Redefining the “Serious Actor”

I completely understand the outrage and frustration when theatre is brushed off as “just a hobby.” Earlier this year, I penned a piece about why we should crush the “starving artist mentality,” where I discussed our industry’s dire need to ditch the curse of a scarcity mindset. It makes little sense that those who pursue an empathetic art form are asked to forgo all desires of humanity. Professional actors deserve respect, adequate pay, and quality of life. Many artists are eager and ready to return to their careers.

But what if stepping away from the professional grind has actually made you feel…better? What if you discovered a new source of income that you enjoy? What if removing the constant need to be “on” was actually just what you needed?

After graduating with my BFA, I thought a lot about what it might look like to be a “serious actor.” It certainly didn’t look like dressing up in my living room, filming myself dancing and singing to showtunes in my apartment.

For the past few years, I had been diligently learning sixteen bar cuts that I “typed” for. There is nothing wrong with that in essence – but I had closed myself off to learning experiences that would simply bring me joy. I greatly valued my community theatre roles, but I really didn’t appreciate them to their full extent until they were gone. It certainly gave me a new perspective about what it means to be “serious” – and while I do plan to continue pursuing professional gigs, I can totally understand and respect why someone would not feel the same.

First, this time away from the stage has given us ample time to think about the many inequities that exist in this business. The professional theatre world has been historically racist, sexist, fatphobic, ableist, and classist. Non-equity actors often do not make minimum wage, and they are asked to show up at 4 am in below-zero temperatures.

While I am thrilled to see that change is beginning, and I absolutely believe that there’s hope for us to get there, I don’t blame anyone for shifting their priorities. That might mean deciding to pursue a theatre career outside of acting, such as directing or producing, where your voice is more likely to be heard.  That might mean finding a new path entirely. All of it is valid.

Further, there are other aspects of the industry – the kind that simply comes with the territory – that I blame no one for avoiding. It’s not easy to face constant rejection, to not be financially secure, to be uncertain about the future, to be away from loved ones, to feel as if you can’t make one place “home.” These are aspects of being an actor that are unlikely to change, even if a deeper level of equity is reached. For some, these circumstances ease into a workable lifestyle – but for some, they don’t.

Perhaps the past year has shown you that you’d really like to stay in one place for a while, or spend more time with family, or focus on other passions. There is really no shame in that.

I believe that we need broaden our scope of what it means to live a successful, driven life as a theatrical artist. Theatre is more than “just a hobby.”  It’s more than just anything. But I also reject the notion that enjoying theatre as a hobby is inherently less meaningful than pursuing it as a career. And I also reject the notion that not returning (or taking a break) is a sign of failure.

No matter what choice you make, it is “serious” and meaningful, as long as it means something to you.