Seeing Things is all Relative

An Eventful Depression

"Are you okay? Do you need some water or tea?"

These were my director's words after we'd finished yet another take of an emotional scene. The scenes left me feeling like I'd just spent the afternoon swimming in the ocean. My whole body was depleted of energy, with all tension evaporating into an emotionless sedation.

"We're going to need to do the scene again for closeups."

I was thrown into the deep end, mustering the energy to do the same scenes over and over again, catching different angles on camera, with closeups on my hands, my face. It was an all-encompassing experience, draining my energies into creating something much grander than myself. 

Imagine being offered a new food and then eating it whole. That was me with this experience; there was no room to be tentative, you just had to grab it and go. As my first short film, I was incredibly grateful for the supportive team around me, who stayed focused and gave me a solid soil from which to grow. Although I spent most of the scenes in constant distress, there was something so revitalizing about accomplishing something I'd never done before. I'm extremely proud of the work even though I have barely seen any footage. It is wonderful to have gotten to this point in my art, where I don't need to see the product to feel accomplished; I can trust my intuition and allow creativity to flourish.

Pictures vs Reality

"They don't understand how someone who can't see is interested in paintings." 

These were the words of my friend Ria as we traversed through the Tate Britain Museum. Ria had a keen interest in certain painters and asked me to describe their works in depth. I'd never investigated paintings in this detail before; Ria would often ask what flower was there, and when I could barely identify it, she subsequently described it as she'd researched. She collected painter's books and prints, and I was dumbstruck as to how she could be so emotionally invested in things she couldn't see (my daft assumption that visual art could only be enjoyed visually), but it's amazing to discover that the appreciation of art can truly be universal. 

"I'm surprised you're an actress. Maybe a dancer, but not an actress."

These were the words from an acquaintance I met over the weekend. He'd just finished polishing a short film of his own. According to him, most actors constantly held themselves as though they were being viewed. I didn't carry myself with this sense of self-awareness, so it was a surprise that I was indeed an actress. Again, another experience where expectations didn't equate to reality.

I think it's important to stress what kind of actress I am. I am not one who is drawn towards entertainment; I am drawn towards truth. And so, this past week I was a mother and wife with postpartum depression, desperate to relay my truth. It may not be my personal truth, but it is a reality for a lot of people, and that reality needs a platform. This is my affair with art. It has much more to do with information than entertainment, and therefore I don't concentrate on my appearances but my story. It is a huge relief to not have to worry about what I cannot fully control. 

As my parents and I take yet another photo, we look back at the footage and comment on my dad's gape of a smile. For a man who takes photos at every gathering, he has yet to learn how to genuinely smile for photos. Rick, on the other hand, has started laughing during photos in an attempt to encapsulate a genuine "happy". I am dumbfounded as to how this could be so difficult. Both men need some of that self-awareness and maybe a few practices in front of a mirror. But rest assured, they are happy when taking these photos. Pictures vs Reality.

This post has a twofold lesson: first, that judgments based on appearance are one-dimensional and probably inaccurate; and second, that you can only achieve the unthinkable by attempting the unthinkable. I'd never thought I'd be able to portray such emotional distress on screen, and yet here I am, proud that I may have done just that in this film. 

Note: I portrayed emotional distress; this is not reality. My birthday was indeed happy, with plenty of tears.