The Disillusion Point

In perspective there is the vanishing point.  In human endeavor there is the disillusion point.

All of the lines of sight tend to converge on a single point somewhere behind the eye.  The parallel lines of a track, the vertical lines of a building, and the edges of a box tend to converge.  They don’t, of course.  The track never narrows as the train proceeds, the building doesn't taper, and the box has a cubic volume based on its measurements.

In a human endeavor, as effort is spent but enthusiasm wanes because progress is not perceived, enthusiasm diminishes and approaches disillusion.  Once that is reached the endeavor is abandoned and replaced.  The advantages of success in the endeavor don’t diminish but the perceived possibility of gaining that success diminishes to the point that further effort doesn't seem worth it.

There are a long list of my personal endeavors that have been selected and discarded along the way.  Some discarded because they were found to be shallow and not worthy of pursuit; others because they became passé, and still others because the incremental gain of pursuing them was not worth the effort required.

There is also an impressive list of endeavors that have been successfully achieved.  These tend to be projects that had an inception, a period of applied effort, and a point at which they could be considered finished.

Endeavors of a different kind are subject to the phenomenon of the disillusion point.  They are generally in the skills arena, stage and film acting, voice-over performing, writing, digital technology, painting, sketching, dancing, pool, athletics of one kind or another, horseback riding, management training, the French language, fitness, and asset maintenance.

Some people, in whose company I had the pleasure of being, had an enthusiasm for life and what they were doing that pushed the disillusion point back toward the horizon.  Others were less optimistic and discarded endeavors with ease.  

Both of these types of people never reached the top of the heap but the former were happily engaged in the pursuit of excellence even when they realized that they were never going attain more than a modicum of it.  They chose their path and then stuck to it until a destination was reached where they could objectively say that they’d done it.

Those who wouldn't/ couldn't stick it out were generally jaundiced in their outlook on life and living, more negative than positive and especially so when they reached the end of the period of initial enthusiasm for a pursuit.  They changed the emphasis of their life.  In education they changed majors or never graduated from college.  In jobs they changed careers often before reaching success in any one of them.  Content with rationalizing their efforts by saying, “It wasn't for me.”

There seem to be two extreme points on a continuum; complete failure and the pinnacle of success.  Most of us operate somewhere on this continuum and, if we are cognizant of it, know when to say, “I've done this.”

Now I am looking at what I’ve done with my time and my life and wondering if there is something else I should be/could be doing that would lead to a more satisfactory outcome.  There’s still lifetime enough left to do just about anything of which I am physically capable.

My first glance is at the endeavors with which I am currently involved.  There are only two of them that are considered the aggregate of my activities, acting and writing.  

Then two more recreational endeavors, golf and pool.  I would like to mention another activity that brings me much joy, riding horses, but in my heart of hearts I know that I will probably never have unlimited access to a horse.

One can’t help but notice that money doesn't make the list.  Making money was never a goal for me.  This may be one of the reasons I’m writing this piece; money has been in the background all my life.  Whatever I brought home, that’s what we used to live.  I was always able to get whatever we needed including college for the kids.

My parents barely scraped by but thanks to my mom’s cleverness they left a nice sum of money to my sister and me, her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  This was due to the fact that she worked outside the home for about ten years before reaching age 65 and saved every penny of it.  She achieved her goal.

Then when our kids started coming one after the other, it was all we could do to make ends meet.  It wasn't until we went to Houston and a high paying corporate job that things started easing up for us.  Even now we are comfortable but far from wealthy.

There is a question being posed here; should I pursue “making money” as an endeavor?  It’s worth some effort to answer that. 

What do I have that would allow me to be successful at such an endeavor? I have all the personal attributes necessary to be successful at whatever I decide to do.  I have a source of capital that would finance any reasonable venture; I have intelligence and knowledge; I have access to people who could put me on the right track.

What holds me back?  Taking on that endeavor would require dedication to it on a routine basis and perhaps even at the expense of my acting and writing unless it was they that made the money. 

Actively marketing my talents would require me to contact others and convince them that what I am proposing would be profitable to them when I may not be all that convinced of the quality of my talent.  Or find products that are desirable and focus on marketing them.  Although my history has been to doubt even the best of products that I've represented.

This last sentiment lays bare a personal, fatal flaw.  In spite of objective evidence of performance and accomplishment to the contrary; I don’t feel that what I have to offer is of monetary value.  Unless and until this is remedied there will be no personal financial gain associated with my performance.  I am at the disillusion point.

Acting. An Update

The decision to act was made by me in 2009, after thinking it through and discussing it with a trusted advisor.  He was most helpful as he tackled what was, for him, an unusual case.  

He mostly dealt with troubled youth, s.t. I didn't know when I first approached him, and he agreed to take me on as a client because he thought it would be an interesting change for him and he thought he could help me and he did.

All of the reasons that were in favor of acting are still valid today.  There is no long term commitment to a project; it starts with auditions and goes through final curtain or wrap.  There is no lingering responsibility when the project is over.  The project involves people but only during the production.

During the project, all are working for the success of the venture.  There are axes to grind but they are subordinate to the script and the director.  The cast performs on stage and there is little off-stage interaction that is not scripted.  Not that it is prohibited or discouraged, if it happens it does so quite naturally.  There is a community of actors who for the most part are all doing it for the love of the craft.

There is risk involved.  The prospect of auditioning for a part requires one to step out there.  The feelings associated with not getting the part are easily rationalized by repeating the advice, “Don’t take it personally.” 

The disappointment of the first few rehearsals is felt; all are in the same boat vis-à-vis the script so it isn’t so bad.  It’s after the “off-book” date that one is devastated by his inability to remember the lines.  Then the lines are assimilated and, once again, life is good.

The rehearsals put the show on the stage; repeating it in rehearsal over and over again, tweaking the blocking and the delivery until one is comfortable with it and the interaction with the rest of the cast.  The project is joined by technicians who do scenery, sound, and lights.  In some cases, musicians to provide for the necessary.

Then there’s opening night, all is on the line for the first, paying audience, live performance.  Some of what I’ve read says that if you get through opening night without a disaster you are home free.  My experience in my productions/ performances  has been that there have been no disasters, at least any recognizable by the audience.

Another aspect of the craft is the continuing development required by the actor.  In my case it means studying in classes, from books, in workshops, and in discussion with other actors.  It is an endeavor at which one can never be good enough.  There is no perfection but the striving for it allows one to incrementally improve, role after role, forever.

There are downsides as well.  The doubt of ones capabilities is profound.  No matter how objectively one tries to look at a performance, one cannot accept what he did as good enough.  Cast, friends, and even critics try to support the performance but in one’s heart of hearts he knows that it wasn’t the performance that he would prefer to have given.

During rehearsals there are highs and lows as the characters develop.  If one is too critical of himself he will become moody and even depressed.  This is when doubt in one’s ability seems to come to the fore.  Yet winning this struggle with lines and blocking is paramount to moving on; a lesson in life as well as on the stage. 

The most frustrating of all acting activities, for me anyway, is that of learning the lines.  I got into this business rather late in life, so my memory and brain are not as absorbent as they were twenty or more years ago.  There are times during the process that I get frustrated to the point of wanting it to all just go away; saying this is my last one of these.  Then there comes a point when the lines are mine and I can recite them without error. 

The confidence floods back until they are recited for the first time in company, in rehearsal, with full cast and crew standing by.  Then my ego goes back to a blob of jelly until that same ownership is established again in the new environment.  There doesn’t seem to be a similar step-function change when going live before an audience; by then the lines are mine.

Little errors in performance are magnified by one’s imagination to larger than real magnitudes.  Often they are not even noticed by the audience because no one is following a script in his lap, nor are they privy to the blocking scheme of the play; but to the actor, it is quite a different story.  Cast members laugh it off but the sting of the misstep is still felt by the stepper.  For me, there is a little gremlin inside who expects, even demands, perfection.  He never gets it but he causes all kinds of emotional grief when he doesn’t get it. 

Someone asked me which I preferred, stage or film, and I replied stage.  There is a world of difference between the two in how they are performed.  In film, there are at least three takes for every shot and the subtlety of expression, both facial and vocal, are quite different. 

On stage, you are performing so the audience can enjoy what you do while you’re doing it.  They may or may not remember it, it is “in the moment.”  They go away with an impression of it.  In film, your performance is going down for the record and a good director and cinematographer will make sure that what is saved in the final cut is worthy of posterity.

On stage, the audience reacts with a laugh or a sigh.  In film, the audience is a camera recording images without emotional response.  It is intimately close to the performer so vocal projection and movement exaggeration cannot be tolerated.  Often in film, you don’t know what it’s going to look like because the takes are disjointed and then edited together for cohesion.

So, this is where I am now after several years of “treading the boards.”  I wrote this to get my thoughts down and now see that it was, is, and will continue to be a good decision for me to continue acting.  It doesn’t pay in money but it gives me a ride that keeps me stimulated.  It requires fighting dragons, they are inside but just as ferocious as the fire breathing beasts of fantasy.