A study in hats

As I was going back through pictures of past jobs, I noticed that some of my favorite roles included characters wearing some kind of hat (I’m including helmets and wigs).

Interesting wardrobe allows an actor to disappear into a character much more easily than when I hear “and can you bring a bunch of your own clothes for wardrobe options?” I realize that using your own clothes is part of the deal on a lot of low budget films, but I love it when a director has a vision for their characters that’s super specific. It tells me that they’ve done the work to honor their characters, and it puts me at ease.

Just something to ponder for you directors out there…

hats

Projects (left to right from top to bottom):
Popeye the Pizza Man
The Originals
Travis Manion Foundation PSA
Riffraff
House of the Righteous
Popeye the Pizza Man
Champion
Marine Corps training video
Burt’s Eye View

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New photo shoot with Aña Monique

“It’s your job to get vulnerable. It gets you into the flow and unlocks your subconscious so that you get out of your head and into your heart.
The part of you that is gonna do a good job is the part that you want to most deny.”
John Cusack

Aña asked if I’d be willing to do a vulnerable shoot, and since I’ve gotten to know her—as a friend and an artist—I told her I was in.
Opening up like this in front of a camera—whether on a set or in a studio—takes a lot of trust, and she’s more than earned it.

Isaiah Stratton3.1

Isaiah Stratton3.2

Isaiah Stratton3.3

Isaiah Stratton3.4

Isaiah Stratton3.5

Isaiah Stratton3.6

Isaiah Stratton3.7

Isaiah Stratton3.8

Isaiah Stratton3.9

Isaiah Stratton3.10

Let Go

sun earth

I maneuver to block the last rays of sunlight filtering through the coffee shop windows. The ocher flames ignite the wisps of cloud pillowing the horizon.

I sip on my second cup of coffee. The first hint of shakes start. Too much caffeine, too little food; 1,200 calories/day over the past 16 days in preparation for this weekend’s shoot has lowered my tolerance. Just act like it’s the coke.

Did I say that out loud?

I look around . . . no sideways glances. I think I’m good. I really am ready to let this character go.

93 million miles divided by 186,000 miles/sec . . . eight minutes and change. Sometimes my science brain randomly kicks on. I’m watching something happen that’s already happened. Almost like watching the future except I’m watching the past in real-time.

And it’s gone. Slipped below the surface . . . well not really, the surface slipped up, our little blue marble blistering along, spinning and screaming through the silence of space.

Get out of my head, science brain.

The room tilts with that stand-up-too-quick-rush and I slug more coffee. The phantom vertigo clears. What started this? Oh yeah, sitting here thinking about how not in control I am. See, I just came from a callback–a callback for something that would be a game changer. Something I’d love to do. Something I’ve learned to let go the minute I do my nod-thanks-so-much-great-to-meet-you-grab-my-stuff-and-walk-out-the-door. Well, actually it’s not really me in the room. It’s only once I’m in the parking lot that my brain catches up. The other character shows up, auditions, then hands me back my coffee (“Hey, here’s your brain, feel free to check out the replay”). And that’s how the past-future-space-time-continuum-merry-go-round started. Thanks, science brain.

So, I sit here replaying the callback. Filtering what I coulda/shoulda done and knowing it doesn’t matter. It’s already minutes miles behind. Better off forgotten.

I shut my laptop, grab my bag, and go spinning into the night.