A quote.

"Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction.... Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend. We never get rid of an enemy by meeting hate with hate; we get rid of an enemy by getting rid of enmity. By its very nature, hate destroys and tears down; by its very nature, love creates and builds up. Love transforms with redemptive power."

-Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Strength to Love published in 1963 from a 1957 sermon

Audition Log 2/14/11 - Life Upon the Wicked Ship (Part 2)

It's been ten days since last I updated. Though I've written a lot of it down, this means that my memory may be foggy on certain details. Which defeats the purpose of writing an audition log, and is a lesson that we all have learned. And by all of us, I mean me.

THE AUDITION

The room we were led into was medium sized-room, relatively smaller than previous audition spaces (oh, what specific measurements do I weave!). Fluorescent lighting, mirrors on one side, barres on the other, table against the mirrors, piano in the corner; very much like a regular rehearsal/audition/dance studio.

In the room were 5 people total. The first one who introduced herself was a woman captaining the whole process, Sherie Zunker. She worked extensively with Fosse and Ann Reiking and is now in charge of a bunch of entertainment shows and productions for Royal Caribbean (I believe...I could be wrong...I hate not remembering exactly!).

She then introduced the other people in the room: Duncan Stewart, casting director of all Chicago productions (including Broadway and the West End); Ben Bryant, music director; Katie Hurrey, assistant choreographer; Billy Sharp, vocal director/assistant vocal director (don't ask me how); and Christopher, one of the production coordinators who was working the cd player.

After Sherie introduced them all, explained how today was going to work, and what they were looking for (specific, athletic types for both Chicago and another production on the ship, entitled Blue Planet), she gave the reins over to the asst. choreographer, who then taught us the combination that would ultimately decide our fate (dun dun DUN!).

The combo was nothing at all like Chicago. It was definitely designed to A) audition for their other show, and B) weed people out. Very languid, very lucid, and full of turns and layouts, the combinations did just that.

She took her time to teach so that everyone had it by time's end. Then we lined up in two rows and went across the floor with it (this is the second time I've auditioned for Royal Caribbean, once in LA, and they've both were ballet-esque and started with an across the floor combo). I was the second group and was behind my partner. We danced to a Latin-infused pop ballad, which I believe threw me off kilter in my mind (seeing as how we were auditioning for something grittier). I was a little hazy on the combo though I didn't forget entirely, but because I was so worried about remembering the combo I didn't act it. They wanted acting with their musical theatre dance. What a concept, I know!

We went across the floor once. After everyone had gone, the table conferred amongst themselves while we were in the room. Afterwards, they called 4 or 5 names. I wasn't one of them.

A few things are of note here. For one, in an non-union open call, I don't need to get there so early. They're going to see me. I also didn't need to go directly to the table to pick up a number. Because I did, I was #4, which meant that, while other auditioners had some extra time in line to go over the dance, I had to know it. Timeliness was the death of me in this situation.

Secondly, while I like to suggest roles and types through my clothing during auditions, I'm not a big advocate of flat out dressing up. I tend to feel it's...needy (Look at me! Look at me!). But at the audition I saw a woman in a black bra, black panties, and full-body fishnets with make-up to match who got a callback. Of course, she was a terrific dancer, but in this instance the costume helped. Or, at least it didn't hurt.

Lastly, I don't know if cruise lines or Chicago are right for me at this moment. I'm a small, young-looking guy, and they tend to look for bigger, stronger types. Men to frame the women well. I've even been thinking that maybe chorus calls aren't for me right now (a topic we'll get into later). So, I don't know if I should be too hard on myself for not getting called back. They couldn't mentally typed me out the moment I got in. Doesn't excuse me from giving my best, but just a thought.

One more lastly, no matter what I met a lot of great people, including the casting director of ALL of the Chicago productions. Steps, steps, steps.

Now, onto the Wicked audition...

Part 3 of "Life Upon the Wicked Ship" will be posted shortly. I swear.

Audition Log 2/14/11 - Life Upon the Wicked Ship (Part 1)

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! What a way to celebrate than to do what I love: dance. Twice today, even. It's been a good holiday.

So today was the first day I tried to go to two auditions at once. Two dance calls: one at 9:00 a.m. and one at 2:30 p.m. I've never done this before; I don't even think I ever auditioned twice in a day in California. This is special. So, right off the bat I wanna spoil the log for you: I got to be seen for both.

The first audition I had was for Royal Caribbean Cruise Line. They have a new ship out, the "Allure of the Seas," as they call it, which is the largest cruise ship in the world. It has tons of shows, including a full-length production of Chicago. The other audition I had was for the 2nd national tour of Wicked; this is the big times! So, ostensibly, I auditioned for two major musicals today. Here's the run-down for Chicago.

THE NIGHT BEFORE

I've been taught to have a selection of varying songs that you're able to sing at the drop of a hat, so that you're essentially never caught off guard when you're asked to sing something. Well, I was caught off guard. I have multiple songs that I can sing, but I didn't have a song similar to Wicked or two songs for Chicago. Note: they didn't really ask for a song similar to Wicked. They just wanted a contemporary musical theatre piece or a pop/rock song (I don't have a contemporary pop/rock song; I should find one ...any suggestions?). I didn't read the fine print carefully, so I spent a good portion of the evening choosing a song that I didn't need; I went with another one after I double-checked the breakdown. Lesson Here: know EXACTLY what they're looking for before compiling your audition tool-box. (e.g. songs, monologues, outfit, etc.)

For Chicago, I only had one song that would work perfectly. It's an old Cabaret song that nobody uses anymore (it's not even in the show!) so it's perfect for an audition. But, I didn't have another that suited Kander and Ebb. At least, not one readily available. I have about three large binders FULL of music, but I only have about 6 or 7 songs I constantly use. Er go, some songs just collect dust. I took the duster to a few of them and tried to find my second.

So I found a large selection of songs and spent all night whittling my way down them. I slaved over what I was going to sing. Labored. Lost sleep over those three pieces of 16-bars each that would perfectly encapsulate my vocal prowess and myself.

Just to let you know, right off the bat, I was cut the first round from both. Never got to sing.

Still, better to be prepared.

Last night I went to a friend's house; she did homework while I found music/prepared my headshot & résumé. This had good and bad properties to them. Good: She lent a second eye and ear to song selections and the like. Bad: I kinda got distracted by the movie we were watching sometimes. Plus, I didn't have all my materials with me so I spent additional time preparing when I got home. This meant I got to sleep later than I wanted to (I went to bed at 1 a.m. and got up at 6:30 a.m.). I don't think it hindered either audition, but it's something to keep in mind for next time. Sleep is very valuable.

Oh! VERY important note: I wasn't planning on doing the Chicago audition until Sunday. I had heard about it but put it in the back of my mind; time just crept up on me. By the time I remembered I had promised myself I'd go to Wicked. Could I do both? I didn't know. So, it was last night that I fully committed to auditioning for two shows, something I've never done. Things work fast around here.

THE MORNING

Usually I plan to wake up two hours before I plan to get there, which is two hours before the actual audition started. In this case, the audition was at 9 a.m, so I would want to get there at 7 a.m., which meant I would want to wake up at 5 a.m.

Yeah... I wasn't going to do that.

For some reason, I decided to wake up at 6:30 and leave at 7:30 (to get there at 8). I don't remember why I decided I only needed an hour before the audition, but I do remember that I decided to wake up at that time because I didn't want TOO much extra time, like previously. However, this was too little time, seeing as how I didn't get to shower the night before, and I forgot to brush my teeth that morning. I shoved a ton of mints into my grotesque persons as I lumbered to the train station.

THE SUBWAY

It. Was. Packed! I understood: people were commuting to work. But still, sheesh! I don't know how to correct this, save for finding those cars that have less people in them. Usually the back. I don't know why.

THE DILEMMA

I was in a bit of a quandary. Since I originally planned on just auditioning for Wicked I had it in my mind that I was going to wake up early and sign in so I could secure a spot just in case they would see non-eq (the set-up was similar to the Sacramento Music Circus auditions). But now that I was going to the Chicago auditions beforehand, I didn't know what to do. Would I get out in enough time to get a decent number for Wicked? Would I even be able to audition for Wicked? (That would, of course, mean that Chicago was seriously considering me for a job, which is a great thing. But still... it's Wicked's national tour!)

I had to choose something. I got up to Pearl Studios on 34th and 8th ave. (a new studio! more on it later) around 8 a.m., and after much deliberation on what room they were exactly holding auditions (The markers said "Royal Caribbean" and not "Chicago;" it threw me off) I signed in at around 8:10 on a small, "unofficial" sheet of paper someone put up. I was number 18, which (again) didn't matter much in the long run (as you will see later).

I then had a decision to make: stay or go. On the one hand, I could book it to the Chelsea Studios (where Wicked was auditioning and only one station away), sign up quickly, and dash back with time to dress and warm-up. In fact, that was my original plan, but since it was already 8:10 I was... stuck, to say the least. Should I just stay and take my chances with Wicked? Should I go and take my chances with Chicago? What should I do?

I booked it.

Luckily, I got into the station just as a train was approaching. Luckily, it was only one stop. Unluckily, that stopped was crammed with people waiting. Luckily, I had been to Chelsea Studios once before. Unluckily, the building was three blocks away. Luckily, there was a parking garage on one of them that I cut across. Luckily, I got up there in ample time. Luckily, I was number 2 on the "unofficial" list (someone had made it! Yay!). Luckily, I made it back to the Pearl Studios at around 8:40, just enough time to get dressed and do some quick warm-ups. Unluckily, my stomach was churning the whole trip.

That I was able to do that was amazing. And I know it'll never happen again.

THE HOLDING AREA

The building was on 8th ave., which was on the same street as the subway station; it was the shortest distance between subway station and audition that I've had so far. And, just like all the others, the studio was a part of a huge building full of other offices. But, unlike the others, I had to sign in at the front desk. This was a first for me.

The studio (called the Pearl Studios, if I haven't mentioned that already) was on the 4th floor. Unlike the Chelsea Studios, it did not have a "station agent" - a front desk, if you will. Just rooms. I turned a few corners and ended up in the holding area.

The holding area was medium-large but more horizontal than Chelsea's. Unlike in previous situations, the mirrors in this room were open and visible. It had chairs only around the walls and felt a little more cramped than previous rooms. Possibly because there were so many people in it!

Maybe because it was an open call, maybe because I got there an hour before (instead of my customary two), but there was a lot of people. And, unlike previous auditions, there were men AND women. To my knowledge companies usually separate the men and women, you know, because of the fraternization. Really because of the sheer number of people attending chorus calls, but I guess cruise lines don't believe a lot of people will show up. I'm not an expert on these matters. All I can say is that it is a WORLD of difference between a just-men call and a men-and-women call.

With a men's call, it's kinda just sitting and waiting and warming up. Just kinda... whatever. For a women's call, I guess, it's a show! There were women sitting and waiting and warming up, of course, but there were also women putting on make-up (oh my!) to such an excess I thought we were doing an actual production of Chicago. Little mobile vanities were strewn all over the room. And, while the men usually just wore dance clothes, women were dressing for the part. I even saw a woman in nothing but a black bra, black underwear, and full-body fishnets. I could scoff, but then again, she got called back.

The big difference was the sheer amount of women to men. Yes, I know that there's a larger percentage of women in this business than men, but I had never really seen it first hand. Example: when I first arrived there were about 50 women signed up and in the room. And that's not counting the people who'll show up later. The number of men there? 10. At most.

I double-checked if I was still on the list (yup) and if there was an *official* list (nope) and headed off to change.

The men's dressing room was that - a dressing room. It didn't have a sink or a bunch of cleaning equipment. It was specifically for dressing, and it had a lock. So... that's nice. It was, however, only big enough for 1 person (Chelsea's could hold a few). It was no bigger than a large walk-in closet, which honestly is all you need. Nice hardwood floors, a mirror, and a chair. And plenty of light! It was a pleasant dressing experience.

WHAT I WORE

Shirt: Black t-shirt with red letters that said "Bat Boy". First time I went to an audition wearing a t-shirt with lettering on it. I didn't feel extremely comfortable doing it, but I thought the color pattern would match the feel of the show. That, and I didn't have anything else to wear. It was laundry day.

Pants: dark blue pajama bottoms cut below the knee. I got them at Target, and while they're a little bigger than I'd like them to be, they are my go-to pants for dance. I feel comfortable in them.

Socks: My fancy $8 pair of ankle socks for running. They stretch well and are made to breathe, which is a plus.

Shoes: Jazz shoes - a standard. After putting them on, though, I wanted to use my Jazz sneakers. The floor in the holding area (and in the audition room, as I was about to find out) was incredibly sticky! I knew my Jazz sneakers were smoother and more worn down than my shoes, but I ultimately stayed with my shoes. I had a previous experience with a previous Royal Caribbean audition where I wore Jazz sneakers but the room was so slippery I couldn't keep my balance; I was so worried about my sneakers that I didn't put enough attention on the combination and ultimately got cut the first round. I didn't want to make the same mistake this time, so I kept with the Jazz shoes.

THE PRE-AUDITION

After I came back from the dressing room, I found a free spot in the corner of the room. A very nice man from Russia (I believe) "bunked" with me in the corner. We didn't talk much, but when we did it was very polite and very encouraging.

I had about ten to fifteen minutes left before the audition began so I warmed up as best I could. It wasn't as extensive a warm-up as I usually do or like to do so early in the morning, but with the combination of arriving so late and the sheer number of people taking space I wasn't left with many options.

At around 8:50/8:55 two gentlemen came into the room and spoke to us: our production coordinators, as I so lovingly like to call them! (This wasn't an equity call, so there was no equity monitor. These two literally worked for the company.) They were Kyle Klieboeker and Christopher Faison (I've been taking notes!) and they were too kind and incredibly helpful. (I took about ten minutes of Kyle's time at the end of my audition and asked for everybody's name. Not only did he give them to me, but when he didn't know a name he went and found it. It was above and beyond.) They asked that anyone who hadn't signed up yet do so now and told everybody that had signed up not to worry; instead of transferring names on an *official* sheet, they were just going to take the unofficial paper as gospel (it was a really tiny leaf of paper, too). It was kinda cool not to have to worry about signing again.

The two prod. coordinators then asked for the first 20 people who signed up to hand in their headshot/résumé and receive a number. Yup, no forms to fill out this time. Just a number, my first ever New York number I was to pin to my chest! (All together now: Who am I, anyway? Am I my résumé?...) I was the fourth person to hand in my packet, hence I was #4 (Dianna Agron, I am number four. So... maybe wanna split a pretzel or something? ...Di..Dianna?). In retrospect, perhaps it wasn't the wisest choice to be one of the first in line. As you will read later on, I didn't pick up the choreography that well. Unlike others who had time to go over the dance while in line, I was the second group to go so I had to have or not. I was going to be seen no matter what; I didn't need to rush the table.

I pinned the number to my chest and left my things in that room. I am always wary about leaving things, but that audition I had a few electronics I'm partial to, so I was even more worried (I didn't bring them to the Wicked auditions). I thought one of the prod. coordinators was going to stay and watch, but Christopher was running the music at the audition and Kyle was running back and forth helping, so neither really had any time to sit and watch. Nothing happened (thank goodness!), but I believe I'm going to keep my most precious valuables at home from now on. Just in case.

The Audition will come shortly in "Life Upon the Wicked Ship" (Part 2)...

Audition Log 2/11/11 - The Opposite End of the Spectrum

Let me first say Congratulations to Egypt! You inspire and remind us all that not only do the people still have a voice, but that voice is stronger than any weapon.

Today's audition log is a bit of a downer, but with amazing things like Egypt's liberation happening in the world, how can one be sad?

Today's audition was for Sacramento Music Circus. I've been to Sacramento Music Circus auditions a few times already. In Sacramento, mind you, but I thought I had a pretty good understanding of what was going to happen; once I made it to the final round of cuts (with West Side Story choreography, no less), another I was cut immediately. In my mind Sacramento auditions went like this: we were going to sign in, there was going to be tons of people, we would all do a ballet combo then cuts were to be made, then a jazz combo, then more cuts, then perhaps another jazz combo or a tap combo or something specific to a particular show they were doing (this year they had Anything Goes so I was pretty sure they were going to have a tap combo), then more cuts, then maybe another round of dance, then they would thank everyone and ask a few people to sing. In my experience, that's how Sacramento Music Circus auditions went.

This was nothing like that. At all.

THE NIGHT BEFORE

I had heeded my own advice and taken a shower/shaved the night before, though I almost forgot. When I woke up in the morning, I was not surprised to find out once more that there was no hot water. So, I've come to the conclusion that the night before is my preparation time.

Speaking of, I prepared all of my music/headshot/resume stuff the day before the audition, not the night; I even packed my bag at a reasonable time. This saved me from having to stay up all night getting it ready. Er go, I got to sleep at a decent hour.

Sleep was, however, stilted (if not interrupted) by the odor of the kitchen wafting into my room. One of my roommates had made what was probably a delicious garlic mashed potato/vegetable medley dinner (they're really good cooks). Sometimes, though, they don't clean up right away (If you're my roommate and you're reading this, I'm sorry but it's true! Sometimes I'm even culpable) This odor was so strong that I could smell it in my room. I think that, plus the very early time of sleep, led me to lay there for awhile without actually achieving ReM. I don't know how this would be prevented, I surely can't ask my roommates to not cook on nights before I have auditions, but it's something to point out.

THE MORNING

I woke up at 6 am. The audition was at 10, I wanted to get there at 8, so I decided to wake up at 6. It wasn't hard, though. I was quite refreshed and raring to go when the alarm went off.

I had some plain oatmeal and added some raw sugar plus some chai tea with a little raw sugar in it, as well. This is a fine breakfast meal for me, especially during mornings when my nervousness could lead my stomach to jump in a million directions. The chai, however, did upset me for a good twenty. This was before I even left the place, and I feel it only irked my system because I had too much too fast, but nevertheless I think I'm going to portion the amount of non-water beverages for next time. Also, I was feeling a little hungry at around audition time, so I think I'm going to pack some protein bars, as well. Better safe than...not, I guess.

I like to take my time in the mornings. I think mornings are my favorite time of day; just you and a cup of tea or coffee, peaceful, its your time before the business of the day controls it. That being said, I don't like to rush them. I feel if you rush your mornings your whole day is going to feel rushed; the opposite is also the case. But, I think I might have had TOO much time this morning. I was just sitting there...after finishing all my morning routines. I guess too much time is better than none at all. I'll stick with this audition routine for awhile. See how it goes.

THE COMMUTE

No problems on the subway. Got there with enough time to catch the train I wanted to take. Probably 'cause I had so much time before.

This audition was held at Chelsea Studios, which is obviously in Chelsea. It took a little longer to get to than the previous audition (since that was in midtown), but not by much. It was still roughly 30 minutes.

After getting off the subway, I still had a few of blocks left to go. Of course I walked (what else was I supposed to do?) but I like walking. The weather was especially nice and brisk, so it wasn't a hassle at all. A joy, even.

My mood was up and down all morning, so I decided to listen to some uptempo, dance music. And what better dance music than Michael Jackson; after the last glee episode, I was really into P.Y.T. (go ahead, commence with the judging stares. ... Okay, are we done? Can we get back to the story?). Didn't have that song for reason, though, so I put "Rock With You," which is perhaps my favorite all-time MJ song. And it did the trick. I was bopping and grooving down the street, my mood changed from nervous and reticent to confident and energetic. This is a no-brainer but lesson learned: always have good, upbeat music handy at an audition.

THE PRE-AUDITION

The audition was on the sixth floor, so I hit the elevator button and rode up. I rode up with a gentleman who went to the second floor and an architecture building. It's always nice to see other things and people in a building besides acting; it gives perspective.

The Chelsea Studios had a cleaner, open quality to it than the other studio (called the Nola Studios). Not to say the Nola Studios were dirty, but they felt very old-timey whereas the Chelsea Studios were almost space-agey (I'm using very precise dictionary-defined terms; you're welcome). The Nola Studios listed their studios on a chalk-board; the Chelsea had every room nicely labeled and an attendant to help with whatever you needed. And don't get me started on Chelsea's weird, contemporary desk...thing. Very cool, but I don't know how practical it is.

The holding area for the audition was four doors to the left of where I entered from (as told to me by the very helpful attendant working there). It was similar to the Nola studio except a little bit bigger. Not large, in my estimation, but large-ish. Medium large, if you'll take my very scientific measurements. Again, it had chairs lining three of the walls and two rows of chairs in the middle. It was a dance room dolled up to look like a waiting room. The time was only 8, but I still felt that, like last time, a fury of people were going to be there already.

1 person was there before me. Again, just like last time, the imagined crowd was not so much.

I feel this has more to do with the notion of equity versus non-equity. Equity can just show up whenever and they have to be seen; non-eq have to show up early to sign-in and even then they might not be seen that day. Again, it didn't matter that I was there early; I wanted to warm up.

The men's dressing room was a floor below us, so I took the stairs. Boy oh boy, these babies were steep! It felt a lot like Vertigo, save for the beautiful Kim Novak.

This men's dressing room was, in fact, a dressing room. Yes, it was still a supply closet, sink and all (male dancers never get any respect...), but it was bigger with a wall length bench to sit down and mirrors on either. Definitely more than one person could change in there, though I had the luxury of dressing by myself. Which is good; I still have this odd thing about showing my junk to strangers. Guess it has to do with my childhood or something.

When I got back about ten minutes later the room had filled to... 1 guy. There was still only 1 guy there. Again, I was fine with that since I didn't want to lose my spot on the sign-up sheet. Just to make sure, I asked him if there was one to be signed. He replied that there wasn't a sheet yet. Oh. But... doesn't somebody usually do that? Slap a piece of scratch paper on the table and scribble "unofficial non-equity list"? Should that someone be me? Uh...

I decided to leave well-enough alone, feeling that when it does show up I'll still retain my second place status, and even if I didn't get #2 I'd still be seen. Right?

I continued my warm ups, this time listening to more MJ and some glee tunes to pump me up (Round 2 of stares and glares may commence in 3, 2, 1...). I was going full out, but as more and more men came into the room (again, just like last audition, it was strictly an all-male call; the women went yesterday) less and less room was available to me (more science lessons!). Also, as more and more men came in, more and more did my confidence level drop. Not to the point of depression and the need for escape, but enough to notice the correlation between people in the room and the acid levels in my stomach. I saw my friend Mario there, which was a big boost of confidence. We said hugged, chatted for a tiny bit, and then he went to prepare himself as I continued to warmup.

Still more and more men came in, and it wasn't even 9:30 yet. Nobody noticed me; no imaginary snickers or looks. The crowd was too boisterous to see each other to notice me. They were, however, very loud. The calm, quiet dance room had exploded into a non-alcoholic bar/lounge. I turned up my headphones louder, but to no avail.

NINE-THIRTY

At thirty minutes till the audition, a man with a glasses and a handlebar mustache came into the room. He quieted us down and then, in a very booming, authoritative tone announced the steps to sign up. He never announced his name or title (I do plan on going to the site to get it, if possible) but I imagine he was the production coordinator and/or stage manager. Unlike the first production coordinator I encountered (who was very friendly to the point of jovial), this man was authoritative to the point of (but never actually reaching) rudeness. While at first it caught me off guard (if there was any large company I thought I understood, it was Sacramento Music Circus), I didn't think anything of it. He's got to command all these people while keeping everything on time. And, in all honesty, this was what I was expecting when coming to New York.

The production coordinator, as I shall call him for lack of a better title or name, pulled out a piece of paper and announced this was the official non-equity sign up sheet. He also said that the production team (Glen Casalle, artistic director; Mary West, associate choreographer; Eric Johnston at piano; and a few other names I didn't get, including the choreographer) might not see non-equity today; he just wasn't sure at this time.

Excuse me? You're not going to see non-equity? But... this is a dance call; you don't have to go individually. Don't we all go in together?

Apparently not. Seems that, with the number of attendees this high and the size of the room so small (though I never actually got to see inside that room, yet imagined it looked similar to the one I was in), they were going to bring people in as groups of 21, so that they could audition in groups of threes if you were wondering about the odd number of people in a group (why not 20?). If you weren't wondering, read on.

There were about 85+ equity people who attended (some who signed up earlier, some who just showed up right then and there), so there were a few groups who were going to go. I assumed the prod. team was going to teach the combo, see the combo, then make some decisions, then bring the second group in, teach the combo, see the combo, then make some decisions, rinse, repeat. This meant that it may have been awhile before I would even be seen (unlike last time, where we all went). The prod. coordinator just didn't know right off the bat. He did have us sign in, however, in case we were seen.

Remember that unofficial non-equity sign-in sheet that I talked about earlier? The one that wasn't there? The one where I thought I should start it but thought not to, just in case we "weren't supposed to" (I read that on a breakdown once).

Yeah, that thing would've come in handy right around now.

The non-equity people rushed the table. I went, then double-backed for a pen, and by the time I got to sign my name on the sheet I was the last in line. Wait, I think there were a few people behind me. I was the almost last in line. Eh, that doesn't have the same kick as before. I was the ABSOLUTE LAST in line! Now we're cooking...

Granted, there were 15 or so on the list, but it was still a little disheartening to come so early yet sign up so late. But, what could we do? (Note: please read in a pseudo-effeminate tone) "Um, please form a line in terms of when you got here, that is if you can remember who was immediately before you and immediately after. Honestly please, people!" (Continue as you were. Thank you.) No, we couldn't do that. So, I sat down to wait and learned for next time.

The prod. coordinator then named off the equity members who signed up ahead of time. After their name was called, each member announced their presence and took two forms from the table: a yellow form that was to be split in two and seems to be standard for equity auditions and a white form that was specific to the Music Circus auditions. It was a lot like a field trip.

For those equity members who didn't sign up ahead of time, there was a line forming to the left of the room. The prod. coordinator got through everyone on his list, he asked those in the aforementioned line to come down, grab the aforementioned forms, and fill them out, as aforementioned. Again, a lot like a field trip.

Those of us who weren't equity waited.

The prod. coordinator asked for the first 21 people's forms, headshots, and résumés. He then compiled them and left for the adjacent dancing room right across the hall.

Those of us who weren't equity waited.

THE AUDITION

At around 10:00, the prod. coordinator came into the room and announced that they would not be seeing non-equity today.

There was no audition. For me, at least.

He then said that usually out-of-town theaters who come to New York hire non-equity locally, which got me to think that maybe I need to start making a yearly trip back home right around the Music Circus' Sacramento auditions. You know, to see the family. The prod. coordinator also said that if non-equity wanted to they could drop off their headshots and résumés with him and advised us to follow up with a postcard. He even showed us a piece of paper with the address of the company on it so we may direct our mail in a similar direction. He told us that all companies had that piece of paper and to always look for it and follow up. While I lapped up his advice like an eager puppy for nourishment, I could tell that not all the non-equity weren't as fresh off the bus as I was and probably already knew. I tried to give my headshot and résumé to him personally, or to even find out his name, but he was busy, and I'm not the type to barge in. Not yet, at least.

I packed my bags and left before the first group even got in.

Am I disappointed? Yeah, sure, why not? It's hard to wait around and not get seen.

Am I down? Sad? Hell no! I'm actually feeling pretty good. Not as ecstatic as my first audition, but confident. Here's why:

1) I knew this was going to happen, sooner or later. So, let it happen now. That way, it'll dull the blow next time it happens, and the time after that, and the time after that. I know what I got myself into. I'm happy there's no more anticipation; just experience.

2) I showed up. I did my job. I could've stayed in bed, slept until noon. But I didn't. I showed up, I warmed up, and I was prepared. If a company doesn't see me, so what? It's their loss. I held up my end of the bargain. They say that 80% of success is just showing up. If that's true, then I have an 80% success rate! And that's pretty damn good.

Audition Log 2/8/11 - The First One (Part 3)

I may have forgotten, but I wanted to write it down. It was very interesting to me.

Maybe 25-30 men showed up at the start of the audition. The women's call wasn't until 2:00pm; by the time I left the whole audition (around noon), the women's sign-up sheet had reached 60!

I'm so glad to be a man.

Audition Log 2/8/11 - The First One (Part 2)

Okay. Where were we?

That's right. Singing.

THE SINGING AUDITION

Now, singing is not my strong suit. I have taken extraordinary lessons in the past couple of years, lessons that have turned my voice around and made me able to sing, but I still don't identify as a singer. I'm a dancer, first and foremost, an actor second, a writer, an illustrator, a jellyfish, and THEN a singer. I thought we MIGHT sing, like a call back thing. But they wanted to hear us all. Crap.

So, remember that unofficial/official list I told you about earlier? That's usually, to my estimation, the order of how you're going to be seen for open calls (unless of course it's an eq/non-eq thing, but that's a whole 'nother beast). Well... apparently they mixed up our photos or something or didn't have the list, so they kinda just made a pile, drew 5 names from it, and called those to sing. I had written myself down on the list as #7, but through the magic of mistakes I turned out to be #4! Which didn't leave a lot of room for warming up, but also left almost no room to freak out about it. I'll take what I can get.

I quickly changed into my singing attire, which consisted of a maroon collared shirt that is 100% polyester so I can throw it in my bag and it won't get wrinkled (which is always a good thing when traveling), a white t-shirt underneath, jeans rolled up at the bottom, and converse with a crossword pattern (the last two of which so as to evoke a 50s/60s vibe, the former just to be presentable). A fine combination for a show such as this, if I do say so myself.

Again, there was no dressing room save for a supply closet and the restroom on that floor was closed. So, the only place to dress was a teeny tiny restroom on the floor below. Had two stalls but only enough room to support one. And EVERYONE wanted in to change. Next time, perhaps I will wear something that I can easily change into/out of in public so as to avoid this mess.

Once all five of us were changed and ready, Chris (the "production manager/coordinator") sat us down in order outside of the studio where we danced. It has now done a Transformers on us and has become a robot--I mean, a singing studio. I waited patiently and excitedly for my turn. Just three. No big deal, right?

Flipped through my book and made some small talk with a guy beside me. Normally I don't like to speak to other actors before or during an audition because that's time I can use to focus, but I felt the momentary conversation would be just distraction enough to calm my nerves.

You could dully hear the singers sing, which I don't know how I felt about that. On one hand, it's good to hear what's going on, figure out how the room is. On the other, no it's not! Some of these cats are good! (Duh, Jimmy...) Well, of course I heard greatness all around. But what I also heard was a second song.

A second song, excuse me? I believe you're mistaken. The breakdown said only one song. 16 bars, in fact.

Of course, I hadn't gotten my facts mixed up. They just asked. But I had planned for this eventuality. I had about five other songs I could sing at the drop of the hat, and I searched for the one I would if given the opportunity. And I was pretty sure I was going to since everyone in front of me sang twice. I had already accepted it as fact.

The third person finished, exited, and left the door open for me.

Okay. Here we go. My first ever singing audition in New York.

I opened up to that same studio where we danced. Unlike the dance call where the room was situated horizontally, the singing auditions had it vertically, with a table about two-thirds from the door in the center and three people (the producer, the choreographer, and the associate choreographer, in that order from L to R) seated behind it. The piano had come away from the wall and was beveled so that the music director's back was facing the door. When I sang, he was behind me. Pretty standard layout.

I opened the door and smiled, seeing if they were waiting for me. They weren't; they were busy discussing and looking over headshots (which was fine). I headed for the piano where the music director was and whispered hello. I gave him my music, which was in a binder instead of folded and taped (which is a point of discussion among some people; I like a binder and since it's only 16 bars the music director/accompanist/whoever is playing the piano doesn't have to turn pages anyway, which is the main reason for taping your sheets accordion fashion) and went over my music. Again, pretty standard fare.

I sang "(It's) Hairspray" from the show I was auditioning for. I had never sung it before, but I wasn't comfortable with my usual Rock song ("Cry for Me" from Jersey Boys) just yet, so I chose this one because, while it was a little low in my range, it still sounded high and powerful at the end. And, if nothing else, I could act my way out of it.

After I was done talking to the music director, I went out and stood in the center closer to the piano than the table, a place where I felt was generally the place they wanted us to stand. I stood there a moment and waited for them to finish discussing, smiling all the way. Once they did, the choreographer asked what I was going to sing. "Actually, I'm going to sing '(It's) Hairspray' from this very show, Hairspray," I said. "Wonderful choice." or "Perfect song." said the choreographer; I don't quite remember which one it was, it was just a good sign.

The music director gave me my (very!) short intro and off I went. I was singing.

I misplaced the first part of the first note of the song, but quickly fixed it. My voice sounded good and strong, powerful. I even effortless hit my highest note (which was a G, not really all that high but one that can devastate a guy who's didn't a chance to warm up save for dancing and who's auditioning), something I initially didn't think I was going to do when I prepared for it. And then I ended strong. Acted it well enough, too; I also chose this song because it was that (pardon the term) corny lothario thing that I enjoy mocking/playing. You know, all cheese and smiles. I love that! So I knew I wasn't going to have to force some circumstance. It was just going to be me. Only thing I didn't so much like about my audition was that I did a lot of random musical theatre arms that had nothing to do with anything. But then again, it is a presentational kind of song.

After I finished, the choreographer smiled and, "What? You're not gonna scat?" I'm sorry, they scat? I got this sheet music yesterday. There is scatting in the cd, but none on the sheet music. I sang what was directly on the sheet music (though I switched one phrase "I'm Corny Collins" with "forget the milkman" because I wasn't really going out for Corny). So I improved a short scat and made the team behind the table laugh and smile. I may sing this in the future, so I think I'll add the scat in.

Now for your second song. You ready, Jimmy?

"Thanks Jimmy. That's all we need from you."

"O--okay. Thanks. Thank you."

I smiled, thanked the music director as I took my binder, and left.

They didn't want a second song from me. It was the first weird moment of doubt I had since coming to the audition. They had asked everyone else to sing twice, why not me? Some of these kids were GOOD, so is that why not me? Was I not good enough?

I chalked it up to what they said. That was really all they needed. I left it behind for the most part.

POST AUDITION

I went back into the holding area, chatted with another of guy who had already sung (after an audition I feel fine with chatting to ease the stress of waiting. Just as long as it's not with someone who's about to audition). He didn't think he did so well so I told him that they didn't ask me to sing twice. He replied that it was probably because they liked me so much they didn't need to hear me again, which I understood but didn't whole-heartily agree. I asked the guy who went after me if he sang twice. He said he only sang once, but joked that since it was a long song it probably made up for two. I then sat and waited to hear if I was going to be called back.

How this team worked was they would see 5 people, confer among themselves afterwards about who they wanted to callback, and then those 5 would know on the spot whether they were called back for tomorrow or not.

So, after a good five-ten minutes, Chris asked the five of us to come outside into the hall to hear who was going to be called back for tomorrow.

He named three names. I wasn't one of them.

I thanked Chris, packed up my stuff, and left the theatre.

I think I felt I should be bummed, maybe even tried to at first, but it just wasn't in me. I honestly do not think not being called back had any reflection on me. For one, I had a kick-ass audition. I danced extremely well, I sung well (or at least well enough), and I showed them who I was and what I was all about. Secondly, there's not a part for me in Hairspray. If it was another show I'd have my role highlighted and circled, itching to play it, but there's not much but ensemble in this show for me. And that's great! I'd love to be in the back and just dance, especially with this show.

So, they didn't call me back for Link or Seaweed or Tracy? Who cares! I'm not right for those parts and, more importantly, I felt incredibly good about my audition. My first audition here. What better reward is there than that?

Audition Log 2/8/11 - The First One

I've always been told that after every audition you should write down everything you can remember about it, as a guide for future auditions (e.g. Were the lights a problem? The space a benefit? What clothes did you wear and how did that help/hinder your audition). Well, what better place to log my collective audition journey than here? So, after every audition, I'll post what happened, how it went, and how I felt. Names (may) be changed to protect the innocent.

As I write this, "Linus and Lucy" by Vince Guaraldi is playing in the background. How suitable, because that is exactly how I feel after my first EVER audition in New York!

It went so well! So much fun, and the company was so nice. Stars seemed to align.

Here's the step-by-step of how it went (it may get long; my apologies).

THE MORNING

I woke up at 6:30 am after a mere four/five hours of sleep. I prepared the night before (printing headshots, packing my dance clothes, double-checking my music). It was sort of unwise to try it all that night, seeing as how I didn't get home from work until 9, but sometimes things like that happen. In the future, Jimmy, prepare earlier.

I tried to take a shower, but apparently the water doesn't get hot until....I dunno, 9 or 10. I left my house at 8, hoping that it would warm up before then so I could get a quick shower in. Sadly, no go. I even had to pour hot water from the teapot into a bowl so I could shave. It was not a pretty sight. In the future, Jimmy, shower the night before. And shave regularly.

THE SUBWAY

Of course, the day I wanted to get somewhere relatively early was the day my metro card expired. I missed one subway while refilling but made another. I had plenty of time, but it was still funny nonetheless.

THE PRE-AUDITION

I made it all the way down to W. 54th St. easy enough and found the building, which is just a building full of offices. No fancy on-the-stage audition like in A Chorus Line, which I know is the standard now but is still a little sad. Actors can have "audition dreams," too.

When I got in, there was a sign that stated: "Casting Calls: the line forms outside. Building doesn't open until 8:30." I checked my watch. 8:30, on the dot. Uh oh, I thought, there's a line!? I knew it was going to be big, but...but...oh my, how many people will be in front of me?

Six. Six people were in front of me.

I took the elevator up to the 11th floor, found the studio space, and meandered into this dance room with chairs lined up on either side. I figured this was the holding area, and felt rewarded when I found out I was correct. There was a table to the side with two pieces of lined paper taped to it. One said, "UNOFFICIAL HAIRSPRAY SIGN UP - MALE" and the other said the same thing but for women. Ooo! I thought, my first unofficial sign-up sheet. Here's to many more! I signed up and got dressed.

The dance call was first, so I went into the "Men's Dressing Room" and changed. I put quotations marks around "Men's Dressing Room" because it wasn't; it was a supply closet. A small one, at that. No lock, too. But I made due and changed.

The breakdown asked everyone to wear clothes that would show off your body. So, I'm thinking tight fitting, non-baggy or tapered-out. So I choose a tight, white shirt and jazz pants: and old standard. In hindsight, I did not need to wear this. The choreography was such that I could have worn track pants and been fine (some men did). It didn't impede my dancing, but I did feel a little foolish.

I finished dressing and came back into the waiting room. It was 8:40; I had an hour and twenty minutes before the audition began. I felt that was fine, because it gave me a chance to really warm up (I had not danced for a few weeks and was feeling it).

For a dance call, I thought I would have to compete for space to warm up, but there was hardly anyone doing so. In fact, no one was! They were all sitting in the chairs, waiting or texting. I found this odd, but thought maybe they were waiting to warm up later. Whatever floats their boat is fine, but I needed to warm up now. They can catch up when they want to.

But they never did. As more and more men came in (it was strictly a dance call/singing audition for men; women were later in the day), more and more sat. I was a bit flabbergasted. Some people did small stretches here and there, but I was going full out. I know no other way. I felt some eyes on me, (probably) imagined some snickers in my direction, and put on my headphones to diffuse the tiny vampire bomb going off inside me. It worked. I put on slow, soothing music to calm my nerves and drown out any naysayers. Who cares if they make fun of me for stretching? I'm gonna rock this audition.

THE DANCE AUDITION

At around 9:45 a man by the name of Chris introduced himself as the "production coordinator" (I actually forgot his title, and I feel terrible for it. Always remember everyone's name and their job position). He handed us a form to fill out and a brand-new *OFFICIAL* sign-in sheet. Everyone obeyed the unofficial sheet we had originally made, which was a refreshing sight to see. It's cool to hear about it, but to see it first hand. It's a small thing, but in this realm of competition it's nice to see camaraderie and respect.

We left our bags behind (really? Okay...) and followed Chris into another studio, which was roughly the same size as the holding room, maybe a little bigger but not by much. It had mirrors on one side, windows on the other, with fluorescent lights adorning the ceiling. A piano rested in the corner. Pretty standard dance room. Well, save for the piano.

We met the choreographer and his associate, who was the only woman a part of the production team. We also met the music director and the producer of the whole company. Though quiet, the latter two were warm and pleasant.

Not to say that the first two were mean-spirited. Quite the contrary! Unlike what I thought my first NY audition would be, the choreographer was open and kind. He didn't care so much about the technique but about the performance, saying that Hairspray is more about singing than dancing (Oh no! Make it more about dancing!). He joked around with us, citing a jump I had done as "Populism" (from Bloody, Bloody Andrew Jackson), and tried to help everyone really nail the combination, including two men who were very late.

The combination itself wasn't very hard. A quick combo of 8 8-counts, it featured booty shaking, turns, kicks, and ponies (oh, the ponies!). I don't know how long it took us to learn it exactly, but it felt quick. We then performed it a couple of times without music, then with music, then we went to the sides and put us into small groups.

I was in the third group. Funny enough, I had been placed with my peanut gallery (the boys who I thought were snickering at me, but were probably laughing at some youtube video). We faced the mirror (how nice of the choreographer!) and the associate danced in front of us. After a few moves, she stepped off to the side. She didn't need to help; we were doing good. I don't know if you know, but rocking out to high-energy dance moves? It's kinda my thing. So let me reiterate: I'm gonna rock this audition.

After everyone went once, we did it again but in bigger groups. I was in the second group this time. The first time I was downstage, the second upstage. Both times I was stage left, in you will. Neither times did I have a lapse of memory, though I did flub once or twice when I was waiting on the side.

They then thanked us all, and we went back to the holding area.

After a moment, Chris came back and said they wanted to hear us all sing.

Okay. I'm gonna have to sing. Just breathe...

Part 2 of this Audition Log, including the "Singing Audition" will come up tonight or tomorrow.