Arts Professional Story: Carolyn Hoerdemann

Why do we artists struggle to categorize our work and, by extension, ourselves? Am I an actress or a theatre artist? For years, I have shamelessly called myself a “theatre artist.” Perhaps I grew tired of saying “actor” and having to dodge the question, “You mean ‘actress,’ right?” But what did I really mean?

 
Perhaps I began using this term while training in the acting conservatory at DePaul University’s Theatre School. During my first three years of study, I was primed to be a “theatre artist,” and in my fourth year, the instructors tried to cram the idea down our throats of “actors as commodities.” That didn’t taste so sweet to me. There were so many rules about looking for an agent, meeting a casting director, choosing a headshot photographer, and the proper ways to market yourself. It made me afraid to just be myself. Yet what I had always loved about my favorite theatre artists and film and television stars was not only their versatility within their craft, but also their unique personalities offstage or off camera. When I graduated from college, I was an empty shell, afraid of my own personality. I was told by one casting director that my eyes were “too big for film.” What was I, then a 21-year-old, supposed do with this information?

Twelve years of working restaurant jobs, two years dressed as Disney characters at special events, a brief stint as a makeup artist at Marshall Fields, and 20 or so non-equity shows later, I did not change the world with my art as I’d originally planned. Nor did I have a savings account, and let’s not even talk about health insurance. Yes, I did some wonderful plays with some very talented people. I was a proud member of the European Repertory Theater, as well as the recipient of many accolades from the Chicago press. But who was I as a “theatre artist”? 

One of my teachers at DePaul said, “You will finally begin to understand everything you learned at acting school about 10 years later.” Ten years later, I found myself back at graduate school pursuing an Art Education degree, after which I began to teach for my alma mater. What I have learned by teaching is that I am not just one thing—I am many. I am a theatre artist, deviser, collaborator, and raconteur. And I am developing and shaping myself as an artist every day.

One significant opportunity for shaping and developing my artistic skills came when I decided to create an original piece for Collaboraction Theatre’s 2009 Sketchbook Festival. It was the first year that the festival put out a call for original, collaborative work and not just new plays. I finally put my own ideas to paper—and explored other mediums in the process—by collaborating with Atalee Judy of Breakbone Dance Company.

Atalee is not only a dancer, but also a choreographer, collaborator, director, designer, and a film and sound editor (in other words, many things!) Most of all, she’s a true visionary. For years, we admired each other’s work from afar, finally coming together in the summer of 2008 when I served as a performer and writer on her ingenious show, The DeEvolution of Mudwoman. Our early conversations for the show—about her vision and the possibilities of adding text and performance into her dance piece—left my head buzzing. Our conversations challenged me, inspired me, and made me feel alive. This is the creative “zone” we all hope to attain as artists. In those rare instances that you get into the zone, you do not want to leave it or lose it. On the night Mudwoman closed, I asked Atalee if she would work with me in developing movement for the piece I was writing for Sketchbook, a piece called “Fix your teeth B*tch” that would fuse movement, text, and video to convey some of my real-life experiences at the dentist.

And so, Atalee taught me to dance—a fear and a dream I’ve always had for myself and a challenge beyond all belief! Her partner Carl, a wonderful filmmaker, shot all the video portions of the piece. The three of us had a whirlwind evening of creative collaboration and pure joy, complete with footage of me smashing chocolate-covered cherries and brownies in my mouth while waltzing with Carl as he held the camera.

This collaboration was shaped by two strong voices and two strong personalities. Our ideas meshed together—sometimes cleanly, sometimes a bit messily, but inextricably linked nonetheless. The piece was a success at Sketchbook, but the best part of this experience was that “Fix your teeth B*tch” really touched a personal chord with people.

So it has been recently—through my collective experiences and my collaboration with Atalee—that I have begun to carve out my own voice and shape myself as a true theater artist…one step at a time.

Carolyn Hoerdemann is a Chicago-based actor, deviser, educator, and raconteur. She holds a BFA from The Theatre School at DePaul University and a MAAE from the School of the Art Institute. She has worked in theatre, music, video, and sound, and with puppets, teen, small children, and senior citizens. Carolyn teaches performance at DePaul University and for the Court Theatre’s outreach program. She loves Alaska, her husky, and the National Park System. Carolyn has worked as dramaturg with Breakbone Dance Co. on the piece Excavation of Remains and is currently assistant directing the Howard Barker play MINNA at Trapdoor Theatre (opening January 2, 2010).