i've got it

i'm not sure exactly when the moment happened but i think i now understand the readjustment that's necessary when acting for the camera and the difference between that and what it takes to readjust on stage. it might have happened in the last class with the last monologue i did - something from the show sports night, as dana. i actually felt a switch click on somewhere in me as i was about to do it. pow, just like that.

i am painfully aware of this transition i'm making, and that so many genuinely talented theater/musical theater artists that i know never do this because of a myriad of reasons, most of them self-inflicted. i know from whence i speak. that was me not too long ago. but it's not me, not anymore. i am so grateful that i'm doing everything that i have to, to get to the other side of this. this is going to be some kind of adventure.

being able to watch myself on camera every week has had a profound effect on me. the truth is, i couldn't see what i was doing wrong - and i was doing soooo much! even my slate - the way i introduced myself was wrong! and to have someone at your elbow that reallly knows what they're doing means everything, everything. trust me - joanna beckson knows what she's doing. God bless her classes.

everytime anyone makes a mistake or does something that works, i'm taking notes. what worked? what didn't work? how can what they did work/not work for me? of course, everything matters - wearing primary colors and not patterns, keeping the make-up simple and low key, what i do with my hair. i just didn't realize how much it matters. it's a no brainer to say this, and yet i have to say it: it's a visual medium. they're looking and assessing what they see to figure out whether i'm right or not before i even open my mouth. am i comfortable with that? no. do i like it? no. i could philosophise ad nauseum about what's wrong with thinking that way and what it does to society and all that malarkey. or i can take the classes i need, get my body back so that i look a certain way on camera and get to work.

joan crawford had the right idea. more on that later.

i got it!

this evening in on camera acting class, something clicked.

we were looking at monologues that we'd put on camera during the previous class - a scene from a sit-com, actually - and i watched one person after another do their bit and then listened as the instructor joanna gave her insights and carefully gave balanced critique and made helpful suggestions. it was all very supportive and encouraging, a very safe space to do something new and uncomfortable and strange.

when she got to my take, i got really objective and i took careful notes - but something in me balked in spite of myself. joanna said to stay away from patterns and wear solid colors on camera, and that the camera especially liked solid colors. i thought, okay. i'll wear primary colors to auditions from now on. the red dress i chose was absolutely luminous. it looked orange on camera but it still worked. i had on that bob wig and it actually worked really well, too. the makeup was great, the accessories worked. but something was off.

joanna paused the tape and explained that i was giving what the people in the industry would call a soft read. i was way too subdued. then she told me why i should be bigger and i realized i was afraid to go in that direction, because bigger to me meant theatrical and that was always a bad idea on camera. but according to joanna, that's not entirely true if you're doing comedy or even dramedy. so i thought, okay. i'll try it. why not? the worst she can do is rein me in. and that's what you do - you do the lines, you're given direction, you make the adjustments, you keep going. sounds simple, right? it soooooo isn't.

somehow whatever she said sank in. when it was time for me to do the next monologue, i nailed it. i nailed it so hardcore, she blurted, "great read!" from the back of the room. i felt like something fell into my hands and i really didn't want to let it go. all i could think was, i got it. i got it! that transition that i never thought would happen, the one that would take me from theater to film/tv, has finally taken place.

to be completely honest with you, i stood in my own way for a really long time. let's face it - it's a visual medium. what you look like and whether the camera likes you or not is mostly why anyone seriously considers you for a part. so initially, i didn't think i was pretty enough, or light skinned enough. i knew that my acting abilities were largely irrelevant. there's plenty of people out there on tv every week and in the movies and whatnot, they're lousy actors and they're making bank. they know how to hit their mark and they know how to pose and make the right faces and say their lines "with feeling" - and they know how to work the camera.

i figured it was better to stick with what i did best, what i knew. i was wrong.

after class, i went for a walk to think and think and think. i like this on camera stuff. i'm warming up to the whole process, to letting the camera see my thoughts. and i'm working harder and harder on what i look like, for whatever it's worth. beauty is in the eye of the beholder but i think that if it's the camera's eye that's beholding me - that favors me - i'll be fine.

and yes. my gradual weight loss is totally changing the way the camera sees me. more on that later.

another day, another (commercial audition): breakfast cereal!

my agent -- all wiry and full of nervous energy and bounce -- called me yesterday talking sideways into my answering machine, like he had a question in his thoughts. he goes, "hi, bunch!" (why he calls me that is a bizarre little story. remind me to tell it to you sometime.) "there's an audition for Curves cereal," he said like he was telling me a secret, and he went on. "didn't you tell me that you just lost 15 pounds? they want you to talk about losing weight on camera. very natural. chatty. you know."

i'm listening with one ear and i'm thinking, Curves? isn't that the excercise place for, um, all those big beautiful women out there? and right on cue, he goes, "they want real women, all shapes and sizes, not just big," and then i'm thinking, what about my hair and he added, "just so you know -- your hair is fine natural, bunchie. okaaaay? call me!"

i figured why not. at this point in my on-camera life, i've figured out how to relax on camera -- no small feat. i wasn't worried about what my hair would do. it was cornrowed into a bun and therefore rendered powerless. would i oh so tame "natural" hairdo get me a callback? if i did, maybe i had a shot.

this was at house on 15th street and 10th avenue of course -- the place that cast me in my first two commercials -- so it was very much a home for me, no pun intended. i tromped through the wet sleety snow to get there. this not being my first time at the rodeo (and time being of the essence), i made a beeline for the sign-in sheet (beating three other ladies to it in the process), grabbed the lines, checked to see if someone was in the room (yup) and if there was someone ahead of me (yup again), then took off my coat and whatnot as i looked over the lines, took a picture and filled out the card it was printed on. in no time at all it was over: i was in the room, i was jovial, chatty, friendly and open. and then i was back out on the street in the snow, bewildered, not knowing how i did. i could say, i was great! but i'm not sure. i'm never sure. maybe she hated me. maybe my face wasn't relaxed enough. whatever happened in that room, i couldn't take it with me. i trudged off, and with every step, all of it mattered less and less. by the time i got home, it didn't matter at all.

here's the thing, though: my spidey sense is tingling because the palms of both my hands are itching like crazy. southern black folk, you know what that means.

i've got another audition tomorrow -- for anti-aging cream. stay tuned.