Re/Act: RESOURCE
A cup of ambition won't cut it (but a pike pole might).
I should have stopped the second I saw blood.
It was our final preview performance after a very truncated process, and we all felt a bit underrehearsed, but not unsafe. The fight, as hastily choreographed as it was, had been going fine. Every precaution had been taken, except, perhaps, for one: the six-foot steel-tipped fiberglass pike poles we were using were one hundred percent real. And when, in a freak accident of bad timing (and a rogue set piece), the pointed tip of mine found the forehead of our lead actor, so was the the gash it made. Indeed there were some folks who later said they thought at first the blood was really good FX.
It was sickening, the sensation of my weapon hitting his skin, but I kept going, even as the pink mark I’d made at his hairline reddened, and the blood began to trickle and then gush down his face. This will haunt me forever and I will surely write another piece about it - why? Why didn’t I stop immediately? Not until his sight was obscured and the deck was splattered red did I drop character to ask, stupidly, “Are you okay?” He said he didn’t know. We hadn’t broken eye contact the entire time.
Our stage manager called hold and the other actors and I ushered our injured lead backstage, where company members tended to his wounds, my nerves, and everyone’s general well-being. Less than fifteen minutes later we returned to the stage, picked up where we’d left off, and finished the performance. My cast mate then went directly to the emergency room, got stitched up, and returned for the show’s official opening that very night.
It could have been so much worse. Thank god that blow hadn’t landed squarely on his skull. Thank god one of our cast mates had been an Eagle Scout, and that the theater had a good first aid kit. Thank god the daily demands of our work had already so well trauma-bonded the entire company that we came together in a moment of crisis with absolute calm and genuine care. I have never worked with a more capable stage management team, or a better fight captain, ever. Everyone did their very best to tend not only to our lead’s injury, but to my frayed nerves as well, on that day and for the rest of the run. Knowing there were other folks in recovery among our ranks was steadying and comforting to me. Really, what more could a working actor want?
It so happens that fateful performance was attended by our Actors Equity Association business representative. When I tell you this was the first we’d heard from them, I also want to acknowledge that there are increasingly fewer reps covering more territory with, from what I’ve been told, dwindling institutional support. These folks are spread too thin, and rarely make it out to regional venues at all, instead completing their duties - very effectively - by zoom and email. But after this particular matinee, the rep actually asked us whether they’d sent out paperwork. No, they had not. It didn’t make me mad, and not only because I was emotionally numb after nearly killing a colleague, but because, honestly, I just don’t expect much from AEA. With regard to the mishap they’d just witnessed, our rep didn’t have much to offer other than “Be sure to fill out an accident report.”
re·source
/ˈrēˌsôrs,rəˈsôrs/
noun
1.
a stock or supply of money, materials, staff, and other assets that can be drawn on by a person or organization in order to function effectively. ”local authorities complained that they lacked resources”
2.
an action or strategy which may be adopted in adverse circumstances. “sometimes anger is the only resource left in a situation like this”
What do we need from our union in times of crisis? And I ask this not just for folks in recovery or with co-occurring disorders like me, but members who, until something bad happens, don’t even think much about their psychological well-being. (I mean, I don’t know who the heck ya’ll are, but I do tip my Stetson.) Performing artists are accustomed to managing emergencies and negotiating conflict, both onstage and off. So much so, that perhaps the greatest disruption to our well being comes from finding ourselves unemployed. Check this out, from Sean Hayden :
I don’t think we talk nearly enough about the emotional duress of unemployment, be it sudden or sustained. Obviously, everyone feels some financial pain when they lose a job. But for actors, because of the uncertainty of our business, the (most often) brevity of our jobs, and the emotional investment our work requires, being without work can truly endanger our mental wellness and, for those of us in recovery, jeopardize our sobriety. In the days that followed our bloody matinee, I was pretty shaken. Away from home, in actor housing, a younger me might have picked up a drink at the very least. There have been other out-of-town gigs where depression and anxiety nearly got the better of me. That didn’t happen this time, thanks in large part to modern pharmaceuticals, but also to the fact that I wasn’t fired. It was scary going back to that fight sequence. But not being allowed to would have been worse.
So I was okay, and my scene partner was okay, and our cast mates and SM team were okay, but still, we might have benefited from being immediately directed to a counselor or a certified peer support specialist (which I happen to be) with whom we could at least check in and talk things through. I wish the place I was working at had had some amount of restorative practices in place. It’s not hard to make that happen. (In addition to being a proponent of circle practice, I actually teach a workshop in how to use it in theatre production.)
But while producing organizations should always bear ultimate responsibility for our physical and emotional safety, the union could do a lot more to facilitate connections to mental health resources. Apparently, there’s a toolkit available for download, but is that enough? In a moment of crisis, are you gonna search the member portal for a dang pdf? Of course my colleagues did a terrific job of taking care of one another, coming together is what we do. But imagine if we’d been be offered access to Equity-vetted mental health professionals, as a matter of policy, in the moment we needed them most.
Sean is advocating for immediate access to mental health assistance in times of crisis. Specifically, the ask is for a policy that would see business reps provide actors who have been fired with immediate referrals to mental health services. I think it is right and necessary, and I urge you to reach out to your councilors about it. You can do so here.
I also want to uplift Sean’s fantastic podcast Stage Combat, featuring provocative stories from performing artists everywhere who just want to be heard, seen, and validated.
Want more? Here are a few other theatre professionals advocating for mental health affirmation, education, and justice for performing artists. Tell your employers to hire them!
Psychologist Alisa Hurwitz
Intimacy coordinator Amanda Rose
Anti-racist theatre educator Nicole Brewer
Gender and sexuality consultant Maybe Burke
When I hear the word resource, or resourceful, I think of a return to origin as to a headwaters or a spring, to replenish what is essential for sustenance. If I can borrow from the movement for alternatives to incarceration, I want a “care-first” approach to artmaking. What could matter more to a craft that traffics in the extremes of human emotion than the psychological wellness of its practitioners? It’s enough to drive you crazy if you let it.*
Okay, gotta jump, time for therapy. No doubt we’ll be talking about how to stay safe, sane, and sober between gigs!
-Slim
*Happy 80th birthday, Dolly!