(A1) Reflection, Inspiration and Passion: An Artist’s Intention for Expression

When I think of things that inspired me to become an artist, I think there was no better catalyst than a good movie. As a child, there was no better way to spend a weekend than to pick up a couple of movies at 9th St. Video, my favorite local video rental shop at home, tell my friends to come over and spend the day, curled up on the couch in front of the TV. As I look back on it, it was this love for watching movies that made me consider the possibility of seriously pursuing acting during my high school years. Consequently, I had no idea that it would also lead me to a later discovered passion for filmmaking while attending college. There were probably a hundred or so instances as a child that could have ignited my passion to become an artist in the film industry but only one very palpable moment comes to mind.

It was the summer of 1993. I was 7 years old and Spielberg’s Jurassic Park was playing in theatres. As a kid, I probably came out of the movie with enthralling memories of the moments in the film that were the most exciting to me. The time where the T-Rex reeks havoc on the jeeps sitting in the rain, the ending cat and mouse chase between the children and the velociraptors, all the intensely suspenseful moments that really made a lasting impression as my 7 year old-self sat in the dark theatre, gazing up at the larger than life spectacle playing before my eyes. As an epic junkie then and now, I thrived on the grandiose scale the film had to offer. Though these moments provided me with a riveting experience, a slightly more subtle moment in the film proved to be more fundamental in my appreciation for the power of filmmaking and acting.

Dr. Grant and Dr. Sattler had just come to the park and were taking a jeep-guided tour with the other characters. They had not seen any dinosaurs and Dr. Grant was slightly annoyed at the entire concept of the park, let alone being coaxed into being there in the first place to give a professional perspective on the security of the park’s parametrical compound. The jeeps come to a halt on the top of a ridgeline overlooking a picturesque plain. We see Dr. Grant in the jeep. Something catches the corner of his eye. He turns his head and is amazed at what he sees. He whips his sunglasses off as if he can’t believe his own eyes and stands up in his seat to gaze at something the audience cannot see. His partner, Dr. Sattler, is talking to him, her head down, lost in her own train of thought. To answer, Dr. Grant simply pulls her head up and cranes it so she can see what he’s been looking at in awe for the past few moments. Her mouth drops, she whips her sunglasses off (mimicking his actions) and stands up on her own seat to meet Grant and get a better view. Finally, the suspense is cathartically purged from us as we see an enormous brachiosaur come into view. The camera makes a quick pan and we can see hundreds of dinosaurs grazing across a picturesque grassland.

This moment encompasses what I value as an artist from both the performer’s perspective as well as the cinema’s. When I saw Drs. Grant and Sattler react to the dinosaurs by gazing out in awe at something I couldn’t see, I immediately had a reverent respective towards acting. If a performer can pull the viewer into their reality and empathetically let them experience what they’re experiencing, it validates the appreciation I feel towards the artistry. I take pleasure in the moments of my own work when I can lure the audience into my experience and make them sensitive to that experience. Reciprocally, the camera is equally effective in luring the audience into a moment of anticipation and suspense. If cinema can keep building that intensely emotional moment until the anticipation climaxes to reveal what’s been hidden the entire time, then I should also respect and admire the influential power of cinema.

Since I’ve began my artistic practice, I don’t know how many times in my career I’ve considered reconsidering my career. If one was to ask me on any given day why I’ve chosen to pursue my calling as an artist, depending on my mood or what’s going on in my life at the time, I would probably answer with a laugh and say “I don’t know. Good question. Ask me again in a few months.” The life of an artist (especially an actor) is rife with failure, hardship and pain. All of the missed opportunities, the roles that you were almost cast in but they went with someone else, the auditions you thought you nailed but never got a callback, they begin to take their toll on you. My old acting teacher used to tell us that if you could find even one thing else you could do in life besides acting and be happier with, then pursue that instead. It’s too hard to pursue the craft of acting if your heart is not entirely in it to begin with.

However, when I think about the other passions in my life and consider whether or not I would be happier to pursue them for a career, they never quite measure up in comparison to the rewards I reap when I practice my artistic craft: acting. Then, I see the impassive expressions on the faces of my father and mother, sitting at their desks, working their “9-to-5 day jobs” and the concept of even remotely becoming like one of them is enough to abandon my “plan b,” solidifying my career choice as an artist. That’s not to say that I don’t respect the choices they’ve made or the lives they lead, in fact, I respect and salute them for all their hard work and success. But what I realize when I look at them is that their career paths would never be right for me. However, whenever I have that inevitable feeling of doubt, I turn back to that moment in time when I was 7 years old again; back to the time when it was just me and the movie experience.

Even though I first detected my respect, passion and appreciation for acting and filmmaking at an early age, for the longest time it remained only an appreciation. I still loved watching good films with good performances but it never occurred to me that this could be something that was worth pursuing. My passion was still ignited, but it wasn’t until my sophomore year of high school where I finally found the agency to transition that passion into a conscious pursuit of artistic practice.

I was then 16 and Jackson’s Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring came out to theatres. I read Tolkien’s The Hobbit but hadn’t read the trilogy. If it was anything like The Hobbit, then it was a fantasy film set in an illusory world and time. It would be a story about an adventure involving an insurmountable danger and threat to the main characters. I remember walking out of the theatre being captivated by what I had just witnessed. I took me back to that same time when I was 7 years old again. Somewhere in that long interval of time, I had forgotten how the pathos of a properly executed film experience could still captivate and resonate with me as much as this film did.

I found my father’s tattered leather-bound copy of the trilogy and began reading. The yellowed pages and faded print seemed elusory and symbolic of the ancient and epic story I was about to indulge in. The story was well written, requiring the imagination of the reader wonder in order to fully appreciate its brilliance. I was amazed at how Jackson took a story from a verbose and visually challenging manuscript and transformed it onto the silver screen as a visually stunning and aesthetically compelling narrative. Seeing the possibilities an artist can achieve by presenting a story that was historically and temporally alienating to the audience, however, emotionally and humanly captivating to them as well only validated my previous beliefs in the majesty of good filmmaking and good acting. The film’s climax was especially effective and important to me since it became the main catalyst that began my practice of acting.

This moment, similar to the scene in Jurassic Park, is another point of confirmation that the power and efficacy of good filmmaking and acting have on humanity at large. This moment reiterates the mediums of artistic aesthetic and human truth. It’s moments like this one where we as an audience can suspend all disbelief, be empathetic and experience what the character is experiencing and confirm our own humanity by appealing to our sensibilities and emotions. Every time I watch this moment from the film, I cannot help but to identify with what the characters are going through. It has literally brought tears to my eyes because it’s relevant to what’s occurring in my own life as well as anyone’s life; it offers me hope in light of my own “insurmountable odds.” This is what good films and acting can do: they can appeal to universal and ubiquitous characteristics we all share as humans and it can give us a sense of community and togetherness, even despite our differences, by offering hope and faith in ourselves and our own faculties and wills.

To me, it’s specific moments like in Jurassic Park or The Fellowship of the Ring or similar moments in a film or on stage that encourage and inspire me to pursue my artistry of acting and filmmaking. A great theatrical experience always makes me feel more in tune to my own humanity. It can be revelatory about every facet of my own life, as well as that of everyone else’s. My work as an actor and filmmaker should reveal aesthetic truths that are endemic to humanity. It should expose certain realities and actualities about our own lives such as our need for entertainment, our need for an authentic narrative that depicts our human vigor and frailty, our need for emotional catharsis. When these needs are addressed, it engages the audience to think about them critically and apply them to our own experiences.

As an artist, it’s meaningful to me when I stand on stage and capture everyone’s attention. It’s meaningful to me when I can reveal humanity in such a way that it makes the audience reflect on their own lives and find their own truths. If one was to see my work, no matter if they loved it, hated it, praised it or degraded it, my work should give them a reaction. If it makes them think critically about their own lives and their own perspectives on humanity, then to me that’s an achievement and success all by itself.