Nothing human runs unmingled.

Last Tuesday I found myself looking around the studio, taking in as much as I could of my last class with Cay for the next few months. I’m off to the DC Fringe festival which will take me out of class until August at the earliest.

My eyes fell on a quote we have pinned to the board by Saul Bellow. It reads “Nothing human runs unmingled.” How funny, I thought, that after almost three years and countless hours in the studio, this was the first time I really took in that quote. Like how in working with Migina on Belleville over the last three months I still found things that surprised me in every rehearsal, both in the material and in a scene partner who I consider a dear friend. Like how even now as I write this blog in a coffee shop I visit every day I am just now noticing the shapes of lighting fixtures (little red saucers) that have kept me company on many a morning writing session.

Nothing human runs unmingled.

This piece will also mark my last (official) post as the student blogger. When I took over the blog I was a different person. Different apartment, different job, different value system. That’s the thing about writing; A writer can literally look back in time at the person they were then, hold up their past lives for examination. It’s equal parts terrifying and thrilling. Most people have an abstract idea of who they were based on memories, the memories of their own and those around them. Writers have physical evidence.

I would be lying by omission if I didn’t admit that I sometimes go back through these posts and other pieces I’ve written and wonder “what the hell were you thinking?” But I’d also by be lying if I didn’t admit that I sometimes look at them and think “man, you were were really onto something there.”

I try not to worry to much about what I’ve written or failed to write in the past and I try not to worry too much about what I will write or fail to write in the future. The dominos fall moment to moment and nothing human runs unmingled.

To any students of the studio I will say this:

Take drill. Just do it. Drill, in conjunction with scene study, is a powerful force to be reckoned with.

Acting classes are expensive and they are an investment in yourself. You are paying yourself to be an actor right now, so make time to do the work you would expect if you were getting paid.

Take Body dynamics. Carol Reynolds will change your life. There is no way to put into words what happens in that room.

When it is easy, keep going. When it is frustrating, doubly keep going. When it is a wall then under no circumstances are you to stop going. It’s like long distance running: the days when you WANT to get up to run are not the ones where it’s most important that you DO get up to run.

And have fun. Being on that stage, being in that room, being with friends and fellow artists, all of these things are a blessing. So have tons of fun.

To the new student blogger I will say this:

You will watch your classmates closer than you ever have and you will gain a new love and appreciation for their work and growth.

Your own work will grow by virtue of your closer observance, by listening with new ears, by seeing with new eyes.

You will be amazed by how much sticks without having to write it down.

By the same token, try to write down the things Cay says. Her stuff is good stuff which is why she gets paid the medium money.

You will look back on this blog and you will be sad for all the things you didn’t write. You’ll look back and be proud of all of the things you did.

As Tim the actor,  I say goodbye to the studio for a few months. As Tim the blogger I say goodbye to this project forever. As Tim the artist and student I say goodbye to nothing because I’ve come to understand that each opportunity is a new chance to explore the art, to learn and to grow, to try and fail and try again.  Thank you for reading.

 

 

 

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