Week 7 – Generosity
Once we are aware enough to notice what is happening, and
flexible enough to make any necessary adjustments, we can incorporate one of
the most necessary skills for a graceful actor: generosity. Can I understand what is needed in a moment
so well that I am responsive not only to my own needs but to the needs of the
other actor as well? Generosity on stage
can make many demands, yet each time we are pressed upon to be generous, it can
only help us to respond with a big “yes.”
There are some actors we think of as accomplished because of a
virtuosity in their own performance, and there are others who we recognize have
an even greater gift—the ability to bring out the best in anyone else on stage. This attention to the other can in turn only
make my own performance more believable, more virtuous, more moving. Generosity
should not be confused with self-abnegation.
It is not a cheap false humility that weighs down everything by
eliminating brilliance. It is rather an
ability to give from my brilliance so that the entire stage can be illuminated,
a giving of my focus fully to the other when I am receiving, and giving the
best of who I am not in order to attract attention to myself, but to bring out
the best in everyone. Both the dullness
of false generosity and the brilliance of true generosity can be contagious. Some actors may refuse to take risks on stage
because they are afraid to draw attention away from others. But attention
should bounce about the stage like a big colorful ball in a children’s game.
There is nothing wrong with grabbing the attention of the audience for a
moment. The problem emerges if I refuse
to give that attention to the most important part of the overall dramatic action
at any given moment. A momentary taking
of the attention of the audience, followed by a generous giving it over again
does not divide the audience’s attention, it amplifies it. I can only give of what is my best if I truly
know who I am. Knowing who I am and
seeing what value my gifts can be to the action is when I am truly giving of
myself not suppressing myself. Whether I am acting or reacting, being fully
engaged and focused makes me generous.
This is true not only in performance but also in process. I can give of my experiences, my risks, my failures,
my details and offer the fullness of who I am in rehearsal. And yet listening is also generous. I do not
shut off myself when I listen, my attention is seeking out and affirming the
value of what my partner has to offer by being present to it.
Life story:
By now I’ve spoken often enough of Ellen Stewart that it is
clear how she formed me as an artist, but I’m also grateful how she has formed
me as a person. She is truly one of the
most generous people I have ever met in my life, truly putting her attention
and resources at the service of the artists whose work she felt was important
somehow. Sam Shepard says that of all
the individuals responsible for the birth of Off-Off Broadway, “Ellen was the
most generous, she just put on plays. I could bring her something written on an
envelope and she would put it up the next day.” I experienced Ellen’s generosity not only in
her welcoming me into her artistic family, but in her life lessons that she
would give in one to one conversations.
Diane Lane once called these Ellen’s “oracle moments.” She saw things and said what she felt. In one
conversation she said to me “baby, when you walk into a room, you gotta light
it up!” That is certainly what Ellen did.
She lit up the room. The
wonderful thing about light is that it really is at its best when it lets you
see what is there. We don’t look at the
light, we see everything because of the light. At first I was uncomfortable
thinking that Ellen was telling me to draw attention to myself, but getting to
know her more and more, I realized it was different. What she did was to bring
what she loved in herself completely to others, lighting up the room with her
appreciation of others, and trusting that what she saw in others was worth
proclaiming out loud.
Work Story:
When I studied with Isabelle Anderson I was in my first year
of graduate studies. I was keenly aware
that I was at least ten years older than most of my classmates. I also began my studies somewhat intimidated
by the powerhouse faculty that we had on board.
Isabelle worked with neutral mask with our class, and over the course of
the semester, she got to know each of the actors quite simply but deeply
through the way we approached the work in physical form. At the end of the semester she had
conversations with us about our progress.
She gave me one of the best notes I ever received from an acting
teacher. After commenting on the
technical aspects of my work, she then paused and looked hard at me. It felt as if she were looking into my
soul. Then she said “you’re very
considerate, and it’s keeping you from being generous.” At first I was taken a
bit aback by the insight. It felt too
close, too personal, perhaps too true.
But she was right. Much of the
first year I spent trying to fit in, which basically meant that I was denying
ten years of life experience to try to equalize myself to my classmates. The program was very egalitarian, and while
it was good to strive for equal
voice, some of the group dynamics destroyed particular
voice. I was a particular person, with my own set of experiences and in the
interests of the group I found myself holding back, not speaking, not offering
who I was because I did not want to stand out or interfere. After thinking about Isabelle’s note to me I
realized how it was both an affirmation and a challenge; affirming the
particularity of my experience and challenging me to share it generously. I wonder if I did not go to the other extreme
after this, being bold in my participation and my offering my perspective. I
may have had to learn later not to smother my classmates with my generosity,
but to find a balance; reverencing my own particularity and honoring theirs as
well.
Further investigation:
Read a biography about your favorite generous person. Ellen is one of mine, and Liz Swados is a
close second. You can get a taste of
both of them by listening to Liz’s work “The La MaMa Cantata” on her website:
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