This is the last post I will write as a student. By this time next month, I will have finished my last show and will be waiting for my graduation ceremony. I’m terrified. For the first time, I will be
It’s 2003. My dad and I are on the couch, ready to sci-fi-out. I’ll be honest, I don’t remember all of the details, but there were probably snacks spread out in front of us: an assortment of chips, popcorn and
I would be backstage before curtain putting on a whole mask of makeup: layers of mascara for full lashes, liquid liner for a perfect cat’s eye, and blood red lipstick. I curled my hair, and had a friend pin it
![Sam: I’m trying to find the courage to leave the work behind [Thoughts on the Rehearsal Process]](https://i0.wp.com/creativelifestyleblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/Sam-Kamras-on-Stage2.jpg?resize=750%2C350 "Sam: I’m trying to find the courage to leave the work behind [Thoughts on the Rehearsal Process]")
I’ve crashed head first into my character… it both physically and emotionally hurts. I don’t think I’ve ever taken a character so seriously. Rosita, in Lorca’s Dona Rosita the Spinster, was given to me for our latest production: my chance
I don’t usually make New Year’s resolutions. Couldn’t tell you why! It’s just never been a tradition that’s seeped into my family. But this is (once again) a New Year. More than that, it’s 2015. A nice, round number. So
RUSSIA: PART II I didn’t quite beat the system, but I sure as hell learned to work with it. In my final scene at the end of four ridiculously exhausting weeks, I went from laughing, genuinely and joyously, to crying,
The Russians are kicking my ass, and I can’t wrap my head around why. I’m fortunate enough to be studying in Moscow right now. At GITIS. Where acting- or what is now today seen to be the art acting- was
Work work work work work. Am I complaining? Not at all. It’s work that I love… I feel like I’ve said that so many times throughout these blogs that maybe it’s coming across as me trying to convince myself. But’s
I got a new script in my hand ten days ago. Those crisp, new pages. Unmarked by highlighters and pencils. Un-crinkled by countless read throughs and awkward juggling as you to try to act on your feet with it in
I’m in a strange place right now: summer vacation. Summer is here, and it’s the like the creative rug has been pulled out from under my feet. And very quickly. So quickly I’ve landed on my butt, and now I’m