An Acting Life

Archive for the ‘Creativity’ Category

Sad = Comedy

Friday, November 11th, 2011

 

People ask, “You are so funny, Michelle.  Where on earth do you get your ideas?”


How real life informs my comedy act.

 

Doesn’t Quite Get It

Walking with their dog, a young couple.


The dog, a terrier, is off leash.  Terriers were originally bred to hunt rats.


The dog leaps on a ground squirrel, breaks its neck and chomps it down.  Licks her lips.


The young man yells, “Bad dog.”


I stop jogging and yell at the young man.  “No, YOU are a bad human.”

 

Breaking the Rules

At an audition for “Noises Off,” a hysterical modern comedy about a community theater putting on a play and everyone sleeping with everyone else’s spouses backstage.


An actress shows up for audition and gives as her monolog a piece from Medea, an older-than-classical tragedy about a woman who murders her own children.  For god’s sake.  What kind of business sense is that?


Yet…she was so REAL; she blew everyone away and they cast her.


And not me.

 

Can You Die of Irony?

A traffic school for punishing OOPS I mean for “retraining” drivers who have gotten too many tickets.


They hire comics to teach the traffic school because they think they can lure more students if they promise entertainment instead of boring statistics or gory movies OOPS I meant they hire comics “because they think the lessons will sink in better with a lighthearted approach.”


Between the time I got hired and the day I taught my first class, I got three tickets and had to go to traffic school myself.  So egregious were my tickets that I had to go to one of the really bad classes in which all the students  were alcoholic drunks, mostly of the hit and run variety.  But the school did not consider my conviction as a bad driver to be an impediment to my teaching other, lesser, bad drivers; and I had a long, successful OOPS I mean “short and horrid” career.

 

Pervs

An indie short.  The director’s dad was producing.


We were put up on location in a motel, two to a room.  Somehow I got stuck with the director’s dad, Perv-o-matic Man.  While I was on the phone with the FX guy, Dad was walking around the motel room with nothing on, wagging his dick.  Willy.  Johnson.  Rod.  Wang.  Woody.


I packed my suitcase and moved next door with the stoners (DP and Video Village.)  There was no beer allowed on location, so the stoners were toking up.  Seven of us spent the night in the stoner room (DP, Video Village, Mixer, Gaffer, PA, UPM, AC) and no one walked around wagging his tool.

 

Technology

After I typed this commentary, I spell-checked it.  Microsoft Word did not recognize the word “toking.”

Judging a Student Film Festival

Wednesday, August 31st, 2011


 

The slapstick horror of a pop quiz, averted by the magic do-all jacket, out of the pockets of which pop a math whiz, a cheerleading squad, a circular saw, two ferrets, a tattoo artist and the Hubble. The protagonist receives an A from the teacher and the 3-minute film receives 5 stars from the reviewing panel.


The make-my-heart-stop, honest sexuality of a music video portraying a young man, accompanied by the  Arctic Monkeys’ tune “I Bet You Look Good on The Dance Floor,” making love to his automobile.


An ode to Mel Brooks, Abrahams/Zucker and Harold Ramis in the form of an ad for PoopCo.  We adults laughed so loud at all the butt jokes that judges from the 2D art competition came in to see what was wrong with us.  I snorted Diet Coke out my nose.


The lazy filmmaking, letting the camera get out of focus and not reshooting the take; forgetting to white balance in one shot and then adding a bunch of weird colors in post to make it seem like it was on purpose.


The mistakes of the inexperienced—cliché shots (but the poor babies haven’t seen enough films to know it’s cliché) like people fading out from the final scene one by one.


The mistakes of the rushed—a great film, but it was submitted as a FinalCut project file because they “didn’t have time” to master it.


The risk-taking of the unafraid, the bold.  The girl with no makeup talking directly to the camera about wanting to kill her father.


The beautiful student sculptures in the lobby: shapeless raku crabs fighting their way out of a ceramic ocean.  They were so moving that I bought them from the young artist.


How life-affirming it must be to be a teacher of these creative spirits.

One Woman Performance Art

Thursday, August 25th, 2011


Anything with Barbies ™ is High Art.  These dolls are so iconic.

Humans are highly overrated as story-telling mediums.

I want to use Barbies in a stage piece I’m writing called “Julie Lewis in the Circle”.

I meant, “I want to abuse Barbies in the stage piece I’m writing.” Ruin them. Utterly.  The things one can do with a Barbie that one couldn’t do with a human on stage.  Rip their heads off, beat them with a hammer, rape them with a pencil.  Grind their faces off with a Dremel.  Melt them with an oxy-acetylene torch.

Using Barbies allows me to go way over the top in my story of child abuse and its repercussions into adulthood; and yet allows me to keep the audience in their seats, watching, instead of running out into the lobby to dial 911.

Food

Wednesday, April 27th, 2011


Food in the belly soaks up anxiety.  Eat to keep from feeling the pain.  The uncertainty, the anxiety of chaos and abandonment.  The uncertainty.  The unclearness of the path.  The anticipation.

 

The one certain thing is that I can put food in my mouth whenever I feel bad.

 

It deadens pain, but it also deadens all emotion.  When I am full with food, I cannot act (I cannot channel the feelings of the character or of the film.)  Feelings are blocked and absorbed by the food.

 

Comfort.

 

Somnolence.

 

Serotonin.

 

I must starve my stomach if I want to keep my instrument in tune.

 

Interestingly enough, the fat also insulates me from being offered jobs and from the human contact which I need to “fill up the well” of emotions & creativity.

DO SOMETHING

Tuesday, March 22nd, 2011


How can we continue to live in the normal manner when the world is ending with such suffering?

What are we doing about it?



DO SOMETHING

Change

Tuesday, September 28th, 2010


Change happens slowly.  And then, all of a sudden, it happens fast.


I’ve been on a more-or-less carbo reduction plan and a more-or-less detox diet for 3 years.  All of a sudden-no trigger; out of the blue; finally—yesterday, for the first time in my life, without conscious effort, I stopped eating when there was still food remaining on my plate.


Change comes slowly.  And then, all of a sudden, it comes fast.

 

Been doing yoga every day for 6 months.  All of a sudden this morning I could twist 3 entire more inches.  That’s about 10 degrees.  Not little by little, a millimeter here and there.  But, just one day, 10 more degrees.


Things take a really long time.  They take a while to change and then they change in a great leap.


I was looking at—organizing—playing with–pictures of wolves.

 

Hubby said, “What are you doing? “


I said, “Filling my creative well.”


He said. “Where on earth do you get these crazy notions?”


Things take a really long time.  And then, things spiral fast out of control.


I been spending 10 months staring at mindless video games for 8, 10, 12 hours per day.  Playing video games for months; so intense on blowing up asteroids that I didn’t notice the counter was counting.  One day I noticed there was a counter.  I had blown up 162,000 asteroids.  Never realized that before.


But it wasn’t a video game; it was a meditation that took the form of a video game.


I hadn’t been on stage for 3 years; I hadn’t been in a film for 18 months.  My nightmares were all about people trying to kill me.


Without any additional effort, I made a leap one day.   No apparent trigger, though I’m sure there was one.  Slow to slow to slow to a leap.  Finally—all of a sudden–I had a performance dream.  I couldn’t remember my lines; I couldn’t even remember what scene we were in.  Ah, such a relief to be back to the typical actor’s nightmare!  I felt an unstoppable urge to finish all my 3-D work, finish all my armatures, frame all my work.  Finished a basket piece I hadn’t worked on for years.


Then I stopped.


Then I played video games for a while.


Then I wrote about a hundred poems.


Then I stopped again.


I dunno change takes a while.  Then, when it happens, it bowls you over.

Starving Artist Writes Recession Poetry

Monday, June 28th, 2010


Yeah, yeah, how lazy can one person be?!?!?

She is still refusing to write new blogs.

 

HOWEVER.

 

By broad and tumultuous acclaim, these senryu are being re-published for you.

 

At no charge.

 

TwitterHaiku 15:

Starbucks is posting //

Calories. Who cares? I need //

Starbucks to post jobs. //

 

TwitterHaiku 21:

Recession tactics: //

No French nails or hair streaking. //

Fire the housekeeper. //

 

TwitterHaiku 35:

Wearing Gucci shoes //

She carefully steps over //

George begging for change. //

 

TwitterHaiku 40:

Stealing is not right. //

Loaf of bread: six years.  Bank fraud: //

Ooooh, a big ol’ fine. //

 

TwitterHaiku 77:

Baby in ER //

Sniffles turned to pneumonia //

Mom was uninsured. //

 

TwitterHaiku 17:

I was a teacher. //

Laid off. Cancer. COBRA gone. //

Twenty months: homeless. //

 

TwitterHaiku 90:

You must deserve it. //

It must be your fault.  You’re bad. //

That’s why you’re poor. //

 

TwitterHaiku 91:

Stealing is not right; //

Neg-am mortgage loans //

Seem to be okay. //

 

Twitterhaiku 100:

Why am I laid off? //

I’m white and American. //

I deserve better. //

 

Twitterhaiku 18:

No job…can’t buy stuff… //

don’t buy stuff…businesses close… //

no jobs.  Great system. //

 

Senryu 146:

You’ve got twenty years //

Background; but yet, we didn’t //

Think you’d be so old. //

 

Senryu 152:

Come visit my home. //

Chat of art, foreign travel. //

Not the recession. //

Editing Robert’s Book

Saturday, May 22nd, 2010


Julia Cameron says in “The Artist’s Way” that if you’re doing peripheral support of the arts–gallery manager, casting director–then you probably are a blocked artist. Well, maybe that’s true; but nonetheless I enjoy supporting artists as well as being a generative and interpretive artist.

Robert is an acting coach whom I’ve known online for 15 years, but have never met in person. Never talked to him, even, till yesterday on the phone. He complained, on a mailing list we both frequent, that it’s taken him too long to finish writing his book on acting technique. I wondered, in electrons, why he spent so much time posting erudite discussions on technique to the list instead of spending the time finishing his book. I demanded that he get an editor and get the damn book finished. So, now, guess who’s editing Robert’s book.

I do enjoy being a muse to other artists. I think I’ve helped Chrys see how to paint closer to the heart; I’ve coached actors on film sets and gotten better performances out of them than they had been giving. For Lissa who wanted to write but was stuck in the business world, I started a weekly writers’ group which helped her kick into gear. I hope I’ve challenged Mark, a co-writer on one of my films, to be a better screenwriter; I know I gave a voice to an entirely new character for Toni, a dreamy poet of the performing arts.

Cat Shit Attitude

Tuesday, May 4th, 2010


You know how your dog eats cat “candies” out of the litter box and then gets Cat Shit Breath?

 

Well, today I have Cat Shit Attitude.

 

So, I thought I’d re-publish this column from last year that sums up how I feel this month.

 

Some people say you don’t have to be a depressed, starving artist.  You don’t have to suffer.  You don’t have to cut off your ear or live in a garret or die of syphilis contracted while having obligatory sex with your patron.   You don’t have to drink yourself to death or drug yourself to death.  You don’t have to be tortured by demons that pierce your eyes, entering your brain, causing confusion and compelling you to paint microscopic landscapes on lima beans.

 

These commentators say the creative spirit can flourish in happy times.  They tell us the creative spirit can exist in a well-balanced human: centered, grounded, cheery, sociable, fulfilled.  First chakra in harmony.  The bottom 5 rungs of Maslow’s hierarchy solidified.  Financially stable.

 

So they claim.

 

These cheerleaders for artists write happy self-help books and make lots of money lecturing on how to be a happy artist.  How to overcome your own inner blocks.  How to re-write the movies in your mind.

 

The people who make these pronouncements are overly medicated.

 

They take too much Prozac.

 

They are not in touch with reality.

 

In high probability, anyone who espouses the happy artist theory is nuts.  They could possibly be right, but…

 

…but…

 

…but I must say to you that since I have gotten breast cancer, uterine cancer, a life-threatening breathing disorder, cataracts, a huge (expensive) abscess in my jaw…all this without health insurance; and since I  filed for bankruptcy, my house went into foreclosure, my unemployment benefits ran out after being out of work for 36 months…

 

…I sure have been doing a heck of a lot of creative writing!

Restrictions

Saturday, April 24th, 2010


Sometimes restrictions are just falsely restricting.  Maybe that’s why spoken word artists want to break free of rhyme and meter and go with other forms of tonal beauty—alliteration, onomatopoeia, beat, the visual aspects of the performance.


Something you can get very formal and it can become an exercise in structure rather than meaning.


Like my resistance to being given line readings, PARTICULARLY by Shakespeare’s supposed punctuation.


But I found something interesting when I examined how Twitter be used as  a new artistic format/medium.  Twitter sang to me.  The song was “HAIKU.”   In addition to the haiku restriction of 17 syllables in 3 phrases of 5-7-5, there is also the additional Twitter restriction of 140 characters.  For some reason, it exploded my creativity.  In one night I wrote over 200 of them haikus, many of them good.


Maybe this is masturbatory.  Maybe everybody blogs about the nature of creativity and nobody is interested and it’s boring.


Sometimes structure IS the meaning.  Lack of structure, that is.  A la Rhinoceros, The Chairs.  Def Poets?


There is something about restriction/repression.

 

Michelle is..

an actor, performance artist, screenwriter, indie filmmaker.  Her books are available at right on the front page of Reel Grok.

 

Michelle in profile

SHE wants YOU to cast HER in lead roles where sexy middle-aged women have hot affairs with younger men.


Senryu 38:

Many times I’ve said  //

“I love your work.” I was false //

I loved his body //

 

Michelle can currently be seen performing in … well, is currently writing … a multi-media live / filmed performance with elements of insanity. In my work, my goal is to present fictional narrative entertainment that inspires people to change the world.

 

click to see a list of movies with cats

 

Senryu 92:

I wrote a screenplay//

My brilliant, unique story  //

Tits and car crashes //

 

click to read more about my work