lifetime, I will listen to my heart.”

[audio:http://www.leighahorton.com/docs/audio/RLTF8008REV3.mp3] LifeTime Fitness – “In My Lifetime” (2 of 2 – more practical, straightforward) Recorded and Produced by Audio Ruckus Market: Minneapolis, Dallas I am the doer: “In my lifetime, I will listen to my heart.”

Quiet? HA! See what I did just there? I unleashed a fury of sound because I CANNOT BE SILENCED. BWAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Kidding. In all honesty I just wanted to share because voice-over work makes me feel all shiny. SHINY!

Hugh Loves Obama

I hopped on an early flight Saturday morning to perform in Columbus, Ohio, and upon arrival was led to my venue by Barack Obama and a couple of police motorcades. Truth! Turns out he was heading from the airport to Ohio State University at the same time I was heading from the airport to a venue just a neighborhood away. There were police cars and motorcycles, three tour buses, more police cars and motorcycles, and a Mustang carrying my gracious hosts and me. I didn’t find out until the next day that it was him, but I had a gut feeling that I was being led by hope, and it felt good.

That hope was a fitting tribute to the show I was there to perform - Mrs. Man of God is a very funny, very poignant show about the joys, fears, and complexities of being the “Minister’s Wife,” when the Minister is gay and the Minister’s Wife is a man, and when your faith requires you to be closeted. The literal backdrop of our show is but a small representation of The Shower of Stoles project – stoles of clergy who have been stripped of their credentials for loving whom they love. Over a thousand of these stoles exist – representations of clergy who have been denied their life’s passion, their calling, because of their identity. I'm not a religious person, but I strive daily to honor and defend social justice, so I find this particular show's message moving and, sadly, relevant.

It was a joy to rejoin the Nashville cast for this show – (what stellar, stellar talent! – Dennis Curley, Beth Gilleland, Dane Stauffer, and Scott Ford), and a joy to see some familiar faces from our performance in Nashville – Columbus clergy that had joined together with the help of the Human Rights Campaign and several other organizations to bring Mrs. Man of God to town in advance of a vote; a vote in the Methodist church on whether or not to recognize GLBT clergy.

The only hitch in the entire weekend, aside, perhaps, from the insane stress of keeping two different shows in my head leading up to the flight, was that I glanced at our program a few minutes before going onstage only to discover that I was billed as “Hugh Horton.” I vaguely recollect screaming, “HUGH Horton?!,” and laughing hysterically before covering my mouth to hold it in. I’ve gotten some pretty incredible name misspellings and mispronunciations over the years, but this one is my favorite thus far.

All in all, the audience was enormous and fantastic, and there was an incredible sense of community in the room. Everyone had different, compelling, beautiful, and heartwrenching stories, and I was honored to be part of a show that invited these stories to be told. And on a completely shallow note – my voice was back up to snuff and I sang my heart out.

Nothing a Quaalude Can’t Handle

I’m so busy right now I’d probably lose my head if it weren’t screwed on; in fact, I’m almost certain I’ve stumbled upon some unattended nuts and bolts, which makes me rather uneasy. The first performance of the Ministry of Cultural Warfare’s offering to the Twin Cities Chekhov Festival went swimmingly – we’ve got just two shows left, this Friday and the following Thursday. Fellow cast-member, Anthony Paul, and I took a little fieldtrip to the MPR studios yesterday to provide some ridiculously-accented shenanigans for their story.

This Saturday morning I’ll be flying to Columbus, OH, to perform Mrs. Man of God (the same show I did in Nashville this summer). That means attempting to keep Chekhov in my head while re-learning Mrs. Man of God and all the accompanying music. I predict nightmares involving embodiments of heavy Minnesotan and Russian accents dancing a furious tango, artfully stepping over my bruised corpse.

And I was cast in Frank Theater’s next show, Brecht’s Mr. Puntila and his Man Matti, which is supposed to start rehearsing this week, but I’m in the process of being replaced due to the schedule conflicts generously provided by the above-listed shows. I was thrilled to finally work with Wendy Knox, but it looks like it wasn’t in the starcards this time around. Alas.

And I’m house-sitting con perro, which means I don’t get to do any of this from the comfort of my own home. Nor with a good night’s sleep provided by my own bed. My own bed, where the bizarre noises can always be blamed on a neighbor with adjoining walls, rather than the inherent creepiness of settling single-family-homes.

Time to put on my game-face and SPARKLE! With JAZZ-HANDS! TA-DAAAA! File under “Faking it until One is Making It.”

Ch-ch-ch-changes

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.

An Incredibly Serious Evening of High Art

Whatcha doing this Thursday? That's RIGHT! You're seeing this:

Part of the Twin Cities Chekhov Festival at the Bryant-Lake Bowl

Thursday, February 7 at 7 p.m. Friday, February 22 at 7 p.m. Thursday, February 28 at 7 p.m.

Tickets $10-$15 (pay what you can) Students: $8 /// 10 Show Pass: $80 /// 5 Show Pass: $42 Buy tickets online now! Or call BLB at (612) 825-8949

Written by Meron Langsner and Matthew Foster Directed by Leah Cooper and Reid Knuttila

Starring Alan Berks, Jason Bohon, Whitney Drury, Amelia English, Franklin Heller, Leigha Horton, Kevin McLaughlin, Erin Mihalik, Anna Olson, Anthony Paul, Lacey Piotter, Jen Scott

A Rain of Seagulls by Meron Langsner tackles every Chekhovian theme known to man in roughly 40 minutes —meaning, of course, the cast is heavily armed and rather morose.

Our Vanya, Ourselves by Matthew Foster is a mash-up between Anton's Uncle Vanya and "Sisters and Other Strangers," a classic episode of The Golden Girls. Yes, you read that right.

See you there!

"In my Life Time..."

Monday? Yes, Monday. Monday I did a radio spot for Life Time Fitness at Audio Ruckus. God, I love being union; it was the best paid nine words I’ve ever spoken (yessiree, whittlin’ down that AFTRA initiation fee-beasty little by little).

I got there early and killed time discussing books with Engineer Jim. Engineer Jim might possibly be the most conversational-in-a-good-way engineer I’ve ever met. Good times, Jim, good times. Then Mason from Life Time arrived and was instantly bombarded and subsequently baffled by an Ayn Rand reference – turns out it’s hard to explain Rand’s work without sounding like an Objectivist oneself (ack! NO!), so I clumsily added that I’m on the far opposite end of the political spectrum but that her works are still fascinating reads. Um, awkward. I blame Engineer Jim for bringing it up in the first place. Blame, Engineer Jim, blame. Despite it all, Mason was cool. It boded well for the session.

And what a great session it was! I supposedly nailed the spot in the first take (One-take Wonder, thankyouverymuch), but we did a handful more just for good measure. Not sure what take they actually ended up using – I suspect the guys were just trying to pump my ego.

Now, the story would normally have ended there, but I later received a call from my agent indicating the need to re-record the spots because Engineer Jim botched the recording. Son of a… Kidding, Engineer Jim, kidding. We needed to re-record the spots because the client wanted to offer an entirely different mood to the CEO – it sounded like a clash in the eternal marketing battle of vision vs. sales. But, I love me some studio, so that was just fine by me.

I’ll be sure to post the spot at some point in the near future – until then, listen for it in Minneapolis and Dallas – it starts with a heartbeat and then I say, “In my lifetime, I will listen to my heart,” then the announcer comes in with all the Life Timey details.

Can I say how much I love the studio atmosphere? Yes, I can. I love the studio atmosphere. It feels like home.

p.s. - if it appears that I'm harassing Engineer Jim in the post, it's because I am. He likes it.

AFTRA, AFTRA – read ALL ABOUT it!

You’re reading the ramblings of an AFTRA newbie and I have a shiny little pin to prove it. I signed all the paperwork January 7 and wrote them a horrendously fat check to cover a mere ¼ of my initiation fee. I think I urped a little when I handed it over. And I know I about had a coronary when I was handed the payment schedule for the next three months.

I find it ironic for unions to require actors, on actors’ wages, to pay a crapload of money that they don’t have in an obscenely short amount of time so that they can make union wages. It brings to mind a scene in Quicksilver wherein Paul Rodriguez explains collateral to Kevin Bacon, ultimately breaking it down to “you need money to make money” (sidenote - My uncle is credited in Quicksilver as “Options Trader,” and I’m certain I’ve been in a home video here or there with my uncle, thereby solidifying my place as a mere two degrees of separation from Kevin Bacon – WIN!).

Back to my point – I will grant that I’ve gotten some good voice-over jobs lately – it’s just that they’re one-off radio spots and one-off radio spots aren’t all that lucrative if they’re only coming around once a month. I tried to impress this point upon the union’s Assistant Executive Director. His response? A story about a guy who landed a Miller Lite spot aired during Monday Night Football for the season, and how he made a load of cash and how the union initiation fee was a pittance to him. My response? “That’s great for the guy, I guess – maybe he’ll want to pay my initiation fee, too, while he’s at it – do you know his address?”

Enough kvetching… did I mention that I’m actually THRILLED to finally be Union? It’s true! I am.

Baby's First Digi-Patch

I recorded a spot for the Kansas Lottery Friday morning over at Babble-On. In and out in 15 minutes - yes, I do believe my internal station was tuned to ROCK.

It was great, blah, blah, blah, the Babble On staff were awesome, blah, blah, blah (all true, just not interesting reading - keep reading for the cool and awkward part). The cool and awkward part was that I recorded via digi-patch (aka digital patch; aka ISDN voice-over session). Oh - you want English? The director, producer, writer, clients, etc. were in some other city, but I was still able to hear them and get direction through my headphones.

It was like a professional game of Marco Polo - I knew the principle mechanics of the thing - headphones, mic, music-stand for the script, sound booth, technician, etc., etc., etc.; but I found it tricky to not see the director's face - I couldn't get a feel for the room, for the mood. In past sessions I've been able to see through the glass into the control room and read the expressions on the director's and technician's faces to help guide my performance. It's easier to gauge if they're jazzed, frustrated, if I'm close or way off the mark. This time, it was a sea of faint voices and laughter that I couldn't confidently interpret.

All in all, I nailed it in twelve takes and my session was wrapped with a "that was it – perfect. Good work, kiddo," through the headphones. I'm still not sure who said it, but I thank them nonetheless for being my First.

Dim Wit

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.

Deleted Scenes

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.