A Small Piece of the Creative Process
Contributed by Tracy Turner
There are so many different ways to approach creativity. Some artists begin with first-hand experiences, others may simply use the limitlessness of human imagination. Of course, there are so many other vehicles and mechanisms that an artist can call upon to help convey the realization of (their) artistic endeavor. For me, at least as I continue to explore the role of “Deception,” I find that truly being creative means there must exist an inextricable link to spontaneity that’s rooted in both my own personal experiences and the delicious gift of human imagination.
Of course, I am not an evil spirit. I do not know what it’s like to be a real demon. However, I can extract from what I would consider to be some of the obvious traits of such a malevolent character like “Deception.” And to do this extraction means digging rather deeply into (my own) imagination. Sometimes during rehearsals I found myself experiencing intense (emotional) discomfort with some of the thoughts I would come up with in constructing the character. If I allow my imagination to really and truly run wild, as it were, how far should I go? To what degree can I “stretch,” without hurting, offending or disappointing my fellow acting colleagues and/or the audience? These are some of the questions I keep revisiting, time after time.
What helps to guide me through the seemingly infinite maze of thoughts and emotions I try on, play and experiment with, is not to over-think the process. I’ve discovered, at least in the case of trying to build the psyche of the character “Deception,” I must rely on simply being spontaneous. Trying to come up with the actions, thoughts and emotions of a demon isn’t a problem. It’s knowing how far to push it when things become a bit more challenging. Well, I’ve got a wonderful impetus sitting right under my nose: It’s my fellow actors! I see them as human governors, constantly monitoring and controlling just how far I should go. In other words, I can experience the thrill and excitement of sincere spontaneity without worrying about whether I’ve gone too far, because the story has already been written and there’s already context. As long I never lose sight of these parameters, my natural inclinations would never allow me to stray too far, or color outside of the lines.
Listening to my fellow actors’ spoken lines and watching their body language puts me in a place where I can pretend their lines aren’t, in fact, rehearsed or memorized, but that these lines are falling from their mouths extemporaneously – in the same way we don’t altogether know or anticipate what someone is going to say in an everyday conversation. We simply respond, automatically, without much aforethought. But my task isn’t complete yet when playing the role of “Deception,” because I’ve got my own set of lines from the script to follow also. Where it begins to get tricky is combining those (already) written words with how to be motivated to proceed from what feels natural at the moment. And all of this must be conveyed through physical action or facial expression – which ultimately makes for on-stage moments of extremely dense psychological excursions (that often happen in the blink of an eye). By no means is this a complaint, but I think this is one of the reasons I find myself feeling physically and emotionally spent at the end of rehearsals as of late.
At the end of the day, I must take my hat off to the (theatrical) performer. Conveying, acting, emoting, gesticulating, kicking some actions up a notch, and pulling others down a notch, these are all examples of the art of imitating life and making situations believable (no matter how banal or phantasmagorical they may be). THIS, for me, is a significant aspect of how I see the creative process.
