Riley's blog

Conquering a fear is one thing. Admitting you’re good at something, is another element entirely. History’s “great people” may have found a way to persevere alone, but maybe, like the rest of us, they relied on the people closest to them.

Mildly upset. My stomach was only mildly upset. However, I was going to the dark place in my mind. It’s that place that we all have, where we focus too hard on a particular aspect, and all the things that could go wrong suddenly go through your head. All the insecurities that once whispered, now seem to run, screaming, through your brain. As I have learned to do over the years, I locked them in a place inside, one sure to burst one day, several years down the line, but I digress. I opened my eyes, and lifted my head, and re-entered the safe zone.

This safe area was the security of the people around me. I wouldn’t have guessed it three weeks earlier, but these strangers were now my friends. It’s funny how that can happen after seeing each other every night for an entire month.

Two Rooms was the latest student produced play on the Morningside College campus. There was only one faculty advisor overseeing the production, and the writer was the only outside source. Everyone else – the director, the production team, and the actors – was a student at Morningside College. It created an “us against the world” mindset, as the young students prepared an intense play, almost entirely on our own merit, with only each other to rely on.

“There is something about that family aspect,” Theater Professor Taylor Clemens said. For each play that the college produces, Clemens is the director, and in charge of casting. However, in this production, Clemens only sits back and watches. “There is a relatively small casting pool on campus, so it’s usually the same people in each production. But, you’re always building each other up to succeed.”

Held on campus in the Leavitt Art Gallery, the space was chosen for a more intimate and intense setting for the audience. The only more intimate space in the building was the room behind the gallery, a broom closet for storing artwork. But in August of 2018, this room, with valuable pieces of art, would become the backstage area for the actors awaiting their time on the stage.

The walls around me were completely white and unappealing, a stark cry from the paintings that lay against them. I only believed this to be true. For three weeks we stared at the back of their frames because we were told not to touch them. I suppose that is a small price to pay for college students to be allowed to stage an entire play in an art gallery. Taylor Clemens told us the total worth was somewhere in the “millions.” I didn’t believe him.

That being the rule, however, the art was untouchable. It was stacked neatly against the wall, and all we had were metal folding chairs (once again, folding chairs in a room with million dollar paintings further pushed the “us against the world” feeling). As I began to hear the people filling in the seats outside, my mildly upset stomach became more uneasy. I seemed to be the only one. Everyone else was too busy with their own chaos.

“Five minutes to places,” Grady would say, relaying the message from Jason, the stage manager on the other end of the headset. “Thank you, places,” we would all respond. At least once a night, one of us would respond, “Fuck you, places!” This of course led to laughter – under our breath – as the audience was not allowed to know about the turmoil backstage.

Eric and Khiana, two of my fellow cast mates, would sit silently on their phones. Every once in a while Eric would hold in his own loud laughter, and Khiana would give a sarcastic smile toward the current jokester. There was always a jokester, which was necessary in the situation, as tension was always rising and falling. Some people will always try harder than others. Some people were going through this experience for the first time. Some people were hiding issues that had happened in their personal life. And some people were still getting over the “constructive criticism” from the night before. Finally, we had all come to the most nerve racking part of the entire production, opening night. Now, more than ever, it was important to have a jokester.

In the corner, Madison was shoving a beard on to Grant, cursing about how the hair refused to stay on his perfectly clean cut face. In itself, this was its own comic relief. Behind their chaos was a leather chair, one coveted by each of the cast members. Grady would say, it’s “the comfiest chair he had ever sat in.” He even contemplated taking it for himself, and I think he was only half joking. All this happened before we learned that the comfy leather chair was actually a piece of art, valued at $6,000! Now, Madison and Grant stood with makeup, fake hair, and glue, not two feet away from the “art.”

“You pretty much know everyone. So you can get people, within that small pool, that you know will work well together. So, as a director you foster that relationship, as much as you can,” Clemens commented. “However, if there are people that don’t get along…” He continues, sitting back in his chair with a smirk, “a director can use that to their advantage as well!”

Though I now counted them all as my friends, Madison had been my friend long before I was cast in Two Rooms. She, herself, had felt a lot of stress over the past month, having to pick the costumes for each character, as well as memorizing her own role. But there was no doubt that she was our leader. She had heard all our grievances, as well as Brock’s, who was our Director, as well as her fiancé. She did this while rarely losing her temper. “You’re doing great, Sweetie,” she would say to the cast. Although, sometimes as a sarcastic way to lighten the mood, she would also say it to keep our spirits up.

I remembered this vote of confidence as the lights went down. She admired her work on Grant before pulling her hair back into a pony tail and walking to the curtain. Through all the immense stress that she once had. I found myself comparing her nervousness from just a week earlier, to the stone cold focus on her face at this moment, and wished I could have the same.

As she left, the role of leader turned to Grady, who had removed his headset and got on his phone, though he always kept an ear on the stage, so as not to miss his cue. He always had an ability to lighten the mood, maybe it’s because his role was the smallest. His reactions to the comic banter backstage could make a joke ten times as funny, while the tension would drop by half.

It was at this moment that I began to realize the funny reactions that soothed me were from jokes that I had made. In fact, most everyone laughed at my jokes, or general clumsiness, which was not always purposeful. The jokes arrived at their best when I noticed others to be under an intense amount of nervousness or stress.

I tried to be what I perceived a leader to be. Talk to people, but mostly listen. Most people don’t want solutions to their problems, they would just like you to listen to them. As the drama of other people’s lives, strangers at the time, was unfolding around me, I took in their problems. I listened and quickly forgot about them. Then, when the moment was right, I would direct myself towards them. Finally, through a misstep, or sly comment out the side of my mouth, I would get them to laugh. There always is a refreshing moment of calmness after a successful attempt at easing someone else’s stress.

For the entire month of August, stress mounted on nearly all of them as their other extra-curriculars began, along with the school year. My own stress had been minimal. I went to work, then showed up at night and did what I do best, act. As their friend, I knowingly, or unknowingly, was helping them ease themselves into this night from the moment tension rose on the first day of rehearsal. However, it was now I who needed calming.

“When you put these people together, and you create that family dynamic,” Clemens stated, “it creates a better production that the cast can ‘take ownership’ of.”

Checking on my props for my first scene, I felt as though an ocean was throwing my stomach up and down. However, I could not focus on this, as I was too distracted by my own heartbeat. I must have been breathing hard as well because Khiana, the quiet one, was now looking at me. “You’re gonna do fine,” she said, smiling. I was not aware of my obviously loud nervous habits, but before I could ask her how she knew I was systematically falling apart, I heard the lines leading up to my entrance.

As I headed for the curtain, I took one final look in the mirror. I didn’t want to move. I realized that I had never actually acted in front of an audience, no one that mattered anyway.

I had surrounded myself with film and acting for 21 years. I believed I was good at acting, but I started to wonder whether or not I was just good at reciting movie lines.

As I heard my cue, I was then overcome by a sense of duty, to finish what I started. This carried me through the curtain.

It was somewhere in the the middle of my entrance that I remembered that I was the only one without acting experience. This had been a source of worry from the beginning of rehearsals, but now, it was assuring. We had helped each other along for so long that I realized, those with experience would help me if I got on that stage and fell, figuratively… or literally. At the moment I had that realization, the lights were on me.

“You have to remember; this is an institution where we educate.” Clemens said to me in Morningside’s Klinger-Neal Theatre. “We hope that we can all learn something from each production, and carry it in to the next one. But, if you like the people around you, it will certainly make the experience easier.”

I couldn’t have known then that the fear would quell each night to a conquerable nervousness. I also couldn’t have guessed that I would be nominated for an Irene Ryan Acting Award. I would eventually realize that this was, in fact, something I was good at. What I did know then, however, was that it was the people surrounding me that helped me get up on the stage, as I hope I helped them through rehearsals. So, hold to what you’re good at. If you find yourself unsure of your abilities, ask the people around you for help. They should point you in the right direction. And, if you find yourself in the dark, and in need of focus, remember, “you’re doing great Sweetie.”

This entry was posted on Tuesday, October 16th, 2018 at 7:59 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.