15 June 2008

To be or not to be?

I recently attended a school drama performance. While waiting for the play to begin, attendees were put into a holding room to wait. This room, generally serving as the drama class-room, featured a rather enjoyable noticeboard on one of the walls. There was a quote on said board that caught my attention, I can't for the life of me remember who said it, or any of the exact wording, but it bought about the question: How do actors act when they aren't acting?

This question intrigued me, as many intriguing questions do, and has been something mulling around in my head ever since.

Having spent time in a drama class, and having known many people who have continued with "drama", there are a few personality traits that seem to stem from these types of people. Most are very humanities oriented, choosing to focus on the grey areas instead of the black and white in the science/maths departments. Most have incredible amounts of energy and, at times, can be hard to keep up with. Many of them are thinkers and observers, as well. They generally have a higher grasp on how other people act with each other. Almost all are very confident and comfortable with themselves. This is a generalisation, but it seems to be how "actors" act off stage. They obviously act as "themselves". But who are they?

Actors, when preparing for a role, have to put vast amounts of thought in to many different aspects of a character. Physical aspects, such as their walk, their mannerisms and the way they talk have to be construed, constructed, and practiced to the point where the actor can throw away their personality in exchange for a new one. They have to file away their personality so as to let the character come alive and be believed. Actors must know the stories, the past of their characters. The characters dreams, quirks and interests all have to be explored.

The role of an actor is to essentially abandon who they are so as to become someone else.

How do actors actually create these characters though? They have to be based upon something. Writers must draw upon their own knowledge bank and personality to be able to write about something that is completely different. So too, must actors. To convey sadness to the audience the actor must know what sadness is like and how it feels. So if actors constantly abandon "who they are" for completely different characters and base many of their characters on their own experiences it begs a different set of questions...

Who are actors?
Are all their characters a mixture of their actor's experience, or are actors merely a mixture of all the different characters they have played?

It could almost be seen in either of those two ways.

I think in a lot of ways it is harder for actors to determine who they actually are, which seems to run contrary to the personality traits they display. Many of the better "actors" that I know have very distinct character traits that stand out and can easily be described. Which raises another question. Are those who are good at acting naturally outgoing and unique? Or do they exaggerate their character traits as perhaps a (conscious or subconscious) reflection of the difficulty they may have in knowing who they are?

So I didn't really go anywhere on this, but hopefully it gave you some food for thought. I am interested to hear people's thoughts on this subject.


"Robert Cohen says, 'all people, and all characters in plays, think about their situation more than about their own personality or character.' This is almost always true about people, and is certainly the way actors should think during a performance. But actors, off the stage, must think about their own personality and character. If you do not know who you are, if your instrument is not limber and under your control for the most part, you will never be a great actor. Master actors cultivate effortless and automatic control of their instruments"
-Anonymous

04 June 2008

Broken footprints

This was a short piece that I wrote last year - I feel it goes well with my previous entry.

Beams of light splayed upon the dusty grass. Air, cold embrace upon naked skin, although warming under the mid-morning sun. The footpath was dull with age, swollen black joinery between slabs, straggly weeds in the cracks. Absent minded avoidance, “Step on a crack, break your back”. Sad chords, weathering a river toward the canals of the ear, the sad lyrics: a boat on the river. She walked in time. Rough, red, brick buildings ahead, their off white colour bond roofs bright in the sunlight, background of blue sky. The buildings of a school, soaked in past lives and crossed paths, silently resting in the peace of the weekend. Absent curiosity, longing to relive memories. Stood at the main entrance, remembered the photo taken for the newsletter, stared up at the high black fence. A new addition, the catalyst for unseen changes.

She continued her walk, her hand gently running along the fence, a deep, satisfying sound of hollow metal. Stopped on occasions, her eyes darting along the ground, remembering the footsteps she once laid there, thoughtful. Made it to the oval, once a smooth green carpet, now a beaten and worn rug. A slow walk into the middle, one hand in the back pocket of her jeans, the other brushing fringe into the crook of her ear. Casual. Thought of the sport she used to play there, games with peers, and then thought about the many hundreds who placed their mark exactly where she stood. The memories of the earth. Remembered her junior years, playing in the dirt at the base of the giant eucalypts - saw they weren’t really that giant. The perspective of maturity. Saw a small footprint in the dust, huddling under the protection of roots. Brushed it away, began its journey to all the other broken footprints.

Christopher.

"I learned just enough in school to figure out that everything is not all there is to know"
-Anonymous

Memories of the Earth

I was on my way to school the other day, as I often am. Normally I just take my surroundings for granted, but this particular morning was slightly different.

I was in a bad mood, which isn't as uncommon as some of you might think. I was ignoring my brother and father in the front seat and had my headphones jammed in. Yup. I'm a polite young teenager, no doubt about it.

So, we were driving along, and I was rather fascinated by the dips and curves of the landscape. There was a particular part that drew my attention, and started this train of thought. We were traveling on a road was going up a slight incline, and one one side it fell away steeply. All around this decline, the landscape also declined, so it formed a kind of dip. If you were standing at the bottom of said dip you would be surrounded by inclines. It made me think of those flood way signs, warning people of a tendency to flooding, and how that place would probably be one, and were it to rain really heavily it would fill up with water. This made me start to think of what the landscape would look like if you took away all the houses, everywhere.

How would the landscape have looked to the first fleet or rather the first explorers of the region. Would it have been covered in Eucalypt forests, with kangaroos lying in the shade? When the road was built, how much dirt was removed? How much was the landscape changed?

Which leads me to think about how interesting it would be if the Earth could talk. Think about the block of land that you reside on. The stories it could tell. Did a dinosaur ever step foot into where your room is? Was your kitchen ever hit by a meteor? Did people once roam the patch of dirt you now call your own? Did they live and die there? How much life has it seen? How much death has it seen?

Christopher.

"Embroidery of the stars
Undress my feelings for this earth
Send me your salva to heal my scars
And let this nakedness me my birth"
Astral Romance - Nightwish

 
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