The last few
blogs are really ‘de rigeur’ before starting an in-depth analysis of ‘activities’
and ‘naming behavior.’ We’ve spent a lot
of time demonstrating that ‘sensory meditation’ reveals our own personal ‘life
objective,’ and how this force propels us forward, for better or worse, whether
we are aware of it or not. Actors are greatly helped by being able to pinpoint
this activating principle. Trauma is always involved, like death of a parent,
fighting between parents, abandonment such as a younger child taking the
mother’s attention, abuse, incest, etc. Pain and confusion are inevitable
fallout from digging into the depths of our being – even through the delicate
and safe, and often excruciatingly slow, process of ‘sensory meditation’. But
‘true actors’ will do anything for their art and persevere. I think all real actors
go through this journey in one form or another, although the level of
difficulty varies greatly. Some boast that they don’t need it, but they may fall
into it so naturally, they aren’t even aware that they are doing anything at
all. Most of us are not this fortunate…
One cannot wait for ‘sensory
meditation’ to kick in the desired results, hence all the other techniques
should be brought in simultaneously; conflict exercises with partners, text
analysis, research, body and voice training, etc.
Next on our list are ‘activities’
and ‘naming behavior.’
What does an ‘activity’ consist of?
This is the general idea:
(a) Accomplishing
the activity should involve a certain amount of difficulty.
(b) It is
something which needs to be done in a certain time frame.
(c) It is
very important
(d) There
are personal consequences if it is not finished.
Let us think once again of the tree
analogy, with the roots offering the original impulse to push the trunk away
from the ground which we can compare to the actor’s objective – and all
the branches, twigs, leaves. etc. are part of the rush toward the sun.
Where does the ‘activity’ fit into
this image.
Aren’t the roots, themselves, also
the ‘activity?’ They ground the tree
and keep it from being split and broken apart by an outside force, usually the
wind. This is an opposite impulse from
the original urge to grow upward, to be as high and mighty as it can be.
Suddenly, we can see how a scene is
a shared organism. People in conflict become
one tree in a storm. The upper part is pulling away in response to the effect
of the wind. But the roots are desperate to ground the organism. In a scene
both parties have a tremendous need to express themselves. There is no harmony;
one element, the roots, need to resist the negative force of the other –
branches, even the trunk in a desperate situation – which is trying to pull the
whole thing up into the air. Where there may have been harmony at one time, now
a negative situation is developing. The tree is a good symbol because it shows
that an argument is of equal importance to the two sides; if one wins the other
‘dies’. This death is often/usually only metaphoric, but at the moment of the
argument, it should feel like life and death to the actor.
In an argument, we are two parts of
one organism, one pulls down into itself in order to be safe, or keep things as
they always have been, and the other needs to change its situation, even if it
imperils the life of the entire communication between the two parties.
Like a relationship, if the forces
pulling it apart become too ferocious, a tree will crack apart. The victory
will never be complete, therefore in a sense both sides will be destroyed.
One’s only hope is that the storm will subside before that happens – in other
words a compromise will be reached before one side totally crushes the other.
It’s important for an actor to deeply consider this analogy. Remember, you will
have to play characters with opposite points of view from very different places
and walks of life.
