Words and pictures.

Two quick things:

1) There are some interesting comments on my blog (and elsewhere) this morning. I would encourage everyone to check them out. See my blog post "Budgetary Fallout 2009" and Praxis's post "Canada Prizes for Arts and Creativity." Check the comments sections. Opposing view points welcome. Discussion is necessary. It's really the only way progress is made.

2) Check out Chase Images. He was a "blog of note" a few days ago and his images are incredible. I'm a sucker for a good photographer. He shoots a Canon, but we won't hold that against him. He lives in the Adirondacks and offers a variety of photography services. Mostly, I find his images of winter ethereal.

I am not blogging because I'm reading...

Why this picture? Meh, why not?

Today I haven't been up to speed on blogging. And last night I was too yoga-wrecked to write anything. Also, I feel like I have a ten second attention span right now. It's great for Twitter, not so hot for blogging (and if you haven't yet joined Twitter, I think you're missing out). So today I am just reading all the interesting things all of you out there have to say. There are lots. I am not linking to them. Because I'm lazy. But I did reorganize my little sidebar business (look to the right) with all kinds of fun links, so if you click one (or two...or twenty) chances are you will find something interesting.

I am all attention deficit-y because tomorrow is my last day at the day job (heartbreak) and I am trying to get six million things done. Actually six million. That is in no way an exaggeration. I'm also freaking out because I have auditions next week and if they go well I might be able to trick someone into paying me to act (YES!!!). And, finally, I will be sort of unemployed on Monday. Which is daunting and exhilarating at the same time. There is just so much potential...

I am curious, though, what do the rest of you out there do for your day jobs? And, what do you do when you don't have one? Other than the obvious, which is look for one. This is new territory for me, in many ways...as is just about everything...and I am always interested in what other people have to say. How do you deal with all kinds of free time and no real structure when you're used to having not enough of the former and a ton of the latter?

Budgetary Fallout 2009.

"If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together."

Lilla Watson, aboriginal educator and artist

So the budget is in and it hasn't toppled the government. It isn't perfect, but it isn't completely useless, either. And Arts and Culture are once again worth investing in, thank goodness. Which means that now the argument is about who gets how much and why. When it was announced yesterday, where the funds for Arts and Culture were being allocated didn't seem quite clear. And with hundreds of millions in new funding, the cuts from September still stand.

I don't claim to be an expert on the topic, by any stretch of the imagination, but the whole thing seems, well, shady. In a word. While I am obviously a proponent of supporting up-and-coming artists, the plan by Luminato's founders to use government funds for a "Canada Prize" sounds more like another lousy reality TV show and I, personally, think their claims that it will make Toronto "a cultural capital on the international stage" are crap. Not that I couldn't personally do with $100,000, but I would rather see that money invested in one of the city's independent theatre companies to create artist in residence programs or training programs. I'm sure they could use it just as much as I and, the truth is, it would probably go farther. It is training and ensembles and hard work that create "stars" not contests.

And, at the same time that they have added funding for programs like this, they haven't done anything about the cuts that could have helped groups like Theatrefront, featured here in the Globe and Mail for their show Ubuntu. The quote above is from this article and, I think, says it all. I think what they do, this exchange and collaboration aimed at creation across international and cultural borders, is far more likely to put us on the global stage than some half-baked contest where one person wins some cash.

But I guess you have to admire the political pull those Luminato guys seem to have. I'd love to know how they managed this second coup. How did they decide that this project, tied to Luminato, was worthy of a giant cash infusion and not the programs they cut funding to that helped Canada to have a footing on the global cultural stage? Why not give money back to the programs you cut from now that you're giving cash away? Being a government, Ottawa seems not to believe in transparency when it comes to money. And this is the biggest issue with our spending in general. I think Rick Mercer put it well in his rant on Tuesday night, "if they have to spend the money, fine, but only if the fog lifts and the sun shines in."

Praxis Theatre blogs, produces, and parties. All astonishingly well and with a sense of humour.

This past Friday I was privileged to attend the sold out opening night of Praxis Theatre's production of Stranger, a show developed in three workshops over two years. I've been waiting to tell you about it until I could link to my thoughts on the production (which were committed for posting on The Theatre Centre Blog). Fortunately, Stranger runs until February 8, so there is still plenty of time for you to see it--but I wouldn't put it off any longer. Anyway, I won't go too much into my thoughts on it here since I've already written them elsewhere. I will say, though, that I enjoyed writing about it almost as much as I enjoyed watching it.

I am also linking to J. Kelly Nestruck's review at The Globe and Mail. I disagree with his judgment of the show, but I respect his opinion and I do think he makes some valid points. I would also be curious to know, from the creators at Praxis who I imagine will see this at some point, why does Praxis keep "selecting novels by authors who were equally adept as playwright?" I imagine there is a good reason (and I like the selection), I'm just interested in the conversation. Why this play now?

But what I really wanted to write about on my blog with regards to Praxis and Stranger is the reception they held after the show. It turns out I know someone who knows someone, and I was strongly urged to come to the opening so I could make new theatre friends. Well, I'm glad I listened. Because I did make new theatre friends. And laughed, a lot. It turns out they know how to throw a pretty good party, in addition to writing that blog and you know, doing shows. So here are some highlights from my night out with Praxis:

You know the awkward feeling you get at first when you're at a party where you don't know anyone? It kind of started out like that. Because after my friend left, I really didn't know anyone. And everyone was celebrating. So I was kind of the outsider (appropriate to the theme of the show, I guess). But it didn't take too long to get over, especially when I met he of the blog, Michael Wheeler ("You must be BFG." Oh goodness...). Mr. Wheeler was very kind and made some introductions, which I very much appreciated.

The people at Praxis are smart. I miss smart people. Smart about theatre people. Don't get me wrong, my friends are smart. But it's a different kind of intelligence. And it seems like much of team Praxis has studied and/or performed all over the place. It's a very cosmopolitan (though in a non-pretentious way) bunch. I too have studied in various places. It was nice to hear about their experiences outside of Toronto and then coming back...

In one conversation, I commented on how I don't really know what the difference is between the industry (I hate calling it that, but it is) in New York and the industry here in Toronto. My source (who I will not name out of respect to her privacy) told me it could be summed up in a single sentence: In New York, everyone wants to see the new face and to put you out there, in Toronto, they don't. She told me she still has difficulty getting a general audition with a theatre company in the city after many years. And that so do many other very talented people. While I think this is, frankly, disgusting, it's also a relief in some respects. It is not just me. It is, apparently, the way the theatre world works in Toronto (note to self: change the way the theatre world works in Toronto). I don't think it's a good modus operandi for a thriving theatre community, but at least when you know where you stand, it's easier to know how to proceed.

And then I met another associate of Praxis who had me laughing so hard I had pains in my sides. She was lovely. And we discussed theatre programs for kids in Toronto; she is working on starting one. We talked about how most that exist are severely limited, to be exact. I've actually interviewed with one such program and was told I don't have enough experience (me, the summer camp counsellor with the B.F.A. in theatre). The limitations are imposed by programs looking to employ teachers with an interest in theatre and not theatre artists with an interest in teaching; there is a distinct difference. It was nice to have a conversation with a like-minded individual.

I went home smiling. Aside from seeing a good show, I met some great people. I was reassured that I am, in fact, doing the right things. And I was reminded that a career in this city in what I want to do is all about diversifying. So, I advise anyone who can to go see Stranger and to hang out with Praxis, either online or, better, in real life. They're all smart cookies and they have a lot to offer. I am grateful that they shared so generously with me. And I hope to see them again soon! You all have a standing offer from me to buy you coffee/beer/lunch for the privilege of picking your brain.

John Updike.

John Updike, Pulitzer-prize winning novelist, passed away yesterday at the age of 76 after battling lung cancer. Updike is best known for his Rabbit novels. His writing has been met with both disdain and praise from critics and readers alike. He had a talent for poeticizing the every day. Learn more from his obituary in The Globe and Mail or in The Toronto Star.

On a personal note, Updike is someone I've been meaning to read for a long time. He even published a new novel, The Widows of Eastwick, last year and a book of short fiction will be published this year. Given that life is short, I think I will get to it. Also, I think the above posted is a charming picture.

When it rains, it pours.

When today started, I had one audition booked for next week. The kind that I just scheduled, not submitted for. Now I have three auditions booked for next week. With two on the same day. And I got them from submitting. And now I'm all panicked and agitated.

I don't consider auditioning to be my strong suit. And very, very rarely do I find it fun. I need to get over all this, I realize. But I wasn't expecting to have to do it all next week. And one totally threw me off since I submitted to them in, I don't know, October maybe?

I am, of course, prepared for none of it. Which is my own fault, without a doubt. I think I know what I am going to do for each one, so we're a step ahead of last time already. But I would hardly say the plan has formed beyond that.

But, of course, I've already thought about what would happen if I got each of them. Or any of them. Jumping the gun, I know. I can only do one of the three projects (if I'm fortunate enough to land any of them) because they're all theatre and they all interfere with one another. As luck would have it, too, it then becomes a matter of prioritizing: one is a good career move (I think), another is a good financial move, and the third is a consolation prize but would definitely make me a better actress.

Nothing happening in your career is frustrating. But something happening in your career could be just as challenging...

Getting an audition is just the beginning of the battle. If you're fortunate enough to get a foot in the door, what do you do next? This is what I'm still learning. And I will let you know what I figure out.

Politicians are tricky creatures.

All this budget previewing is getting old. It's an obvious attempt to lessen the impact of a giant deficit when the government officially announces it today. I'm not sure it's going to work, but every article I read about what's already been revealed suggests that the actual announcement will be without surprises, having already been covered ad nauseam by every major news outlet in the country.

The latest is Team Harper's attempt to make nice with all of us who care about the arts. You remember, all those people he insulted back in September. Apparently now Arts and Culture have been deemed worthy of $160 million over two years. I, for one, am skeptical that the Harper government has learned the value of the A&C sector, if you will. I think it smacks of throwing money at a PR problem in the hopes it will then go away.

And I'm not so sure of claims by James Moore, the new Canadian heritage minister, that if everyone else votes against the new budget "it will clearly show they were liars when they presented themselves as protectors of artists." While Arts and Culture are important, I don't think any of us flatter ourselves to think we are the top priority in any government budget. If the Bloc, the Liberals, and the NDP vote against the budget, I can't imagine it will be taken as a personal hit against artists so much as opposition to spending money we don't necessarily have.

But I could be wrong. What do you think?

Two coffees in and no hope for brilliance.

This is my favourite thing on icanhascheezburger today. Super smart, I know.

Some days I arrive at my blog directly, some days it's in a roundabout fashion. Today is the latter. I blame the plethora of interesting things on the interweb. Also, I just spent some time contemplating Praxis Theatre's production of Stranger, which will be posted soon somewhere else. I will link to it then. But the short version is that it's a really beautiful, well-done show and you absolutely should not miss it.

In other news, Mary Louise Parker's latest foray onto a Broadway stage has been met with a not-at-all-good review in the New York Times. This breaks my heart because I think she's wonderful (I would secretly really like to have her career). But the real reason I am linking to it is the tone of the review: it just sounds so disappointed. There is nothing worse than having to write about a show that you so wanted to be good and it just isn't.

Also, as we are in the midst of award show season (ick) I thought I would note that someone has actually seen all the Academy Awards best picture nominees. And it definitely isn't me. Kathryn Laskaris managed to sit through all five in one weekend with her 16 year old son. Read about it here. And I really want to see Slumdog Millionaire.

But tonight I am going to see Bride Wars with my good friend, Pilates Pocahontas (because pilates is basically what she is doing with her life and she looks like Pocahontas). I cringe a little just typing that. I enjoy Anne Hathaway, but I am not optimistic. This was not my idea. But I'm hoping it will, at the very least, be fun. Wish me luck.

I promise more meaningful posts when I regain the ability to focus. And I have another audition coming up, so that should be entertaining. Meanwhile, go see (or do) something exciting and tell me about it!

And I thought I was lost and confused...

I don't have a whole lot to say today and was planning (am still) to tinker with my blog formatting (I am still new at this, I don't speak html, and I don't love el blogo yet). Then I was bored and surfing the web and I saw something I felt merited blog postage.

So, my current day job contract is up at the end of the coming week (anyone hiring?) and, as a result, I am hunting for new opportunities. In the course of investigations I have, of course, been through the classifieds, and what should I come across but multiple posting with titles like "Serious actor launching career" or "Actress/Model seeking work." I click on them because I am intrigued. I refuse to link to them because I am appalled.

Basically, they are all the same thing: several bad photographs (some semi-nude, almost all suggestive) of people who look like they haven't got a clue, an email address, a list of their skills and "training," and links for websites, resumes, etc. So I follow a few of them because I really want to know who thinks that posting on classifieds is going to get them a "serious" acting job. Some have taken acting classes, it seems, but not necessarily from reputable teachers/schools. And whoever told one girl that she needed to list her measurements on her resume should be banned from advising all aspiring actresses in the future.

It is so easy to be taken advantage of in this industry. And I don't know whether people chose to post this information in the classifieds on their own or if someone suggested it (I am not under the impression that anyone has ever gotten a real acting job like this, please correct me if I'm wrong), but it's kind of pathetic. And mostly sad because, well, it doesn't seem like these people have any idea about how to get the ball rolling (and I say that as someone who is frequently also at a loss). I don't even know what else to say, I wasn't aware that people did this.

This isn't, obviously, a well thought out post...more of a ramble, really. But, I guess my point is, don't we all, in this community as well as others, have a responsibility to help along the next generation? To mentor those who haven't yet accomplished what we have so they don't wind up deluding themselves or looking silly? I believe so. And while I haven't come that far, I certainly have tried to help those I can (and my little protege is doing quite well on her theatre school audition tour). And I am always looking for someone to show me the way...So, if you are in a position of some power or if you know anything at all, get out there and share the wealth. So people don't post crazy things in classifieds and so I don't lose my mind.

39,560 reasons to invest in the arts...

Theatre Passe Muraille, one of the birthing places for many of Toronto's independent theatre companies, announced yesterday that it finished its fiscal year with a $39,560 surplus. This followed a year when the financially strapped TPM had to call the city of Toronto in for help. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that's pretty impressive.

Even cooler than that is TPM's membership in the Creative Trust program, which will match their surplus to create a Working Capital Reserve Fund. They will continue to match surpluses for the next two years in order to grow this fund. Basically, this translates into the continued success and health of Theatre Passe Muraille and more opportunities for all of us theatre artists (and audiences) here in Toronto.

This is proof, too, that investing in the arts can pay off and that theatres are sustainable. Isn't it nice to hear good news amidst all the economic doom and gloom?

As a thank you to their Toronto audiences, TPM is offering all tickets to their current production, them & us, for $15. For more details on this, click here. To read the whole press release, click here. And, in case you needed one more, here is the story on Torontoist, too.

It's nice to know that there are people out there who believe the arts are worth supporting. And that not all of them are necessarily artists.

All the best to Theatre Passe Muraille for another great year!

Ten short days to Shakespeare, or, in which I almost burn RADA to the ground...

There was a conversation on Twitter yesterday that reminded me of this story so I thought I would share it. It's absolutely one of my favourite theatre experiences. And one of my best quick thinking recoveries.

I ended up at RADA through a study abroad program run by my university: every semester our drama department sends 16 lucky students across the pond to wreak havoc on a British institution while its posh and proper teachers attempt to reign them in. It all leads to a very spirited and highly educational semester, I can tell you. And the culmination of this acting school marathon is the mounting of a full scale production of one of Shakespeare's plays. In ten days. From casting to opening. Ten days. Sleep, you say? I laugh in the face of sleep (or I lie on the floor eating mashed potatoes out of a ziploc bag because I am delirious. More on facebook, I'm sure).

This is probably the least attractive picture ever taken of me.
I'm not sure why I'm posting it here, but it certainly illustrates the point.

Our chosen play (though not chosen by us) was Much Ado About Nothing, which is one my favourites. It was set in a Great Gatsby-esque mansion post-WWI, performed in the round in the Geilgud theatre (the black box theatre above the RADA bar. Yes, there is a bar. But no, it isn't really relevant to the story), fully designed, fully teched, completely and utterly insane. It was definitely the most beautiful production I have ever been a part of (and one of the most educational, to be sure). It was also very well received and reviewed by the Dean of the RADA in its brief invited guest only run. Here is how we got there in ten short days:

Day One:
Casting announced. Half the group whines, half rejoices. Standard fare for the posting of any cast list, to be sure. Eventually everyone pulls it together because a) you aren't allowed to quit, b) whining doesn't change anything, and c) we've been living on top of each other for four months by now and further complaints are likely to be met with a punch to the face. No one wants to leave RADA needing a nose job.

I rank amongst the jubilant. Call me Dona John. It has a nice ring to it. I wanted to be Beatrice and thought I might be Hero, but this? This is way cooler. Shakespeare didn't quite write it this way but it will work (it does work). It remains to this day one of the most challenging and gratifying roles I have ever played. In short: I am a badass.

Day Two:
Creating relationships 101. There will be relationships on this stage, not just actors reciting lines at one another!!! Enter scary director. A lot of walking in circles ensues. Literally.

Power blocking begins, from top to bottom. It will, of course, change 17.3 million times in the following eight days but that doesn't stop us from running it at least as many times in the interim. The mood is jovial, no one has turned on anyone yet.

Day Three:
Working scenes endlessly. Dazzling Darren comes to teach us all relevant choreography. Oh yes, he is dazzling. And so is the dancing. But I don't get to do the Charleston because Dona John is a big party pooper. In response, I sulk in a corner. I really wanted to do the Charleston. I am angry. Until I become the Dance Captain. A curious development. I am curious but I don't complain.

Day Four:
Imelda Staunton is teaching a masters class in the room next door. Ability to focus on task at hand is non-existent. We crowd the hallway as nonchalantly as 16 people can crowd a narrow corridor. We act oblivious. "What? Imelda Staunton? Oh, I hadn't heard. Well, isn't that nice..." Right. There is still a kink in my neck from trying to peek into her room. Finally, she emerges. She is four feet tall. I swear it's true. She asks what we're doing.

"Rehearsing for Much Ado About Nothing."

"Oh! I was in that once, you know."

Obviously, we know.

"I hope your version is better than the one I was in."

She departs. Jaws drop. Did she just knock Branagh? Oh, she did.

Day Five:
We work my scenes. I sit in a chair a lot. I don't move, people move around me. I enjoy this kind of power. They decide I should smoke. I tell them I've never smoked anything in my life (I haven't). They still decide I should smoke. I sigh. Fine. This will require practice: I refuse to be that actress everyone knows doesn't smoke because she doesn't know how to inhale. Bring on the cigarettes.

Day Six:
The battle to be off book begins. It is difficult to commit anything, let alone Shakespeare, to memory when you have had approximately 20 hours of sleep in six days. I hate everyone. That vein in the director's forehead throbs every time someone misses a line. We cower, then soldier on. On which note, the boys now spend all waking hours learning how to march, a.k.a. step with the same foot at the same time. Coordinated, they are not. Comic relief, it is.

Day Seven:
I get chamomile cigarettes. These are training cigarettes. Apparently someone has decided that I should not actually develop a nicotine addiction in service of this play. While I am okay with this decision, these cigarettes taste like burning paper. I am told tobacco is what gives cigarettes a flavour. Chamomile is a crappy flavour.

My smoking tutor, Sam, informs me that no, we cannot start lessons before breakfast. He doesn't believe in coffee and a cigarette, apparently. We begin, instead, at lunch. Lesson one:

"The important thing to remember about smoking is that the cigarette is on fire. It's a flaming object. You're going to want to hold it as far away from you as possible."

Brilliant.

Day Eight:
We get a tech crew, costumes, and a theatre. It all starts to feel very real. My costume comes with many accessories, including a fox wrap with a face and a cigarette holder. We re-choreograph all our movements to include these items. The cigarette holder complicates the issue. The director insists we keep it. I sigh. The director is frustrated by everything. I begin to panic that I am not up to this and am actually not a good actress at all. I contemplate alternative career choices; there are none. I comfort myself with the fact that I look gorgeous (and am not at all vain) and am flanked by a pair of tall, dark, handsome men. If nothing else, at least I will look good.

Dona John and Borachio. Having minions is where it's at.

Day Nine:
Tech/Dress rehearsal. Cue. Hold. Cue. Hold. For twelve hours. We have managed to amass a staggering number of tech cues in the last nine days. I marvel at the tech ninjas doing stealth warfare around me. I am then distracted by my fox with the face. And feet. The feet are worse than the face. This begins to wear thin at around 10 PM. I miss my bed. But we decide it is all worth it to hear our posh British stage manager, Lucy, coming over the intercom in our dressing room:

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Much Ado About Nothing company, this is your half hour call. Half hour."

In some small way, we have arrived.

Day Ten:
Nothing like getting in those last six hours of dress rehearsal before call. Of course, at this point we no longer need sleep. We survive on caffeine and adrenaline. And chamomile cigarettes. We are primed and ready to go.

We open. The boys and I do shots of whisky in the dressing room. Our rationalization is that we enter coming home from war. We're getting into character, stop judging us. On stage things are off to a good start. I gaze longingly (or stare piercingly) at Claudio: Dona John is in love with him, if only he knew. So is Don Pedro. Go figure.

We come to my big scheming scene. I toy with my minions, lamenting Hero's existence. Borachio grabs my cigarette, which is in its holder. This angers Dona John; I wear the pants here, even if I am in a dress. I grab the cigarette back. My lit chamomile cigarette dislodges from its holder and cuts a trajectory over the heads of half the audience and land in the middle of the space. Which is, incidentally, where the piles of dry leaves that dress our set are located (No, I am not joking. Or exaggerating. Not even a bit). It is Fall outside, these aren't fancy theatre magic dry leaves but actual leaves that fell from trees outside, dried on the ground, and were gathered up by our designers in green garbage bags. Don't worry, though, the leaves have been fire-proofed. Although the detailed description I never received about how exactly one fire-proofs dry leaves leaps suddenly to mind.

In the nanosecond after it happens, I hear the director (who is, of course, seated next to the Dean of RADA) inhale sharply and hold it. What I don't hear is screaming. Like the kind one might associate with being scorched by an airborne chamomile cigarette. Nor do I see flames or smell smoke. I take this in and decide I should just keep going as if the flying cig were part of the blocking. It is, after all, tricky to ad lib Shakespeare, even in prose form. We finish the scene without incident and head toward our exit, in the direction of my still lit cigarette.

I see an opportunity in this ember on the floor. It lies directly in my path. So, without missing a beat, I deliver the line about wishing the cook would just save me the trouble and poison them all while grinding the little sucker into the stage floor. While wearing my roommate's $400 custom fitted character shoes. I will check the soles later for scorch marks. I leave the stage exuberant.

As we learned on day one: I am a badass.

Dona John and Conrad (a.k.a Sam the smoking tutor)

An exciting morning!

My blog got a lot more traffic than usual since I posted my interview yesterday--I am holding Rob responsible. Very cool. Both that and the great comments were a pleasant surprise this morning. I have a post planned for later today, but since I haven't yet gotten to it, I just wanted to say thanks! Oh, and keep stopping by, it only gets better from here!

Better know this blogger.

My blogger friend Rob over at Inukshuk Adventure posted this interview some time ago and I decided to play, too. So here is my interview--Rob being the interviewer. And let me just say, I am impressed with the questions he came up with given that we don't actually really know much about each other. The interweb is neat. And yes, I do realize this is somewhat reminiscent of those survey things from when I was 13.

Me, at the Bethesda Fountain in Central Park, circa 2007

So you are an artist of the performing kind with a day job, to pay the bills presumably. How do you keep the right balance of time and energy to feed both?

I think of my life lately as a daily battle between the things I want to do and the things I have to do. Some days being an artist wins the battle, some days not. And it's a battle because I haven't entirely got the "balance" part figured out yet. There is a learning curve.

Balancing the time is, for the moment, easy since I spend much of my day at a computer with liberal internet access at a job where I am not frequently busy. My energy is more prone to waxing and waning, but having both aspects of my life helps to keep me going. If it's been a tough day in the artist's world, the day job is frequently a good distraction. Likewise, when I am frustrated with my day job, I can remind myself that it is, after all, just a day job. And the system breaks down on occasion. I think most artists have an idea of this going in.

The corner of the stage at The Globe.

But really, it is all kept in check by the knowledge that this being an artist is a process to be taken one day at a time and by the gentle reminder to be patient, it will all turn out in the end.

You are a fellow Torontonian and with 50% of the locals having been born outside of Canada, what would your family tree reveal?

Unfortunately, not as much as I would like. I don't know a great deal about where my family came from, one side of it, at least. I wish I knew more--I think roots are important. And my own personal experience has been a more modern, strictly North American version of an immigrant tale, which the family tree can hardly tell.

My father's family has been in Canada for generations, though at least part of it originally hails from Scotland. There is an old newspaper clipping somewhere in my parents' house about one of our relatives being out west during the gold rush. But, alas, I know none of the details.

The wall at Ellis Island bearing my great grandparents' names.

On my mother's side, my grandmother's parents landed at Ellis Island in the 1920s, I believe, where their names can now be found on one of the walls honouring the multitudes who crossed the ocean in search of a better life. Their journey began in Italy and ended in Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, where they raised my grandmother and her two sisters, twins. My grandfather's family called the Soo home, also, after leaving Warsaw, Poland in the mid 1920s. There they met and the rest, I suppose, is history. I often wonder what it was like, coming to the New World, when it was still known as such.

My own story reflects, I think, a more modern trend in Canadian immigration. I was born in Toronto and lived here until I was 9.5 years old, at which point my family moved to Michigan. People often assume that our country and our southern neighbours are so similar a 9.5 year old would hardly notice the difference between one and the other, but they would be wrong. It was an early traumatic experience on many levels, most of which I am still sorting out to this day (and not the least of which might include my having been a child of French Immersion prior to said move). On the other hand, it provided me with many opportunities I wouldn't have had if we had stayed. And it was always very important to my family to keep our connection with our home and native land. So now, many years later and now a dual citizen, I am back in the city in which I was born.

Toronto, being the fifth biggest city in North America, is known for its multicultural mix. With this in mind what are your favourite Toronto things?

One of the joys of being a "newcomer" of sorts is that I am still discovering what I love about this city--it's changed a great deal since I was 9.5. Some old favourites have endured: the Leafs (and I am young enough still to believe they might just win the Cup in my lifetime), Harbourfront, St. Lawrence Market, Future Bakery, the Islands. And I am constantly adding to the list--the city has more to offer than I can possibly keep up with. In the category of new attractions I enjoy: Toronto FC, Ghandi (the best roti on Queen West), Union Station (which may seem like a strange thing to love, but I enjoy the possibilities it presents), and all the theatre tucked away in little corners all over the city. I love the pace of life here and the fact that wool socks and sweat pants are socially acceptable as streetwear. Silly as it is, I love that people smile. And the green spaces--no major metropolis I have been in has near as many wild places as Toronto. Toronto has its own distinct character, much the way that New York City and Paris and London all do, and that is my favourite thing about it.

What drew you to blogging and what do you enjoy about the blogs you visit?

Three things can be credited for my presence in the blogging world: boredom, frustration, and Penelope Trunk. I started my blog because I was bored. I figured it would at the very least kill some of the seemingly infinite time I had on my hands. And in the boredom that helped spawn the blog was frustration at being unable to find the kind of blog I was looking for--a blog about theatre written by someone who is still figuring it all out. There are a lot of blogs out there by people who are established in the theatre world (and don't misunderstand, most of them are quite brilliant). But I'm interested in hearing about people on the cusp, getting a grip, figuring it out--where are my classmates in all of this? And I was frustrated that I couldn't find it so I decided to stop being frustrated and to write it instead. As a result, I have since found a lot more of it. Which is really cool. And finally, Penelope Trunk says everyone should have a blog.

The neat thing about reading blogs, especially the ones that are written by an individual, is that people are far more candid online than they generally are in life. I appreciate people's humour, honesty, wit, and anger. It's an interesting window into someone's life. And mainly, I am interested in people. What makes everyone tick? What are their stories? What are they afraid of? What moves them? What enrages them? As an actress, I am always telling stories--I like to believe that everyone has one.

Stockholm, as viewed from the promontory

I've lived in a few places and travelled to a few more, so I'm always keen to hear of others' travel experiences. Where have you travelled and what places are on your must see list?

I want to see the whole world! I love to travel and have lived in a few places myself--I spent my university years roaming a few parts of the planet. I would take off by myself not knowing anyone at the destination. I studied/lived in both London and Paris, venturing into the environs as frequently as finances permitted. I rode trains to Monaco and Italy and the Alps. I spent hours on buses in the English countryside and Wales. I flew to Dublin and to Stockholm. I've explored much of New York City and Hawai'i. It was all exhilirating for a while. Now it seems a bit exhausting to do by myself. So when I venture to the parts of the world I haven't yet seen, I want to share it with someone.

My must see list changes with the seasons. While I want to see the world in its entirety, I think it would be a shame to get halfway around the globe without ever knowing what's in my own backyard. I haven't seen much of Canada beyond Ontario and Whistler. Newfoundland and the North are high on the priority list.

Roses for Mark Rylance's final bow at The Globe.

I think it is much easier to know where you're going when you figure out where you came from.

And now, if anybody else would care to join in the fun, here are your instructions:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. (I get to pose the questions).
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions and let me know when you have posted it, so I can link it.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Take five to use your brain, please.

First an actor accidentally slits his own throat, now a director shoots another actor in the head during rehearsal. Are we all so busy that we can't take five minutes to CHECK OUR PROPS??? Even a prop weapon is a weapon and taking the few minutes to check that things are as they should be with it might save someone's life. Just saying.

A rant rearranged...

created using http://www.wordle.net/

At Last.

Belize: All day today it's felt like Thanksgiving. Soon, this...ruination will be blanketed white. You can smell it--can you smell it?
Louis: Smell what?
Belize: Softness, compliance, forgiveness, grace.

Tony Kushner
Angels in America: Millennium Approaches

A rant to precipitate change...

I really, really dislike not having an internet connection chez moi. The plan to go web-less was originally conceived as a cost-savings measure and was feasible, given that I surf from 9-5:30 Monday to Friday. But since I've gotten more heavily involved in the online community this plan leaves me feeling very disconnected on the weekends, as if I'm missing some very important appendage. It must be remedied in the coming weeks, time to bite the bullet and succumb to my www(dot)addiction. Because now I have spent the first two hours of my Monday catching up on everything I missed over the weekend and well, that's just silly.

Or maybe I'm just grumpy because I got all the way through the hundreds of posts in my Google Reader before blogTO posted today's Morning Brew. What can I say, it's how I like to start my morning.

There is more to this post, though. This one is about politics. Again before noon, I know. I apologize. But I can't help it. It's in the air. Can you feel it? Like electricity, crackling, igniting...sending shock waves through the populace. It is the eve of an historic event and the world is watching.

As Capitol Hill prepares for the inauguration of the 44th President of the United States of America the national news networks seem unable to report on anything else. Other events of global importance are occurring, to be sure, but there is nothing to top this. It is literally all anyone can talk about. Well, almost. A few people up here in the Great White North seem not to have forgotten that our very own government will be back in the office in the coming week. Whether or not it will be as glamourous, as exciting, as momentous, or even as productive as the political process occuring to the South remains to be seen. I imagine not. Nevertheless, the return of Stephen Harper to his throne office should be of some significance to those of us residing in Canada as, following a deep freeze in government only barely matched by our frigid winter weather, change may be on our door steps, too.

To begin, no one (at least no one in the artistic community) has forgotten Mr. Harper's now infamous comments about "ordinary Canadians" and the arts. While outrage over his statements and budget failed to sway the outcome of the Federal Election in October, the artistic community's passion on the topic has not yet been exhausted. Not even close. Rather, in what has become to many a war for our survival as a culture, we have set about proving him wrong in every way we possibly can. The rise of the Department of Culture has certainly helped in the call to action and now arguments about the reality of living and working as an artist in Canada are just about everywhere.

The latest example is an article in the Toronto Star, part of a series examining the lives of Canadian artists, extolling the virtues of other government's relationships with their artists and proposing some changes to our own troubled association. I realize that in these darkening economic times supporting the arts seems rather indulgent and unessential, but the reality is that culture create jobs. No, they are not automotive or industrial jobs but their value is no less and the product they create is equally as exportable and profitable. How do we decide, really, who deserves a "bailout?" According to the Star, last year arts and culture generated $84.6 billion in economic activity, which is approximately 7.4% of our GDP, and "employed 1.1 million Canadians directly and indirectly." Isn't that worth supporting?

And heading into the battle over the budget is a new leader, arguably a cultural contributor himself. Michael Ignatieff heads to the Hill as the new leader of the Liberals when Parliament at long last resumes later this month. Ignatieff, who could perhaps be placed amongst the "gala-going elite" moreso than most of us humble artists, has one of the most impressive C.V.s in Ottawa. Amongst his many accomplishments are sixteen books, including three novels. One of the most recent, The Lesser Evil: Political Ethics in an Age of Terror, has been dispatched to Mr. Harper as required reading by one Yann Martel, who almost a year ago vowed to send Mr. Harper a new book every two weeks for as long as he is prime minister. While there has been little talk of the Coalition by Mr. Ignatieff in recent days, Mr. Ignatieff writes in his book that "liberal states cannot be protected by herbivores." In light of such, I would encourage him to go for the jugular...

Finally, the political buzz is that the soon to be President Obama will be heading North to see us in the near future. In his attempts to temper expectations amongs the American people, which have soared beyond proportion and reason since the election, Obama has Canadians wondering what his administration might mean for us. While this interdependence is unfortunate in many respects (they could inadvertently make things much worse here, as we could to a lesser extent there), it is what keeps the lines of communication open. It is, I think, what keeps us from killing each other. At any rate, Roy MacGregor at the Globe and Mail has some excellent suggestions for beginning the conversation between the American head of state and ours (oh wait, he isn't really, is he?...scratch that). It is an excellent look at the paradoxes of Canadian politics and of the Canadian character. Certainly an important introduction to any visiting diplomat. At the very least, he'll be familiar with The Hockey Song.

Suffice to say, changes are taking place all over and with greater speed than most of us can wrap our heads around, even in this post-twitter global village we inhabit. The whole thing is, in many ways, a mess. It would almost be laughable if it weren't so serious. But there is something in the wind that suggests we may yet come out on top.

On the one hand, the future is bleak. But on the other hand, maybe it isn't.

The Weekend.

Well, it is Friday and it would figure that I've come down with a nasty cold. I plan to eat some chicken soup and spend my night in bed with a good book. Hopefully it will clear up quickly: there is so much I want to do this weekend! Like go see some Next Stage Theatre Festival!! With any luck I will make it to at least one show and I would encourage you to do the same...Until Monday, my friends. I promise lots of fun posts next week! Enjoy your weekend.

Making theatre more accessible. Sort of.

J. Kelly Nestruck posted this in his Globe & Mail blog this morning. It reminded me that I did, indeed, read about it earlier this week. I just never got around to blogging about it.

The National Theatre in London is planning to broadcast several of its productions live in movie theatres throughout the UK, making the theatre more accessible to those outside of London. Tickets at the movies will be about £10 (which is about what it costs to see certain shows at the National itself). In order to recoup the costs of this broadcast, they are also proposing to sell them for broadcast abroad. The first production in this series, which will be called NT Live, is Racine's Phèdre starring Helen Mirren (!!!!!).

This project takes its cue from a few places, not the least of which is our own Stratford Festival's filming of Ceasar and Cleopatra starring Christopher Plummer. It will be shown in select Cineplex theatres throughout Canada on January 31.

While the filming of theatre is not really anything new, what is interesting to me about the National's project is that they plan to broadcast the show live--no edits--so the audience in the movie theatre will see the same show as the audience in the theatre. More or less. There are still things lost in translation from one medium to the other...but this is sort of an in between mediums idea, isn't it?

Will we see more of this in the future? I guess it depends on how these runs go...I think I will reserve judgment until I have actually seen one of these play-movies.

Theatre is useful.

"We need a type of theatre which not only releases the feelings, insights, and impulses possible within the particular historical field of human relations in which the action takes place, but employs and encourages those thoughts and feelings which help transform the field itself."

--Bertolt Brecht

Lyn Gardner of The Guardian wrote a post today in her Theatre Blog about theatre's role in world politics and events. I tend to believe all good theatre is "useful," and even some of the not-so-good theatre, regardless of how far-removed it may be from the event to which it speaks. I'm not sure there are any new stories, either on stage or in history. I think, for the most part, we are repeating ourselves. We are not inventing new tales but instead finding new ways of telling them. And we are constantly reflecting, trying to better understand ourselves and each other (or, at least, we should be). Given this, as long as a piece of theatre was once relevant, isn't there a good chance it will be relevant again in the future? There must be a reason Shakespeare is still produced 400 odd years later. I think theatre serves a greater purpose to humanity than we may ever understand...after all, we've been debating the art of theatre since the dawn of time.

Dreaming toward a brighter future.

President-elect Barack Obama's open letter to his daughters explaining why he decided to run for president. It's all over the web. And with good reason.


Dear Malia and Sasha,

I know that you've both had a lot of fun these last two years on the campaign trail, going to picnics and parades and state fairs, eating all sorts of junk food your mother and I probably shouldn't have let you have. But I also know that it hasn't always been easy for you and Mom, and that as excited as you both are about that new puppy, it doesn't make up for all the time we've been apart. I know how much I've missed these past two years, and today I want to tell you a little more about why I decided to take our family on this journey.

When I was a young man, I thought life was all about me-about how I'd make my way in the world, become successful, and get the things I want. But then the two of you came into my world with all your curiosity and mischief and those smiles that never fail to fill my heart and light up my day. And suddenly, all my big plans for myself didn't seem so important anymore. I soon found that the greatest joy in my life was the joy I saw in yours. And I realized that my own life wouldn't count for much unless I was able to ensure that you had every opportunity for happiness and fulfillment in yours. In the end, girls, that's why I ran for President: because of what I want for you and for every child in this nation.

I want all our children to go to schools worthy of their potential-schools that challenge them, inspire them, and instill in them a sense of wonder about the world around them. I want them to have the chance to go to college-even if their parents aren't rich. And I want them to get good jobs: jobs that pay well and give them benefits like health care, jobs that let them spend time with their own kids and retire with dignity.

I want us to push the boundaries of discovery so that you'll live to see new technologies and inventions that improve our lives and make our planet cleaner and safer. And I want us to push our own human boundaries to reach beyond the divides of race and region, gender and religion that keep us from seeing the best in each other.

Sometimes we have to send our young men and women into war and other dangerous situations to protect our country-but when we do, I want to make sure that it is only for a very good reason, that we try our best to settle our differences with others peacefully, and that we do everything possible to keep our servicemen and women safe. And I want every child to understand that the blessings these brave Americans fight for are not free-that with the great privilege of being a citizen of this nation comes great responsibility.

That was the lesson your grandmother tried to teach me when I was your age, reading me the opening lines of the Declaration of Independence and telling me about the men and women who marched for equality because they believed those words put to paper two centuries ago should mean something.

She helped me understand that America is great not because it is perfect but because it can always be made better-and that the unfinished work of perfecting our union falls to each of us. It's a charge we pass on to our children, coming closer with each new generation to what we know America should be.

I hope both of you will take up that work, righting the wrongs that you see and working to give others the chances you've had. Not just because you have an obligation to give something back to this country that has given our family so much-although you do have that obligation. But because you have an obligation to yourself. Because it is only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that you will realize your true potential.

These are the things I want for you-to grow up in a world with no limits on your dreams and no achievements beyond your reach, and to grow into compassionate, committed women who will help build that world. And I want every child to have the same chances to learn and dream and grow and thrive that you girls have. That's why I've taken our family on this great adventure.

I am so proud of both of you. I love you more than you can ever know. And I am grateful every day for your patience, poise, grace, and humor as we prepare to start our new life together in the White House.

Love, Dad

Originally published on Parade.com.

Changing how you think of yourself changes everything.

My first year at university the head of the drama department told us that the difference between actors from our school and actors from other schools is that actors from our school have ideas. I wasn't sure what exactly this meant at the time, but I know it sounded exciting. What he meant was that when we graduate, it is with ideas about what is means to be an actor and what it means to be an artist. These ideas are not, I would argue, specific to me and my fellow alumni but my alma mater did take painstaking care to instill them in each of us. Over four years of very intense training, equal parts practice and theory, we developed our own sense of what each of these titles meant to us. Always, we were encouraged to view ourselves not just as actors but as theatre artists.

This concept of myself as a theatre artist was frequently challenging for me. While I have more than a few ideas about acting, about theatre, about the world, I always felt false referring to myself as a "theatre artist." To me, it sounded pompous, arrogant, pretentious...Perhaps because I have seen it portrayed as such so many times. But it doesn't have to be. In fact, thinking of yourself as a theatre artist can be liberating. This is what I am learning now.

Creating a career in theatre is a Herculian task, requiring an iron will and unwavering determination. Any advantage you can give yourself in this pursuit is invaluable; thinking of yourself as an actor only is limiting, stifling even, and discounts your worth to the theatre world. Any well-trained actor is capable of contributing to more than just what is happening on stage (in my opinion not only are we capable of it, but it is our responsibility). And when you realize this, you begin to understand how the potential for a career in theatre is infinite.

I have an unexpected and intriguing interview today for an unpaid internship with an artistic development program. It isn't my dream job; it isn't on stage. It isn't a job for an actor. But it is an opportunity to grow as an artist and to engage in the theatre in a new and meaningful way. It is an opportunity to demonstrate the breadth of what I am capable of. If everything goes well it has the potential to lead to a productive relationship with a prominent theatre group and to further ideas and opportunities. I think this is the modern day version of "paying your dues."

Tom Stoppard's Coast of Utopia was on stage at Lincoln Center in my final year of university and one night a favourite professor (also a well-respected theatre critic and editor) decided to use his second comped ticket for a good cause. Namely, me. It was the best seat I ever had in a New York City theatre. And not just for the fantastic view of the stage. As we sat there talking about my future plans and pipe dreams he told me something I have carried with me every day since: It is very difficult to make a living in the theatre, but, if you want to, you can make a life in the theatre.

So I propose that the difference between "actor" and "artist" is this: to be solely an actor is to limit yourself to the neverending pursuit of a near impossible living, whereas to be an artist is to open yourself up to the possibility of a life.

Mercer and Ignatieff Moving In

I was kind of bummed that I missed the Rick Mercer Report on TV last night. Fortunately, Michael Ignatieff tweeted the link today. Here it is: Rick Mercer helps Michael Ignatieff move into Stornoway. And here's a link to Rick's website and blog. Now maybe he can help Stephen Harper with the budget.

Good Morning!

Where to begin today...I actually have so much I want to blog about that I can't keep up. I had a story I wanted to share today, but I think it's going to have to wait. Instead, we'll stick to fun things and current events. First, the fun:



I found this website via Malene Arpe's Stargazing blog. You upload a picture and they turn it into a version of the now iconic Obama poster. I think this is really exciting. Obama-mania is on. Oh, and that is my no-neck picture in case you were curious.

Next:

CLICK HERE! OR HERE! Simon Ogden of The Next Stage and Ian Mackenzie of Theatre is Territory (AKA Praxis) teamed up for an excellent post about theatre blogging in Canada in 2008. It's easy (and totally worth it) to get lost in the links. Being a newcomer to theatre blogging here and abroad, I found it very educational. The Google Reader list grows ever longer. I also got a shout out! Thank you, gentlemen, you made my day. Now go read it, seriously.

Being Erica.

I have about 3 seconds to write this blog post as I am on my way to further punish my body pilates, but I thought it worth mentioning, mainly because it's brand new so you can still get in at the beginning, that I really like the CBC's Being Erica. Maybe it's just that I relate. But I actually think it's one of the more interesting ideas I've seen recently. And I like her. There's also a blog, which I have not yet had a chance to read. It's on CBC at 9 on Mondays. Let me know what you think!

11 things I learned from my latest audition saga.

Finally, here is the story, as promised, of my latest audition adventure. While it is absolutely ridiculous and I in no way condone my general unpreparedness, I'm quite proud of myself. Turns out the "No Excuses" rule in my life is working. So here it goes:

Backstory to this: I found a really great monologue in a book and I really want to do it for something. I haven't worked on it. I haven't memorized it. I haven't really done anything beyond make that decision. When I scored this audition I was sure I was going to use this new monologue. And then it was the day before the audition. Oops.

1. Keep a book of monologues you have worked on. This makes picking one as simple as turning the page.

I decided to go with the old standard audition monologue. A wise decision, given it was made the day before the audition. And only after a frantic internet search for the text. The plus here was that I actually liked the internet version's cut better than my own, even if mine is closer to the play. This did present a last minute re-memorization predicament, of course. And I feel all this procrastination may have been the result of my well-documented hatred of audition monologues. Or it may have been because I forgot about the audition...

Okay, technically speaking, I didn't forget so much as it just crept up on me. I swear I thought I had more time! Apparently I did not take into account the impact of the holiday insanity on my preparedness. But, in the midst of a chaotic work week, I pulled it together. Sort of.

2. Rehearse your monologue. Remember, a polished monologue takes time!

I located the text of my monologue on Wednesday, memorized it in 2.5 seconds that night (the real reason for choosing something I was already familiar with), repeated it a few times in the A.M. and had a minor panic attack due to the lack of minutes between me and the audition. To calm myself, I decided in my non-committal way to come home between work and the audition. I effectively gave myself a loophole: staying downtown to kill the significant amount of time between work and audition would have forced me to actually go to the audition. Going home meant I could go or I could not go. Nothing like a little last minute vacillation.

3. Every well-prepared actor should have a stockpile of headshots and resumes. You never know when you might need one.

I managed to block the whole impending audition thing out during my day at the office. In fact, it wasn't until my driver (AKA uncle) was standing in front of me with his coat on at 5:30 PM that I realized I had neither headshot nor resume printed. Thank goodness he's a patient man. So I ordered prints online--not the most cost-effective way to do it, I assure you, but I need new headshots so I don't want fifty of the current one hanging around--and printed my resume. All at lightening speed. And as I settled into my heated leather seat for the ride home, I was still undecided--to audition or not to audition? Apparently, that was the first question...

4. Establish a pre-audition routine that works for you. Go into it relaxed and ready!

At home, I spent an hour on my back channeling all my years of Alexander/Feldenkrais/Strasberg/Yoga training and technique--my attempts at relaxation. I feel like I've been wearing my shoulders as earings for months now. It isn't pleasant. Then I dragged myself to the shower, got dressed, put makeup on, checked the clock every other minute--if you've ever done anything by rote, you get how this went. Mindless. Machine like.

And then I left. It wasn't so much an active decision that moved me out the front door. It was more like something inside me just knew I was going to go and said, "Stop making excuses and start moving..." And, really, who am I to fight these forces? So I walked to my local Black's feeling pretty decent about the whole thing. Until: lights out, doors locked. Insert expletive. In my lightening speed, I read the wrong store hours and assumed they were universal. Again, expletive. Defeat. Sort of.

5. A first impression is key to casting: arrive early and prepared.

So I stood there staring at the closed store for a while. And then I decided, screw this. I showered. I put make up on. I told my friends I couldn't hang out because I had an audition. I'm going. The worst they can do is not see me and maybe that will teach me a lesson about being prepared. And yes, I will look like an A*hole for not having my headshot, but I think that would be categorized under "things that are my own fault." It was a whole "you made your bed now lie in it" conversation in my head. And off I went. Being angry (even if it's with yourself) can be productive. It's kind of exhilirating.

I was riding that high until the theatre came into view. Then the panic set in--the tightening of the chest, the short breaths, the whole bit. Here is my issue: I hate being late for anything but I also hate having to sit around waiting for upwards of fifteen minutes. It throws what little focus I have in audition settings. My cure is to keep moving. It settles me. It puts me in my zen place. Or whatever. So there I was, circling the block while reciting my monologue. Trying not to let anyone see my lips moving. Just another crazy person.

6. Thinking of auditions as competitions is counter-productive. It isn't really about being better than everyone else, but about being the best you can be.

Eventually I went in. Still early enough to satisfy my anal retentiveness, but not early enough to have to sit in some stuffy room forever with every other actress auditioning. I don't like the intimidation game, I don't believe in it, and this situation almost always leads to it. And by some miracle, they were running on time. Early, even. Several people didn't show, apparently--I should add that I had no contact number for the audition. I couldn't call to cancel. I probably would have after the Black's debacle, but I firmly believe that the only thing worse than showing up unprepared is not showing up at all. And I took this as a good sign. To the best of my understanding, auditions were scheduled by playing age. No shows means less competition amongst the 18-24 female set. Bonus.

7. Always follow your instincts. When nerves hit, instinct is your most reliable tool.

Enter the audition gauntlet. It was a crowd. Seriously. Easily fifteen people. I was not expecting this (I'm not sure why I wasn't since I knew it was an audition for multiple plays). Secretly, this was really exciting. My audition monologue works way better with a crowd. I rejoice. And then I sit down. Wrong move. This is not at all the right physicality for this monologue. And now I don't know what to do with my hands. Expletive. Too late, I'm already talking. Well, you win some, you lose some. Mental note to figure that one out beforehand in the future.

8. Don't be afraid to take risks. They might work out.

They seemed to dig the monologue. It is, after all, a darn good monologue. And they seemed to be enjoying passing my resume around (score one for my big name university with its even bigger price tag). I relaxed a bit, given that I knew I could handle the rest. I eat cold reads for breakfast. Okay, maybe not, but I do like them better. And then this:

"Can you do a French accent?"

"Yes." (I haven't done a French accent in at least three years.)

"Could you do the beginning of your monologue with a French accent?"

(Internal monologue expletive at exactly the same time as:) "Sure!"

And I pulled one out of you can probably guess where. A pretty good one at that. Confession: I am kind of a perfectionist when it comes to technical things like this. I am actually a big dialects nerd. I was forced at my fancy schmancy school to learn the International Phonetic Alphabet in first year. As soon as I figured out how this made dialects happen, I was hooked. And I am actually really, really good at them. It's the one thing I will give myself. But I like the IPA approach and that takes time, off the cuff is another story. Even I impressed myself by pulling that one off. And acting like it was nothing. This was turning out okay after all.

9. Listen and absorb all notes in an audition. You are here to show, more than that you're right for the part, that you can be directed.

I read for two more things--one well, the other not as much. The one that I read well was fairly easy. I got it, I could relate to it, and I think I took the note I was given in the couple of lines I had to work with. The one that didn't work so well, I should have asked the question in my head when I was given the note instead of assuming I got it. I had seen the side in the lobby before and had already decided the part was not for me. Which was unfortunate because it seemed like a really good part. It was just way outside my realm of experience. But maybe if I had asked my question I would have been more believable than I was. Or maybe some things just aren't believable (see: Tom Cruise in Valkyrie). Or maybe I should just stop casting myself while at auditions--after all, casting directors will probably pigeon hole you all on their own, why help?

And then it was done.

10. Post audition: evaluate without over-analyzing.

I walked away feeling good about the whole thing. Then, of course, the "I shoulda" rant came on in my head. This is the hard part--waiting without going crazy. There will always be things I could have done differently or should have done differently. But obsessing really won't get me anywhere. Evaluation is important--figure out what worked and what didn't and take productive steps from there. But you can't change what's already happened, no matter how much you dwell on it. So auditions ended on Sunday and call backs are on the weekend (ring phone, ring!). I'm cautiously optimistic. Despite all the ridiculousness, it wasn't a terrible audition. And, whatever the case, there will be other auditions. Even ones I will be prepared for! But this rather fubar-ed audition reminded me of these words of wisdom from my former dialects teacher:

11. "Don't worry so much about being great that you can't even be good."

Perfection isn't always possible. Things happen. Don't make excuses. Roll with the punches. Do the best you can under the circumstances. Then, keep going. It's all you can do.


And, as an added end of night bonus, a lazy-eyed, leering, seemingly drunken Eastern European man stalked me onto the subway and, after watching me for five stops or so, he gave me his card and said, "When you have the courage, drop me a line."



I think I'll stick to auditioning, thanks, where just being good really isn't so bad...

File a brief. Or something legal. For free!

The TAPA Blog just posted about a clinic offering free legal advice and services to artists in Ontario. Artists' Legal Advice Services, or ALAS, is a collection of lawyers and law students who donate their time to help address the legal needs of Ontario's actors, artists, writers, filmmakers, dancers, musicians, et al. They generally deal with "contracts, defamation, copyright, trademarks & royalties or other payments." For more information, click the link above, or click here.

This just in: Praxis Theatre = Awesome.

If you're part of the theatre scene in Toronto you probably know the Praxis Theatre blog. One of the best-written blogs out there, it is a source of frequent inspiration for many of us--it is the theatre blog we all aspire to write. I'm happy to report, too, that it (and, by association, Praxis Theatre) is run by a very friendly bunch of theatre artists. And they have offered some wise words in the last week or so... While you're surfing, see what it is they do (other than write a darn good blog). Up-coming: a production based on The Stranger (also translated as The Outsider) by Albert Camus, one of the books I most enjoyed in high school. It's called Stranger. I will be checking it out, you probably should too.

Required (Canadian) Reading

I just finished reading Joseph Boyden's 2008 Giller Prize winning novel, Through Black Spruce. I happen to think it's brilliant...and would be brilliant as a play (because I'm partial) or film (because, well, it would).

Boyden is an incredibly gifted writer/storyteller. His latest effort follows the younger generations of the Bird family; their story began in his first novel Three Day Road. Will, the son of Xavier from Three Day Road, lies in a coma in the hospital in Moosonee. Annie, his niece, sits by his bedside. Both recount, in their own way, the heartbreaking road that led them to this place...I won't say anymore, other than that I highly recommend picking Through Black Spruce up. And, while you're at it, start with Three Day Road. The first novel isn't crucial to understanding the story of the second, but it can't hurt. And they are both wonderful Canadian books.

Bringing the LOLs into 09.

So far this year:

• I've had an audition saga (story still to come).
• I've been hit on by a lazy-eyed, probably intoxicated, Eastern European creeper on the TTC.
• I've forgotten essential-to-my-existence post-its at the office over the weekend.
• I've scalded myself/destroyed my kitchen with black bean soup.
• I've spent an hour and fifteen minutes on the TTC due to a lack of communication with my car service (AKA uncle). The irony here is that I took the subway so as not to be late for work.
• As of 10:20 AM, I am writing this by hand because our internet is down.

Epic fails all around. If we're taking stock of the new year so far, mine may not be off to the best start.

But all I can really do is laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Which is exactly what I'm doing now.