[The Real] Rabbi Syme

    As many of you out there are reading After Anatevka, you might be surprised to know that one of the leading questions I get is whether or not Rabbi Syme (Perchik's teacher and advocate) is based on a real person. The answer: of course he is. Rabbi Syme was indeed so influential, that I felt he had to be memorialized in After Anatevka for he was my first spiritual advocate.

    Fictional Rabbi Syme is based very loosely upon the real-life Rabbi Syme—loosely because my description in the novel is not so much a literal, but more of an evocative recollection and honoring of his influence. Real-life Rabbi Syme and I only spent a collection of minutes together in 2001, but they were crucial minutes. He gave me the gift of delivering the eulogy at my father's funeral service, as well as bearing witness to it when he lead the funeral service, and above all, he gave me an hour of his time months later, reminding me of what was eternal, and chartering a map toward the beauty, strength and individuality my faith. Irreplaceable gifts one can never forget.

    The influence of Rabbi Syme proves another true-to-life maxim: that we never know the depth of the influence we have upon one another. A fleeting moment to one, might bear a lifetime of profundity to another, for better and for worse. So it is in these tiny actions that we must recognize that our influence on earth is vast, has meaning, and should never be taken for granted.

    I include this story from my memory (also included in my upcoming memoir) in today's post because the prayer Rabbi Syme references, the Shema' Koleinu, is not only a prayer that is part of the Amidah (the core of every worship service), but especially significant on the High Holy Days, which are currently upon us.

    L'Shana Tova, one and all. May your new years be filled with positive influence that you both give and receive. Here's to a brighter and more peaceful world.


*


    Two months after the funeral I went to see Rabbi Syme.

    In the Jewish community, a rabbi is viewed as more than just a life cycle overseer, administrator, Bible reciter, or spiritual leader; but also as a counselor, a true community role model, and above all, an educator. The word Rabbi, in fact, translates as “teacher." At the time I’d be willing to admit that I required all of the above from good ol’ Rabbi Syme, a man I’d known for approximately 2 hours. I walked into Temple Bel El ready to order up the “super size me” platter of spiritual needs. Plus, I felt inexplicably close to him, compelled beyond logic to spend time in the company of the sweet, wise man who had, in such a brief collection of minutes, given me the ultimate gift—the eulogy. He had been the cartographer of the map that chartered the rest of my life.

    By the time I got to his office at Temple Beth El I realized, of course, that I barely knew him, and was suddenly embarrassed at my presence there. I knew so little of Judaism, had (unjustly) railed so harshly against it for, up until then, I had only ever associated it with my horrible grandparents.  Still, I entered and sat across from him. Two almost-strangers in two tiny chairs.

    “So. How are you doing?”

What was I supposed to say?

    “Fine, thank you Rabbi.”

I wanted to tell him about everything.

    “How is your family?”

Well well well, Rabbi Syme this is all getting a bit personal! I usually wait ’til the third date to list my favorite Mandy Patinkin roles in order of sexiness, craziness, intensity, beard length, let alone discuss my batshit-bonkers family, but I suppose I can make an exception. How. To. Respond. How can a person respond when “One time, grandma kidnapped me” is, say, the sixth most dysfunctional story?

    “I… don’t really know.”

Rabbi Syme sat up in his chair and nodded.

    “I sensed as much. They were… unusual.”

Rabbi Syme’s Spidey-skills: for the win.


    We talked for a long while that day, Rabbi Syme and I, or at least what felt like it.  It was an odd discovery, but Rabbi Syme was more than my first spiritual advisor, in many ways he was the first adult who, even in the mere three hours clocked together, was more interested in my cultivation of wisdom than of knowledge. I knew that the word Rabbi translated as “teacher” in Hebrew, but this exceeded reciting the periodic table. Knowledge is information—a collection of facts. Wisdom is the poetry inside those facts. Wisdom relies on evocation more than description. It is the difference between two photographs: one that looks exactly the way it looked in the moment, the other that looks exactly the way it felt. Memory through a lens.

    “Do you know the Shema' Koleinu” he asked, as if I actually might?
    “Rabbi, I wasn’t invited to the Bar Mitzvahs or the quinceañeras if you catch my drift.”
    “I ...do not.”
    “I’m kind of a Cashew.” He stared at me blankly. “A Catholic-Jew? An interfaith secularization situation?”
    “That’s very clever.”
    “Thank you.” I continued, nervously, “Well technically I was invited to both the Steinman kids parties and for what it’s worth I played Golde in Fiddler sophomore year of high school—”
    “I—” he stopped me, kind but swift, “I understand.”

    He went on.
    “The Shema' Koleinu is the sixteenth paragraph of a central prayer of Judaism, called the Amidah, which is the core of every Jewish worship service.

    It reads:

אָב הָרַחֲמָן, שְׁמַע קולֵנוּ, ה' אֱלהֵינוּ, חוּס וְרַחֵם עָלֵינו, וְקַבֵּל בְּרַחֲמִים וּבְרָצון אֶת ‘תְּפִלָּתֵנוּ, כִּי אֵל שׁומֵעַ תְּפִלּות וְתַחֲנוּנִים אָתָּה, וּמִלְּפָנֶיךָ מַלְכֵּנוּ. רֵיקָם אַל תְּשִׁיבֵנוּ.

    "Hear our voice, O Lord our God; spare us and have mercy upon us, and accept our prayer in mercy and favor.” Hear Our Voice is the essence of this prayer—and I sense that your voice has always been heard, both of the spoken and the sung variety. The eulogy proves that.”
    “Really?” I replied, not entirely understanding where he was leading me, all I knew was that I was willing to follow. 
    “Well I believe so. What do you think?”

     No one had ever asked me anything remotely like this, and I grew hot and uneasy fearing I would offend him, or say the wrong thing.

    “I really don’t know how to respond.”
    “There is no right or wrong here, Alexandra,” the Rabbi pacified, “it’s just a simple question. One of the beauties of Judaism is this ancient tradition of the dialogic process. Of discussion! Jews recognizing that understanding comes from meaningful exchanges, from challenges, not only with one another but with God Himself.”
    “Oh! Like in Fiddler how Tevye has a kind of dialogue with God!”
    “Exactly like that. God and Tevye have a very personal relationship.”
    “I really like that.”
    “So do I,” he smiled. “So? What do you think of ‘Hear Our Voice?’”
    “We all… want to be heard.”
    “Yes.”
    “And we all struggle to listen?”
    “I think so.” He leaned in. “Hear Our Voice is a very simple request, but it indicates that we want to engage beyond ourselves. It acknowledges the desire to be heard, and the validity of that desire.”
    “Wow,” I gasped. The thought took my breath away.
    “That’s why you are here today, isn’t it? To be heard?”

It certainly was. I nodded.    
He continued.

    “The prayer continues a few lines on: ‘Renew our days, as of old.’ Almost as if the speaker  is a little skeptical: Alexandra, do you think it is possible to recover the days of the past? And I’m not saying it isn’t.”
    “No but…” And then I saw.

    If prayers were only knowledge, prayers would fail. As wisdom, the prayer was true as anything. My father was dead. That was the fact. But the poetry of that fact could continue for the rest of my life if I turned these days of pain into lessons. Yes, the past indeed is truly “passed,” it is unrecoverable, and none of us can truly live there. But the wisdom gained by reflection upon that past is why we are alive. To make meaning. To understand better.  I looked at Rabbi Syme and said as much.
       
    “Do you believe, Alexandra?”
    “I believe you.”

I did—it wasn’t an evasion.

    “You know what I’m asking.”
    “I do. I can’t believe I’m saying it but I do. I believe in something.”
    “Well, good. ‘Something’ is possibility. ‘Something’ is something.”

    I thanked Rabbi Syme and left him that day, never to see him in person again. But his impact would be ever-with me, his name etched upon my heart, and, forever synonymous with integrity. 

May 3, 2016

This morning I celebrated the Fiddler on the Roof Tony Award nominations with my students at Pace School of Performing Arts.

What a joy.

I could not be more honored or feel more privileged to be ANY part of the Broadway community—to recognize the present, and all it offers in this incredibly landmark season.

But what will always linger in my memory for years to come...?

The simple fact that it was actually a greater joy to be in the presence of the future of our art form, hard at work with them on a day we didn't even officially have class. 

On this "study day" we all agreed to meet anyway—that is how driven we all were to grow together... 

Sometimes people lament the future of "The Industry," but I have peered into the time capsule of the future, and let me tell you: if my babies in that room today are any indication?

The future is bright indeed.

Ask Al: Knowledge vs. Intelligence

Dear Al,

A few weeks ago my son completed his Freshman year of University. He is a dance major at a well-regarded institution, and while his dance abilities are (as objectively as a parent can state) extraordinary, his academic grades continue to suffer as they did throughout his high school education. It has crushed him.

I believe in my son fiercely. I don't care that his grades suffer in math and reading, but of course this is the real world! Grades matter! And critically, his academic GPA hugely influences his scholarship money.

The worst part is, I can feel my son "closing up," identifying as "stupid" and "slow," neither of which he is. He is warm, engaging, a social dynamo, musical, thoughtful, and the understanding and command he has of his physical body is incredible. 

As an artist yourself, do you have any thoughts about this? Most importantly, how can I help him respect his individual talents and "smarts?"

Sincerely, 

Mom in Pittsburgh

*

Dear Mom in Pittsburgh,

Whoa Nellie. Thank you so much for writing, because do I ever have something to get up on my soap-box and preach about this!

Society values and measures two types of intelligences: Linguistic (words) and Numerical (numbers). Those are the only two ways we determine “smart-ness” in our children today. In my humble opinion: That. Is. Crazy. 

Psychologist Howard Gardner's has developed the pioneering theory of "multiple intelligences.”  In the original edition of Thomas Armstrong’s (incredibly accessible ) book 7 Kinds of Smart, based on Gardner’s theory, Armstrong identifies seven distinct, measurable intelligences.

These include:

WORDS
PICTURES
MUSICS
BODY
LOGIC
PEOPLE (interpersonal intelligence)
SELF (intra-personal intelligence)

In the revised edition, he adds two newly researched forms of human intelligence:
NATURAL (regarding one's natural environment)
and
EXISTENTIAL. (regarding one's place in known existence)

The theory holds that new intelligences are developing in the human psyche all the time. (Dear Everyone, Please read this book.)

Schools have to manage and assess the learning of children, so they create tests, establish incredibly limited benchmarks. Those SATs and ACTs? They exclusively measure only linguistic and numerical intelligences, and perpetuate the educational myth that anyone who doesn’t succeed in these two areas is not “smart…”

But the creative mind does not progress in a conventional manner, and our culture, as a whole, has bought-off on this concept of intelligence as an end-all gospel truth. Mastery of these "measuring tools" (ACT, SAT, GPA) grants access to scholarships, top schools, careers, and massively affects the future of our children.  Also, the Arts are often treated as expendable "frills" in our public education budgets. Emphasis on SAT scores and 4.0 GPA's leave little time for other pursuits.

Dearest Mom in Pittsburgh, these measurements are of knowledge and not of intelligence. (Particularly intelligence as defined by Gardner and Armstrong, above.)

Knowledge is information that enters the mind as a result of learning. The dictionary says this:

knowl·edgeˈ(nälij)

noun: knowledge; plural noun: knowledges

1. 

facts, information, and skills acquired by a person through experience or education; the theoretical or practical understanding of a subject.

It is not to be dismissed, but it is achieved through memorization and often, mimicry.  Knowledge is easy to measure, thus easy to manage, and judge “smart” children from “not-smart” ones.  I don’t think I even need to articulate how damaging the labels of “not-smart,” “struggling” or, sadly “stupid” can be. Those labels and identities are toxic! Poisonous to the confidence of a growing human being, and can castrate even the most resilient spirits.

And knowledge is not intelligence.

©hula seventy

Intelligence is about capacity. Capacity for understanding, for the application of knowledge in a practical or skillful manner. For example, your son's emotional depth, married with what you describe as an extraordinary command and understanding of his physical body will not necessarily get him a high SAT score, but it positions him in ideal place to be the dancer he aspires to be. Intelligence encompasses the individual child themselves, with all their gifts, depths, experiences, understandings, talents and shortcomings and all their “letter-conditions” (ADD, ADHD, OCD, etc).

Think of it this way: a person may learn and know the steps of a great classic work of the ballet, but it does not mean they dance it skillfully or with expression. One may know the tune and lyrics of a song, but that doesn't mean they sing it with the furthest depth of human understanding.

When knowledge and intelligence marry with talent (innate) skill (learned) and hard work (required), together they comprehensively inform the present and future of an individual. 

Knowledge alone did not create the result. It was how that individual child chose to utilize that knowledge. The development of the creative mind is not measurable. Especially creative intelligence. There are no tests for this, no tools, no software, so don’t even try.  But as parents and teachers, we can encourage creative intelligence to develop naturally and brilliantly in our children; and as individuals, within ourselves.

I had a remarkable student last year in my acting class at Pace University. Let's call him James. James was a student accepted to the University through a program that provided acceptance slots for students with specific talents that weren't conventionally "good" students academically. But grades schmades--James was a great company member, a natural leader, outgoing, charismatic, and so deeply feeling (in fact, one of the most deeply feeling in his entire year group). He just didn't have the language skills to fully express that depth of feeling. He needed another way. It took me a little while to discover James' gifts, but when we entered second semester and the class became more physical -- I saw James in all his glory. I knew immediately that James' intelligence was in the movement of his form. There wasn't a single thing in the universe that escaped him if he experienced and expressed it through his body. Once I discovered that, I knew how to reach him. But critically, I named it for James, in front of all classmates. And I could see him stand taller, and get braver, because (I wish and hope) he felt truly seen and respected, so it gave him permission to more deeply respect himself.

Mom in Pittsburgh, I cannot change the system.
I wish I could.
But your instinct is totally spot-on: your son possesses intelligences that deserve respect. From you, from the world, and above all, from himself. 


One final thought about artists specifically:

Michigan State University physiologist Robert Root-Bernstien claims that most Nobel Prize winners have arts-related hobbies. French Physicist Henri Poincare said aesthetics was a "delicate sieve" that helped scientists sort through the confusion of facts and theories.

    •    Nobel Prize-wining chemist Road Hoffman is also a poet.
    •    Condoleezza Rice trained as a concert pianist.
    •    Leonardo DaVinci invented flying machines and painted the Mona Lisa.
    •    NFL player Rosey Grier used… um, needlepoint, to calm himself before big games.
    •    Thomas Jefferson played the violin.
    •    Einstein said the imagination was more important than knowledge.

Artists see, hear and feel the things other people ignore.

Artists see, hear and feel the over-looked, microscopic, or outright hidden links between everyday experiences, people and things. 

Because our artists, just like our scientists and great thinkers, have to see the world both as it is, as well as how they dream it to be.

Work hard.
Cultivate knowledge.
Honor Intelligence.

Al

x

©hula seventy

Twenty-Nine

It has become an annual tradition (with myself, and I do suppose with all of you) to share my birthday reflections. I must say, this year, both the day itself and the reflection has snuck up on me.

Soooo.

29.

Hello there.

29:

The atomic number of copper

The number of days in a lunar month

The track from which the Chattanooga Choo Choo train departs in the Glenn Miller song.

Saturn's number of years to orbit around the Sun

 29 is a Markov,  Perrin, and Størmer number.

A beautiful prime number (technically the tenth prime number, a twin prime pair with thirty-one, the sixth Sophie Germain prime, a Lucas prime, a Pell prime, a Pillai prime, the 10th supersingular prime, and an Eisenstein prime!) Plus a tetranacci number. YO. 

The number of letters in the Turkish, Finnish, Swedish, Faroese, Danish and Norwegian alphabets.

"$29.00" - A on the album Blue Valentine by Tom Waits.

AND, the iiiiiiiiinfamous N-29 night bus that got me home so MANY a time from Central London all the way north to Wood Green. 

*

You know, every seven years we have a complete new body of cells-- our bodies are literally fully transformed, our cells completely turned over, a complete body chemistry change and a need for unfolding. Twenty-nine is the first step in external integration with the rest of the world. 
It is a cycle. 
It does not come to "get you." 
It comes to present you with an opportunity.

And every age has special things to be known, understood, and worked with. There is no time in your life that does not have validity.

This year I know I actually felt my cells turning over--every single one of them. My mind, my body, my outlook, my spirit, has been transformed. As I stand here, a new body, a new self, I also realize that for the last 20 years or so, I have been in "survival" mode: frankly, using achievement and a driving sense of life purpose to keep away pain and fear.

I am no longer surviving. This year (through particularly uncomfortably difficult inner work), I healed those wounds. I am moving into a phase of life where I can expect more than survival. I can choose to thrive. To build a positive life, throw light along the dark and unknown tunnel of the future full of the knowledge that there is nothing to fear that I have not already met, seen and conquered.

...That is the best birthday gift of all.
To look ahead with such extraordinary inner peace...
              and excitement. 

Words for Interlochen Center for the Arts

"Sometimes a kind of glory lights up the mind of a man. It happens to nearly everyone. You can feel it growing or preparing like a fuse burning toward dynamite. It is a feeling in the stomach, a delight of the nerves, of the forearms. The skin tastes the air, and every deep-drawn breath is sweet. Its beginning has the pleasure of a great stretching yawn; it flashes in the brain and the whole world glows outside your eyes. A man may have lived all his life in the grey, and the land and trees of him dark and somber. The events, even the important ones, may have trooped by faceless an pale. And then – the glory – so that cricket song sweetens his ears, the smell of earth rises chanting to his nose, and dappling light under a tree blesses his eyes. Then a man pours outward, a torrent of him, and yet he is not diminished.

"And I guess a man's importance in the world can be measured by the quality and number of his glories. It is a lonely thing but it relates us to the world. It is the mother of all creativeness, and it sets each man separate from all other men.I don’t know how it will be in the years to come. There are monstrous changes taking place in the world, forces shaping a future whose face we do not know. Some of these forces seem evil to us, perhaps not in themselves but because their tendency is to eliminate other things we hold good. It is true that two men can lift a bigger stone than one man, and bread from a huge factory is cheaper and more uniform. When our food and clothing and housing all are born in the complication of mass production, mass method is bound to get into our thinking and to eliminate all other thinking. In our time mass or collective production has entered our economics, our politics, and even our religion, so that some nations have substituted the idea collective for the idea God. This in my time is the danger. There is great tension in the world, tension toward a breaking point, and men are unhappy and confused. At such a time it seems natural and good to me to ask these questions. What do I believe in? What must I fight for and what must I fight against?

"Our species is the only creative species, and it has only one creative instrument, the individual mind and spirit of a man. Nothing was ever created by two men. There are no good collaborations, whether in music, in art, in poetry, in mathematics, in philosophy. Once the miracle of creation has taken place, the group can build and extend it, but the group never invents anything. The preciousness lies in the lonely mind of a man.

"And now the forces marshaled around the concept of the group have declared a war of extermination on the preciousness, the mind of man. By disparagement, by starvation, by repressions, forced direction, and the stunning hammer-blows of conditioning, the free, roving mind is being pursued, roped, blunted, drugged. It is a sad suicidal course our species seems to have taken.

"And this I believe: that the free exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world. And this I would fight for: the freedom of the mind to take any direction it wishes, undirected. And this I must fight against: any idea, religion, or government which limits or destroys the individual. That is what I am and what I am about. I can understand what a system built on a pattern must try to destroy the free mind, for that is one thing which can by inspection destroy such a system. Surely I can understand this, and I hate it and I will fight against it to preserve the one thing that separates us from uncreative beasts. If the glory can be killed we are lost."

- John Steinbeck, Chapter 13, East of Eden

On doing what you love for a living...

1. Ask Yourself What You Want
Be specific. Figuring out exactly what you want will help you focus on where you need to go. Write it down. What are your deepest dreams? Take them seriously and they will lead to what you really want.

Create intent in your life to manifest your dreams in the physical world. Defining an Unlimited Life Plan (one that expresses all your wildest dreams) is one of the most valuable things you can do. Start with a personal philosophy and mission statement. Make a list of two columns. Label the first "OBJECTIVES" and the second "ACTIONS." Example:

OBJECTIVES: create an identity in my industry

ACTIONS: write an article for a magazine

When you truly commit to your goal, the money will appear.

2. Believe that you CAN
If you follow one piece of advice on your path let it be this: replace "What if I'm not cut out for this?" with "YES. I. CAN." Most successful people have this quality ingrained in them, but anyone can learn. Get "can't" out of your vocabulary. (It may sound cheesy but get it out—fo' reals.) Stay away from people who say "You can't make a living doing that...." (there will be MANY. And they may be people you really love. They may not ever truly understand. It's okay.) Respond with "ah ah ah! I do not have 'can't' in my vocabulary therefore I am going to repeat this mantra instead. "There are people out there who need my services!"
Now say it again.
Possibly again.
This time with feeling.

3. Research
Find people who are already making a living doing what you want to do. read about them, make them into a model for your career and your life. Connect with those people—most successful people are very happy to talk to those starting out on their same path (what do you think I am doing here on this blog, eh?). Also, read any book you can about triumph over adversity; it will help you through those days when you question your choices. Create a support network of people in your field. Try to meet with them regularly; it will help you feel "normal."

4. Pretend You Already ARE Who You Want to Be
And you will become it! No one starts off in any field feeling über confident and powerful. It takes time to build and grow. Sometimes it feels like you're not moving at all. That's okay. There will be other times when you feel like you're faking it. ("What if someone figures me out? Sees through me?") That's okay. There will be days when you are giving more than you think you have to give and feel that no one "sees" you or appreciates it. That's okay too. In fact, it is all okay.

5. Ignore...
Those who tell you it can't be done.
Those who have tried and bitterly given up.
Those who think you are nuts to throw away security and convention.
Those who bully you (including yourself).
The crazy vampire voice in your head that says you aren't enough.

Most people yearn to do what they love for a living, but many believe they can't handle the risks or responsibilities. For some of those people, that might all be true. Frightened people will impose their own fears on you. (They will do it for a variety of reasons). You might need to let go of friends who don't understand what you're trying to do.  Surround yourself with people who support your new choices. Let everyone know how happy your work makes you.

6. Prioritize
Make your work a priority. Your work and your life are not separate entities. You need to have energy to build a career. We have been taught that we must work full-time to maintain a certain lifestyle. Let go of this belief and consider alternatives. Subsidize your income with part-time or contract work. Scale down your living expenses. Ask for help when you need it! There is someone out there right now who can help you. Take a look at the books in the business section.

7. Feel the Fear!
I've talked to many people who have worked for years doing what they love and they still have fear! (I literally had lunch with an octogenarian Broadway legend today who is convinced he will never work again and that the whole world is about to figure out he was a joke the whole time...) I was amazed to find that success sometimes brings more fear-- the fear of living up to the expectations and reputation of previous successes. If the fear is always there, well hell: you might as well learn to manage it instead of trying to get rid of it. Use it. Allow it. Allow it to fuel, not cripple, you.

8. Reinvent Yourself
You are not defined by your current situation. You can start fresh at any given time. After failures (I prefer to call them lessons), get back on your feet and start again. Remember the Japanese proverb "fall down seven times, stand up eight." Writers will be rejected. Illustrators will send out work they hate. Freelancers will have dry periods. Designers will have quotes rejected. Actors will lose a job to someone for trivial reasons. There is always an ebb and flow to success, money, fame, and creative energy. Dust yourself off: Fall down seven times, stand up eight.

9. BEGIN NOW!
Look. The circumstances will never be perfect. You will never have "enough" money saved. Your portfolio will never be "ready." You may never have the perfect space, credits, equipment, head-shots, training. These are self-limiting beliefs created by our inner critic. Convince yourself that you will not have the time if you don't make it now.

Don't make a big production of it. Use what you've got. Ernest Hemingway wrote on napkins. Keith Haring painted subway stations. You have everything in your possession rightthissecond to start moving toward your goals. When you take a small step in the direction of your dream, the universe often takes several more for you.

10. Let Go
Don't worry about your talent or capability. It is not yours to judge, and it will grow and change over time. Do not ask, "Why am I doing this?" or  "Is this right?" Freaking out about what you "should" be doing does not move you forward. ENJOY THE PROCESS. Starting can be the most overwhelming part, but it is also exciting and full of possibilities. Change can be intimidating, unfamiliar, terrifying, and downright uncomfortable. Your life is too rich, and you are too powerful to have anything less than what you truly deserve. You have a responsibility to do what you love every day, to become your most authentic, powerful Self, to share your passion with the rest of the world, and to live up to the spirit that is in you.

The universe it waiting...

Ask Al: Reviewing Reviews

©michelle &ivan hoo

Hi Alexandra,

How do you deal with not so favourable reviews?  
Do you read reviews in general or no?  
How do you not let an individual's opinion affect your art?  

I know, on a personal level, and I know this is the business, it's amazing how quickly one person's individual opinion can completely shake how one feels about their performance and on another level makes them question their work.  I feel that's both the beauty and danger of letting someone see and comment on one's work, it's open to interpretation and criticism and it's an extremely vulnerable place because it is so personal. 
So when someone negatively comments on it (or even comments on something you hadn't seen before) it can affect what was "yours" since the art you make becomes public.

Thanks again,

Lauren


* * *


Dear Lauren,

First of all, I am so sorry that your feelings were clearly hurt, and possibly your pride a bit wounded. But try to remember that first, this is part of the process too and second, even though those words are out there in the Universe, on the internet and more damagingly, imprinted on your mind, they are simple someone's opinion. Yes, ultimately, that is all they are: one person's opinion. 

Everyone is different. Some people have a very developed sense of self-worth and esteem that maintains itself resiliently despite any knocks. But I challenge you to find me that person (let alone the artist) who can maintain that outlook all of the time. The truth is, people are sensitive. And actors are sensitive professionally. And I have never discussed reviewing with a reviewer, but the truth is, they are entitled to their opinions and freedom of speech and of the press is their right. Even if it is more than a little glib.

Tyne has an amazing quote about reviewers:

“A critic is someone who never actually goes to the battle themself, yet who afterward comes out shooting the wounded.” 

Now... that is a touch dramatic, but Tyne can pull it off.

Look. Honesty box?  It is personal. 
I would ere on the side of not reading them if you have a sensitive constitution or if you are prone to the influences of others (even a favourable review can make you get a little bit "proud" and less present in your work if you know what I mean...)

But more often than not reviews can make you utterly despondent. And it is understandable because, as you so rightly pointed out, you have put your heart and soul on the line, you have oftentimes bled for the work, opened your heart, exposed your Self.


Either way, there is not harm in reading them long after the run is established or complete, but feel your way with this. Learning how you personally handle reviews and reviewers is part of learning the business too. 


Above all remember this: You are enough. I promise.

It takes three

What a week.

It took...

A cut pas de deux
a carnival boy crisis
The threat of a show cancel
The great Adam Cooper
The Rodgers & Hammerstein Estate
and THREE Julie Jordans

...to get through this hell of a week, but if you could have been there on Saturday night, feeling the thrill of togetherness, experiencing the rush of an entire company plunging the period, the full stop on to the end of this violent sentence of a week; well... you would know what it feels like to overcome tremendous adversity and emerge victorious. And victory it was.

Saturday was the best show we have ever done. We burst, we radiated, we trembled with the energy--like the pile of ash that remains from a fallen phoenix. Or a collective creature raging against the dying of the light. This one is for us, we thought. This one is for principle, for nothing other than the fight. We are fighting against our fire going out, "spark by irreplaceable spark." We will not let the heroes within us expire. But Saturday? We were magnificent. Because we are magnificent, and can not be spoiled.

The crowd gave full throttle cheers from the first moment, and were wiping tears off of their chins by the end. The audience was on their feet in a way they have not been since Press Night. And we, more than we ever had, had earned it.

Sometimes in this world, we get burgled. We lay our souls open and bare, like a trusting person would a front door, and people take advantage of our openness, of our extraordinary courage to be so, and burgle us. And who knows why? Jealousy, greed, shattering envy, fear, arrogance, carelessness. The list is infinite. But the terrible transparency of truth reveals these dark forces to be brittle and stooping and banal.

What I do know is this: we could not have reached this serenity without all the violence we have known. But then again, isn't that true of everything?

The Fog

"But you see, I have, let's say, sixty years to live. Most of that time will be spent working. I've chosen the work I want to do. If I find no joy in it, then I'm only condemning myself to sixty years of torture. And I can find the joy only if I do my work in the best way possible to me. But the best is a matter of standards--and I set my own standards. I inherit nothing. I stand at the end of no tradition. I may, perhaps, stand at the beginning of one."
--Ayn Rand, from The Fountainhead

I just have to say it. A life in the theatre is a arduous, repetitive existence. It consumes you, it drains you like a vampire. Your life is backwards: constant measuring and metre reading of how much energy you must conserve and utilise at the end of every day. You miss the daylight. You miss office hours. You miss your friends, your family.

The rehearsals are always a positive act of creation, my favourite part really. Six weeks of bone crushing mental and physical labor. Art. Delving, thinking, creating, problem solving, risk taking. Feeling inspired and motivated and alive. Falling into the kind of deep sleep only full living can achieve. But the 8 shows a week into infinity thing... is more than numbing. At times it feels soul destroying.

And nothing prepares you for it. No amount of training could ever communicate how much focus and stamina and mental health it requires. Truly, the last thing I really remember, it was July. Where did it go? It is all a grey mush of headscarves and dancing Jews...blah.

Yet, I swear, I commit to every second of the work, at times I am moved, at times I still feel a love for it. But I've done it over 300 times. Today I sang Far From the Home I Love and I thought to myself "Self, you sang this one year ago today. You stared into Henry's eyes and wrestled with him for control and won. You did it all as you are doing it today. Well. With love. For the 300th time. And in the same costume. Save the gloves. You asked for longer gloves." (Because no one gets on a train to Siberia with gloves that don't even cover your wrists...)

The thing is this: I have worked my entire life, all twenty four and a half years, to be exactly where I am at this moment-- at the top of the profession working on Broadway (or as is the current case, the West End). And after all of the sweat and struggle and tears, I have arrived. I am here. And it is a little disappointing. Some days it's just a job like any other. And it's heartbreaking. And I can't help but admit I want more.

But perhaps this is the true gift of Fiddler has bestowed upon me. It has given me the vision and the courage to have new goals, higher standards, more specific desires. To be a creator. To voice and articulate in every way possible, my own vision of this world, of human nature.

Yes, I have awakened inside this fog. I have struggled through the mist, fought and stabbed into the invisible sky, and won. Won what, you ask? A jewel of knowledge, I shall answer you. The fog has narrowed the focus on the work I want to do. The work I do not want to do. The things I will never do again. If an artist reveals his naked soul in his work, I must strive to do nothing less. Ever. What have we but our integrity? And I will run dry, I will run out of fuel if I continue to give cheaply to others that which I do not have; that which has not yet been created by me. Creation comes before distribution- or there will be nothing to distribute. The need of the creator comes before the need of any possible beneficiary.

And so to The Fog. Again.
For another day.
Fight the Fog Silber!
Fight it Reader!
Fight.

"In the name of the best within you, do not sacrifice this world to those who are its worst. In the name of the values that keep you alive, do not let your vision of man be distorted by the ugly, the cowardly, the mindless in those who have never achieved his title. Do not lose your knowledge that man's proper estate is an upright posture, an intransigent mind and a step that travels unlimited roads. Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark, in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish, in lonely frustration for the life you deserved, but have never been able to reach. Check your road and the nature of your battle. The world you desired can be won, it exists, it is real, it is possible, it's yours."

Today I am...

Who am I today?
Or rather what label, what category, is preferable?

"The actor" is very in at the moment.
"The American" is all the rage!
Or how about "The one who is never on time"?
the female?
the liberal?
the realist?
the aquarium hater?
the one who with the "crackerjack" vocabulary?

I'm asking: what does any of that mean?

I have unpicked my brains for this.
I have glided along the thoroughfares of spiritual banality, the cobblestone alleys of indifference an arrived Nowhere: a town like any other.

But once, way back, I tasted the flavor of a star spangled sky; brief and fleeting, and not to be found in any store claiming thirty-onederful flavors; only in a country momentarily brought to its knees by darkness. Oh pure and unassuming sky, better than any carb-free sandwich, you allow us to fathom a night without power; terribly alone with only our inflexible and intolerant personalities for company.