My first few productions, I was convinced that I can build an entire directing career without ever taking part in a warmup exercise. The truth is, for me the act of play is very challenging. I could never have imagined myself standing in a circle and playing Ninja with a group of people. So, for some time I found incredibly creative ways of running warmups without ever being part of them. It was actually working out okay-ish. The real problem that I run into was the fact that I desperately wanted to gain directing skills and grow, so I went to a variety or workshops and classes where avoiding play wasn’t really an option, because you no longer had the security of being the arty authority figure, who choses how rehearsals will go exactly. It was terrifying, then it slowly became okay and eventually it got to be fun. The first few workshops, I’d take part in warmup and improve games through clenched teeth, like it was some kind of a weird sacrifice for all my future actors or an awful ancient right of passage that just had to be done. I’m doing this for my art, mom. I can’t remember when exactly they became fun, maybe when I realised it doesn’t matter how good I am and it’s the act of play itself that is important. But this is not a story about warmups, it’s a story about vulnerability.
The other big one is singing. You’ll never hear me singing, not even on my own when I’m convinced there is no one around me. Not even humming. See, this week I went to a voice workshop, and of course we had to sing, and just the thought of it made me feel ill, and then I stood up and sang and three other people watched me and I’m glad to report I’m still in one piece.
So, I guess the correct statements would be: The act of play use to be very challenging (it still is from time to time). You would have never heard me singing before (but now I’ll probably continue learning to work with my voice).
Maybe your ideal pastime is playing “Bunny, Bunny” and you sing at the Royal Opera House for fun everyday, so you have no idea what I’m on about. But you have your own vulnerabilities which you are probably very skilled at avoiding ever putting into action, because why poke the thing that hurts? Intuitively, though, you must know that they are the very things that are holding you back. I’m not talking about missing the skill, I’m talking about avoiding certain aspects of life altogether. From personal experience I can say that even just an attempt to overcome those vulnerabilities enriches you immensely as a professional.
Don’t take a leap, take a very small step.
Another important thing. In your work, whether you are a director, a techie, a performer or any other kind of theatremaker, you will inevitably come across someone’s vulnerabilities. Here are a few pointers on how to respond to them:
- Hear them out.
Sometimes as much as saying “I find singing really scary” is challenging.
- Don’t discredit what they say.
“Oh, it’s actually the easiest thing in the world / I’m sure you’ll be fine / You are making too much of a deal out of it” is hardly helpful and will probably make them feel even worse, for not being able to do something that is clearly considered to be “the easiest thing in the world”. Simply acknowledge the fact that you understand this particular thing is difficult for them. That’s enough.
- Invite but don’t push.
Something along the lines of “We would love for you to join us”
- Don’t make a big deal out of them opting out in the middle and don’t force them to come back.
Being forced to do it will most definitely make them want to avoid in in the future. So will being shamed for quitting.
- Acknowledge their effort and encourage them to keep practicing.
You don’t need to tell them they are the next film star or a future Olympic athlete, under those circumstances it will always strike a false note. But a word of encouragement will help them overcome the absolute horror of the very idea of taking part.
In a working environment, it’s not your responsibility to sort through and figure out someone’s vulnerabilities. I also know that realistically there isn’t always time for pussyfooting around. All of the above suggestions simply offer ways to make sure the person doesn’t shut down completely. Try and take time to be attentive.
Theatre Machine 