Art thou content?
As I prepare to enter my fifth decade as an actor - for the next two years I'm
referring to myself as "approaching 60" rather than giving people the
benefit of a specific number - I begin to wonder whether I will ever achieve
a state of content.
I certainly didn't come into this profession for security. The idea of having to leave the house every day at the same time to get to the same place to do the same work would drive me to distraction as the incredible variety of work that I am given is part of what keeps me going. I suppose people looking in from the outside might regard me as doing well. The joy of having been in two great sitcoms. Jobs as regular characters in soap operas, other fun television appearances and theatre stuff besides. I know I've been lucky. Thanks to a healthy corporate career I manage to keep my bank manager happy too. And yet I haven't got to that stage whereby I feel I can rest on my laurels.
Job finishes. On the first day it is time to wear a onesie, to make endless pots of coffee, to spend time watching "Homes under the Hammer" without a guilty conscience and to play catch up at my desk. Day two and it is time to tackle those little domestic chores that have been threatening for a while. That recessed spotlight in the hall that needs replacing. That little bit of clearing out in the garage. Day three and the cracks are beginning to show. No email offering work, no telephone call and so time to get out of the house and down to the local cafe. I know that work will come, and I should find that knowledge relaxing. But I need it to come now. I need it in the diary. Preferably I need it for tomorrow.
As those empty days stretch out, I do try and make sure that I do one thing each day that might lead to work. Phoning my agent, checking out exactly what is happening in both the acting world and the corporate sector. On Thursdays it's as easy as reading "The Stage". On other days it might be browsing the Internet and making a list of possible approaches. All part of working as an actor. There is so much that we do which allows us to give ourselves the job title that happens outside the rehearsal room. Organisation, scheduling, budgeting, managing our domestic lives to allow the work to happen.
I certainly didn't come into this profession for security. The idea of having to leave the house every day at the same time to get to the same place to do the same work would drive me to distraction as the incredible variety of work that I am given is part of what keeps me going. I suppose people looking in from the outside might regard me as doing well. The joy of having been in two great sitcoms. Jobs as regular characters in soap operas, other fun television appearances and theatre stuff besides. I know I've been lucky. Thanks to a healthy corporate career I manage to keep my bank manager happy too. And yet I haven't got to that stage whereby I feel I can rest on my laurels.
Job finishes. On the first day it is time to wear a onesie, to make endless pots of coffee, to spend time watching "Homes under the Hammer" without a guilty conscience and to play catch up at my desk. Day two and it is time to tackle those little domestic chores that have been threatening for a while. That recessed spotlight in the hall that needs replacing. That little bit of clearing out in the garage. Day three and the cracks are beginning to show. No email offering work, no telephone call and so time to get out of the house and down to the local cafe. I know that work will come, and I should find that knowledge relaxing. But I need it to come now. I need it in the diary. Preferably I need it for tomorrow.
As those empty days stretch out, I do try and make sure that I do one thing each day that might lead to work. Phoning my agent, checking out exactly what is happening in both the acting world and the corporate sector. On Thursdays it's as easy as reading "The Stage". On other days it might be browsing the Internet and making a list of possible approaches. All part of working as an actor. There is so much that we do which allows us to give ourselves the job title that happens outside the rehearsal room. Organisation, scheduling, budgeting, managing our domestic lives to allow the work to happen.
On thinking about it I realise that this impatience may just be part of my
make up. I would have to admit that I'm rather similar when working. Day
one and the car arrives at 5:45 AM. I'm full of anticipation, looking forward
to meeting new people, donning my thermals for a location shoot, or a day
in a field as it's otherwise referred to. Day two and the car arrives at 5:45
AM. There's a slight moment of relishing the familiarity, the joy of knowing
who people are when you arrive, and a clean set of thermals. Day three and
there is an annoyance when the alarm goes off ready for the car at 5:45 AM.
I sense that I've now done enough, I want to move onto something else. Of
course the day brings its joys, but it's starting to look like routine. That's
what I hate. Routine. Whether it's the routine time filling activities of
unemployment, or the routine of a long shoot. I'm a man who is up for
change.
I think that's a good thing. Change is what an awful lot of acting is about. An ability to try and find something new every evening. Not just settling for what one did the night before.
I'm irresistibly reminded of the anecdote about the social experiment as to how people become like their dogs. An architect, a mathematician and an actor were together with their dogs and some dog biscuits. The architect’s dog organised the biscuits in a symmetrical way. The mathematicians dog set them in exact groupings of four. The actor’s dog ate all the biscuits, shagged the other two dogs and asked for the afternoon off.
I think that's a good thing. Change is what an awful lot of acting is about. An ability to try and find something new every evening. Not just settling for what one did the night before.
I'm irresistibly reminded of the anecdote about the social experiment as to how people become like their dogs. An architect, a mathematician and an actor were together with their dogs and some dog biscuits. The architect’s dog organised the biscuits in a symmetrical way. The mathematicians dog set them in exact groupings of four. The actor’s dog ate all the biscuits, shagged the other two dogs and asked for the afternoon off.
I know this inner restlessness is a good thing. It makes me push myself.
After 38 years in the business any job that makes me ask "Why on earth am
I doing this?", as my heart flutters with nerves while standing in the wings
or waiting for the camera to roll, is the right job.
Perhaps the moment I start to feel secure and content is the moment I should give it all up. And right now I have absolutely no intention of doing that.
Now what's in the diary for today?
Perhaps the moment I start to feel secure and content is the moment I should give it all up. And right now I have absolutely no intention of doing that.
Now what's in the diary for today?
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