To the Prospective Artist: Lessons from an Unknown Actor

By Nick Maccarone

An unknown actor's collection of unique experiences, discoveries, and insights found during his pursuit in an industry often associated with struggle and blind luck. He may not have reached all his goals as a professional actor, but discovered who he became in pursuit of his dreams was much more fulfilling.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9780998449517

Book preview

Conclusion

Introduction

The world of an artist has long been associated with adversity. Ask any actor, writer, singer, painter, or dancer how they embellish their latest artistic endeavors to keep the patience of their parents at bay, and you are certain to get some creative stories. The journey of the actor is occasionally peppered with tales of the blonde bombshell discovered by a casting director at a popular burger joint, or the young writer whose prose were made into a Broadway show. Still, the majority of people in the arts will tell you that the path they have chosen for their life is difficult…very difficult.

The tales of artistic struggle are familiar to many by now. From the squalid quarters of the French Impressionists, whose work today is valued in the millions, to the overnight stardom of Edie Falco, who waited tables for 15 years before getting her big break on The Sopranos. Even the expression, struggling artist is a recurring theme in 18th and 19th century Romantic literature and paintings. Norwegian author Knut Hamsun wrote a novel loosely based on his own life’s challenges before his big opportunity entitled, Hunger in 1890. Thirty-four years later, Franz Kafka wrote a short story called A Hunger Artist. Perhaps the most celebrated tribute to the starving artist is the Pulitzer Prize-winning rock musical Rent, based on Puccini’s opera La Boheme.

The obstacles faced by artists day-to-day typically evoke one of two outcomes: empathy for those courageous enough to pursue their outlandish dreams against great odds, or, and often the case, cynicism towards both the artist and her industry. I remember years ago sitting in a Manhattan coffee shop when a woman and her baby took the chair opposite me. After a few moments we struck up a conversation. What do you do? she finally asked. I’m an actor, I beamed. Almost immediately she fell into a sort of cackling laughter stopping only to say, How’s that working out for you? Perhaps I should have told her the seat was taken. Still, her response reflected a broadly held skepticism about the life of an artist.

Today, the remarkable advances in how the world communicates have given birth to an overabundance of ways for us to share our creativity. There is a global platform that allows people everywhere to tell the world who they are and what defines them. Human rights movements have been energized on Facebook, millions of people hang on the 140-character thoughts of their favorite TV personality, entrepreneur, or author on Twitter, and artists of all mediums can better publicize their work through social media resources, many of which are free. We are living during an exceptional time of opportunity, bold ideas, and collaborative potential.

If you doubt that art has played a role in this Renaissance of innovation and think creative expression belongs only in drab black box theaters, fine art galleries, or exhibition halls, I encourage you to take a closer look. If for example, you own a MacBook, you are the proprietor of an idea, not a product. Many are already well versed in how a small calligraphy course at Reed College in 1974 influenced the creative vision of Steve Jobs. And many of us know the story of how a stylized stencil image of then presidential hopeful, Barack Obama, conceived by street artist Shepard Fairey helped galvanize a call for change. The truth is that art, which is to say the expression of imagination, has profound importance in our world.

Yet, every invention has its shortcomings. The speed and reach of technology have made communication much easier, but also deteriorated the quality of that very connection. We text one another in bits and pieces, often with emoticons to emphasize or play down the things we are afraid to say in person. The ingenious invention of the iPod and its 1,000 songs in your pocket has made it quite easy, if not convenient, to tune out people as we walk down the street. The daily use of such gadgets has shrunk the attention span of a culture that once valued authentic connection. How many times have you been out to lunch with a friend who constantly glanced at her newest touch screen while feigning interest to the words coming out of your mouth? Perhaps you’ve wandered into a Starbucks recently and looked out to a flotilla of glowing laptops helmed by people sipping lattes, fiercely typing away. We hear but no longer listen. We see but no longer observe. We communicate but no longer connect. We record our lives but no longer live them.

When I was in graduate school studying acting, I decided I needed to outwork, outshine, and outhustle all of my classmates. I arrived at the theater each morning at 5:30, hours before anyone else straggled in, to practice monologues, improve my diction, and strengthen my voice. And at the end of each long day, I felt I needed to be the last to leave. The need to keep up the appearance of the hardest working actor often proved more exhausting than the work itself.

Eventually, my routine paid a handsome return on investment. I became a confident and skilled stage actor, but it came at a great cost. By choosing a culture of competition over cooperation, I alienated myself and obstructed my ability to see the bigger picture. Though I made wonderful friends during my time at Columbia University, many of my relationships never reached their full potential. My connection with classmates could have been enriched if only I were more available to the invaluable teachings they were courageous enough to share. I was young and far too focused on myself.

Luckily, I possessed enough self-awareness to understand that a big change was needed in my life. The combination of a failed romantic relationship, graduation from a school that provided a safe haven, and looming questions of my own desire to continue acting professionally led me to seek a new path. The key to my transformation was first looking beyond my own needs. I sought a way to approach each day with a heightened awareness of the world.

The greatest revelation I stumbled upon was that every situation we face, both good and bad is temporary. If you understand this, you can develop the resources to weather and thrive through the unexpected. Rising above adversity is also a unique opportunity to reinvent yourself. And with that green light, you can approach your life with a sense of creative artistry and self-mastery that will heighten the overall quality of your days, while deeply inspiring those around you.

If you think this book will help you grace the stages of Broadway, cure your writer’s block, or inch you closer to singing like a soprano at Carnegie Hall it may be best to put the book down now. Instead, this is an invitation to reevaluate your values and ensure they are congruent to your life’s purpose. By approaching your days like an artist, each day can become your personal masterpiece. As Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote, To affect the quality of day is the highest of arts. If you weave enough of these days together, the collage of your life will invariably reflect fulfilling connections to others and yourself. If life artistry could help me improve the quality of how I connected with people and awaken me to the potential of each new day, then anyone can do the same.

When I look back on my time studying theater and the countless hours of training, I am convinced that it all had very little to do with acting. Of course, there are skills fundamental to a long career in the performing arts, but the training was the introduction to a lifelong exploration.

This book is a call to the artist inside of you. Once you begin approaching each day as the master craftsman of your life, your relationship to the world will change, revealing that YOU have something profoundly original and meaningful to offer the world.

Nick Maccarone

October 16, 2014

CHAPTER 1

Getting Started

There is only one way to learn. It’s through action. – Paulo Coelho

Where Do I Begin?

Sometimes I think my head is so big because it is so full of dreams.

– The Elephant Man

Dani and I had exchanged, what seemed like an infinite number of emails, texts, and missed calls before finally pinning down a date to meet for coffee. SO MUCH to talk about and I think it’s meant to be that we talk soon, she messaged earlier in the week. I must admit I was excited to finally catch up with my new friend and recent college grad.

Dani and I met just a year earlier, while volunteering at an elementary school in East Los Angeles. Right away, I could sense a restlessness about her; the beautiful angst that often accompanies youth, possibility, and not quite knowing what to do with it all.

As we casually sipped our green teas at a busy Culver City coffee shop, I saw a bit of my former self, sans tattoo and the shiny Vespa helmet sitting beside her. I recalled once feeling so young, but that I was quickly running out of time to make my mark on the world. I wanted to start the journey, the Appian Way to my unrealized dreams, but like her, I didn’t know where to begin.

Listening to Dani that afternoon, everything seemed hurried as her words tried valiantly to keep pace with her thoughts. She showed me notes from a scratch pad Kerouac himself might have toted, full of scribbled thoughts, arrows and charts in tow. Her confusing notebook resembled a fake map devised to mislead an invading army.

But Dani was a very special girl whose passions varied from becoming a filmmaker to a human rights activist. I could tell she’d sought my help that afternoon for a little guidance on what to do and how to get the ball rolling.

If you think of all the things you want to get done at once, you’ll quickly get overwhelmed, I said. You’re young and have plenty of time. First, pick one thing and do it as best you can. As you continue to try different things, your path will slowly reveal itself to you. And then, it gets simpler. Work really hard, be kind, and doors will start to open.

A sense of calm slowly revealed itself in Dani’s eyes when I finished my rally cry. She seemed to take my words to heart, jotting down a few last notes as our time that afternoon came to a close. As she grabbed her helmet and headed back to her bright red scooter, I thought briefly on the beginning of my own journey to becoming an actor.

What’s a P.A.?

No experience really goes wasted. – Marcus Aurelius

Nine months after graduating from Syracuse University I had little more than an unframed college degree to show for my four years back east. Understandably, my parents’ patience was wearing thin as they nervously watched their oldest son try to navigate the waters of post-school life. The fact I even had a choice in pursuing my dreams, a concept profoundly foreign to anyone of my parents’ generation, was something my 22-year old self did not fully appreciate. Still, I needed to do something. So when a good friend called out of the blue and told me about an opportunity to work as a production assistant for a feature film, I nearly jumped at the chance.

The movie was shot about an hour from my Oakland apartment. It was a trek that required battling some of the Bay Area’s fiercest traffic on highways most natives would avert if possible. The hours were long, the temperature dropped dramatically each evening, and the house used for this horror film was ironically, rumored to be haunted.

On my first day of work, I earnestly asked one of the performers what advice he’d offer an aspiring actor. He matter-of-factly said, Not to do it. It also didn’t take Roger Ebert to realize nobody from this production was going to be thanking the Academy for an award any time soon. The final kicker was working twelve hour-days for over a month without getting paid a dime.

Still, I wouldn’t have traded the experience for anything. Before working as a P.A., I had no point of reference and could have easily been duped into believing the movie business was all a piece of cake. But racing to trailers to wrangle actors onto set, moving heavy and cumbersome set pieces, and working as a stand-in for the film’s stars quickly imparted a lesson or two. I learned an incredible amount about what it takes to make a film - the time, effort, coordination, commitment, and of course, the finances necessary to make a story come to life on the big screen. I began to appreciate that everyone’s role was important and that success hinged on each person carrying out his or her duties to the best of their ability.

My time on set also offered a not-so-subtle glimpse into how much harder I needed to work in order to have a chance at building a career in this industry. I took a closer look at what I was doing to inch towards my dreams and, equally significant, what I was not doing.