What Does Art Mean To You?
nat·u·ral·ism
/ˈnaCH(ə)rəˌlizəm/
Noun
1. (in art and literature) a style and theory of representation based on the accurate depiction of detail.
Act. 1
i. I don’t know what to say. I mean, I know what I want to say, I just, don’t know, how to say it, you know? And it’s not like I don’t understand what I’m feeling. I’m in touch with myself; I do yoga, I’ve read 'The Power of Now', I went to acting school, I smoke pot. It’s just that there’s this disconnect. Like the bridge between my mind and my mouth is under construction, indefinitely. And it’s not like I can take a detour, I mean like Under Construction, like there’s a whole lego piece missing right in the middle. I don’t like to talk, it gives me anxiety. “But you’re an actress! Don’t be so silly! She’s exaggerating”. I hate the term actress. One, because have you ever been treated by a fucking doctress? Right, no. Two, because it only reminds me what little I’ve actually done towards becoming one. And three, I like to think of myself as anything but an actress, playing a character, but as a human being representing human nature as accurately as I can.
Act. 2
i. Know your lines. When I think about my acting process there are three steps I need to follow. (X+Y)Z= a truthful and natural depiction of humanity. Just like you need pieces to make a puzzle, or bones to stand up straight, all acting, begins with communication. “But you just said talking gives you anxiety, so why the fuck would you wanna act?”, because I’m a masochist. I mean yes, but no. My script becomes the detour, the missing lego piece in my brain bridge. I know what needs to be said, the words are there and they will come to me, so don’t worry. Finally, I can breath. Now I get to have fun.
ii. Know what they mean. This is when I get to fulfill my childhood dream of being a spy. Decoding language, observing people, figuring out what someone with crossed arms and a restless leg really means when they say, “I’m fine”. It’s in the details. But finding them and grabbing hold of them is something else entirely. It’s like I’m Harry Potter, the youngest seeker in history, and my eyes are darting across the page looking for that golden snitch, and even when I see it, I have to chase after it, and that sonofabitch is fast, and I’m dodging bludgers and there’s a hex on my broom, and finally I have to make a decision and trust in myself to reach out and jump. And sometimes there it is, the golden essence of a character, spilling out of my mouth. Most of the time it’s just a mouthful of slugs, but the difference between the two is determined by the last step in the equation.
iii. Mean them when you say them. As simple as it sounds, it’s really not. It’s the difference between a shag - and making love, telling someone you hate their guts - and a crime of passion, LaughingOutLoud - and laughing so hard you fart. It’s authenticity, it’s passion, it’s painful, it’s raw, and it brings tears to my eyes. The same way mayo and pickles swirl and crunch into the perfect bite, leaving your tongue tingling and the back of your throat sweating, hungry for that next bite, and the next, and the next, yearning, panting. It’s intrigue and desire and it keeps you at the edge of your seat, focused. And that’s all I could hope for. A shared sensual experience.
Act. 3
i. My art gives me a voice, as cheesy as that sounds. It is an escape. Not necessarily from myself, but deeper within. It’s a chance to explore and navigate all aspects of my humanity and character, while also putting myself into other people’s shoes. It’s my meditation. A chance to welcome vulnerability as strength. I reach out to my demons and learn from them, because ultimately, “the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature, to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure”.
Photo by Karen Colon