Being an actor means more than applying a set of skills, it’s about bringing who you are, what’s inside you, to your work.
To become a voice actor means first to become an actor.
But what does that mean? Is an actor someone who performs a checklist of actor-y things– who takes acting classes, reads acting books, hangs with other actors, auditions, mails send outs, things like that? Not necessarily. Becoming an actor is more than a mere collection of stereotyped activities, more than a checklist. It’s more than ambition, more than having a demo and an agent and a willingness to do what a director tells you to. It’s not just reading words off a page.
You can be doing all these things and not really be an actor, just like someone who owns a paintbrush and an easel who slaps paint on canvas isn’t necessarily a painter.
So, what is an actor?
An actor is fundamentally an artist– someone who breathes life in, digests it, and then exhales a performance that reflects that life with authenticity and honesty and immediacy.
Acting is part mirror and part invention that requires a direct tap on your inner self, your inner fullness. Acting isn’t a mere “skill” or expertise that anyone could learn. That’s why acting is not merely a skill, it’s an art.
And an artist needs fuel.
I’m not talking KFC or tabouli. I’m talking about an artist’s oxygen–what you take in from your life besides food– the things that move you, that ignite you, that piss you off, make you scream with laughter or brings you to tears. It’s the people in your life, that you work with and live with. It’s what and who you love, what you fear, what you cannot stand, what you fear.
An artist must have this all “on tap” to bring anything real to your art.
The life that you take in is the raw material at the heart of your acting. It is the inner fuel that enables you to commit, to express with passion and honesty, to go all-in with your performing, to connect.
And because this artistic fuel is finite, you must develop the habit of filling your fuel tank–of replenishing it.
Whatever fuels your artistic fires will be unique to who you are. It entails tapping into what you love, what turns you on, what freaks you out and excites you so you can take it in, digest it and then channel it back into your art.
This could mean reading, making music, art, sky diving, sculpting, star gazing, fishing or singing. It could be an athletic activity, a philanthropic enterprise, a person or group of people who bring out your best or your beast or your wild or your wacky. It could be a place, a poet, a pet, a religion, nature, a song. It is something that uniquely feed you.
I believe to be an actor you must be searching for this so you can find it, know it and grow it. It’s like a garden you must constantly cultivate. An actor’s job is not just to get work, it is also to cultivate and feed your inner artistic flame, your voices, your enthusiasm and passion, your sense of the absurdity and wonder of this life.
This is your actor’s mission, your eternal assignment: Seek out your own unique “life sources,” whatever and wherever they are, and make their intake and their enjoyment a part of your life-habit, in addition to doing the more obvious “actor things.”
No matter how unrelated to “acting” or “voice acting” it may seem, if it feeds you and fills you, it will always strengthen your art as well as your career.
Your artistic growth and career are founded on this over-flowing inner spring– your fuel. Without it, your words, your performance, and your art will be timid and malnourished and will fall flat.
Make a habit of refilling your “inner well” so you are always ready to give deeply, fully and all-out in your work.