The Vs. Studio Blog

I recently spoke to an actor friend who organized a Zoom play reading.

“I had no idea how much work goes into producing,” she said. She came away with a deep respect and appreciation for the job. She couldn’t imagine producing an actual run of a play. Let alone also acting in it.

Unless someone does our exact job, they won’t know what it’s like. Nor should we expect them to. We can save ourselves a lot of anguish by always giving them the benefit of the doubt. By not looking for thanks or praise or even empathy. If we get it, it’s a bonus, that’s all.

And because it’s often a lonely and thankless endeavor, we must produce what we’re extremely passionate about. That passion, that burning desire to manifest the idea in our heads, that’s what will pull us through the dark days.

We don’t get to decide how our art is received. If it is received. Who exactly will receive it.

That’s entirely up to the audience.

All we get to decide is if that idea in our head is worth spending precious time, effort and energy to create.

In finance, a sunk cost is defined as a cost that’s already been incurred and can’t be recovered. Classical economists argue that when making a rational decision, sunk costs should not be taken into account. They are bygone. All that should be considered are current alternatives and future consequences.

Sounds great in theory, but human beings are not often rational creatures. The psychology of sunk costs, knowing you spent lots of time and money pursuing one path, only to find it’s the wrong path, holds you back from making the best decision now. You do nothing. Or worse, you spend even more time and money pursuing the wrong path. Hence the phrase, “throwing good money after bad.”

Our fate is determined by the quality of the decisions we make. When taking action, we need to see things as they actually are. With clear eyes and hearts. Not as we wish them to be. All that matters is what we do now. In this moment. How we arrived here is irrelevant.

I saw an interview with Daniel Day Lewis (“DDL”) and Paul Thomas Anderson (“PTA”) discussing the making of the film “There Will Be Blood.” (If you haven’t seen the film or it’s been a while, go watch it. Now.) DDL worked for several years on the character of Daniel Plainview before shooting started. Getting the behavior, the posture, the voice, etc…just right. He showed up to the set, in character, as per his norm, utterly prepared. About a week in to shooting however, something wasn’t right. PTA sat DDL down, showed him the dailies. Said he needed to go in a different direction with the character. Day Lewis saw what he was doing on screen and agreed. They reshot the entire week.

How many of us in the same situation would have the courage, the openness, let alone, the ability, to pivot, to change on a dime? Especially when factoring all the sunk costs. Fortunately, both these artists only cared about what was right for the character and the film. They both bravely ignored ego and sunk costs and made a quality, new decision. The rest is Oscar history.

What sunk costs hold us back from choosing the right path, from making a decision, from making our art?

P.S. – For more on sunk costs, check out Seth Godin’s excellent Akimbo podcast episode HERE.

Be wary of putting anyone on a pedestal. They have many flaws and will let you down.

Be wary if anyone wants to put you on a pedestal. You have many flaws and will let them down.

We’re all deeply flawed.

We’re also capable of doing incredible things. Beautiful acts of kindness, generosity, bravery, and selflessness. Unbelievable accomplishments that make the world a better place.

Both of these things are true. At the same time. That’s the paradox we must always remember.

Great art helps us do that.

Making art can be a very lonely endeavor. We often feel like nobody’s out there. Nobody cares. Nobody wants to hear from us.

That’s ok. Keep going. Embrace the freedom that comes from dancing like nobody’s watching.

You’re on your way to making something amazing. I, and many others, can’t wait to see what you come up with.

We love watching people immersed in their craft. Fully engaged in what they’re doing. Entire television channels (The Food Network, HGTV, etc…) were created and organized around this principle.

This is especially true in our acting. We must be completely interested and totally engaged in whatever we’re doing. Whether it’s playing an action, doing behavior, or simply listening to the other actor, we must fully commit to it. With every fibre of our being. Be all in.

If we’re interested and engaged, the audience will be as well. Their minds and hearts will be open to the story we’re trying to tell.

And, not that we’re doing it for this reason, but we’ll be interesting to watch as well. That’s a nice bonus.

There’s an old adage: don’t ask a question if you’re afraid of the answer.

But to get better, to grow as an artist, you need a few people you can trust. People who get you and the change you’re trying to make. If you have them in your life now (they are rare), cherish them. Hold on to them at all costs.

If you don’t, seek them out.

A personal story to reinforce this principle…

Our theatre company, Vs., was a few years in. We had successfully produced several plays, including our debut, “The Credeaux Canvas” by Keith Bunin, which was a smash hit and put us on the map. We were getting good reviews and houses, but I felt maybe, we had plateaued a bit. I sat down with a friend and fellow theatre maker whose work I very much admired. I asked him what we could do better. He was generous and honest with his feedback which was centered around improving some of our production design elements.

While it was tough to hear in the moment, he was right. That conversation led to searching for and eventually finding the incredible designers we have today. They’ve been with us for over a decade now, they’re family, and their artistry is now one of our theatre company’s greatest’s strengths.

I’m eternally grateful to them and to my friend.

You’re strong. You’re resilient. You’re generous. You’re doing art for all the right reasons. Because of that, you can handle it.

You can handle the truth.

“Make each day your masterpiece” -John Wooden

The legendary UCLA basketball coach John Wooden, learned this expression from his father, a farmer. It was listed on the “7-Point Creed” his dad handed him and his brothers when they graduated elementary school. Wooden credits it for much of his own drive and success in life.

Memento Mori constantly reminds us that today could be our last day. We shouldn’t fear that. Rather, it should energize and inspire us.

Today, let us ask ourselves…

How can we serve?

Who can we help?

What can we learn?

What art can we make?

How can it be our masterpiece?

Let that guide what we think, say and do.

And if we’re lucky enough to wake up tomorrow?…Be grateful.

We just got another chance to make another masterpiece.

Essayons is a French term which means “Let us try.” It’s also the motto of the U.S. Army Corp of Engineers.

No matter what’s going on in the world and in our lives. No matter the uncertainty. No matter the odds. No matter if the art or change we seek to make will work.

No matter what.

There’s one thing we can always do.

We can try.

We can try to make things better.

Today and everyday going forward.

Essayons.

Let us try.

One of the main reasons we love John McClane in Die Hard is Bruce Willis’ portrayal. He imbues the character with humanity at every turn. McClane’s not a superhero. Not super human. Just a regular guy, with street smarts, who’s in an extraordinary situation. Who chooses to be brave in spite of remarkable odds and uncertainty.

One way this humanity evidences itself is McClane’s self talk when doing difficult things. Watch this scene as McClane ties a fire hose around his waist and jumps off the roof to escape an explosion.

Willis brilliantly and authentically voices the doubt inside. His self-talk, while filled with “what the f*ck are you doing, John?…” also has a spirit of rooting himself on. He’s getting himself to act. Pushing through the uncertainty.

Making art is hard. It’s crazy. There’s a million reasons why it won’t work. But we do it anyway. And when doing it, we must pay attention to our self talk. That voice in our head. Is it empowering? Does it move us forward? Get us to take action?

If not, change it. Watch Die Hard. Get a little John McClane in ya.