This wonderful documentary is about the musical, A Chorus Line. It tells the history of making the original stage production and also follows the casting process for the latest Broadway revival. Fascinating – and surely a must for anyone considering a career in theater. It also speaks to everyone who does something because it is “their passion.” EVERY LITTLE STEP is in theaters now. Go see it.

My students tend to hunch over music placed on the table in front of the piano. No more. I found our music stands. I’ve placed them at two heights – for shorter or taller singers. Now, stand tall and look straight ahead when you sing. It’s better for breathing, singing and appearance. Remember you don’t want to sing to the ceiling either. We want to see your eyes, not your chin.

Something that came up recently during our weekly studio meeting (aka Sunday afternoon teatime after walking the dog), was the difference between working with students who are “serious” and “not serious,” what that really means, and how to encourage talented students to consider becoming “serious.” It’s true that we’re always going to be teaching quite a number of students who are in it “just for fun” and there’s nothing wrong with that. But what is especially rewarding for us and where we can best enjoy the fruits of our labors, is working with students who have a serious goal in mind, whether that goal is to make a career in the arts or even just to have a stronger audition for next year’s school musical.

As we were talking, I was thinking about my own experiences as a performer and what made being “serious” worthwhile. The truth is, there is some pretty spectacular pleasure that can really only be experienced when your instrument and performance have reached professional (or at least near-professional) level. There is something about singing–when everything is working just as it should and something incredibly difficult has become, in many ways, effortless–that feels better than anything else in the world. It is an unparalleled rush. The sensation of it, the sound of it–there is honestly nothing like it. When we were discussing this together, I likened it to a “high,” but really, it is much, much better, because along with the euphoria is the sure knowledge that this is something produced entirely by oneself through years of study and hard work.

I am an essentially impatient person. I enjoy hard work, but really only when it leads to immediately satisfying results–a fault responsible for my ultimate lack of success with the oboe, cello, piano, and guitar–four instruments I studied without consistent dedication or focus at one point or another. I loved the idea of playing these instruments and I enjoyed playing them when things were going well, but I didn’t have the patience to work through what was difficult in order to make any significant progress. I must admit this applied to my vocal studies during my early years as well, the only difference being that I had more natural talent in that area so it was possible to make progress with very little work. It wasn’t until college when I was hit with the reality of the talent around me that I was forced into evaluating how much work I was truly willing to do, and it was the inspiration found in watching and listening to some of the upperclassmen that finally pushed me to the point where I was able to experience the pure joy of musical performance for myself.

This is something I was reminded of just recently, watching an episode of the anime series Nodame Cantabile, in which one of the main characters, Chiaki, is making his “serious” debut as a pianist, playing Rachmaninoff’s second piano concerto under the direction of a visiting German conductor whose genius he admires. His performance is so beautiful, it inspires the other main character, Nodame (who has never been serious about her studies despite her obvious talent) to run straight to a practice room to play the piece herself. Now, those who know me well will know that 20th century Russian composers are my weakness (during my college years, I “found” Prokofiev the way other people find Jesus) but honestly, the performance really is absolutely gorgeous and it made me want to run to a practice room just like Nodame, despite having no skill at all as a pianist.

It is these moments that we as teachers must try to facilitate for students, and it’s difficult to know just how to do this. One thing we’ve discussed is trying to bring in artists from the field as often as possible to work with and inspire our students. Another is to show them DVD or video performances that might be inspiring, though I think it is extremely difficult to convey that pure joy and beauty without the energy of live performance. So here is where I open the floor for suggestions or perhaps stories of your own “ah ha!” moments. What inspired you to take that step towards true seriousness, and how would you convey that to others?

Years ago, about twenty-five or thirty, I think, a small group of, at that time, current and former students sat in our family room in Bridgeport, Michigan and tossed around the idea of one day living and working in a shared arts community. It was referred to then as the “family mansion”. We truly considered ourselves one large family and in many ways still do. These were young people, high school and college kids who had worked closely with us in school and out. We talked about it a lot in those days.

Of course, it wasn’t at all realistic. No consideration was given to the reality of them one day having families of their own or the financial enormity of such a venture. It was just a wonderful thing to contemplate. The thought of the “starving artist” never entered the conversation, but gads it was inspiring and fun.

The extended family is much larger now and many of them continue to pursue their artistic visions. Many do have families of their own and all are much more aware of the “starving artist’ scenario. The realities that restricted the original dream are still in place, but in quiet moments a stray thought of that time long ago manages to creep in. At my age I should not entertain any such thoughts. But hey, any of you out there have any hot ideas?

Your use of practice time between lessons can definitely influence “getting your money’s worth.” You will make progress even if you rarely practice between lesson sessions, but you will get more for your money and get ahead more quickly if you make good use of your practice time. Here are some thoughts. Feel free to comment or add to the list.

1. Sometimes practice in front of a mirror. It is amazing what we don’t realize we are doing. Or video-tape yourself, if you have that option.
2. When you are performing live, a lot of how good the audience thinks you are is VISUAL. The Susan Boyle effect doesn’t work that often.
3. Practicing for long stretches increases your endurance, but many short sessions during the day often work at least as well.
4. Practice breathing separate from singing. Become aware of your breathing. You can practice breathing anywhere.
5. Most students hate this exercise, but it really does help to “talk sing.” In other words go around singing whatever thoughts come into your head in any made up tune. It connects the relationship of singing to talking.
6. You don’t always have to “sound lovely.” When you are practicing, you will make some gosh awful sounds while your voice is figuring out what to do. Don’t be afraid of that.
7. You are your teacher. I like to think I’m wonderful, but mostly I’m here to help YOU discover your voice and how it works. Try things. Ask questions. Contact me between lessons if something feels like it is or isn’t working. You don’t have to wait until your next lesson to bring it up.
8. Vowels carry the sound and consonants let us know what you are saying. Consonants need to be short and crisp. Vowels long and ringing. Yes, we need both.
9. Open your mouth and move your lips. You aren’t trying to become a ventriloquist.
10. Quoting Eloise Ristad quoting Chaim Nahor: “In any art there must be movement or it becomes static – dead.” Your body can help you here if you will move when you are practicing. Let your body feel and lead your singing.

Stealing the good stuff is probably closer to the truth. As educators and artists we do it all the time. At least I know that I have and will continue to pilfer the truths that I find in others’ work and observations. Of course, we tinker with the knowledge we glean from other sources, tweak it in ways that make it, in some way, our own and convince ourselves that we have created a better thing. Or, we just take it as we find it and quietly use it word for word without shame. No guilt is necessary, I think, unless we claim it as our own and try to profit from it on that basis.

So, now is the time for me to “fess up” by acknowledging the people I “borrow” from daily. If you are a former colleague or student, be assured that I have borrowed from you a lot. As I have stated before, over the years I have learned more from colleagues, friends and students than they have ever learned from me.

In my teaching and coaching of actors, I have harvested and continue to harvest huge amounts from writings by Constantin Stanislavski, Lee Strasberg, Sanford Meissner, Maxine Klein and Uta Hagen. There are others, but these are, in the main, the ones I rely on most. I sought them out on my own with the exception of Maxine Klein, whose book, Time Space and Designs for Actors, was introduced to me over twenty years ago by the drama instructor at Saginaw Valley State University. Three of my high school students, Maria Infante, Kathy Christian and Melissa Stenzel and I, signed up for a summer acting class. It was great and I have been stealing from all of them ever since. Thanks kids.

The most recent of the books from the above-mentioned authors is Uta Hagen’s, The Challenge for the Actor. I have found it most useful and highly recommend it. I only borrow the good stuff.

While coaching a student recently, I found myself going on at length about the importance of bringing “yourself” to an audition. As I went on, I realized that this has multiple meanings for me. Each of these is equally important and also perhaps equally contrary to what many students are taught in school.

The most obvious element to this is simply being yourself. What I think many young actors don’t realize when they first begin auditioning, is that the folks behind the table are just the same as anyone they’ve worked with on a show before. They are talented, passionate people with a love for their work, and the thing they are looking for at an audition–sometimes more than anything else,–is someone they will like. The actors they cast from this audition are people they are going to be stuck working with for the length of their show’s rehearsal period at the very least and just like you, they want to have a good time. I don’t necessarily mean “a good time” as in “hours of partying, fun, and frolic” (though with some companies that may be accurate) but this is a business people go into because they genuinely love it and part of what makes that sustainable is choosing fun, adaptable, talented people to work with. Forget everything you learned from voice recitals, college auditions, and drilling for the SETCs, and just be yourself. Be a polite, well-groomed, articulate version of yourself, yes, but don’t be afraid to be warm or to smile or laugh if something is funny, and above all show them who you are. When I was performing professionally, I was never the person who fit most perfectly into anyone’s preconceived notion of what they were looking for in an audition, but with a combination of talent and an easygoing, distinctive personality I was able to be someone people wanted to cast, and the directors I worked with would alter their preconceptions to make that happen.

Secondly, one of the most important things you can do for yourself as a professional performer is to recognize your greatest strength. At any given audition, there are going to be at least forty people (that is a completely made-up statistic, but you get my point) who fall into the same general category as you do in the minds of the auditioners. What is it that makes you special? Do you have an exceptionally fantastic singing voice? Are you an extremely strong actor? Can you dance circles around everyone else? Chances are, no matter how hard you’ve worked to shore up your skills, there is still one thing that you do better than the other people around you. Be honest with yourself about what this is, and use that in any way you can. Maybe what makes you special isn’t any one of these things, but the fact that you are genuinely competent in each (this is much rarer than you think). Or maybe the truth is that you are simply better-looking than anyone else in the room. If you’ve got it, use it. What makes you special is your foot in the door. Keep working to improve your weaker areas, but don’t hesitate to show off what’s best in an audition, and don’t be ashamed to take steps to cover up those weaknesses. If you are worried you can’t hit that high “A” every time, don’t sing a song that requires it. Find the piece that shows off your strength and nail it at every audition.

Lastly, and this is the one that’s going to get me in trouble, don’t let ideas of perfection train your uniqueness out of you. Some of your teachers may hate me for saying this, but sometimes your faults are what make your talent unique. I was listening to Rufus Wainwright in the car today. He’s one of my favorite singers, though his technique is terrible. He barely opens his mouth, giving him a lazy, nasal tone. He’s a heavy smoker, which makes his mid-range raspy and kills his breath control (this is most obvious in live performance). He slides all over the place, like he’s singing with a slow drawl. It is all these things, however, that make him sound like Rufus Wainwright and the truth is, I absolutely love that sound. I can’t get enough of it. I’d even go so far as to say that his studio recording of “Poses” is one of the loveliest performances in my entire CD collection. Now, I’m not suggesting that you should all start smoking and stop opening your mouths when you sing (no, please no), and certainly Rufus’ particular characteristics are not things generally accepted in theater. What I am saying is that there may be something unique about your talent that is contrary to accepted norms and it’s not necessarily something you should get rid of, at least not entirely. If it makes singing, acting, etc. harder (like Rufus’ smoking), then absolutely you should. And yes, if you want to get first class chorus work, you’d better work to have that perfect voice. But if you want to be remembered, sometimes that little imperfection is what will push you over the edge. If you think this is the case, don’t fear it. Use it. Even as you’re working to be your best, you want to be the best you, not someone else.

As you train for a professional career in theater, remember that the instrument for your work is you. Never lose sight of who that is and don’t underestimate its importance to your success.

Uta Hagen in her book, A Challenge for the Actor, gives the following quote from George Bernard Shaw:

“This is the true joy in life, being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it what I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to further generations.”

This is a lofty life goal to be sure, but certainly one we all would wish to realize. It is a reminder to us as artists and arts educators of the path we should be following each day. The quotation is inspiring and brings me to recall other words that have inspired and challenged me over the years. A number of years ago, a good friend, colleague, master teacher and musical craftsman, Kenneth Snoeck, kept his students and fellow educators on the certain path by reminding us that our task is not the perpetual race for awards and trophies, but the constant pursuit of excellence. Since that time, I have tried to persuade my students, that although there can be great satisfaction in a successful result, the love of your art and the joy, is found in the process of getting there.

Malcolm Gladwell has been quoted often as he suggests that it takes 10,000 hours of practice to become skilled at anything. I expect he is right. Performers who become “overnight” sensations have put in their time. Are there exceptions? Perhaps. But that is why they are called “exceptions.” Most everyone has spent a lot of time honing the craft. Intelligence and talent are factors, big factors. But the 10,000 hours may be the most important step of all. And that is why no one should become a performer if they don’t like to practice and rehearse. If you don’t love the process, you still can enjoy any of the arts as a hobby. But, if it is your career you are talking about, do you like the preparation? We’ve all had jobs we didn’t like much. It is much more fun to go to work if you love the job. How much do you love acting or singing?

It’s all right to change your mind along the way. You may think you want this, or you may like the process for awhile. When you no longer enjoy the process, it is time to do something else. Is there something you love so much that you are willing to spend 10,000 preparing to be skilled? I found along the way that I loved teaching rather than performing. What is your choice?