When Reality Mirrors Reality

As a witness to the state of the economy these past three years, I feel confident saying the American unemployed now understand what it is to be a performing artist. I hear from friends who are responsible for hiring at various companies that for every position they list on a job board or employment web site, they receive hundreds, if not thousands, of submissions during the first 24 hours, many of which come from people who are “highly overqualified” for the role. More importantly, they say it is nearly impossible to objectively review and assess every application for employment and its associated materials. For those who have made application, I’m certain they are constantly wondering, “How can I set myself apart? How can I get my foot in the door? How can I get the job?” I am also certain they find it spirit-crushing to repeatedly receive no response confirming their application, and never receive a request to interview, much less a job offer.

This, too, is frequently the pattern for performing artists. We actively seek employment opportunities, submitting our résumés and headshots for auditions whenever and wherever possible. Some may receive requests for auditions; many will not. A small number may be called back for second auditions; most will not. And we all ask ourselves, How can I set myself apart? What distinguishes me from other actors or singers or dancers? How am I unique yet ubiquitously appealing?

Yesterday, a friend of mine remarked, “You’re wonderfully positive all the time. It’s incredibly refreshing!” I thanked him for the compliment and observed that “I believe focusing on the positive attracts more positive energy and, therefore, more success.” However, I must admit I, too, experience my own periods of self-doubt, introspective inquisitiveness and uncertainty. I recall an audition I participated in just a week ago. I had arrived early, materials in hand, and was ushered into the audition space almost immediately. I greeted everyone warmly and gave a flawless TelePrompTer read on the first take, script never before seen. I left feeling quite confident in my performance. Unfortunately I didn’t get the gig, though I learned of two friends who did. While I’m genuinely happy for them, I cannot help but ask myself, Is it because I wore a cardigan instead of a suit jacket? Is it because my hands were frigid during introductory handshakes, a result of waiting 30 minutes outside for a bus? Is it because my possibly aloof appearance was rooted in the fact I was chilled to the bone? Was it my hair?

Inquiries like these inevitably lead to an assessment of the broader questions listed above: “How can I set myself apart? What distinguishes me from other actors, singers, and dancers? How am I unique yet ubiquitously appealing?” Truthfully, I do not know that I can ever answer these questions, because those facts I perceive to be hurdles aren’t true problems. They’re simply insoluble truths:

1. I’m a Caucasian. There is nothing I can do to mask this fact. I will never in any way represent other groups that are so often underrepresented, including Hispanics, Asians, Pacific Islanders and African-Americans. Caucasian is not a casting advantage.
2. I’m an American. I’m very American. I’m umpteenth-generation American. I’m not an immigrant, a first-generation American or even a second-generation American, characteristics which many times lend themselves desirably to roles and parts and marketing. I am one-sixteenth Native American, but since I in no way appear Native American, I will never be considered such. American can be less desirable.
3. I’m a female. While being female is a potential advantage in many male-dominated facets of corporate life, particularly in those areas in which women have historically been slighted, financially or otherwise, gender is not a leveraging asset in performance fields. There are a-gajillion females pursuing performance. How is my femininity any different from that of another female, without scrutinizing my physical assets or liabilities?
4. I’m heterosexual. I’m not homosexual, transsexual or transgendered. I’m straight, which is not a current hot-button selling point for casting directors; they prefer to have the “real thing”. But I can plausibly play any of these. When will I have a chance to show it?

While I may never be anything other than a straight, Caucasian, American female, I am highly well-trained, speak multiple languages, produce excellently convincing accents, sing very challenging music, and studiously prepare for every part and performance, no matter the role. When will talent be the selling point that supersedes those obstacles of fact enumerated above? This question explains why my personal tricolon–I go. I do it. I leave.–is so important to me: it encourages me to continually look forward to the next opportunity, squandering little time pitying what might have been.

As my father is fond of observing, looking for work is a full-time job. That’s why I’m a professional auditionee. It is my hope that those who are currently unemployed find comfort in the fact that they are not alone.  I ask them to look to an artist, for we have the compassion to sympathize with your condition, the experience to empathize with your situation, and the wisdom to know when perceptions change, opportunities arise.