“I wanna be more like them and less like me.”
My husband is a writer. Whenever he hears an interesting line of dialogue spoken by anyone, he writes it down and recycles it. I said the above quote two years ago. I was reading a new draft of an upcoming screenplay my husband is writing and read my own words. I felt the same deep ache in my chest that creeped inside me the day I uttered those words. And then I felt the hot sting of embarrassment on my cheeks. I have so much to be grateful for. Little ten year old me would be so proud of me. I have dedicated my life to my acting. I have grown so much as an actor and artist. I am averaging about 1 to 2 auditions a week (which might not be a lot for some people, but it is for me), I completed my first contract as an actor with a union theater, and I’m flying to Kentucky for a horror film later this month. Despite all of these wins, I find myself wishing that I was more like them and less like me. Who’s them? Anyone. You, probably. As I scroll through social media or even grab a cup of coffee at my favorite coffee shop, I see all these amazingly beautiful human beings. Each one has such a unique and interesting way of just being. And then I look at myself: either in the mirror or watching a recent self-tape and I find myself longing to be different. I’m incapable of seeing what interesting and unique qualities I might possess. Before each audition I find myself worrying about my weight, my skin, my hair, and my ability to actually do my job. It’s exhausting. When I auditioned for the top grad schools in the world this January, I went through the most grueling and nerve-wracking audition processes of my life. I sat in a large dance studio in Julliard and watched as the room dwindled from two hundred to seven to three final people. And I was still in the room. The same thing happened at Tisch. I went through rounds and rounds of auditions and watched as the room shrink. I was told by someone at Tisch that they’re building an ensemble and that I might not be the right fit for the ensemble, but I was already working at an off-broadway level and they would help me find work. I got some offers and some rejections, but that nugget of encouragement gave me the confidence to get to work. I mean, if someone at Tisch believed in me, I could believe in myself. Now it’s six months later, and I don’t know where that confidence went? I am constantly longing to be different. To be better. To be a better actor, a better fit for that character, to be in better shape, to just be a better person. I don’t know what happened. I guess it’s imposter syndrome. Maybe it’s some sort of post-partum from graduating college. I find myself in a good routine right now. I’m making money, working out, making time for friends, reading new books and plays, and playing in the sunshine, but under the great routine and perfectly polished selfies, I’m insecure. Not forever. But for today. And it sucks. And I accept that. I am the sky and my feelings are just clouds. Maybe confidence is like the myth of motivation. Motivation is fleeting and impossible to conjure, but discipline can be cultivated. I work out, not when I’m motivated to, but every day! Because showing up is what’s important. So I’m going to continue my routine, continuing working towards my goals, and for now, I’m going to be insecure. And maybe confidence will roll back in at some point, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? Because for today I choose to show up just as I am; insecurities, and vulnerabilities and all.
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People have often mystified me. In the news we see stories of behavior that is deemed purely evil, but intellectually I know that is an emotional reaction. Morality is not a binary. There is no such thing as wholly good or wholly bad. At the center of my art is a search for humanity in the depths of our existence. My work seeks to explore the psychology behind seemingly unforgivable actions and uncover the gray areas at their root.
My recent feature film, Stockton to Table Rock, is a fictionalized autobiography of my own relationship with my mother. The film follows a high school senior as she confronts her abuser and wrestles with whether forgiveness is possible. The quest is to portray the mother as a whole human being. Not purely evil, but a woman with hopes and dreams and deep fears. My performance as the daughter portrays more than a survivor of childhood abuse, but something less than a hero. I hope that by walking the path from intent to execution, we can share a nuanced story that seeks to understand truthfully why people commit heinous acts against people they love. Through this process, I’ve discovered that often evil acts in average people spawn from deep inner fears. When I played Theresa in Will Arbery’s Heroes of the Fourth Turning, I was attracted to the character because Arbery was exploring the same territory. How could someone genuinely equate abortion to the Holocaust? Why does she call for ‘their side’ to be ready for a civil war? As I explored Theresa, I discovered her overwhelming fear. More than that, I came face to face with my own. Like Theresa, I could be labeled an extremist. I am fierce and quick to share my controversial opinions. Even though I am on the opposite end of the ideological spectrum, I uncovered a kinship with a character I was previously horrified by. Removing my own opinions and my judgment for right and wrong, I saw that both Theresa and I are scared. The world is no utopia. We both fear systemic injustices will make the very idea of freedom a sick joke. Of course, we approach these issues differently, but through my portrayal, I was able to find the shared humanity that ideological differences spring from. As a general rule, I do not shy away from difficult stories. I believe that important storytelling dives into the messy areas of humanity. It is my artistic responsibility to shed light on these challenges and deep inner fears in hopes they can be dispelled. A Manifesto by Zoe Kelly
Theater is ephemeral. It frames time; existing within a series of moments, and subsequently ceasing to exist. In this way, theater illuminates the nature of life and of death. Theater is a unique art form in that it seeks to portray the human soul. It is one person’s quiet space speaking to another’s. It is intimate. It is deeply personal. It is about revelation and exploring the paradoxical nature of humanity. You see, humans need stories and therefore, in our capitalist society, we rightly see a commodification of our art form. However, Broadway and other commercial stage play enterprises are not theater; rather, they more closely resemble a circus or theme park ride. This multibillion dollar business seeks to please the masses through the exploitation of artistry. All creative decisions are separate from the artist and, instead, made with money in mind. In this way all entertainment is propaganda. It seeks to reinforce the status quo; it avoids change and eliminates danger and risk. Whereas, true theater art seeks to dismantle hierarchies, embrace risk, and allow for individual expression of the human soul. Entertainment and theater are often confused. People may think if a piece has a script and is performed on a stage, then it is theater. They are greatly mistaken. The tools of theater and art may overlap, but the way in which they are used and (more importantly) why they are used is what separates Entertainment from a true work of art. I will touch on the ideal audience reaction, space, technical level of sophistication, influence of other mediums, turning inward, and ultimate aim. I will examine potential ways to use these tools to create theater, but it is up to you as an artist to choose how and why you use each element. The first tool I will examine is the audience as co-creator. John Cage, an artist who enjoyed exploring extremes, rebelled against the idea of his art offering any tangible entertainment value. Specifically with his work 4:33, he composed a work of art in which the pianist sat at the piano and lifted the lid and sat in ‘silence’ for four minutes and thirty-three seconds. John Cage was especially interested in the audience as the co-creator, because in those four minutes and thirty-three seconds there is no true silence. The sound of the audience breathing, clearing their throats, shifting in their chairs, all becomes a part of the experience. In this way he sought to bring to light an element of humanity that may not have been immediately entertaining. He wanted us to see that audience members contribute to the art as much as the artist, if not more. Instead of placating the audience as entertainment aims to do, he rebelled against this idea and confronted the audience with their desire to be entertained. He challenged their beliefs about what his role as an artist is in our society. Most of all, he made people think deeply. This is art. This is theater. The second tool I will discuss is the artist’s use of space. Where a performance is located can influence the creation and presentation of the piece. The Living Theatre is an example of this. They created a performance space called the Studio that inspired the Off Off Broadway movement a decade later. The Studio was the third floor apartment above a grocery store. The 60 chairs were found and a whopping $135 was spent to get their next show, The Age of Anxiety, running. The curtains were made out of the Living Theatre’s old Ubu Roi costumes and the old wallpaper was covered with brown paper. One of their mentors, Robert Edmond Jones, gave this sage advice years before, “I wish you had no money, no money at all. Perhaps then you would create new theatre, make your theatre out of string and sofa cushions, make it in studios and living rooms. Forget the big theatres… Here, if you want, take this room… If you want to begin here you can have it.” Malina & Beck were both proclaimed anarchists and were arrested six times for participating in pacifist ban-the-bomb protests. Their theater spaces echoed this penchant for rebellion and anarchy. They sought to break the mold and present something new and different. They took risks and rebelled against the status quo. As artists, we must ask ourselves, can the location of this play amplify my intention? The third tool I will discuss is the level of technical sophistication. Often the spectacle of heavily commercialized shows can trick the individual into thinking it is art. However, there is no minimum fee for entry to artistry. There is however, profits to be made from art, and thus in our capitalistic society, mass exploitation of artistry. Take Robert Wilson’s Baby Blood as an example. This theater piece was made on a shoestring budget. The audience was led up a flight of stairs littered with dismembered dolls’ bodies and charged admission at the top of the loft. There was wire and rings above the audience members head. And the fever dream of a show began when the hooded figure collecting admission moved the rings. The set was inexpensive, yet impactful. This theme of seemingly quotidian objects used to create the feelings of a fever dream was meant to meaningfully impact the audience. I am interested in how the world of the play can bleed into the lives of the audience. At the beginning of a show, when an audience member walks into the venue, they have not yet begun to fully embody their role as performer. If we are lucky and clever, we as artists can bring the real person viewing the show into the viewing space. If we catch them off guard and start the show before they have fully embodied their role as audience members. Maybe then, we can truly change the way the audience sees and interacts with the greater world. If I can sit in my own living room, surrounded by things I’ve curated and cleaned and organized for years, and simultaneously feel a yearning for a time that’s never been and gratitude for where I am, can we not create an exceptional experience for the audience that changes them? Or helps them see that the world already changed them… This is the aim of theater. This is the aim of art. The next tool at the disposal of the great theater maker is the influence of other mediums: specifically popular entertainment. Like Reza Adboh’s works were greatly influenced by MTV in the 80s and 90s, we can draw inspiration from TikTok or other popular forms of entertainment. Besides the obvious, there is a difference between MTV or TikTok and the theater. Primarily, TikTok is entertainment and the theater is art. Entertainment is designed to amuse or pacify and art is meant to stimulate the imagination, spark emotional reactions, and treasure beauty. Great theater does not strive to be purely entertainment. In fact, when theater becomes commercialized it loses some of its connection with the artist. Decisions are made with profits in mind and less thought is given to the artist. On Broadway, and other large commercial entities, the producer (the money person) is given veto power over the director (the artist). This is not theater. This is not art. This is entertainment. It is the exploitation of artistry in the name of capitalism. The difference between the artist and the entertainer is that the artist sees the whole. They see how things are connected and they treasure the beauty in all things. The entertainer exists for the laugh, for the knee jerk amusement, for the quick buck. Entertainers are not interested in affecting their audiences or impacting the world, they prioritize profits over people. This is not theater. However, a great artist like Reza Abdoh’s The Hip Hop Waltz of Eurydice was clearly influenced by MTV– the beginning of the play an increasing audio cacophony that stuns the viewer and leaves them in a stimulation hangover. Abdoh was an artist through and through. His decision to emulate the overstimulating nature of MTV and bring it to a retelling of Orpheus and Eurydice was riddled with risk. These decisions were not made in the name of profits, but rather with revelation in mind. That is what true theater is all about: the revelation of the mind, the body, the soul. In this way theater artists can transform popular entertainment and confront the audience with it. The next tool is getting at the guts of what we do: turning inward. What is art, if not a method of self-expression? Gray and the Wooster Group created an environment of self-exploration, self-soothing, and self-expression. Art, which is synonymous with theater, should also strive to turn inward– both individually and as a collective. I can attest to the healing power of theater that is, “... a confessional act,” as Gray described Rumstick Road, a play that attempted to unpack his mother’s suicide. He continues, “It was an act of distancing. At last I was able to put my fears of, and identification with, my mother’s madness into a theatrical structure. I was able to give it some therapeutic distance.” I believe that the theater is the perfect place to share and collectively experience stories that for too long have been deemed taboo or “the other.” Art can emerge from the embers of our pain like the phoenix from the flame. “Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable,” as Cesar A. Cruz, a fine artist, said. Theater is inherently collaborative in nature. This art form demands that we turn inward as an individual and a collective. In order to be the best artist you can be you must confront all part of yourself. If you do not accept every part of yourself, you will reject parts of the stories you seek to tell. Regardless of if you are an actor, a writer, a director, or a set designer– if you do not wholeheartedly, turn inward, and learn to accept yourself for who you are, you will always have blindspots when it comes to storytelling. As the actor or writer, you will never fully understand the nuance of your characters if you reject parts of yourself. As a director or a designer you will never totally grasp the nature of the story’s world if you reject parts of your own. Our first responsibility as artists is to ourselves. Theater presents a unique opportunity to collectively turn inward. Like Spaulding Gray and The Wooster Group’s collective processing of Gray’s mother’s suicide, with the best group of artists, we can tackle any individual or world problem artistically. I am not over idealizing what theater is capable of. I do not believe theater alone can solve world hunger or stop climate change. Art is like a seed planted in the mind’s of the audience. From there, ideas, and more importantly, action can grow. All of the aforementioned tools may overlap with the creation of entertainment as well as art. I admit, there is overlap, but this final element is only present in works of art. It is the ultimate aim. It is the reason behind every artistic endeavor. Entertainment’s ‘why’ is profits, we already know that. But the artist’s why can largely vary; however, this author would encourage you to be brave, be bold, be unapologetic in your ultimate aim! Break down barriers, dismantle hierarchies, be the artists future generations will remember and celebrate. Be like Marina Abramovic. In 1974, Serbian conceptual artist, Marina Abramovic presented her piece Rhythm 0. It was a six hour performance art piece in which the female artist was the art. The Instructions were as follows: Instructions. There are 72 objects on the table that one can use on me as desired. Performance. I am the object. During this period I take full responsibility. The experiment started playfully and the audience was a bit shy. One person would tickle her with a feather and another would brush her hair. As the evening progressed, the group dynamic turned more extreme. Items of her clothing were removed, words were written on her skin, a knife was pressed into her, and at one point a man took the gun with a single bullet in it and pressed it to her chest. The artist’s ultimate aim was to make the audience think about their basic responsibility to another human being. There are times in life when we may have an individual’s consent, but if we knowingly hurt them, even with their consent, is it moral behavior? What interested me even more in this work was the nature of group dynamics. Marina Abramovic was completely devoid of emotion or reaction throughout this performance. The audience then divided into two camps: one camp that was increasingly upset by her lack of reaction (“The Provokers”) and those who empathized heavily with the artist (“The Protectors”). When the man pressed the gun to her skin, this is when madness broke loose. Three of the Protectors threw themselves at the man with the gun and the entire audience erupted into violence. Her ultimate aim revolved around spiritual revelation, according to the artist. I’ll admit, her performance of Rhythm 0 absolutely revealed something about human nature and group dynamics. Her work was brave and bold and unapologetic. She used all of the aforementioned tools to create a work of art that revealed something about what it means to be human. Marina Abramovic is one of the most prolific artists of our time because she was so viscerally connected to her ultimate aim, that she was willing to risk her life for her art. With art there lies risk; risk of failure, risk of embarrassment, risk of self-aggrandizement, and risk of luxuriating in solipsism. The trouble with entertainment is that it seeks to minimize risk as much as possible - diluting the potential, and very real, artistic connection between a work and its audience. Entertainment’s impact is wide but shallow. In order to touch individuals deeply, creators must align their goals towards artistic ends, not financial ones. Following this paradigm, future theater will be less predictable. There will be more bad plays, more bizarre plays, more inscrutable plays. But, the ones that land will be more effective. Humans crave art and stories like they crave food. Entertainment, then, is eating Skittles and Funyuns. There is a more nourishing way. It’s time to start eating better. |