Thursday, August 23, 2007
This grad school-thing is putt'n the hurt on me. I. Am. Taking. A. Whooping. And Jack Young has no intention of ever telling us we're doing well. His philosophy seems to be that any aggrandizing of our hungry little egos would just distract and weaken us, so he just keeps stick'n the knife into the rotted parts he wants us to dig out of our work. We all seem to be okay with that. I know that I, for one, am finding relief in not dancing around my own ego with my acting coach. Fuck that. Just tell me what work I have to do. I might get better that way. Though other people have been readier to feed the monkey, telling me how much they enjoyed my work in the showcase several days ago. For these past several days following the big showcase the first year MFA Acting students did for the department, I've had startling sincere undergraduates and (non-acting) theater faculty and staff telling me what they liked, usually odd stuff, such as the song, or the bit of Yeats in British Standard Dialect, stuff that seems to have made the professionals wince but pleased the amateurs in the room. Of course, Jack and the rest of the Acting faculty have kept their notes to what I need to improve. It's just and right that this be the case. It probably helps quiet my own insane and hateful monkey mind by taking away one side of the dialectic of grandiosity that usually hijacks conversations about one's work with others.