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Q: How did you start in physical theatre?

A: When I was a teenager I was very lucky to have worked with Dan Hurlin who is a phenomenal performance artist, writer and teacher. We didn’t talk about the work as a genre like ‘physical theatre’ or ‘realism’ or ‘absurdism’ we just worked very physically. He taught me that acting was sweaty and theatre didn’t have to look like real life. As I got older and found myself wanting more than what my Stanislavsky-based work was giving me, I started searching for other styles that paralleled my work with Dan, which eventually brought me to the Dell’ Arte International School of Physical Theatre.

Q: What is physical comedy and what are its distinguishing factors?

A: Physical comedy is telling a comedic story with one’s body insteaad of relying on words. Words can be used, but the actor doesn’t rely on the words to get the story across. It’s slapstick from commedia dell’ arte, the old school Jerry Lewis kind of thing. Things need to be big in physical comedy. Most physical comedy these days is seen in cartoons, everything from Tom and Jerry and the Road Runner to the feature films like “Shrek.” One of my favorite movies is “The Triplets of Bellville” which is an animated film that came out of Europe a few years ago. There is a little dialogue in the film and the bodies and movements of these cartoon characters are so filled with meaning and visual stimuli in their performance it’s amazing. It’s an interesting study in how physical theatre or performance works and how you tell stories, physically, as opposed to verbally.

Q: What is Commedia Dell’arte?

A: Commedia Dell’arte is a Renaissance Italian form of theatre and the term means the “comedy of art.” It was popular in the 15th and 16th Centuries when troops of actors performed traditional stock characters, mostly in three-quarter mask. The traits of these stock characters were familiar to the audience, the style of acting was improvisatory, but actors didn’t start cold as they would in an improv game these days. The gist of each particular scenario was standard, but what exactly transpired was improvised. As these actors had worked together for years and knew each other’s work and characters well there was a platform to work on, literally and figuratively. They performed wherever they could gain an audience’s attention – whether it was on a platform or wagon. They didn’t draw a highbrow audience paying lots of dollars to see them. They had to pull in an audience and then pass a hat to collect coins.

The influences of Commedia are here today. You can see it in The Marx Brothers. You’ll even find Commedia’s stock characters and plotlines in Shakespeare’s comedies such as “Love’s Labors Lost.” All art forms either change with the times or die off, and in a sense, that’s what’s happened to Commedia. Very few companies still work in the Commedia style, but I think actors can learn a great deal from working in that style. I’m excited about an advanced Camp Shakespeare at the Shakespeare Theatre Company for teens this summer that I will teach. We’ll work with a group of teenagers on improvisation, mask, and physical comedy and create a Commedia play.

Q: What distinguishes Commedia Dell’arte from other forms of performance?

A: Commedia Dell’arte is fifty percent physical and fifty percent verbal. Because it’s in mask, it has to be incredibly physical, some of the actors might be tumblers or dancers. Broad physical gestures are integrated with witty speech so that actors aren’t standing around talking or expressing their emotions through small gestures.

There was no such thing as a black box theatre during the Renaissance; audience members couldn’t watch an actor’s deep pain or joy through the actor’s eyes. There was no – lights down on the audience and spotlights on the stage. This was the time of lit audiences. Finding ways of amplifying, communicating to the audience, what actors were doing or experiencing was necessary. There were no programs for the audience; they couldn’t read in advance that this guy was playing this or that character. The things that we take for granted now didn’t exist then.

Performers had to fight to get an audience in the Renaissance. They had to draw them in. If they were performing outside on a wagon, they had to get people’s attention, they had to work with the audience. There were 2,000 people in the Globe. It was a very different audience than we have today. People walked around selling oranges and beer and if audiences couldn’t hear, see, or understand the actors or story, they could lose interest and their attention. Today it’s easy to keep the attention of the audience because there’s nothing else to look at. The lights are out and the only place to look is straight ahead. But that wasn’t always the case. There were a lot of distractions for the audiences, they were checking out what the royalty was wearing, or who was sitting with whom, or looking for someone to go out with. It was all very social.

Q: What about the stock characters?

A: Stock characters are archetypes – the old miserly man, the crafty servant, the braggart soldier, or the young lovers. They’re with us even today – we can see them in the Simpsons” and they’ve been part of theatre for years. In commedia, each character had traditional costumes, mask, signature props, poses, stances, actions, plot function, relationship to the audience, relationship to other characters. When the audience saw the guy with the long, pointy, droopy nose, wearing tight trousers over skinny legs, they knew it was Pantalone. He was the misery old man of high social status. Arlechinno (Harlequin) was a servant, the spry one always looking for food. Each stock characters had signature lazzis

Q: What are lazzis?

A: Lazzis are the running gags, stunts, and pranks that were performed by the characters. Arlechinno might have a bit about a fly that is bothering him that he tries to catch and eat. It was another way to physicalize and display character to the audience. The stock characters can reach beyond the traditional fourth wall, as we know it.

Q: What do you mean about reaching beyond the fourth wall?

A: Today, while actors understand that the audience is there, the characters, themselves, don’t. Realistic drama and realistic acting has a give and take with the audience, but it’s subtle. Good actors can sense what’s happening in the audience and work that, but it’s much more overt in these earlier forms. When film started, and with it the beginning of realism, that distinction wasn’t made. Characters then performed with an awareness of the audience. In Shakespeare, it’s very clear at certain moments that the character is talking to the audience, and a lot of people believe that it’s actually happening even more, it’s just not as evident. Several Shakespeare companies take everything to the audience and actors make a lot of eye contact with the audience. Shakespeare and Company in Massachusetts and the American Shakespeare Center in Virginia approach their productions this way.

In clowning, audience contact is crucial. It’s a give and take between the audience and the performer in a very direct way. Some people balk at that, like it’s the audience participation thing, but it’s different – it’s not about dragging someone up on stage and making them do stupid things.

There are different worlds of clowning ranging from the traditional circus clown to the existentialist clown like with “Waiting For Godot.” Clowns have a sort of resiliency. Tragic things can happen around them, but they bounce back, they are resilient, nothing crushes them for too long. They’re not childish or stupid, but there is a naivety to them because the regular logic of our world doesn’t necessarily apply. Clowns tend to be very physical and often many of them don’t use language at all, so they have a universal form of communication.

Q: Are there skits or are the actors just performing improv?

A: Both, the actors have their clowns’ personage that they’ve developed and they might have an outline of what happens in their skit, scene or production, but how they get from each point can change a lot each time they do it. It’s similar to improv theatre today, the same skills are being used – it’s about taking in and responding to what’s given to you on stage, whether it’s from your partner, or the audience, or the chair. Anything can be your partner in clowning, whether it’s a human or inanimate object, and you take advantage of that. In regular theatre, if your shoes squeaked, you’d try to figure out a way to diminish it, whereas in clowning, you exploit it. You exploit your own faults in clowning. It’s a challenging way to work. The history of clowning is huge and you can find clowns in most cultures. In America, we have a very definite circus clown archetype – the Bozo or the sad hobo clown of the circus – with heavy makeup, floppy shoes and the squirting flower. But clowning doesn’t have to be about walking on stilts and juggling. 500 Clowns out of Chicago doesn’t wear red noses; they paint their ears red and are sort of scarier looking. Bill Irwin, who is probably the best clown we have in this country, doesn’t always work in a red nose. He did when he first started out with the Pickle Circus in San Francisco, and he started developing a theatrical movement that he called New Vaudeville with shows such as The History of Flight and Largely New York, which incorporated much of his clowning expertise and physical comedy.

Q: Why don’t we see more of these types of performing now in Washington?

A: There’s seems to be a reticence here for different forms of theatre. Street theatre and busking is illegal. In other cities around the world, there are international buskers’ festivals, where all sorts of street performers do amazing things.

The growth of Fringe festivals has allowed artists to explore and experiment with different types of performances, and the Festivals allow the audience to experience theatre in ways they hadn’t thought of or known about. In this city, people say there’s no audience for different kinds of theatre, but I’m not sure that’s true. Especially when you look at the success of the Capital Fringe Festival, and companies like Synetic. Other cities seem to foster physical theatre better than this area, but I have hope for DC. Chicago, San Francisco, and Philadelphia are probably the three biggest areas for more physical theatre, including puppetry, mask, clown, and multimedia and everything in between. Some of it’s crap and some of it’s amazing and a lot of it lies in between – that’s great. We want all of that here, too.

Q: Would you talk some about your background and training?

A: I went to undergraduate school in New Mexico State and studied with Mark Medoff, the playwright, who was the head of our program, and I got my MFA from Catholic University in Washington, D.C. While in college, I interned at The Actors Studio in New York. That was before James Lipton and the establishment of the school. Back then, it was just actors in a room attending their American method of acting sessions twice a week. It was during that internship that I figured out that the traditional approach was not for me. That’s not to say I didn’t appreciate it; there are some brilliant method actors, but I knew I’d never be one of them. All I knew at that point was that method acting and realism were not for me, but I didn’t know what was. Luckily, in graduate school I was introduced to a vast array of modern, nontraditional, nonrealism theatre which I really liked.

I was always interested in Shakespeare because it is so big and expressive, and like many people around here, I toured with Shenandoah Shakespeare in Staunton, Virginia. Everybody knows Shakespeare’s good, people get that, but before I worked at Shenandoah Shakespeare, I didn’t really understand why Shakespeare is so extremely good. When you’re speaking those words every day for several years, you find so much more in it. You find out how amazing Shakespeare really is and the Shenandoah Shakespeare style of working, I think, helps illuminate the play and the text for both the actors and audience. But even then, I still knew that there was this whole other world of performance that I wasn’t really tapping into.

I later worked in a company in New York called the Collapsable Giraffe which is sort of a devised theatre group or ensemble. We would be in a room, have some inspiration or text and just create. Most of the people there, besides me, had worked or were still working for The Wooster Group in New York, which is a theatre which uses new forms and techniques in producing new and established works. The Collapsable Giraffe and The Wooster Group share a similar esthetic that I find interesting and exciting. From there, I trained at the Dell’arte International School of Physical Theatre in Blue Lake, California, where I was taught clowning, commedia, and overall physical theatre.

Q: What was that training like?

A: It was great, but it was difficult. They were hard on us students and we probably collectively cried more than laughed during training. We laughed too, but we all separately and collectively cried a lot. One teacher was scary. At times, he yelled and threw tennis balls at us while we were on stage – with the best of intentions. He wasn’t trying to hurt us – his goal was to keep us in the present and reactive on stage. Some people tried to stay in character and dodge the tennis balls and that made him throw even more balls and yell even louder. As actors, we were so ingrained in our method of acting and training that even in clowning we put blinders on and refused to react to outside things. In clowning, that’s really what it’s all about. It’s being present and taking in what’s happening in the space, whether it’s in the audience, in the air ducts, or a squeak in your shoe. We all experienced frustration in trying to find that unexplainable place of fully living in that clown personage. We wanted it so badly, and the more we wanted it, the more it seemed to elude us and the more frustrated we got. We didn’t speak on stage for months because their belief is that the movement comes first and the voice comes after. Like children, we learn to walk before we learn to talk.

Q: What’s so difficult about clowning?

A: Clowning is about going to a very scary place. A lot of people in clowning pick what they find most humiliating about themselves and exploit it. When you really push on those places you avoid, it opens you up to a lot of new and exciting places and freshness. You’ve got to have a thick skin and be really resilient in clowning. When I started in clowning I thought I was resilient, but in retrospect, I don’t know if I really was. This kind of training is not for everybody, but it is very valuable. Mask and clowning skills are incredible tools for traditional modern realist actors to have. Jackie Chan is very clowny and very funny. It’s genius how he understands physical comedy in an elevated way in the midst of violence.

Q: What do students learn in your clowning and physical theatre classes?

A: It’s sort of unlearning everything that we’ve learned about acting in some ways. Students in acting classes have been told not to make audience contact, that when it’s done, it seems faked or contrived. But with clowning, that’s the trick, connecting with the audience and making the performance real. The actor is still in character and has the same objectives, but is sharing and interacting with the audience and the environment instead of performing for the audience.

This is where a whole connection happens, part of which is indescribable. When the mask connects with the audience, it’s riveting and dynamic, a kind of magic happens that is inexplicable. Clowning is more traditional than modern acting, but in our modern view of acting, actors can get away with not being in the moment. With clowning, it’s really what it’s all about – the actors have to be open and respond to whatever is happening.

Actors can feel vulnerable because they can’t rely on techniques they’re comfortable with. People communicate a lot through their eyes and facial expressions. Actors tend to act a lot with their faces because they’ve learned that from watching movies and television. By putting on masks, we’ve cut off that method of communication and that leaves us with having to find other ways to communicate. The mask becomes the translator, the transducer of the character, and those emotions that would otherwise be expressed through our faces are sent through our bodies.

Sometimes an actor on stage may pull back, and if that actor has on a mask, that pulling back is magnified. Things that worked without the mask, don’t translate, they’re not large enough to communicate to the audience what’s going on. Working with a mask becomes second nature with practice. It’s not a big effort forever. Any technique becomes easier with practice, it’s just a matter of getting used to using your body to express the characters and make contact with the audience.

Q: Would you talk about your approach to teaching clowning and physical theatre?

A: Good teachers of these forms don’t necessarily teach, they provoke, they set up circumstances for actors to work through and learn by doing, as opposed to lecturing about it. I can tell students to be in the moment and play with their surroundings until I’m blue in face, but they won’t get it until they experience it. The actual doing of it is where they’re going to start to learn it and experience it.

The beauty of the teaching and learning of acting is that there are a million different approaches and what most people get taught is that you will learn a lot of things, some of which will work for you and some won’t. There are brilliant method actors in this world who are amazing, breathtaking. They found a path that works for them. That doesn’t mean it works for everybody.

For instance, I don’t like the separation of voice and movement, where the physical work happens in one class on one day and the voice work happens in another on another day. Even in my studies, we learned voice a couple times a week, for an hour, that was it. I found a disconnect in learning how to match what we were doing vocally with what we were doing physically. We were making these big dynamic shapes with our bodies and feeling our hearts out, but some people had never had any voice training and they couldn’t be heard or understood because they couldn’t elevate their voices up to what they were doing with their bodies. One of my goals when I get my Ph.D. and become a professor is to develop pedagogy where actors’ voices and bodies are trained simultaneously.

Q: What would the Avery technique be?

A: I’m still developing it and that’s why one of the reasons I’m hoping to begin a Ph.D. soon. Right now, it’s all in notes and ideas. There were some really wonderful moments at Dell’arte where we studied Tai Chi. For the most part, Tai Chi is fairly silent because it’s a meditative martial art, but a couple of times the teacher played music, which took us to another level. One day, in voice class while working on harmony and singing together, we practiced Tai Chi and that helped us find different connections. Many people have a tendency to hold their breath while doing something strenuous. In acrobatics class, we did forward rolls, cart wheels, or whatever, down the mat, while humming or singing. It’s hard to do, but it’s serves actors in two ways – it keeps them breathing and in touch with their voice, while exerting themselves physically. Things like that are key.

Q: When did you get into the arts?

A: I was always around the arts as there are a lot of musicians in my family. My grandmother is an incredible jazz pianist and she still plays in her jazz band that jams every month at her house. My uncle has been a singer/entertainer for at least thirty years. My mother is a musician and an incredible singer. She studied music in college, teaches music, and plays standup bass. As a small child, I attended the rehearsals of shows for which she directed the music. My father, though not trained in any particular one, was a great appreciator of the arts. My sister is a visual artist, and as with me, her interests have moved around. She went to the Parsons School of Design and while she’s worked in a lot of different media, she now has her own business making custom mosaics and doing tile installation.

As a kid I wanted to take ballet lessons and to learn how to dance. I grew up in a very small town in New Hampshire so there wasn’t much opportunity for that, but as soon as opportunities for acting came around, I jumped right in. I was also very lucky. An incredible performer and puppeteer named Dan Hurlin, who is also from New Hampshire, is a professor at Sarah Lawrence. When I was a teenager, he ran a children’s theatre in New Hampshire so I got to train with him. We loved him, we thought he was amazing, but outside of our little world, we didn’t know how respected and amazing he really was. His work, though I didn’t know it at the time, formed part of what my aesthetic is now – looking for challenging and new ways of performance.

My father supported the arts and me in them. I was a biochemistry major in college studying to be a genetic engineer, but I remember as a child my father saying to me, you know, you might want to act and he used all kinds of little schemes to move me towards acting and the theatre knowing that’s really where I’d end up. He always knew I’d be in the arts, even when I didn’t know it.

The American fashion makeover show What Not to Wear is on its fourth season on the cable television channel The Learning Channel (TLC). The show first debuted in the UK, and remains a popular show, and the American spin-off has earned the same substantial audience. The show is hosted by Stacy London and Clinton Kelly, both fashion gurus in their own right. Fashion consultant Stacy London was born in New York City and attended Vassar College. After college she worked as a fashion assistant at Vogue magazine and later returned to Conde Nast as a senior fashion editor at Elle magazine. London has many celebrity clients including Kate Winslet and Liv Tyler, and has worked for many large fashion houses to advise and direct their fashion shows. Since 2003, London has also worked as a style advisor to numerous advertising campaigns including CoverGirl, Suave and Target. London’s humorous counterpart, Clinton Kelly is a fashion consultant as well as a media personality. Kelly, a native of Long Island, earned his degrees at Boston College and Northwestern University. Like London, Kelly earned his fashion experience at magazines such as Mademoiselle and Marie Claire.

The genius paring of Kelly and London has resulted in What Not to Wear, the popular ambush makeover show that is delivered with humor and professionalism. The reality program gets its contestants through referrals from friends and family of those who have been deemed to be “fashion challenged.” Kelly and London appear at the designated contestant’s home or office and announce that they have been selected for a complete fashion and beauty makeover. The contestant is completely surprised by the arrival of crew and cameras and this surprise element adds to the novelty of the show. Once the cameras cover the inappropriate and unattractive clothing of the contestant, he or she is offered a Visa card with $5000.00 on it in order to buy a whole new wardrobe. However, there is a catch. The contestant must agree to hand over his or her entire wardrobe to Kelly and London and go on a two day supervised and controlled shopping spree. The contestant can only buy within a set group of parameters, and if not, they are not allowed to purchase the item.

Other professionals featured on the program are Nick Arrojo of Arrojo Studios and well-known makeup artist Carmindy. Both of these stylists offer their advice and guidance to create a complete new look for the contestant in order to match the sophistication and look of his or her new wardrobe. Nick Arrojo is known for cutting the often overly long and damaged hair of the contestants, and creating a fashion-forward cut and color. Male contestants are often given skin treatments and learn how to take care of their skin, shaving needs and nails. Female contestants learn how to apply makeup.

After the beauty makeover, the contestant heads back to the studio for a full reveal to Kelly and London. London is known for her excitement at this part of the show and often yells “Shut Up!” at the sight of the newly styled contestant. The contestant is flown back to their home for an on-camera reveal of their new look to friends and family. What Not to Wear is making over America one fashion delinquent at a time.

Are you a Reality T.V. fan? There is a whole community waiting for you at Reality Community – http://www.reality-community.com Ed Charkow the author of this article is an avid poster and participant there. If you are a Reality TV junkie – he would love to see you there.

“Lighting affects everything light falls upon. How you see what you see, how you feel
about it, and how you hear what you are hearing. Replace the ‘a’ with an ‘e’ and you get lighting effects!”-Jean Rosenthal

While the world celebrated choreographer George Balanchine’s 2004 Centennial, the diminutive woman who had illuminated his work for over 20 years remained an ethereal whisper in the wings. Jean Rosenthal lit the American stage with the genius of her craft and the magic of her art. A futurist and innovator, she was my eldest cousin and mentor.

After three years at Yale University School of Drama, Jeannie was about to make history. During the mid-1930s, her apprentice years with John Houseman, Orson Welles and the Mercury Theater, the title ‘Lighting Designer’ did not exist until she invented it. By the early 1950s, she was the most sought after lighting designer in America and Europe. Angela Lansbury said of her, “I remember how I felt each time I moved into the atmosphere of light Jean had created for me…till the last spot irised out on my face, and I was thankful for the cover of darkness to hide my tears.”

By age forty-three Jeannie had hundreds of Broadway shows, operas and New York City Ballet productions to her credit; she’d influenced all forms of theater with her ground-breaking lighting techniques and fresh artistic style. At her most creative when lighting the dancer, Jeannie maintained a joyous lifelong association with Martha Graham. Early on, when her mentor Orson Welles asked her to come with him to Hollywood to produce Citizen Kane, Jeannie had to make the toughest decision of her life. Think Goliath versus the elfin maiden. It became the buzz around the dinner table when I was still peeing in my pants. Years later, at a family gathering at the Rosenthal home in Martha’s Vineyard, Jeannie related how difficult it had been for her to say no to Welles. Memory often eludes me; this remembrance remains clear and distinct.

“That colossus of a madman with his charisma and intensity was impossible to resist,” Jeannie told me. But more impossible was the thought of her leaving the theater. After the fourth or fifth time Orson asked her to come to Los Angeles, she prayed he’d stop asking. “When he stopped, I prayed I wouldn’t regret it.” She didn’t. As unconventional as the man who changed the way movies are made, Jeannie shared a commonality with him that became her own dictum: “I passionately hate the idea of being with it; I think an artist has always to be out of step with his time.”-Orson Welles

Equally passionate and just as plucky, pint-sized Jeannie stepped to the beat of her own heart all the way to Broadway and beyond. Maria Callas called her “her magician.” Martha Graham could not imagine life without her. George Balanchine controlled everything and everyone including his collection of dancing divas, the three he married: Vera Zorina, Maria Tallchief, Tanaquil LeClerq…and the one he didn’t, Suzanne Farrell. But when his Four Temperaments opened and flopped because of elaborate European drops, Jeannie rescued it at City Center with her “less is more” blue cyclorama and unique lighting. An instant success, Four Temperaments remains part of the New York City Ballet repertory and Balanchine never did another production without her. Despite the monumental egos of those madmen and geniuses, my feisty cousin was a giant step ahead of them.

During the golden years of the American theater, 1930s to the 1960s (my view), Jeannie considered herself the luckiest person in the world. In her words, “to have come along at the very time Martha Graham was creating and Lincoln Kirstein was backing George Balanchine to create new and fresh uses of the ballet form.” Many of her designs are used today. Her plots have been adapted to evolving technology, but her original concepts and cue placements are the same. Plaza Suite, directed by a young Mike Nichols, West Side Story, The Sound of Music, Barefoot in the Park, Judy Garland At The Palace, John Gielgud’s Hamlet, Fiddler on the Roof, Cabaret-over 300 productions carry the credit line, “Lighting by Jean Rosenthal.”

Though Jeannie saw the world through enormous blue eyes, she was the Lilliputian pulling a load five times her weight. From the Metropolitan Opera in Manhattan, the Shakespeare Festival Theater in Stratford, Connecticut to the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion in Los Angeles and the Dallas Civic Opera, light was her paintbrush. And for actress Mary Martin, it was always pink gelatin. Fresh and spontaneous like a child blowing bubbles, Jeannie inspired everyone around her with her delicious insight: “When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.” That kind of thinking profoundly impacted my own life. Though certain I would follow in her footsteps, destiny had other plans for me.

I still don’t know a Fresnel lens from a klieg lamp. The technical aspects of some of Jeannie’s focus charts for Hello Dolly are tantamount to quantum mechanics. A technician as well as a designer, Jeannie created magic with her subtle use of gels along with light and the absence of light. Using deep color washes of back and side light, she surrounded performers with lighting that rendered them jewel-like. Some of her complicated hook-up charts, cue sheets and lighting plots are preserved at the Wisconsin Historical Society in the archives of the University of Wisconsin and the research archives of Lincoln Center, New York.

Did inherent respect for their history give the Europeans the cutting edge on sound and light shows? The French are quick to remind us they invented the form in the early 1950s. Jeannie was appalled by the lack of inspiration in American architectural lighting. While Europeans venerated their historic sites, Americans, blasé about their history, tended to ignore or replace them with parking lots. In 1964 she was asked to create a sound and light for the Boscobel Restoration in Garrison, New York. At the time, the Wallace family of Reader’s Digest owned the Hudson mansion, now a museum. She wanted Boscobel to be the archetype for the other aristocratic Hudson River houses and surrounding land, rich in American history and the distinct quality of light captured on canvas by the artists of the Hudson River School.

Jeannie assembled the best technicians and artists in the business, including director John Houseman and actors Gary Merrill and Helen Hayes. Together they created the mood and tempo of time and place; breathed life into the hardy Dutch farmers, the coarse mouthed sailors of the Half Moon, the war over the land, booming West Point canon from across the river and the gracious Boscobel mansion itself. She used state-of-the-art computer technology for that time, described in detail in her book, The Magic of Light, which she wrote with Lael Wertenbaker. Published in 1972 by Little, Brown and Company three years after her death, the now out of print book became the design student’s bible.

While Eugene O’Neill, Tennessee Williams and Arthur Miller were transforming twentieth century drama for the stage, Jean Rosenthal was revolutionizing lighting design. Today’s theatrical and architectural lighting have evolved from her original plots, control boards and cues. And though she had little time for anything in her life but the theater, there were free tickets for me at the box office, free makeup kits for my school plays, frequent lunches at my favorite eateries–Schrafft’s restaurant and the Automat. I was the only kid in William Howard Taft High School who got to see Maria Tallchief and George Balanchine in Igor Stravinsky’s Firebird from center orchestra, seventh row on the aisle. It remains the most exciting performance of my life.

In 1969, as my ailing cousin lay in her hospital bed too weak to hold a pen, she dictated her book into her recorder. At the time, I was working overseas and could not be with her. I’d written to her about my encounter with the touring Igor Stravinsky at the home of our ambassador to Japan in Tokyo. When I shook Stravinsky’s hand I blurted, “I’m Jean Rosenthal’s cousin.” Red-faced, I wanted to crawl behind the nearest silk screen. But the maestro threw his arms around me in the mother of all bear hugs. I couldn’t move. “Ah my leetle Jeenie,” he bellowed, squeezing the breath out of me. “I luff her. She is my vondaful Firebird.” I like to think my letter gave her a good laugh.

After Jeannie’s premature death to cancer, the following icon requested this quote be printed in the margin of her forthcoming book: “I adored Jean, I adored her work, her presence. I never saw enough of her since she was usually huddled with the technical designing people. But the little I did see of her was a constant joy, refreshment and inspiration.”-Leonard Bernstein

Would lighting design have progressed if Jeannie had gone with Welles to Hollywood? Sure. But designers of her generation focused on the art, whereas she was a technician, artist and visionary whose influence lives on. At a recent performance of The Lion King, while captivated by the magic of designers Donald Holder and Julie Taymor, I was nonetheless aware of a familiar ethereal whisper in the wings. Genius never dies.

My website is under reconstruction until 2010. Meanwhile, you can find me at http://newagejournal.com/2007/spirituality/the-eternal-search-for-who-am-i

You can also read two chapters of my novel, The Sword and the Chrysanthemum, Journey of the Heart at http://www.samurai-archives.com/guestart.html

My blue-eyed, scandinavian-blonde sister looks gorgeous in icy shades; every time we go to a makeup counter together I reach for softly ­colored lipsticks, blushes, and eye shadows to swipe on the back of her hand. After 15 minutes, her skin is covered with rose, carnation, lilac, lavender, mauve, and silver streaks. “I am not buying anything pastel!” she says, trying to move out of my reach. No matter how pretty she looks in these shades, she will never wear them; she says she hates pastels because they are “too girly, too prissy.” Still, I press these colors on her, although I always promise to stop because I know how she feels.

When makeup artists see my yellowy skin, dark blonde hair, and green eyes, they immediately move toward me with terracotta and apricot eye shadows, bronze blush, and bright, brick-red lipstick. While these shades do complement my eyes beautifully, they make my teeth and the whites of my eyes appear yellow, in turn making me feel even more yellow than I already am. For this reason, I will never buy orangey-earth shades no matter how many compliments I get while wearing them. Why am I telling you all this? To point out the importance of personal tastes.

Establishing what you like

Maybe several cosmetic salespeople have suggested that cream foundation would work well with your dry skin, but you detest the product’s rich texture. Perhaps you adore loden eyeliner even though everyone tells you navy blue would better suit your complexion. People may recommend some contouring in the hollow of your cheeks to accentuate your bone structure, despite the fact you hate contour. What to do? I am all for ignoring other people’s advice and following your own tastes – after all, makeup is not only for helping us look and feel better, but also for expressing ourselves, and our likes and dislikes come into that category.

Interested in trying out a certain type of blush, color of eye shadow, or new type of mascara? Head to the cosmetic counter at a nearby department store or makeup artist boutique, where you can test makeup for free. If you like the item after wearing it for 3 or 4 hours, you can return and purchase it.

That said, don’t dismiss a cosmetic until you’ve tried it – which means wearing it in public for a day. This is important because you can’t always immediately tell what you will love or hate. For instance, one of my favorite cosmetics is a highlighting cream from Face Stockholm. I had never considered wearing highlighter – for some reason, I always associated it with disco. But one day, I was in New York City’s Face Stockholm store with my sister (yes, I was painting pastel stripes on her hands) when I saw a display of several highlighting creams. A month earlier, someone had told me that Caroline Bessette Kennedy used to wear this particular highlighter. Being envious of Bessette Kennedy’s naturally glowing skin, I decided to dab some highlighter on my cheekbones and temples. It looked great and not at all disco-like. After wearing the highlighter around Manhattan for a few hours – and still loving the way it looked – I returned to the store and bought it.

Before considering a career as a makeup artist, you must do field research. That’s the primary way to avoid pitfalls. Is there room in your geographical area for another makeup artist? What is the competition like? Are you willing to travel for, say, a wedding? How far? Is your car dependable? If you don’t want to travel, is your city big enough for you to get the client base you need?

Also get the scoop on pay in your area. It will vary, even in one town, depending on your clientele. Working for a wedding planner, you will make more than working for a mall photography shop. Find out what the highest and lowest income opportunities are.

Freelance or Corporate: Perks and Pitfalls

If your research gives you a green light, the next step is to decide between the freelance life and the employee life.

Working for a company, perhaps being a sales rep for your favorite cosmetics brand, or being the on-call makeup artist for a film production company, you can count on a regular paycheck and perhaps even benefits.

Joining the growing group of freelancers, you’ll need to spend at least 50% of your work day on marketing yourself.

Licensing

In either case – freelance or corporate – the next step is to become accredited.

Get the information on the legal, health, and educational certification required by your state, county, or town. Take classes from an accredited beauty school (many have generous scholarship programs).

How to Get Work

Now you’re ready for the most critical part of becoming a professional makeup artist: marketing yourself.

If you want to work for a company, you can send resumes to spas, beauty salons, and specific cosmetic companies. Once you get a job, you are on your way to a career. You can make contacts, work your way up in the organization, acquire mentors, and get that most magical benefit of all – experience. If you get a job with a specific cosmetic company, they may require you to take additional classes focusing on their products. Usually they will pay for that.

A plum job with great pay would be one with a special effects makeup company that does film and television work. Getting that job will require additional training, lots of pavement pounding, and living in the right city. L.A., Atlanta, Chicago, and New York are important film industry hubs. Other cities, like Austin, Texas, attract film professionals, but these people often bring their own makeup artists with them.

Choosing the freelance route means that self-promotion becomes a way of life. But once you reach a point where you have a little bit of paying work, you’ll find that word of mouth will exponentially increase your customer base.

Freelancing: Special Considerations

As a freelance makeup artist, you can approach wedding planners, photography studios, film production companies, ad agencies, and theatrical groups. Make sure, too, that all talent agencies in your area know about you.

You’re creative – that’s one reason you’re going into the makeup profession. And you can use that creative mind to make a list of marketing ideas. Here are a few to get you going:

• Print up business cards and always have them on you. Leave them with everyone you meet during the day.

• Join a networking group. These groups are extremely effective. You’ll meet perhaps once a month either for lunch or happy hour (some troopers have breakfast meetings!), and there will usually be an agenda, followed by a social time of mingling. Some networking groups are free, some charge a fee. If you’re just starting your networking experience, definitely join the free groups. You will have to pay for your meal and drinks, though.

• Walk tall and exude success. It always shows. Read books on your own. Study magazines. Try makeup techniques on your friends and read makeup sites on the Internet. Get your confidence up as high as it will go!

• Make a list of all your contacts. You have more than you realize. Friends, your accountant, your church or social groups, the shopkeepers you see regularly. Don’t worry, you’re not going to hassle these people. But you can send them a cute postcard announcing the opening of your new makeup business.

• Which brings us to the next item. Print up some eye-catching postcards (you can do it on your computer), and send them out. Always have extras so you can send them to new people as you meet them.

• Get yourself to any and all beauty-related events in your area. Whether it’s a trade show, a trunk show, a store opening, or a book signing, be there with your business cards.

• Put up a website. It’s easy, even if you’ve never done it before. Today, a website is more important than a business card! See Website – Do It Yourself to get started.

• Design and print up a resume-type introduction that you can give to the local spa directors and wedding planners. It must be unique – not bland like a business resume – and colorful. Use your imagination. Make it irresistible.

Today’s Freelance Makeup Artist Needs:

The other requirement of being a freelancer is that you’ll have to stock your own makeup kit. This is an investment, and if you make money, chances are you’ll be able to deduct the costs of your cosmetics.

Many women are going “green” these days, so be sure your makeup kit is filled with earth-friendly, skin-friendly, and non-animal tested products. If you want to specialize and use only vegan products, you could use that as a compelling marketing tool.

Being “known” for a unique niche is also a great way to catch business. You could specialize in makeovers, anti-aging looks, head shots for actors (although many actors prefer to do their own makeup), or runway and catalog makeup for models.

Whether you apply to work for a company or go freelance, remember: there is no guarantee that you will immediately earn enough money to live on. Go into the process with enough money saved up to keep you in the black for at least six to twelve months. And decide ahead of time how long you’re willing to go without clients. Market your services with an organized plan, and be persistent.

Going into the makeup artist business can be an awesome life change – financially and emotionally. Do it with care, do it with intelligence, do it with a plan – and you could be living your dream.

Suzann is a technical writer and copy editor, with many pieces published both for the web and in hard copy. A graduate of Northwestern University, she runs the website My Makeup Mirror. http://www.MyMakeupMirror.com