Letting Go of Self-Consciousness

One of the things I find myself encouraging performers to do time and time again is let go of self-consciousness. I know that's much easier said than done. Standing in a rehearsal room can be a vulnerable experience; you're being watched, you're trying new things, you're making mistakes, you're putting a piece of yourself into the work. It's completely natural to become aware of yourself.

How do I look?

Am I doing this right?

Do I look silly?

What if people judge me?

Am I good enough?

Most performers have asked themselves some version of those questions at some point and then there's another one that often creeps in too.

Do I look good doing this?

Particularly in an industry where appearance can sometimes feel like it's under constant scrutiny, it's understandable that performers become self-conscious about how they look. But the truth is, audiences rarely connect with a character because they looked perfect. They connect because they felt something, because they believed them, because the story felt real. One of the biggest barriers to storytelling is when a performer becomes more focused on themselves than the story they're trying to tell. The performance becomes careful, protected, controlled and something starts to get lost. The audience stops seeing the character and starts seeing the performer trying not to get something wrong.

For me, that's why creating a safe rehearsal room is so important. People need to feel able to take risks. To try things, to fail, to look ridiculous occasionally. Because that's often where the most interesting discoveries happen. I've never been interested in creating perfect performances. I'm interested in creating truthful ones. Sometimes truth is messy, sometimes it's awkward, sometimes it's uncomfortable, sometimes it isn't particularly flattering, but, it's honest. Audiences connect with honesty far more than perfection.

As a director, I don't cast people because they look a certain way. I don't cast people because they can stand perfectly still and never make a mistake. I cast people because they can tell a story. Because they can create a character. Because they can make an audience care. Because they can bring something truthful to the stage. I've seen performers completely transform the moment they stop worrying about how they appear and start focusing on the story they're telling. Suddenly they're more connected, more present, more believable, more alive. The focus shifts away from themselves and onto the character.

The irony is that the moments performers often worry about most are rarely the moments audiences remember. Audiences remember how a moment made them feel, they remember the relationship that broke their heart, the joke that made them laugh, the character they connected with, the story that stayed with them, they don't leave the theatre talking about whether somebody looked perfect while they were doing it. They leave talking about the story.

So if there's one thing I'd encourage performers to do, it's this:

• Trust yourself.

• Trust the rehearsal room.

• Trust the people around you.

• Stop worrying about how you look for a moment.

• Focus on the story you're trying to tell.

Because that's what the audience came to see and that's what they'll remember long after the curtain comes down.