Last night was the last night for a dear friend of mine. A send off night as he departs for LA to pursue professionally this craft we all take part in. I’m not always one for being sentimental but on occasions such as these I cannot help but be. This man was a great inspiration, friend, colleague, artist, mentor, and so much more to me.

When I came into acting nearly 2 years ago this man was already considered a veteran to newbie actors such as myself. He was a force to be reckoned with and filled whatever room he entered with his aura and charm. He commanded respect and was gentle and warm to new actors who stuck it through. He was all these things and still is.

He can make you laugh on the saddest days and he can move you to tears with his performances. He can talk your ear off endlessly. My greatest regret is that I never had the great privilege to work with him on a scene in method class. Although I am very blessed to have witnessed his work and artistic growth these past years. A conciliation prize that is more than I could have asked for.

I’ve watched him struggle and I’ve seen him push past barriers. There is a brotherhood formed between fellow actors who go through such a training. It is a personal window and connection into one’s soul that even family members don’t often get to see. I am thankful to him for all his work, all his bravado, courage, failures, triumphs, and perseverance through it all. He is an inspiration.

He will be sorely missed and a gap is felt. Those of us that are left must rise to what is leaving. This art is not beholden to any one person but humanity as a whole. New energy will have to rise out of the remnants and we will move on to continue this birthing of artistic beings. Anthony, my friend, you go forth as the Vanguard. Courageously leading the charge into the frontier. Others have gone before you but for me you are the Vanguard. I hope to see you on the front lines soon brother.

May we always revel in our art Anthony – best of luck in everything you do and achieve!

There are moments which mark your life. Moments when you realize nothing will ever be the same and time is divided into two parts, before this, and after this…
– John Hobbes (Fallen)

For me that was yesterday, when I truly decided to give into all that I am as an artist. To give everything I have, every bit of who I am, to this craft and journey. To finally grow up and face the music.

It started with a conversation and a realization about myself. I had always claimed that I’m an all in or all out type of guy. Yet that is not entirely true. I like to always keep 1-9% in reserves. That way should I fail I can always fall back on the thought that well I didn’t really give it my all. So I can cowardly walk away with the notion that well if I really would have given it my all then I would have made it. I delude myself into accepting failure when in truth I never really failed because I never dared to risk it all.

After the conversation I realized there were only two paths now left to take. I could continue my road of accepting an idealized view of failure and move on to something else, or I could actually dare to give every bit of myself towards my passion of this craft. It was a test of my self-proclaimed passion. There were no other paths to continue on, as the truth was revealed to myself and my coach. It was decision time and truthfully I battled that decision for the hours leading up to when I went up on stage to do my work for class last night.

In my first run through I struggled. I was still battling the instinct to hold back. Luckily my coach is very adept and could see this and had me go through a second time and take my time after each beat. It was exactly what I needed. I struggled through each line and in the breaks of the beats it wasn’t just my character who was struggling to find the words, struggling to articulate and win this battle raging inside of him, but it was me as well. With every word I was putting everything of who I am on the line.

I wanted to hold back. I wanted to shut down. I wanted to not bring everything of my past, of who I am, of all my experiences good and bad, into this piece. I took my time and fought through it all. I fought through all my bullshit, all my debilitating ego, and in the end I touched something. I dug into the beginning of my well; I scratched the surface of my imagination. Through the clearing of all my own self I found that I was not empty inside, but filled with artistic creativity. There was an artist deep inside.

It was just waiting for me to uncover it, to access it and let it come and play. I have a much greater understanding now for what Stella Adler uncovered in her meeting with Stanislavski in Paris. It’s not that we shouldn’t start with ourselves and our own experiences but we cannot stop there. On certain days our own experience might feed us, while on other days it might completely abandon us. Still further, it can only provide so much.

After I finished my piece my coach told me that that was just the beginning. It was a great step forward, but now there is no going back. Now I have to ask more, to dig deeper. At first I could not comprehend how this was possible. After reflection and seeing what it was I uncovered, this well of imagination that I had kept from my work, this is of course just the beginning.

It’s the beginning for the artist inside of me, the 1-9% of myself that I have kept out of my work. In truth it is the most vital part of me in my work. There is no limit to where I could go, where any artist can go with digging into his well. Our soul is infinite and alive, and if we are brave enough to expose it to the depths we dare, there is no limit to what we can achieve in our art. The only thing holding us back is ourselves.

With this realization I have reached a turning point in my work. There is no going back, and there is no more holding back. This well is exposed now and I choose to dive head first into it and explore the infinite possibilities it contains. The hard work isn’t over, no, rather it has just begun. Anything less than last night is unacceptable. One can only move forward from here.

It does help to have amazing artistic friends and colleagues who understand and share in this struggle. So to all of you I say thank you. I would not be where I am today without your work, courage, and inspirations. You all deeply humble me.

There is a deep well of life in our imagination which stretches to depths immeasurable.

There are certain rare moments in life where you are experiencing something so great, and are fully realizing it in the moment. Last night was one of those moments, the last and final show to A Few Good Men; my first production and play ever. These moments are absolutely brilliant and extraordinary, the things which dreams are made of. They are so precious, twinklings of stars, there for a moment and then gone forever. I have been incredibly blessed to be a part of something so great.

The greater these moments the harder it is when they are gone, but that is the truth and beauty of our art. We capture and encompass those fleeting moments in life, holding up a mirror to nature, and they can only exist for that brief estimate of time. Their brevity and intensity is what makes them so valuable. So while I am doleful that it has all come to an end, I am so ecstatic with what was achieved. We created art, together in a collaborative fashion. Not with an individual battle of egos but a coalescence of egos to create something bigger than ourselves or anything we could do alone.

It wasn’t presented on a grand Broadway stage in front of 500 plus people, but in a humble building that was originally built for a different purpose. It wasn’t enjoyed by artistic elites or global names but local friends and families, old and young, those new to art and those well involved in art. For art is not a mistress of vanity even though it might seem that way. She is inside us all, waiting for us to be brave and bold enough to show it. I am truly humbled by the art of my peers in this show.

And while that art is done, with only the memories to play on, these new relationships will continue on. As well there will always be more art in the future. May we never cease to be brave and bold. I have to thank everyone who was involved, from those of my fellow actors in the lights, to the glorious crew out in the shadows. I have learned so much from all of you and this was the best first production I could have ever asked for, with the best group of people I could ever imagine. And of course to a Director who took a chance on a new face allowing me to grow to a new occasion and level.

As always I am terrible with goodbyes. So I don’t write goodbye but so long. May there always be great art pouring forth from within ourselves and may these friendships and connections never die.

There is that awful feeling at times after you have taken a test and are completely convinced that you bombed it, only to find out later you aced it. It’s this weird awareness of your own shortcomings in full knowledge of what is required for perfection. But what is perfection, especially in our craft, in our art?

There is no such thing as perfection in what we do as actors. Often times the shows we feel went horrible were some of the most griping shows to the audience. This was the case for our 4th show of A Few Good Men on Friday night – the 3rd of March. It was a weird show to a number of my cast mates but it has become my favorite show. On stage it might have felt a little off, strange, or weird at times, definitely. The audience might not have been super vocal at every joke or blackout but they were still very much there and engaged and full of energy.

The energy and the action was just different. Which is not a bad thing by any sense. Upon reflection it became my favorite show because a lot of new and different things happened. Not new things of conscious design or planning but happy little accidents, as Bob Ross would call them. I live for those moments; when true and real moments happen on stage that are unexpected. Little things that when picked up and reacted to by the actors coalesce into this great display of truth.

I think the audience was picking up on that as well, whether they were aware of it or not. There wasn’t just segments on stage happening to clap and laugh in between, but a gripping story unfolding before their eyes. They wanted to take it all in and as it snowballed the energy was piqued until the final end when the audience could then react in full. I loved it. It felt weird or strange but it was electrifying. There were so many beautiful moments and new discoveries.

We had two shows yesterday for Saturday March 4th and a lot of my cast-mates feel that our 2pm matinee was our best show. We had a lot of laughs at new places and all throughout, as well as applause after almost every blackout, and audible reactions from members in the audience throughout. It was a great show, I do not deny that, but I respectfully disagree with it being our best show. It was to the book and enjoyable but I feel it missed the fire and nuance that our Friday show had with all its happy little accidents.

Of course I’m not talking about the accidents happening from the stupid wooden fans that keep falling down on stage. Those things are obnoxious and an abhorrence to everything of our craft. Ok, maybe that is a little dramatic. Actually I think I love those fans. While they create absolute chaos and provide no real benefit to our stage, I do get a little joy every time they come crashing down and we have to scramble to get them back up. I might have to rig something to make sure they come down again next week. It just wouldn’t be the same to not have them come down once each week. I love live theatre!