Kindling Creativity: Should I Reignite the Embers of the Artist Who Once Was?

A creative act is a spark of life.  So when life is at a standstill, how do we continue to create?

This question has harassed me ad nauseam since the beginning of this pandemic. I remember, during those early days of fear and uncertainty, being particularly filled with dread by a meme that was circulated online amongst fellow artists. It said something to the effect of, “Shakespeare had written King Lear during a plague.” It presented what seemed to me a daunting challenge: would I use this newfound time and space to create my masterpiece? It was tinged with just enough social media snark-guilt that I felt that if I did not write my own Lear by the end of this “gift” of a time, I would most certainly be a failure. 

Six months into this seemingly endless crisis, I have done absolutely nothing creative. I have not taken one idea and actually put pen to paper. I haven’t even tried. My pages, where short films and screenplays should be facing edits and re-writes are filled with cobwebs. Sure, I have tooled around on my guitar here and there but fine-tuning my bar chord’s really does nothing for me in the long run. 

I have been utterly paralyzed. 

I incessantly wrestle with the why? I have more than enough time these days to allow my obsessive brain to feed on questions like these. Why am I incapable of creating during this time? Why has every shred of artistic discipline I’ve ever had left me? It’s a vicious cycle of guilt and anxiety. The more I ignore what I should be doing, the more I don’t want to deal with the guilt of not doing it. And so on and so on it goes. I often see a ghost of myself in the early morning hours of a restless night, which are at this point a regular for me. The ghost looks like me, in just February of this year. It stands before me, a better more confident self. Suddenly, February me starts violently screaming at me in bed, “This is how you spend these precious hours of your life? You’re lazy. You’re weak. You should be doing more. Writing more. Working more.”

As time has gone by, I’ve begun to realize that who we were in the non-plague times, our very identities were all relative to a society that no longer exists. 

And that is what has led me to the recent realization that the act of creation in-and-of itself reminds me of everything we’ve lost. I can’t create without remembering a time I could do so freely. Every project I started pre-plague had potential. Anything was possible. Now we all must reckon with an undeniable fact: None of us lives in a world of potential any longer. 

Art should reflect the moment. We all know the age-old adage that art often serves as a mirror to society. 

I have no idea how to wrestle with this moment. 

I watch about 10-12 hours of news a day. It plays in the background as a constant reminder, a little voice in my head that no matter what I do I can’t fix or escape this new reality. I am not in control. But I don’t want to dig into it. I don’t even know what to make of it. Maybe it’s because I can’t make any sense of it. Maybe because it doesn’t make sense. Maybe I can’t control a narrative that helps me understand what is happening. Art needs a reference point. All art is inherently in reference to the society it exists in. Comedy is in relation to firm social norms. Ideas of love and tragedy exist in relation to a fundamental understanding and illumination of the world around us. 

And yet, we are in the midst of the most uncertain period of time in a generation. There’s no baseline to refer to. No foundation to reflect on.

In moments of sporadic and fleeting inspiration I ask myself, what do I have to say about all of this? What insight do I even have to offer? Or do I even have a right to try?

How can I create when there are so many people dying, so many getting sick, so many important social justice issues, so many lost jobs, so much workplace abuse, so much gender disparity, so much wrongful prejudice against sexuality, so many dying from abuses in parts far across the world, so much hypocrisy pervading our lives on a daily, hourly, minute to minute basis? 

How can it not consume every waking minute of my day? How is the loss of my own livelihood, potentially my entire career not supposed to consume me? How do I forget the fear I have for my loved one’s who may be vulnerable to this virus? The spiral never ends.

It occupies my mind. Almost every waking hour.

 Right now, I tend towards things that help to soothe. Things that give me comfort. I try as best I can to find ways to forget the woes, even for a moment. It doesn’t work. And I know deep down that these tendencies are antithetical to creation itself. As artists, we must dig deep, rip scabs off of wounds, tear open our guts and take a hard look at what is there. As dark and ugly as it may be. As long as it is in pursuit of the truth.

But here I am, six months in, unable to create. Because doing so would force me to actually face all of these truths. It would take it from the intellectual, the way I can cope with all of this mess and bring it to the full-blown emotional. A place I am afraid to go.

I don’t know that I have it in me. And I’m not sure if I should.

Stay Safe,

Robbie

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Robbie Tann

Professional actor, writer, director & college professor

Robbie Tann is a professional actor, writer, director & college professor. He has worked extensively in television, film and theatre for nearly a decade. 

G&E In Motion does not necessarily agree with the opinions of our guest bloggers. That would be boring and counterproductive. We have simply found the author’s thoughts to be interesting, intelligent, unique, insightful, and/or important. We may not agree on the words but we surely agree on their right to express them and proudly present this platform as a means to do so.  

The Art of Seeing: Once Again Karen Huie Stumbles Into Victory

Auditioning is an actor’s job. Getting cast to perform the job is the vacation. Imperium 7, my voice over agents, gives me a wide berth of roles and genres to audition for and obviously I try to go on vacation as often as possible.

I had predominately acted in theatre, film, and television until voice work lured me to its den. It was a thrill to do voice work on projects such as Star Wars: Episode VII – The Force Awakens, The Incredibles 2, Moana, Onward, Scissor Seven and about 1500 other projects over my career. I had voiced characters for video games but had never played a principal role in one. That is, until Ghost of Tsushima entered my life. 

 Early in 2017, I got an audition for the role of Yuriko in a video game. I went into my recording booth with the lines they provided me and imagined the circumstances of the character. I performed each line along with a direction that they gave me: this line is directly to this character, try this one as if calling out from afar, one as if I were on horseback, for this line try saying it as if you are revealing something personal…. 

I listened to the takes on my headphones. Do I hear the character and not me? Is there life and place in each line? Tempo? I rechecked the directions. When I think I’ve got it, I set the proper gain (volume) for each line, save the file, and label it according to the precise specs. I email my audition and hope for the best. 

Some time later, I got a callback. My GPS guided me to a big complex where someone ushered me into a large room, about the size of an airplane hangar. Nate Fox, a game director at Sucker Punch Productions (who turned out to being the director for Ghost of Tsushima), stepped up and thanked me for coming down. Generous indeed. What actor doesn’t love a callback? There were props and sets. Nate explained that unlike theatre I didn’t need to be mindful of the ‘fourth wall’; the camera would follow me. For about 45 minutes, I acted scenes. I then drove an hour back home and made lunch. 

Some months later my agents sent an email informing me that I was cast. The work on the project would take me through 2018. Wait, which?  What was the name of it? When would I start? What’s MOCAP? (It’s short for motion capture by the way). A friend pointed me to a video of Benedict Cumberbatch, in MOCAP, portraying Smaug for The Hobbit films. All of life and art are in those 17 minutes of footage. It was a revelation about commitment and creating.

In June of 2017 I started working on Ghost of Tsushima. In one session they greased my hair back and sat me in what looked like a barber’s chair. About one hundred Sony cameras surrounded me. A director talked me through varying expressions and the cameras flashed with each one. Another day, a mold was made of my face. In my first voice over session, I was fitted with a skullcap with two microphones attached and a helmet over that where a camera was trained on my face. I learned how to act with what felt like a football helmet on my head while facing Daisuke Tsuji, the actor who portrays Jin Sakai, the protagonist of the game, who was also fitted with the same headgear. Sucker Punch, Amanda Wyatt (one of the game’s voice directors), Yumi Mi (our Japanese dialect coach) and Daisuke were all patient and helpful to this novice. Twenty sessions over three years came and went.

Performing in a video game is a living experience. I didn’t have a full script at the start. Ghost of Tsushima took over seven years to develop. I was cast about three years into the process. The night before a session is when I would often be given the scenes. The scenes were usually short and not necessarily sequential. I tried to memorize them so that Yuriko could truly engage with Jin in the session.

The scenes between these characters are brief, like haiku. Their game time together is also short. The words in their scenes are clues to what the writers wished to convey. Similar to haiku, a poetic form that has three lines and seventeen syllables, the world is reflected in them.

Yuriko, now an elderly woman of Tsushima, was the lead character’s caretaker. She saw Jin as a child frolic with abandon. She tested his abilities, watched him grow, and sent him off into the world. When Jin comes back years later, does Yuriko see him as a grown man or the child she remembers? Answering this question was the cornerstone for everything Yuriko does. For her, Jin is an embodiment of memories. In the story, Jin comes to Yuriko when he remembers that she has the ability to make an important poison needed to fight the Mongols. It’s been quite some time since she made such venom; she has a hard time recalling, but she nonetheless tries. We set off to accomplish an intention and come away with an experience we didn’t expect to have. And that, like a haiku, has the world reflected in it.

 In December of 2019, Daisuke Tsuji posted a trailer of Ghost of Tsushima. I watched the trailer and gasped at the sheer beauty of the game. The score was transfixing. Then, the curtain rose, revealing the orchestra on stage playing live. The camera pulled back further to reveal the audience. When the lights faded on the trailer, the logo for The Game Awards appeared to a round of thunderous applause, hoots and hollers. Whoa…this game is a huge deal! 

 In January of 2020, my work on the game was done. I resumed my life. I had four writing assignments looming. For as long as Sucker Punch had been developing Ghost of Tsushima, I had been writing a play about Akira Kurosawa. I was also writing the book for a musical about Angel Island for Pomona College and Huntington Gardens, and I am still writing an animated feature film for hire.  

And then, of course, Covid-19 happened. Actors suddenly found themselves out of work. The quarantine gave me time to focus and complete my writing assignments. As a matter of fact, in the fall, The Blank Theatre will be doing a workshop of my Kurosawa play, 11 Seconds. And on the acting side of things, because I’ve had a home studio for fourteen years, I have gotten calls to record jobs from home. 

When Ghost of Tsushima launched in July, I received texts from friends and family. One of my brothers has texted me more times because of this game than ever before. I was showered with praise about the game, my character, and her quests.  

Ghost of Tsushima was now the highest rated game, selling 2.4 million copies in the first three days. It was selling out even in Japan! Gamers had been waiting for this game for six years. I didn’t have a PS4 so friends sent me links where I watched walkthroughs. I followed along in amazement while a gamer played one of Yuriko’s quests, entitled The Art of Seeing. I was even privy to his reactions. A surreal experience indeed. 

I’m touched Yuriko’s side quests have reached so many people. I’m also delighted to see how they relate my character; gamers have publicly shared their deepest love for their grandmothers, mothers, and nannies and I think this speaks to the depth of their relationships. In a society that puts its focus on the young and nubile, it’s comforting to know how much they care about their elders. At a time when there are rampant assaults on Asians and Asian Americans, my hope is restored by how much gamers love Yuriko. I’m proud to have contributed to the humanizing of her. Thank you to everyone at Imperium-7, Sucker Punch, and Sony. Thank you to the gamers who immerse themselves in this world. 

I was invited on The Everything Talk Show to talk about my work on the game. I told Paul Kwo I thought my job ended when the game launched. He said that was just the end of the first chapter. My friends and people like my brother think I’ll go to Comic-Con when it comes back. They seem to think gamers might cosplay my character and want my autograph. Apparently I might get invited to go to Japan, maybe an animated series and possibly a film based on the game.  It was a crash course on gaming--what a subculture. It was truly The Art of Seeing.

I don't know the genesis of the game, but it’s fascinating to imagine how Sucker Punch, Nate Fox, Jason Connell, Ian Ryan, and Patrick Downs were all inspired by Kurosawa films. I relearned Twitter so I could find the writers to thank them for realizing this rich and historical world for people to explore. It starts with the writer, who then gets input from the most brilliant and creative minds in every department before it reaches us actors who add our performances to only then go to the animators who implement and bring to life the vision. It is a multi-faceted accomplishment. The fact that it goes through all these channels while everyone is getting notes, making adjustments, considering alternate ideas, negotiating caveats and many other unforeseen obstacles over so many days, weeks, months, and years until the launch and still survives with such an impact on the gaming audience is nothing short of miraculous. Sometimes there are so many revisions on a project, the heart gets written out of it. Audiences watch and wonder why it was ever made. When you know how much an idea has to go through, you appreciate how remarkable it is that something succeeds and resonates the way Ghost of Tsushima does. 

For the Japanese to embrace and sell out the game is confirming. It’s a game based on Japanese history created by Americans. But cultural admiration is not new. Akira Kurosawa loved the American westerns of John Ford and samurai films were his version of them. In turn, Americans were inspired by Seven Samuraiand made The Magnificent Seven and A Bug’s Life. The Last Man Standing was Walter Hill’s Yojimbo, which inspired Italians to make Spaghetti Westerns like A Fistful of Dollars. Even Star Wars was inspired by The Hidden Fortress, right down to R2-D2 and C-3PO.

I’m gobsmacked. I did a voiceover audition and performed a character now revered in the biggest game trending right now. I’m so very proud to be part of it all. If auditions are the job and acting the vacation, this has to be a launch to the Moon. 

Once, reluctantly, I filled in for someone to play mahjong with three gamblers. I got a full house hand and one gambler threw his tiles in. 

“Give me a break! That‘s disgusting! Once again, Karen Huie stumbles into victory!” he said.

And born on that day, was the theme to my quest. 

See you in Ghost of Tsushima!

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Karen Huie

Karen Huie acts and performs voice overs in theatre, film, television, radio and video games.

Karen Huie was a rebellious, scrappy kid from the Lower East Side of Manhattan. She hung out with a gang, ran away from home, dropped out of school several times, was the lead singer of a band, modeled, wrote poetry, and went to HB Studio to study theatre all before moving to LA. She currently acts and performs voice overs in theatre, film, television, radio and videogames. 

G&E In Motion does not necessarily agree with the opinions of our guest bloggers. That would be boring and counterproductive. We have simply found the author’s thoughts to be interesting, intelligent, unique, insightful, and/or important. We may not agree on the words but we surely agree on their right to express them and proudly present this platform as a means to do so.  

A Dancer in Quarantine 💃

Rochelle Martin-Vecchio

A New York-based dancer and choreographer

I entered 2020 having a 7-month-old baby boy, a husband, bills to pay, and a busy teaching schedule. I was choreographing a show that opened in February (while also performing in and costuming that show), rehearsing and performing with Peconic Ballet Foundation, planning a Dance Parade event for Third Street Music Settlement, getting other students ready for competition at the Broadway Dance Academy, and finally I was set to choreograph Long Island University’s Choreography Showcase. I thought it a well-balanced diet for an artist.

Fast Forward to May; I now have an 11-month-old who doesn’t stop moving (have no idea where he gets that from), but the rest of New York is on PAUSE.

Deep Breath. 

We can’t stop ourselves from reading social media all the time. We see artists, peers, and mentors express their thoughts openly. 

Well, here are my thoughts. It’s time to innovate. As role models, we tell our students to rise to the occasion, and to work hard to achieve your goals. Fight!  We can’t be in the classroom teaching or in the theatre performing but that doesn’t mean we are restricted. At times like these, I think back to choreography class at Long Island University where we read Twyla Tharp’s The Creative Habit. Tharp states, “Creativeness is not a gift from God.” She goes on, “In order to be creative we have to prepare to be creative.” So why are so many creators viewing this situation as artistically negative? Let’s be innovative and prepare to get those creative juices flowing.

I wake up every day exhausted. Fun fact: babies between 9 and 10 months old go through sleep regression. No, he doesn't sleep through the night. Since 4 months, my little man has slept through the night but he has now taken back that luxury. I try to keep my routine the same but it’s very hard with a growing baby. It’s his world, I'm just living in it. Diaper change. I get ready every morning. A ballet teacher once told me, “You're never fully dressed without some mascara and lipstick.” I do my hair and put on my make-up and get in my workout/dance clothes while chasing the energizer bunny along with his partner in crime (a sixty-five pound dog). Diaper change. It makes me feel good- alive, and motivated. I work out and get those endorphins going. I watch my son discover new things every day. I realize that, as babies, we never stop learning. So why do we dismiss this as we get older? We should never stop learning.

Diaper change/lunch time.  While my son naps, I watch videos via Instagram and Facebook that show artists rising to the occasion, disallowing the coronavirus to defeat us. I talk to other artists to see how they are overcoming this obstacle. I brainstorm during what we adults call meetings.  

I teach my ballet classes on Zoom. My students are a constant reminder and inspiration for me to keep inspiring, pushing forward, and rising to the challenge. I am so thankful.

By the time I'm in the midst of teaching, my son gets bored hearing me repeat, “Core. Knees over toes. Posture. Long neck. Stretch your feet. Aghhhh! Arms! Arms! Arms!” My husband comes home from work and rescues my son from hearing me yell, “It ain't Christmas! Don’t let me see Santa’s belly, and demi plie! CORE!”

I recently read a post on social media about World War II. It showed a picture of Ballet dancers still rehearsing and practicing their craft during those war-torn times. Okay, we might not be in a World War right now, but we are nevertheless in a war against a virus. People are still on the front lines, people are grieving, and people are going through hardships. In a way, it’s not that big of a difference. They made it work. They made it work without Facebook, Instagram, and Tiktok.

At night, I enjoy the family time I have with my husband, son, and dog, and the memories we’re creating, memories that would not have been created if the world were still going on as usual. I have the chance to cook dinner and eat with my family, which, as any artist knows, doesn't happen all the time.  These are memories that I will cherish and not take for granted, just like all the times I stepped onto a stage and thanked the audience for my life. These are memories that I’ll be able to talk to the next generation about: “What do you mean, you CAN’T? When I couldn’t teach from the studio or theatre, I did it via the Internet! Don’t make an excuse to escape, pave the path to create.” When I say this I can’t help but think of my grandfather’s generation, born in the 1920’s, who told us how they walked uphill both ways to get to school.

Lastly, I hope this experience humbles people. Let them appreciate the time spent in the studio prepping for the stage.

Let it allow every artist to enjoy the process and the journey, not the destination. I hope it allows them to dig back to their roots, create, and develop into better artists.

I hope it opens people's eyes to how strong a group, a team, a family, or a community can be, and how they can become bigger and stronger. I hope that, once this storm passes, the world sees a beautiful renaissance in the arts.

With Grace and Patience,

Rochelle

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Rochelle Martin-Vecchio trained at the Joffrey Ballet School, Alvin Ailey American Dance Theatre, and she also privately trained with Trutti Gasparinetti. She has had the pleasure to perform at The West Point Military Academy and in the debut of Dear Nadezhda by Venti Petrov in New York City. She has danced principal roles and has had work created on her. She had the honor of performing Cara Gargano’s “Mahler Pas de deux" in Manhattan at Symphony Space. She taught the Ballet and Contemporary classes from 2016 to 2019 at Tilles Dance Conference.  Rochelle teaches ballet and choreographs for the Students Honor Institute at LIU Post since it begun in 2016. She currently teaches from the Hamptons to Manhattan. 

G&E In Motion does not necessarily agree with the opinions of our guest bloggers. That would be boring and counterproductive. We have simply found the author’s thoughts to be interesting, intelligent, unique, insightful, and/or important. We may not agree on the words but we surely agree on their right to express them and proudly present this platform as a means to do so.