Magic

So much of what we do as artists, and specifically as actors, is to make the environment habitable for magic. We cannot predict how the monologue that we practiced for weeks or months will go once we are in the room. The scene that seemed ripe somehow deflates once it is time to perform, and we are lost as to why or what happened. The best we can do as artists and actors is to prepare enough and hope our preparation can become a home where magic can take hold. 

Lorrel Manning, a colleague and fabulous acting teacher, director, and filmmaker, says his favorite recommendation for actors is “Just Go.” He is a founding member of the Barrow Group who I took a tv/film acting class with many years ago. I loved Lorrel's ease and efficiency with which he taught camera work. He often finds that actors work themselves up so much before they do a scene or monologue that he encourages them to let go of holding on to what they think might happen and “just go”. 

After sitting through thousands of acting pieces over the years in classes and auditions within professional and university settings, I would estimate that 99% of actors begin with a preparation moment. They stand in the center of the room, try to “ground” themselves (ground is not my favorite term but more on that later), usually take a deep breath and exhale loudly all before beginning their piece. Then they act. Even before any words are spoken or action happens, the entire moment feels exhausting. So I want to offer and reiterate an alternative approach as I too have fallen into the trap of the long preparation moment many times. 

As a fellow actor, I have no desire to put actors down. This “grounding moment” is what we have been taught since we began actor training. Taking a moment to find your feet, breathe, and transition slowly into the performance space seems like a great idea in theory. However, what often happens is the pause prior to performance takes the air, the art, and yourself out of the room instead of filling the space with energy and spontaneity - nervous or otherwise.

As a perpetual lover of nature and a new gardener, I have witnessed that the ground is in constant motion. There is always something moving within and throughout the ground with an energy that surges from below which makes connecting to the earth a moving practice, not a still one.  Although the term grounded is used ad nauseam in acting spaces, there is science to support that each person, especially depending on how they identify, finds grounding differently within their specific body composition. Female identifying bodies often discover that grounding or centering happening in the hip area. Male identifying bodies find it in their chest area. So although the feet can bring more weight to a moment, without understanding how to move the energy from the floor through the body and then use the unique passages of centering within our individual bodies, the grounding moment often reads as dead weight. The energy drops into the ground instead of using the energy from the ground to expand and explode the creative moment and space. It is the energy we want from the ground, not the ground itself. We want the earth’s magic. 

Laurence Olivier once shared that one night he walked off stage and people praised his flawless and riveting performance. However, he commented to a colleague, “I know it was wonderful but I don’t know how I did it.” Granted, Olivier was a wonderful actor rooted in preparation and a well defined approach to his work.  But the magic that night was not simply his preparedness.  As Olivier’s comment seems to reveal, there was something beyond him that he and the audience were able to experience. Acting must have an element of creative magic; a mischievous little trickster or goddess or creative source as Elizabeth Gilbert describes in her book , Big Magic, that shows up when we are doing the work and allows space to let them come and make our work even more magical. 

 Actors want to feel safe while also doing the vulnerable and often scary work of acting.  I do. I want the blanket of security to know that my work is safe and ready to go at all times.  That my preparation was enough. To know all the work, time, training, coaches, and let’s be honest - ego (I am an acting teacher for God’s sake. No acting teacher wants to be a bad actor!) is going to pay off. I want to know that I will not fail or better yet, that I don’t suck. But guess what? The more I cling to the need to know that everything will go as planned, the less room I have for magic. And if I let go, almost every time, the work (I’d like to call it play) is better. So just go. And almost always, you can trust that if you have done your work on the front end, magic will appear.