Isaac Young

Who is to say that any work of art must have a frame? Why should we limit ourselves? Likewise, why should we, as artists, limit out artistic careers? I am a Freshman in college. I have no plan. I am studying to become an artist, so I obviously have little aspiration to actually make money. Sarcasm aside, I want to create art and I want to survive doing just that. And whatever that manifests itself as is left up to fate. All I can do now is make connections and work to better my craft. and it may not necessarily be just bettering my craft but bettering the craft. Now wouldn’t that be something.

Does this mean that there is no value in… you know… not starving? Of course not. But again, I’m speaking as a college freshman in a conservatory-style training program. At this point in our lives we need to break every rule we can imagine. We need to push every boundary. Basically, we need to spend as much of these formative college years in unbridled artistic DISCOVERY because after these four years are over, that opportunity is not likely to repeat itself. Why “frame” ourselves into some tiny box of convention and expectation? What does the audience expect? Give them the opposite. Make people angry. Always question authority. Make something completely hideous. I don’t care. Just do not let art become stale. The moment we begin creating art encased in a crunchy sugar coating of convention, we lose the very essence of art itself. As an acting teacher once told us:

“Don’t think outside the box. Tear the fucking box to pieces.”

Does this have anything to do with my career in the arts after college? No. Therefore, did I answer the question asked of me to complete this particular assignment? No. I did not. And I did not because, frankly, I don’t know. And I don’t care to know until I have had a taste of every available option and until I have discovered what the art means to me personally.

Yes, this was essentially a rant. In fact, were I to go back and read what I just wrote, it would probably make absolutely no logical sense whatsoever. But that’s okay. It makes sense to me. It’s meaningful to me. And right now that’s enough.

Take from it what you will.

I never considered myself phenomenal at any one thing as much as I am adequate at a lot of things. I am, first and foremost, an actor. And I suppose my remaining skills lie somewhere in that perimeter. I am a puppeteer. I’ve been practicing puppetry for well over five years now, and I continue to do so. I also found a certain knack for makeup application, which proves useful in the world of theater. I am a fairly decent visual artist, specializing mostly in pencil and ink, although I’m not a too shabby sculptor. I clown, which mostly means I can improvise and have a sharp wit. I probably sing better than anything else, though. I was blessed enough to have an excellent voice teacher and a particular love for classical pieces. And I design.

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The dilemma remains, what do I do with all of this, and where do I go from here? Well… I don’t know. I know that every skill I posses has a place in the grand scheme of my artistic career, but I can’t quite place it. Although I really doubt that that’s a bad thing at this point. I just need to develop each skill to their greatest personal potential. In other words, I need to keep them all up and continue to enjoy every bit of the process.

It won’t be too hard.

Art that is not motivated is dead. Lifeless. Ergo, unmotivated art becomes little more than art for the sake of art. I respect those who manage to make something “pretty.” And for some people, the mere desire to create something “pretty” may serve as enough of a motivator. However, there is a difference between something “pretty” and something moving. As artists, we strive for the later.

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I find that the single best motivator is the audience. I play for the audience. Now, understand that this does NOT mean that I believe an actor should play or, God forbid, pander to a crowd. To play for the audience means that we, as actors, seek to leave the audience restless. I want a play to linger with people. I had the great pleasure of seeing a student-produced production of Will Eno’s The Flu Season. For the past three days, I have not been able to shake that play from my mind, and that is what I want from an audience. My motivation is the ever-present thought that I might affect someone.

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Art for art’s sake is… nice. But that’s the problem. It’s only “nice”. It’s only “pretty”. It’s only “pleasant”. I want to make art that is beautiful, terrifying, electric, devastating, hilarious, and any other adjective that is a more apt descriptor than plain old “nice”. If my work is ever described as “nice”, I know that I have not done my job as an artist.

A value, as defined by the Merriam-Webster online dictionary, is “a fair return or equivalent in goods, services, or money for something exchanged.” It is also defined as “the relative duration of a musical note” and “relative lightness or darkness of a color”. We could speak for ages about my relative lightness of color… but I would rather not.

Of course, my artistic values warrant a somewhat different discussion. Any artist (if they dare call themselves such) has values, for our values are the cornerstone from which are is made. Why does someone make art? It’s because someone has something to say. Someone to change.

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I could spend the duration of this post beating around the bush, but the truth of the matter is that I am still trying to figure out my personal artistic values. I suppose that at the core of whatever they may be is a desire to tell a story. In a world dominated by glamor and spectacle, it seems as though we are moving away from the human need for storytelling, and are being consumed by light and noise. Granted, light and noise are entertaining. I will not be the one to pretend that I think otherwise. However, at the end of the day light and noise seldom moves us to the point of however we may be moved. On most days, I would rather see a compelling story being told in a bare bones, blackbox theatre by a group of compelling storytellers with stakes in the story than a multimillion dollar Broadway extravaganza.

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Maybe that’s why I act. I just want to tell a good-ass story. I want myself and every member of the audience to have a communal experience.

And at the end of the evening, I want that piece of theatre to keep us all awake at night.

At any rate, I still don’t know quite what my artistic values are. And I anticipate that my ideas now will be completely different several years from now. But why would anyone want to stick with one set of values? Sure your art would be interesting at first, but it doesn’t take long for monotony to set in.

And monotony is boring for everyone.

I do not pride myself on being a motivated individual, nor have I been lauded for my work ethic. If there is work to be done, I will do it. Give me a due date and I will have a product by that date. There was once a point when it may have been a matter of laziness. After a period of artistic re-discovery and personal reflection, I have come to a point where laziness is no longer an issue, provided that there is some level of passion in the work I do.

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I try to approach the world with at least a semi-artistic mindset. Theatre, essentially a study of humanity, requires constant observation of behaviors; a constant awareness of the world. It is, however, tremendously difficult to apply an actor’s mindset to all subjects. I also find that the key to personal motivation is to remain in the company of motivated people. For instance, I take a history class, and I am the only one in the room actively participating in discussion. Needless to say, it becomes somewhat infuriating; and I steadily lose interest in the class. Apathy is a vacuum. Remember that.

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I have the hardest time working alone. I don’t necessarily mean working on my own; I mean working without the presence of people in my environment. Loneliness is an emotion with whom I am too familiar, and it translated into my work.  I work best with noise. Not music, not the television, but indiscernible background noise. Chatter, if you will. High energy spots help as well. Again, I would much rather work amongst people who are enjoying where they are at the moment.

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In an artistic sense, I am always working. Even when I feel as though I’m doing nothing my mind is always humming loudly. Even when I sleep, my constant thought process manifests itself in dream. Perhaps in a non-conventional way, my work ethic is excellent. Regardless, after I post this I intend on taking a nap before I put off Math homework.

Goodnight, all.

Hello. My name is Isaac Young, and I am a theatre major.

This is the point at which the vast majority of civilians would smile, laugh, and offer some sage advice regarding certain life choices. “Okay, but what’s your backup?” “How are you going to make money?” “Oh! So you want to be famous!”

I’m usually led to shrug it off and go about my day. However, I am now compelled to do otherwise.

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I was born in the smallest of church-towns in South Carolina. I will not bother naming the town as to protect the identities of its inhabitants. As I child I concerned myself with the usual little boy things: baseballs, video games, my sister’s Barbie dolls, et cetera; and I managed to lead a fairly mundane existence. But there was always this… thing. As a child, I was never afraid of people. I enjoyed the constant attention brought about by my rosy-cheeked, somewhat stout demeanor. It wasn’t until kindergarten when I would get my first taste of “performing”  as it were.

I would imagine that, like myself, many young children first form an interest in the performing arts at their first talent shows. Given an obsession to The Wizard of Oz(An obvious sign of a destiny in the theatre) I donned the silver greasepaint, the funnel hat, and my plastic axe and I sang “If I Only Had a Heart” with as much conviction as my  five-year-old vocal cords could muster. For that performance, I received a standing ovation, and the rest is history.

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Beginning  in my junior year of high school, I had the privilege of attending one of the top arts schools in the country.  My time at the South Carolina Governor’s School for the Arts and Humanities proved to the two most intense, grueling, phenomenal, magical, extraordinary years of my life. During these two years Stanislavski became a household name, and most of all I discovered Shakespeare.

And now I’m here. Actively pursuing a BFA in theatre at Southern Methodist University. And I am brought back to the question that haunts me day and night. “But why theatre?”

And honestly, I don’t know.

And honestly, perhaps I don’t need to know.

All I do know is that it’s right.

Hello. My name is Isaac Young. And I’m an actor.