An Acting Life by Michelle Shyman

Posts Tagged ‘performance art’

One Woman Performance Art

Sunday, August 15th, 2010

Anything with Barbies TM is High Art.  These dolls are so iconic. Humans are highly overrated as story-telling mediums.  I want to use Barbies in a stage piece I’m writing called “Julie Lewis in the Circle”. I meant, “I want to abuse Barbies in the stage piece I’m writing.” Ruin them. Utterly.  The things one can do with a Barbie that one couldn’t do with a human on stage.  Rip their heads off, beat them with a hammer, rape them with a pencil.  Grind their faces off with a Dremel.  Melt them with an oxy-acetylene torch.  Using Barbies allows me to go way over the top in my story of child abuse and its repercussions into adulthood; and yet allows me to keep the audience in their seats, watching, instead of running out into the lobby to dial 911.

Spalding Gray: I’m a Few Years Late

Monday, July 26th, 2010


It was surreal—I kept waiting to read that it was a performance piece. Couldn’t quite believe he was dead. It’s personally disappointing to me that a performer who had such connection with his audience and such success–that people wanted to pay to hear him –still could be suicidal.

Meisner Technique, Part One Zillion

Friday, April 9th, 2010


Sandy Meisner was a famous acting coach and not-so-famous actor.  Some of his students were Robert Duvall, Diane Keaton, Jon Voight, Kim Basinger, Sandra Bullock, Syndey Pollack and Philip Seymour Hoffman.  There is a famous tale (at least, a tale famous in the acting & film community) of Sandy playing a minor role on stage, crouching upstage painting a wall while two other characters are standing, having dialog downstage.  In this tale as it is told, all audience eyes are on Meisner, not on the actors who are talking.


This story raises the question, “When is it okay to ’steal the scene’?” What if you are a stronger actor–how much do you flatten your work to compensate for the rest of the cast being too fake, phony and generally bad?


A couple years ago I was the Matchseller in Pinter’s play of the same name. For those who don’t know, there is a married couple and this weird Matchseller. The Matchseller does not speak throughout the play. When the couple is arguing downstage, I am left alone in a chair upstage. I arrange my matches in their precisely correct positions, for they are very important to me.


After the opening night, the director told me to quit being so involved in my task, as I was pulling focus from the other 2 actors.


“Hell, I say, if they want focus, let them be better actors, then.”


This, I said to myself, not to the director.  But, really, should I be a crummy actor and just sit there in a chair because I have no lines and because other actors can’t act?



The Cavemen Had Storytellers, Too

Thursday, November 12th, 2009

As performing artists, our role has been, since the cave-dwelling days, to channel the fears of our communities (however they are now defined) back to the community members, and to throw some hope, love, and explanations of a better way into the mix before we feed it back.  Performers and storytellers used to explain the magic workings of the universe to the cave-peeps; maybe we still do.

Actor Writes Haiku about Being in The Zone

Monday, October 19th, 2009


Text has no meaning: //

What is your body saying //

To your scene partner? //


Fiction becomes truth //

In the character’s desire //

The actor is lost //


Skinned raw down to nerves //

Sensitive to the slightest //

All shutters open //


Your body instrument //

Madmen falling off a cliff //

Zen of the moment //


Life but yet dreamlike //

Consequences, desires //

Watch yourself perform //


We were in the zone //

Floating over the sound stage //

Ephemeral-real //


Never do I feel //

So alive and connected //

As when I’m on set //


A Bit of Haiku about Other Kinds of Artists

Sunday, October 11th, 2009


At Cirque du Soleil//

A small girl scared by the clown//

Seared soul, white grimace.


Speak it.  Spit it.  Mouth,//

Parched with liminal heart’s ache.//

Perform defryu.//


Before I say if //

I like this piece of artwork //

Tell me who did it //


Haiku to utter  //

Raku to hold and to touch //

Enoki to crunch //


The woven sculpture //

Meant to celebrate marriage //

Instead makes them weep //


I dream of Juan Gris //

Every night he haunts my eyes //

With fractured pierrots //


Stringing rough diamonds //

Dirty gray polluted ice //

Are those the real thing? //


Distracted by nude //

I trip and spill my palette //

Voila abstract art //


I used to believe //

Spoken word is not true art. //

I used to be wrong. //



Extravagantly //

Ostentatious luxe glitz shine //

Adorning my throat //



Those large oil paintings //

With thick, waxy gobs of paint //

Scream out to be touched. //


Amazing and dense //

Layered unveiling of art //

ShaSha Higby’s show //


I have compulsions. //

To endlessly create and //

To destroy it all. //



Did you ever have //

A ballet coach who told you //

“Stop wasting your time.”? //


Actor Writes Haiku about Performing

Tuesday, September 29th, 2009

Grand practitioner //

Of truth in performing arts //

Rachel Rosenthal //


One man didn’t clap //

He must have hated the show //

My work must have stunk //


Someone’s not laughing //

Am I saying my lines wrong? //

I’m spoiling the show //


Someone is laughing //

This is the funeral scene //

Spinach in my teeth? //


Boiling inside me //

LoveFearLustRageHungerJoy  //

Propelled by the script //


Seeking Advice on a Story-Line for a Live Show

Monday, July 27th, 2009

Dear readers, dear, dear readers,

Once again, I solicit your kind advice on my projects.

I have these following items and wish to include them in a performance piece.  I need your help developing a story-line:

  • Chirpy’s feathers wrapped in a velvet cloth.
  • Some of my baby teeth in a cute little pink box. (Thanks to my sister Deb for rescuing these from the moldy depths of the junk pile in my mother’s garage when we were selling her house.) Please consider, though, for purposes of artistic integrity, when offering your thoughts on how they might be used: it’s not a full set of teeth. Also, I have only Deb’s word that these are mine and not hers, having wiped all memories of my youth. Deb, to the contrary, claims we had an idyllic childhood.
  • #30 adult tooth along with the dental abscess which triggered its removal. Huge though the abscess remains, even in its 1-year post-removal dehydrated state, I wonder why the damn cutter didn’t just take it out and leave me my tooth which is so useful for eating filberts. I rage against surgeons whose only answer is to cut. I suppose if you’re an elephant, everything looks like a dental surgeon to you. I told the hygienist that I was still in mourning for my unnecessarily removed tooth. She said I should get over it. She is heartless. The abscess is in one of those bug-collector jars…all magnified from every side in its Zombie glory.
  • Lovely amethyst-colored small glass apothecary jar containing with tiny hairs I have pulled from my jaw line. Jar is full.
  • Tupperware boxes, sized to fit under a bed. 9 of same. Each with a dead cat of varying age. It’s hard to tell Forty from Manny at this stage (they were both all black and both have lost considerable weight since being boxed) but the rest have distinctive cute little faces. Please take into consideration that any use of these during a performance piece must ensure that they remain intact for future brooding and melancholia…or future performances.
  • One uterine fibroid tumor.
  • One (almost complete) Phyllodes tumor preserved in formaldehyde. About the size of a walnut. Several slices have been removed for diagnostic purposes. Nevertheless, it retains an elegant, shimmery and somewhat rubbery appeal. Attendant “negative margin tissue” is not available for performance purposes, having been used for research.  Possible use as a juggling ball, along with the fibroid above, as both are round; what would I use for a 3rd ball?
  • Grandma’s fur coat.
  • Mother’s fur coat.
  • 400 naked Barbie knockoffs (the Dollar Store kind.)

What is the story arc here?  How do you see the show unfolding?  What sort of costume shall I wear?  You don’t think this show will close after one night, do you?

Last Night at The Wrap Party

Saturday, October 25th, 2008

A few snippets I overheard

Actor: “Did you know Karen just dropped dead in the middle of rehearsal?”

Musician: “Must have been on some serious drugs.”

Performance Artist: “Goddam it; why did she die?  She was going to buy a ticket to my show.”

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Actor: “Do you think I should avoid being TOO good, so I won’t make the other actors look bad?”

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Acting Coach: “I felt I couldn’t let more time pass without mention of the no-longer recent discovery of Spalding Gray’s body in the East River.”

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Critic: “I have the purest of thoughts. I don’t even think sex belongs in art. Art should be all about clean marble and pretty pictures and not upsetting anyone; and sex is way too ….mucousy.”

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Writer: “Some people I know, though, have read a LOT of comic books and, yet, they STILL can’t get their lives in order.”

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Actor: “Why on earth would you do a toothpaste commercial instead of Shakespeare in the Park?”

Actor: “For money?”

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Actor: “I could not be in the moment; I was too busy concentrating on my accent; was my wig slipping; what to get my nephew for his wedding; my nipple itches; the fondue au chocolat.”

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Extra: “I don’t want to work on any movies where the extras have a different bathroom than the principals.”

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Civilian: “I’ve got a great idea for a movie about a government-corporate plot.  How much do you think I could sell that for?  Maybe a few hundred thousand?”

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UPM: “…you figure out what you’re going to spend for each item and…”

Actor (interrupts): “You mean you actually WRITE DOWN a budget?????”

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Comic:  “I love this party!  You can talk about Art with a capital A and colonoscopy in the same place!”

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Carlos Andrés Gómez

Thursday, September 25th, 2008

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Carlos Andrés Gómez

a performing artist

real beautiful deep love stirring glue hypnotic stunning stun-gun raw alive guts exposed sexual committed human compassionate intense focused believes feels searing art craft bodily mindmelding holy fire present

he is present

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Michelle Shyman