Giving Life to an Idea:
Why I Act
An Essay by Michael S Johnson
In the spring of 2010 I was blessed to be cast in the role of Angelo in Eastern Utah Theatre’s production of William Shakespeare’s “problem play” Measure for Measure. Before that time I had no experience playing Shakespeare, but suddenly (and most willingly) I found myself thrust into arguably one of Shakespeare’s most challenging male roles. While initialing the cast list the morning after auditions, I somehow knew this play would shape who I was as an actor greater than any play I had participated in before.
Little did I know that our production would never be performed. A little over a week before the play was set to open, the production was shut down for reasons beyond anyone’s control. Needless to say, I, along with my company, was devastated. Still, my theory was correct. I walked away from the experience a better actor and artist. I learned so much about Shakespeare’s language, his characters and his art. I grew into a more mature artist, appreciative of the beauty of classical theatre.
But how? How could I have been affected so greatly by a play that no one saw or would ever see? Could it be possible that as an actor the most important lessons I can learn are in rehearsal? It was from this experience that I learned a key lesson about the performing arts: What is seen on the stage when the curtain goes up on opening night is for the audience, but the journey to get there is for the actor. Though no patron witnessed the end result of hours of hard work, I witnessed it. I witnessed a group of artists build an astounding production from virtually nothing.
As artists, we do this every day. Every piece of art ever created began as an idea. This idea, once harnessed and built upon, becomes the work of art. And it is through the building, not the presenting, of this finished product that the artist learns and grows. The presenting is just icing on the cake.
Dr. Corey Ewan, acting professor and director at Utah State University- College of Eastern Utah, hounds his students to “enjoy the process.” Instead of impatiently looking toward opening night, he teaches us to see each rehearsal as an opportunity to grow and learn and, in a sense, perform. After all, isn’t theatre like Michelangelo’s mysterious sculpture in ice? It is said to be Michelangelo’s greatest work, but one would have had to have been there to witness it. Why not take advantage of every moment we are in the presence of such beauty, instead of constantly waiting for the last few moments before it melts?
The most important lessons I have learned in acting have not come from an audience. They have come in those quiet moments during rehearsal when a spark flew and a wall was torn down. Quiet moments like these are the pieces of art the audience never sees. This is why I am an actor. To not only feel those private moments and to help others feel them with me, but to use those moments to build. To make something out of nothing. To give life to an idea.
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