I sat for new headshots yesterday. Not many things feel sillier to me. Twist in the chair. Look over there. Look at the camera. Don't smirk. Too intense. Tension in your mouth. Close your mouth. Open your mouth. On and on. Hours of this nonsense. And to what end?
Tomorrow's audition to play Sasquatch in a regional spot for the Oregon State Fair?
Actually it sounds like a good spot. I want it. And not for the money, because the rate is close to a day at Gearhead after the agency gets theirs.
One thing I find lame is when actors talk about a job that they haven't auditioned for yet as if it's ours for the asking. I'll be happy with a callback.
On the set of But A Dream I wrestled with the ever tangled cords from my headphones and the lanyard of my director's viewfinder. I thought of this persistent problem as I walked around the neighborhood this morning. I laughed at the ridiculous sight of me struggling to manage my tools. I was worried that buying a director's viewfinder would make look pretentious. I suppose my lack of dexterity with it kept me looking more foolish than vain.
Also in my thoughts this morning was the shooting of the final scene of London Calling around Ladd's Circle. I was so concerned with the results that I didn't let the shots breathe or give myself any options. By that point I was tired and wanted to tell everybody we were wrapped.
My arrogance has been checked by the results - I now see the need to make mistakes. To humbly accept them as part of the process, not only to learn from them but to enjoy their folly.
I am really really good at getting ahead of myself. Which is sure to provide evermore anecdotes as I stumble forward on this path toward mastery. Hah.
Viva,
Signore Direttore
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