Audition Anxiety

I was lucky as a young performer. I really didn't have to audition that much once I got to the college level. I know I sound like I'm bragging - perhaps I am a bit - but I watched many of my friends go to auditions every weekend, and I just seemed to get jobs by people calling me. I either had impeccable timing and took a class where someone just happened to be who was looking for a dancer, or I became good friends with people who were doing interesting projects. I was lucky. I don't think I would have gotten as far if I had to audition for everything I did.

I remember when my audition cycle did start, right before I left Chicago. I didn't make several in a row and was so nerve-wracked by the situation that I actually decided to leave town. Malashock's audition didn't seem as nerve-wracking because it was done in the guise of a three-week workshop. He got to know me before he chose me. I think it's the first impression thing that always gets me. I feel like I'm the type of person that one needs to know for a while before they see the real me come shining through.

When I was in high school, however, I auditioned for summer schools constantly. I went to three or four auditions every winter at the least: Aspen, Pacific Northwest, SAB (which I never had any hope of getting into but which my teachers kept telling me was "good experience." At least I got a free T-shirt), Jacob's Pillow, Interlochen, etc, etc, etc. I was a nervous wreck. It took me forever to warm up, I could never get my hair to work with me that morning, I would undoubtedly start my period fifteen minutes before I had to be standing at a barre in pink tights. I just had a hard time auditioning. Despite, I got through many of them, some with flying colors, and ended up having my share of the summer ballet school experiences that I so longed for. I think, often times, the teachers were surprised to see me walk through the door poised and coifed when I finally got to the school. I always felt like a mess on my first impression.

The reason I'm waxing on about this bit of my harried, nervous, self-conscious past, is that I was on the other side of the table today, auditioning young singers for the San Diego Opera Intensive Workshop for Singers (see the link). It's not the first time I've been an auditioner. Not by far. I've auditioned dancers in Chicago, actors in La Jolla, dancers for the "Pearl Fishers" productions I did across the country with Malashock, and many, many supers and dancers at all of the opera companies I've worked for. Yet, everytime I sit down at the table and watch that first scared face peek through the door and walk the endless walk to the middle of the room with their resume and nervous smile, I get a twinge of nerves in rememberance.

It's so odd to be on the other side and realize what all of those auditioners were thinking when I was out there dancing my heart out in front of them. We are nervous for you. We want you to succeed. We cringe at wrong notes and moments of forgetfulness and clumsiness because we've been out there ourselves at one time. I watched all of these young singers be so brave and open today and wondered if I was ever that composed. Nervous habits aside (and we all have them...good auditioning is an art in itself), I was so proud of each and every person who walked through the door.

And on an aside, one of the worst experiences I ever had as an auditioner (not because of the dancers in front of me at all) was at the Opera National Du Rhin in Strasbourg, France. I had gone over there to help put up Mary Zimmerman's production of "Akhnaten," and the dance audition was held at noon the day after we arrived in France. Daniel Pelzig, the choreographer, and I had gone through a horrible string of missed flights and awful delays, lost luggage, and no one to meet us at the airport. Starting out in San Diego, I had been traveling for over 24 hours straight. We were jet lagged and turned around and I was without any bearings whatsoever. Thirty young dancers met our bag-supported eyes and I downed an entire bottle of water, then got up and taught the combination. The kids were so eager and asked questions (which I tried to answer in my pidgin French) and worked hard to get what I was teaching them. By the time I sat down to begin cycling through groups, I was shaking all over and unable to formulate a complete sentence. Half way through the audition, Danny jabbed me hard in the side with his elbow. I had, apparently, dozed off as one of the groups was going, and he'd been trying to wake me for some time. I was so embarrassed and so upset that I must have appeared unbelievably rude to all of these people vying for a place in the corps. I stood up for the rest of the audition for fear that I would, yet again, slump in my seat and not give each dancer the attention they deserved.

So, no matter what side you're on, it's a hard process. Necessary, but hard. I am so glad to have passed through the door to the other side of the table, but I don't think I could ever remove myself completely from the experience of the performer trying to get their foot in the door. It is being able to take that brave first step to the front of the auditioning table, and do it without crying or running off to vomit, that separates those who will make it from those who won't.