Doodle, Doodle, Doodle!

     How many of us have zoned out in a meeting or class and put the pen to paper and just doodled? If this were a classroom, I bet everyone's hand would have just shot up. From shapes and connect the dots to serious sketches, doodling is a phenomenon that is exhibited by nearly all of society. The movements are naturally pleasing, it cures boredom, and lets our minds wander.
     I found this blog that is an collection of doodles called; Doodlers Anonymous. It's so interesting to me. Some of it is the weirdest stuff, but that's what doodling is! Doodling doesn't make sense and it's not supposed to. In some ways, doodling is an honest form of art. We may have a specific intention while we draw, but we don't censor the mind. I wanted to point out some of my favorites I stumbled upon.

Video Game Humor

Why I love it: This is totally something I would've drawn in class. I remember sitting in German in high school with my best friend doodling some of the stupidest things. All of it was quirky and witty and all of it was just our twisted minds out on the table. I'm also a bit of a dork so I fully appreciate the humor involved. I especially like the 'passing the torch' one. Too clever!

Laura Lea

Why I love it: I love how this girls doodles are just her mind on sheets of scrap paper. Sometimes just a though, sometimes something wildly inappropriate. Either way, I love it. She uses color and anything from notebooks to textbooks! She just doodles away. What I love the most about her doodles is you can just see how much fun she has when she does them. My favorite out of the bunch is the 'too cold to draw' one. I love that it's just a simple thought captured on paper.

It's Like Candy

Why I love it: These are the kinds of doodles that start off as just a bunch of circles on a page and that completely steal away all of your focus to whatever it is you were doing. I've got a doodle of mine that started as some scribbles with a pen during a show that was supposed to make it look like I was taking note of something. As the show went on though, it progressed into something totally unexpected and to be honest I love it. Doodles like this are more than just a cure for boredom, they're art.

     Here are a few of my doodles for your viewing pleasure. (Bare in mind these aren't scanned. They're taken from my phone as pictures.)

Class of X Doodle

Light Doodle
This is the doodle that I did during the show.

I Feel All Scribbly Doodle

 

Shakespeare Doodle

     So there you have it folks, art in the form of your everyday time waster. Just proof that art can come out, even when you least expect it.

~Just Another Starving Mindless Doodler

     You can view all my doodles and other pictures at my photobucket account.

     Bucket o' Photos

Die Vampire, Die!

    Sometimes being creative is so distracting. I can't even begin to count the numerous times my mind has gone skipping down the forest while I was supposed to be doing something deemed productive by my superiors. It's a blessing and a curse. Some of my favorite things I've created have been on time I was working "off task." On a serious note, so many of us are told by authority, friends, and everything in between, that we need to be focusing on something else and to save our little projects for another time. I beg to ask the question, who are you to tell me what is productive or educational for me?
     Remember in preschool when everyone coloring and you spewed out an explosion of color you were sure was masterpiece? And the teacher, and Mommy and Daddy all praised you at your skill and technique with a Crayola. Then you progressed further in the educational system and got to kindergarten and the first grade, and those vibrant mosh pits of expression became frowned upon. Suddenly, everything was about coloring in the lines and making sure every single color conformed to what was known. Well I got news for you Bub, those explosions of colors are hung in modern art museums around the world. Jackson Pollock is a world renown artist for his contemporary paintings. Yet they are nothing more than scattered splats of paint and random streaks of color. He's practically a household name and even so, throw Pollock into a first grade classroom and I guarantee he'd never paint another single painting. He'd filter into the norm and color inside the lines just like everyone else. He'd be a Realtor on the west side of Jersey making average wages supporting his wife and two kids, not an expressive bone in his body.
     Okay so that's extreme, but I think you catch my drift. I want my future children to be able to color whatever the hell they feel like. No matter what they come to me with, that shit's going on my fridge and I'm showing it to everyone who walks through my front door proudly.
     I was thinking today back to a family friend. He's an incredibly awkward human being. He inhibits social ineptitude and inappropriateness beyond measure. He was a strange kid in school and never really fit in, but above all else he loved to draw. And he was damn good at it too. He would draw the most bizarrely intriguing pictures of monsters and people. In a word they were borderline disturbing, but they were good. Still, everyone around him, upon seeing his art, either discouraged the weird drawings or shrugged it off as a phase. This day he's attending school for animation and struggles to fit in as well as get on his feet. For some reason he can't seem to get a good grip on what's been his dream since I can remember. Why is that?
    I want to know, if we had encouraged and marveled at his drawings like perhaps we should have, would he be a Jackson Pollock? Would he be a household name? Who's to say? I know he has it in him, but constant suppression by his peers and superiors certainly doesn't nudge him in the proper direction. If anything it pulls him further away from his dream, and to me, that's immoral. Everyone has different dreams, but more often than not, us artists who dream of fame or success with what we love to do, are shrugged off as just another hopeless wannabe. Our dreams are viewed as unrealistic and near impossible. Why? If I wanted to be a lawyer, society would be carting me off to my dream in a fucking wheelbarrow. Being a successful lawyer isn't any easier than being a successful painter or actor. So then why do we fuel the wannabe lawyers and not the wannabe artists?
     It's a mystery beyond my comprehension. Who knows, maybe one day things will be different. I can't say. What I can say, is that unless art is encouraged at least a little more, that day is very far off.
   
     Okay down off that soap box. Sheesh. Super serious. Sorry about that, but you know, I have a voice, it should be used. :)

    In case of sheer boredom after a paragraph into the above post, please follow this link:

 The Short Version

~Just Another Wannabe Starving Artist

Dedication

     I took a three hour nap today. Justification. I work at a bakery of sorts and let me tell you, baker's hours are the worst. I have a new found respect for sleeping in. What? You don't want to work at 7:00am? Fine. I'll gladly trade you. Here, have my 1:30am shift. I know right? You get used to it, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it. As an artist, sometimes you have to pull some strange hours as well. I know someone who worked at Starbucks while doing local theater. The director for the company was a bit of a stickler during tech week and insisted on finishing the show every night. There were times we were there until two or three in the morning after a 6:00pm call. And there were even times we didn't finish the show! It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. My point is though, he would work until about twelve or so, rest, eat, go to rehearsal, rehearse from 6:00 to about 2:30am, go home, eat real fast, toss on his uniform and work straight through until twelve again. Let me tell you, during tech week, you come to live for opening night. Not only is it the end of performing for an awkward audience of one, (Your director who still insists on clapping, which only furthers the awkward aroma of the night.) but you can sleep in the next morning. If ever there were heaven on Earth, it was sleeping in the morning after opening night.
     I'm gonna bring this full circle with a lesson. Dedication is what you do when you want, need, or love something. That something can be anything from your significant other, to work, to a local project your heart is set on, but the fact of the matter is, because you care so deeply about what it is you're doing, or the benefits you may reap from it, you throw yourself into it whole heartedly.  I did Aida in high school, and let me tell you what a trip this whole production was. There were times I debated entering my first scene by leaping from the catwalk a la Spiderman: Turn of the Dark in hopes that the fall might send me into comatose. At least then I wouldn't have to put up with the bounds of bullshit that production stirred up. I played Radames in the production, and there was a night during tech week that we were rehearsing the song "Not Me". Night after night it only seemed to sound worse and worse and it was the most thoroughly frustrating thing. I felt like no matter how hard we tried, it only ever plummeted deeper into the depths of ear piercing horse shit. I tried to work things out with our director, our conductor, the other actors and eventually I felt myself lunging over the edge. Shit dude, I was going to cry, and I'll be damned if I was going to do it on that stage. I began making my exit stage right and on my way out ran into, head first mind you, a tall steel lighting tree that held up ellipsoidal lights to back light some of the actors. I staggered for a moment, but was persistent on not letting these people see me lose it. I eventually made my way outside, recomposed myself, and finished the rehearsal. Like a professional. Boo-ya.
     It was quite the experience, and one I will never forget. As my Amneris explained to me, "It was like one giant 'What the fuck?' came crashing down over the theater." In some ways I take pride in this, in others I simply giggle. Nonetheless I pressed forward and finished the full run of the show, and to be fully honest, was quite proud of a lot of it. Our Aida tore up the many belting ballads and roaring riffs the show presented her with, our Amneris commandeered the stage like it was nobody's business and upstaged everyone with her sheer beauty, and, without bragging, I got a couple compliments on my acting and singing from strangers. Given the chance, I would go back and do it again and that, my friends, is dedication.
    You can do something that makes you scream and shout to the point of ripping your hair out, but if at the end of the day, you'd do it all over again? Well call me a monkey's uncle and pierce my nipples if that isn't what you were born to do.

~Just Another Passionately Starving Artist

Queen of the Month: April

A new thing! Enjoy!

Musical Theater Queen of the Month
April

Megan Hilty

 Name: Megan Kathleen Hilty
Hails from: Bellevue, Seattle, WAQueen since: May 31st, 2005 as Galinda in Wicked
A little bit about her: 

Megan Hilty hails from Washington, but is a NYC girl at heart. She attended Carnegie Mellon and joined the cast of Wicked as the standby for Galinda shortly before abdicating the role in 2005. She followed the show through Broadway and tours for years becoming the most recognized Glinda besides K. Chenoweth. She gave the role a youthful vibrancy that blossomed into what we as society knows as a woman before leaving the show in January of 2009. While finishing off the show see hopped on board the beginnings of a musical rendition of the 1980's movie 9 to 5. She worked alongside the likes of Stephanie J. Block, Allison Janney, and Dolly Parton herself to form a production to proudly house multiple Tony nominations. Other various stage credits include Vanities and various concerts in collaboration with artists such as Ryan Scott Oliver , Shoshana Bean , and Scott Alan. She's guest starred on a number of television shows including, CSI and The Suite Life of Zack and Cody. Her most recent project is in cohorts with Katherine McPhee, Christian Borle, and Brian D'Arcy James to star in a television show title Smash produced by the film industry's very own Steven Spielberg.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the Musical Theater Queen of the month of April, Megan Hilty:

Megan Hilty as Glinda - I Couldn't Be Happier - Wicked

You can sing?

     It's been a while. Apologies. Today I want to discuss something every artist, in all of art's many forms, is familiar with. There's a cliche that floats around society whether it be in movies or from your 89-year-old grandmother as she smokes her nineteenth cigarette of the morning; you never stop learning. She says as she puffs a whirlwind of smoke into your poor unsuspecting eyes. But she's right, and it's a phenomenon that never ceases to amaze me. Every artist everywhere discovers new techniques, skill, and talent that many of them never knew they had everyday. I remember the day it was discovered that I "could sing".
     I had always had a hankering to do theater since elementary school and although I was a shy kid, something about art and the overall concept of creative freedom drew me in like a middle-aged, unwed, sociopath to a pack of street cats. I had done the occasional form of performing here and there. Church Christmas Pageants, elementary school talent shows, you know, the simple stuff. But I think that was the kick in the pants I needed to shove my sorry ass into theater my Freshman year. Now as I'm sure many of you know, the theater clique in high school tends to be a tight one. Many of the outcasts of the school can get sucked into the drama of it all, if you will, and begin throwing up walls to keep the unwanted out.
     Don't knock on me for speaking the truth ya'll. (<--- Spell check says that's wrong. Meh.) Anyways, as my story goes, I managed to weasel my way into the circle of friends that was the high school theater department. It was nice. I had a group in middle school, but this was different. Not only were we all friends, but we all loved doing the same thing. I could sit in a group of kids and talk about Shakespeare or Ethel Merman and not get an incriminating stare like I had just professed my ability to chew steel like it was gum. It was quite a nice luxury. So naturally, I switched my classes around to take Musical Theater the next term. All my friends would be there. Why not?
     We were doing The Wizard of Oz. I know what you're doing. I can hear you groan through my computer. But I didn't care. I didn't know I had any musical ability beyond the clarinet so, it was whatever. I was only doing for the sake of doing it. So the musical rehearsed. I was the understudy for the Scarecrow, and I could care less. I had a strong misunderstanding of musicals at this point in time. Don't judge. Somewhere along this path, I saw my first professional musical in Los Angeles. Wicked. Bum bum bum bum bum! I know it's a little predictable but this was the show that full on hurled me head over heels in love with musical theater. It was magical. I came to learn that every year after the spring musical closed, since there were a few weeks left of school, we did a musical theater showcase of sorts. Everyone collaborated with our pianist to sing duets or solos of sorts for an audience of parents, teachers, and friends. (I feel the need to express how this whole project at the end of the year, is completely backwards from what it sounds. Totally unglamorous and disjointed. No glory whatsoever.)
     Having just seen Wicked, me and my Glinda decided to sing As Long As Your Mine. I was nervous beyond belief. I had never sung alone in front of an audience. Just the thought of it supplied my heart with a jackhammer to attempt to pierce my sternum. We discussed our blocking in hopes of making it as close a replica to the show as we could. Everything from what we would wear to using a big green book as her magic book of spells. Once that was sorted out, the rehearsing began. I was nervous, so of course I was timid. But eventually our pianist coaxed some volume out of me and I began actually singing. We finished running through my part and I'll never forget what my pianist and duet partner said to me.
     "You can sing?"
     "Yeah, why would you hide that from people?"
     I didn't know! Nobody told me! I just assumed this was something you knew straight out of the womb. Like your hair color, or your sexuality, easy stuff like that. It never occurred to me that you had to actually sing to know if you could sing or not. What a concept! And that's how this whole obsession began. The point of this all is that I may have had some initial talent or potential, but I wasn't amazing. I've grown leaps and bounds since that day, and when I think back to it all, it amazes me. I've never had a voice lesson and know everything I do from doing my best imitation of a sponge as I can. I just try to soak up all the info I can.
     Artists are special people. We learn by all but tasting and that's not to say if there was a way we wouldn't. Everyone from beginners to professionals grows in ways beyond human comprehension everyday. My little brother wanted me to teach him the piano, so I started with the basics. A C scale. A month later he's got it down and is trying on his own to work up to different, harder scales. My best friend is beginning to land lead roles in her high school theater productions. She just played Anita in West Side Story and I couldn't be prouder. Maybe she's not the best dancer or something, but she does something that is a rarity amongst high school performers; she can act while she does everything else. Act and sing. Act and dance. That's a feat.
    Someone more recognizable, Sutton Foster, has blown me away. The Anything Goes revival is hitting Broadway and between listening to that and her albums, I can hear the skills she's learned since tearing up the stage in Millie. She's begun controlling her vibrato and tapping into her soprano voice. All of this is simple proof that no matter who you are, where you've started, and what experience you have, you can always learn. There's always something better out there and if you truly love art, whether it be creating it or observing it, you have the strength to grasp it.

~Just Another Proudly Starving Actor

Lemonade and Pistol Whipping

     I have a few things to nitpick at today. One of them is the nightmare that is nearly ever artists life and that is customer service. Almost all of us have been then and it is painful. I currently work at a fast-casual style restaurant on the edge of a collection of millionaire homes. Oh, the stories I could tell! Let's start with this one: A woman came into the store right around ten minutes to closing. We sell these coffee mugs and they're $2.49 and they come with a cup of coffee. Neat-o, right!? Well, this is what went down; said woman came in and began ordering some food. She was of African-American decent and while that seems incredibly insensitive now, you'll see why it's not later. So she comes up to my register with her daughter who is maybe four or five and spots the nice pink and yellow polka-dotted coffee mugs sitting in front of my drawer.
     "These are too cute! How much are they?"
     Never mind the sign beneath your nose, "They are $2.49 and that comes with a cup of coffee." After saying this I can begin to see the gears cranking round and round in her skull. I hate this look. I call it the 'I'm figuring out why I'm dissatisfied' look. It means bad news.
     "Well what if I don't like coffee?" My first thought is 'then why do you need a coffee mug?' but then I realize we sell hot tea and that is a perfectly suitable alternative.
     "Well ma'am, we also serve hot tea, and I'd be happy to substitute coffee for tea for you. What kind would you like?"
     "Well I don't like tea neither." She said neither. I remember.
     "Um..." Thinking, thinking, thinking, "Well I suppose you could just buy the coffee mug and not put the coffee in it." I mean that's essentially what she wants me to say no? Oh how naive I was.
     "Now why would I ever do something like that?" Hold up now, you're the one who wants this coffee mug sans the coffee. "Can't I put this lemonade in here?"
     "Well you could, but you'd have to buy the lemonade. It's $2.29." Logical solution.
     "And what would prompt me to do that!?" Again I remind you that you're the one who wants this coffee mug so badly and you're the one who doesn't want anything remotely like coffee in it. "Oh I see how this establishment is run. Ya'll are racists. You know what this is? This is discrimination!" Did you hear my understanding of this situation come screeching to halt? I vaguely remember being thoroughly confused as to how this woman took a perfectly normal, mild argument, hijacked it, and jumped of the Space Needle with it in tow. Racism? I never even mentioned your skin color! I mean sure coffee is black, but...
    "Racism! Us lemonade lovers are forced to suckle down coffee and nobody ever sees the sensitivity behind it all." Okay now you really lost me. Two things; since when are people who drink lemonade a race. They're no more a race than I'm growing an eco system in my gal bladder. Also, I think lemonade over coffee is a matter of taste, where as my ethnic background is not. Story goes we argues back and forth a bit about how I'd get in trouble if I just gave it to her and she asked why multiple times. Eventually my manager came over and just gave her the lemonade cause he was just sick of hearing about it.
   Then he wandered of to his various duties and I finished ringing her up. Somewhere in the midst of sending her on her merry way she stated, "That was f**** ridiculous. Right?" After which she peered over her glasses and stared me directly in the eye. Call it a hunch, but I got an eerie feeling if I said no, I was definitely going to get pistol whipped in the jaw. It had just been one of those fifteen minute segments.
     So, the point of all this was to let you know that if you're an artist, you're not alone. There are a great deal of us that put up with the bullshit of people who feel entitled day in and day out. If you're not, there's an insight into the life of me. Do with it what you will.

~Just Another Pistol Whip-Fearing Artist