ALMOST LISA : Pt 2, “Almost Musician”

 

ALMOST LISA : Pt 2, “Almost Musician”

Just settled in to write today at another cafe, this time in Trilith Studios in Atlanta, GA (I’ll eventually get to how I got here). I like the owners, a humble and kind wife/husband team who make mean pastries (alas, I'm gluten-free. I'm part Italian. WHY GOD, WHY?! ). Recently, I asked if I could flood their tall, bare white walls with my art and photography. Today, I'm enjoying this collaboration, the coffee, the view, and the tiniest feeling of community. What better environment to continue penning my story?

 

“Failure is not the end of the world. Trip, fall, face plant… But throw up a jazz hand and carry-on! “

So... 9/11 changed many lives. While mine was spared (I went uptown to sign a work contract, missing breakfast in tower 2 that morning), my Broadway dreams ended. People were afraid to patron the theaters which suffered greatly for the lack of attendance (as did the Artists). As time progressed, top billed name actresses were cast to play roles once reserved for trained singer/ dancers. There was no room for a newbie like me. I had nowhere to live, no other friends in the city, no job security... I needed to figure out my next move, fast.

In a series of random and unrelated events, I was introduced to a producer in Hollywood, CA who encouraged me to jump coasts to try TV and film and gave me the name of what he felt was a reputable acting class to get started. At first, I laughed. I was a city girl. I loved fine and performing Arts. I needed culture! California was surfing and camping (so I thought). I didn't see myself fitting in. I also didn't see myself surviving a New York winter, homeless. So I made the difficult decision to drive cross country and rebuild my life in new, unknown territory. But first, a stop in Cleveland for a couple off nights to appease my parents. They knew nothing of what happened to me in NYC during the attacks. Only that I decided to shift focus. And they never asked. 

I am 16 in the photo above, working my first job in Little Italy, Cleveland. My Grandparents were proud of this. They were proud and supportive of everything and everyone in the family. And they seemed to make every concert and special event I had (there were many), including my graduation from Eastman. Somehow these two stayed madly in love their entire marriage. They were truly the glue which kept our family together. Outside of our house,  the times I heard my parents laugh and saw them smile most was at my grandparents house. Two of the Tarantino Brothers built their own homes, side-by-side, in Euclid, Ohio where they raised their children. Every Christmas, we’d enjoy a family dinner and homemade pastries, then the families would swap houses and repeat. It was magic. When my grandmother passed, my grandfather passed a year later of a broken heart. And my father was never quite the same.

My parents are both incredibly smart and gifted. My father is a talented Architect. Mom was a teacher (until she had me), then worked for a doctor at one of Cleveland's top medical facilities. Great people, compassionate. They never really “parented” me. They were supportive and showed up for the many things I did. But seldom asked questions. They didn't teach life stuff or share personal experiences. Never spoke to me about boys. Didn’t talk me in or out of my decisions. I kinda just did my thing. If I got it wrong, I got the scowl of disapproval and silence. I think they were overwhelmed (three kids). Likewise, I opted to never share anything negative or challenging with them (the environment I grew up in was negative enough). To this day, they know nothing about most of my struggles and challenges, I spared them. It is exceedingly challenging to go through life the way I have with no foundation of family and safety to “hold” me (likely why I'm writing about it all now). In order to stay healthy and thrive, I always knew I would need to leave the nest. With my father staring stoic in the driveway, I pulled the car out onto the street, waved, and began the three day trek to California. Dad watched the until the car disappeared from view.

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*Sidebar. I spend a lot of time in cafes, sipping Joe or noshing, head down,  writing or editing. I don’t have people (or someone) to spend time with, thus I’ve always enjoyed opportunity to connect with strangers and share stories (I do this all the time, anywhere in the world. So if you see me, please say hello!).  I have a lot of photography, poetry, scripts, and art now. I’ll tell you the story about how photography entered my life later.  Anyways...

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“Sometimes everything you want (everything which makes you happy) is on the other side of Fear”

 

If you've never been a brown woman traveling solo through the South of North America with Yankee plates, it'll certainly keep you on your toes. Interestingly, I've never had a problem dealing with others when traveling (not even in the Favela of Brazil). Most all dissonance I've received in my life was from colleagues and competitive “friends”. It's interesting to excel at communication with powerful decision makers at a very high level, but constantly be misunderstood by peers and those of lesser understanding and/or experience. Hollywood was about to teach me a few things regarding trust, friendships, opportunity. And a lot about myself.

In February 2005, I arrived in sunny California, mid-monsoon (exaggerating), struggling to find my way to The San Fernando Valley while unable to see ten inches in front of me. That year, several “Hollywood Hills” houses slid off their foundations, wrecked by flooding.  The new environment and lack of connection to a brand new city and life might have intimidated me. But I was focused. Somehow I managed to hear about a background casting company for television and film and immediately got registered. Then called every day to remain employed as a background artist until I earned my Screen Actors Guild card, got an agent, and enrolled in acting classes. It felt like a proverbial foot in the door.

Suddenly, my life regained purpose. There was movement. I was in Hollywood, working consistently on TV and film sets, booking commercials & print work, and spokesperson gigs for companies and products (a forte which kept me busy). I was on the red carpets (at this time more often interviewing, not interviewed), and establishing myself with casting directors. My energy was endless. Every win encouraged and inspired me to keep moving, keep auditioning and interviewing, keep networking.

The resume was growing, but I was hardly “blending in”. When you're talented, intelligent and you look like THIS...

...it’s unbelievably challenging to succeed past the gatekeepers who expect favors in exchange for your progress. It was more than just the (sadly) common and expected casting couch, or the inappropriate producer/ AD/ director/ lead actor... in the way. I found I could do absolutely nothing and still be found “difficult”.

There were times on set I would be asked by the 1st AD or producer to be tucked into the back of a crowd so-as not to intimidate or distract a name talent on the show. One actress had me removed from set and asked I not be hired on her show again.  I learned quickly that shrinking to spare the insecurities of others was not a forte of mine. So I committed effort to booking roles for myself. And I did.

It never occurred to me that I wasn't as deserving of opportunity as the celebrities I often worked with. I felt at home in those moments. But I did not welcome the ongoing assault of sexual objectification, manipulation and even blatant threats to derail my success simply for saying 'no” to decision-makers. I can affirm from the inside of the business that those “casting couches” and predatory behavior are real at all levels and departments in the industry. I can also confirm that saying “NO” makes everything more challenging. My career success was modest for it. But I take pride in knowing everything I've earned was done so by talent and professionalism. I had bounced back from 9/11, losing my first love (music), overcoming (brief) homelessness, and now established myself as an actress, working in Hollywood. Then I got the sign I was waiting for that I made the right choice and things were going to be alright. I booked something career-changing.

By 2007 I'd come close several times to booking major roles and recurring characters on TV shows. I was frustrated, but motivated by continued invitations to audition for the top casting directors. Then I got a good one! I landed a guest star on an NBC TV show alongside a few established name actors in a role which was expanded- just for me- based on the quality of my callback. That kind of trust makes your chest swell. It was validation. I earned it. It was a “Welcome Mat”. I arrived to set prepared for the week of filming and ready to assure producers they'd made the right choice.

The popular sitcom filmed all week in studio, then that Friday in front of a live audience (as a stage performer, I was in my element). We walked through rehearsals, marked things for camera and director, and got to know each other as cast. I was working primarily with #1 on the call sheet, a brilliant physical actor who was unexpectedly supportive of me as an emerging talent. He offered a solid piece of professional advice I've carried with me ever since: “Own The Room”.

"Some people show off their beauty because they want the world to see it. Others hide their beauty because they want the world to see something else"

That Thursday the execs rolled through to watch our dress rehearsal. Afterward I was pulled aside with accolades and a welcome I'd thought was the normal Hollywood deal. At their suggestion, I made plans to “discuss my future” with the casting director that following Monday. That night, when I returned to my dressing room, there was a hand-written note slid under my door with one word on it: “Dinner?”. Instant panic. Am I going to lose my job if I say “No”? What do I do? I don't want to create problems with anyone. I quietly grabbed my things and went home.

The next day was the live audience taping. I was a little on edge wondering where the note came from (I had my suspicions), but chose to behave as if I never received it. The show was a success, we took our bows, I thanked the director and cast and went home on a performance high. That Monday I kept my appointment with casting who offered a short list of larger agents to interview with. This was- I thought- a very good sign. So I interviewed with the agencies, gave it week to consider, then selected who I felt was the best match. When I called to speak with the head of the agency she apologetically explained that the WGA (Writers Guild) was about to strike and that we would have to reconvene in a few months. Well, a few months turned into 5, then 6, my calls and emails to the casting agent suddenly went un-responded to. I was forgotten and- now- unrepresented. The strike changed the career trajectory for so many like me. After how hard I fought and studied to make it this far, I was completely deflated for the second time in my life. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.

I was ALMOST a Success.

        (to be continued...)

 

*I retain all rights to my story, likeness, biographical information, quotes, poetry, photography, photos, fashion designs, art work, and all of my own creation represented herewithin*

*PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to these efforts via Venmo @CatarACT_Inc)