Look at YOU! - Part I

Mirrors, mirrors, everywhere...

Look At YOU! - Part I

How to Use Mirrors

“Look at yourself, if you had a sense of humor 

You would laugh to beat the band.” 

~Lorenz Hart & Richard Rogers

I studied at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, where avid AH readers will recall I enrolled, and attended briefly, thanks to a vision of Frankie Avalon in my teen bean and the guidance of Anne Bancroft, who had been extended ‘family’ ever since the happy days when my office was a baby’s crib and her name was Italiano. (See: “Out Of The Pit”)

My first assignment in acting class at AAHD was to pay attention. (Sound familiar?)

In a specific way for purposes of this assignment. 

I was instructed to find a person at work; observe them carefully for as long as it took to remember and imitate what they did, in detail. 

Some of my classmates were skeptical. Is acting just imitation? Does life imitate art or does art imitate life? That kind of rigamarole.

Our able teacher (I’m embarrassed not to remember his name) tabled the questioning with something along the lines of acting is not about thinking, it’s about doing - SO - “just do it.” He was WAY ahead of Nike.

At that time, I surely hadn’t integrated the full value of what this assignment promised, I did know enough to know that imitation was valuable in the learning process.

Much of learning to play trumpet involved imitation. My very inspiration to play in the first place was sparked by watching Louis Armstrong at work, entirely mesmerized. I’ve been captivated ever since. 

Clark Terry taught me his three part learning ‘system.’ A brilliant paradigm for learning to play the trumpet, improvise jazz, and, as it turns out, an incisive ‘how-to’ for all aspirants in any creative arena. 

Imitate - Assimilate - Innovate. 

I was primed and ready to hit the streets in search of workers at work. 

Immediately outside the door was a Con Edison crew. Con Ed, the electric company, was rewiring Manhattan to satisfy its thirst for ‘juice.’ 

NYC was growing like crazy. It seemed like there was a “Dig We Must For A Better NY” sign on every block. Behind the sign and a flimsy barrier men in hardhats labored with jackhammers and shovels. 

I had strolled by this common scene many times. Always, my immediate reaction was to escape the mess and cacophony - pronto! Never stopped. Once in a while, while passing, I felt a fleeting sense of gratitude. I had sidestepped this kind of hard work, many of my neighborhood pals had not. I was lucky to have found a different kind of digging. You dig?

This time I dutifully paused to observe carefully, as instructed. 

It was unpleasant. After only a few minutes I had developed a deep appreciation for the grim and body rattling chore of handling a jackhammer in action. My well established avoidance reflex kicked in. I split.

I stopped briefly to see a window dresser at work. Maybe? Moving on -

A three card monte hustler working a small crowd. Lots of banter. Flamboyant. How did the trick work? Could I figure it out? Maybe? 

Nudged by my near constant companion, hunger, I moved on to a nearby Pizza Parlor, as I called slice joints then. I was eager to scarf and consider all I’d seen, perchance to choose a working person to ’study.’ 

I ordered my first slice, more to come, bet your bottom dollar. 

Lo and behold! A flour covered pizza maker! BOOM!!!

My interest in Pizza Man exploded. 

This short, olive skinned, 30 something in white pants, white apron, and white shirt with rolled up sleeves took on fascinating dimensions. He became a bit taller. The counter girl called him Mario. There’s a ring to Mar-i-o.

He worked with rounds of dough, one at a time, each selected from a tray of many, pried free, and plopped onto a white stone surface. Kneaded and spread. And then, tossed high in the air, again and again, with great flair. 

I was all in. Mario was my man. 

Not only did I have my assignment covered, I was about to enjoy my first experience in dinner theater. There would be more to come.

Back To Class

Each of us in turn were called to the barely raised stage in front. There we were asked to show what we had chosen and learned to imitate. Told to take our time to recreate the work as best remembered.

I had been on stage numerous times playing the trumpet, never before to make an imaginary pizza. Though it felt a little silly, what the hell, I had at it. 

Everyone ‘got’ what I was doing. Pizza was (still is) popular. Conscientious time spent observing Mario at work served me well. As if by osmosis I had absorbed his ‘moves,’ and his attitude at each stage in the process, especially the toss, OUR coup de grace.

My classmates were wowed. I heard the cheer of thousands.

Your Turn

Find someone at work doing something, that for reasons of your own draws you to them and/or the physical nature of what they do and/or the circumstances in which they do the thing they do. 

For me Mario and pizza was all that and more. Lifelong associations with pizza. All delicious. The fulsome effluvium of red sauce and mozzarella baking atop dough, knowing that I’d soon sprinkle crushed red pepper and oregano before folding the slice and - well, dear pizza eating friends, you know the drill.

Exercise Instructions

I didn’t and you needn’t ‘rehearse out loud.’ And certainly not in a mirror, apart from the mirror of your mind. Simply see the reflection of what you remember. Your imagination will naturally come to your aid.

Repeat observations as often as possible. This exercise is most useful when done with ease. Pay careful attention to details without pushing or grasping.  

Gentle. Easy does it.

No need to try hard. Aim not for perfection, rather let it feel easy (even silly) and fun. 

Your minds eye makes the most exquisite mirror.

Mind mirror reflects most compellingly when you relax. Do you have a relaxation ‘method?’ Use it. Take time to relax with intention. 

There are many relaxation methods available. I’m here to help sort them out if you like. The ability to relax intentionally is central to ACTING HUMAN practice. 

Notice sensations. Involuntary bodily movements. I’m still fingering trumpet valves from time to time, imitating my self. As you will recall, I no longer have an actual (material) trumpet at my disposal.

Allow yourself to feel in both physical and emotional ways as you remember what you’ve seen and intend to imitate.

When next we meet I’ll elaborate. We’ll discuss what’s going on inside and around this exercise and why we’re doing it. 

For now, I don’t want to overcomplicate the process with excessive thought. Trust me, it’s fun and chock full of extraordinary riches.

“Just Do It”

Until then,

Lights Up!