Lucas Van Engen

I came out to New York to pursue musical theater. I figured I’d combine my love of music with my passion for acting. It didn’t go so well. After embarrassing myself for a year and touring with a children’s theatre company touting anything but children-friendly actors, I decided to pursue “straight” acting and put music on hold for a while. For the last six years I’ve been a straight actor—that word, “straight,” is such an odd differentiation—although I nearly got my first Broadway show as a lead character that required singing in Coram Boy. I’ve gone from musical theater to detesting musical theater to secretly loving the show, Glee, and wishing I could perform like that (i.e. loving it again) with the qualification that the show has recently taken a turn toward melodrama. I’ve always dabbled in writing, and four years ago I finely started writing my first play. Since then I’ve been writing a lot in various mediums.

I have to admit that writing seems to be the art that I connect to the most, lately. I don’t have to push myself when I write; I love playing with words; and I have an excuse to live in my head, which is where I spend most of my time, anyway. That being said, acting will always be my first love. I just started coaching acting, as well.

I would say my family has a natural bent toward creativity. My parents have both been heavily involved in music to one capacity or another, and I credit my lack of finances to following in (one of) my older brother’s footsteps. He moved to New York several years ago, which gave me the courage and inspiration to do the same. (After his first audition, he decided sitting in a line of two hundred hopefuls just to be potentially chosen by a twenty-three-year-old behind a desk was not for him. He now sits behind that desk and is very happy there.) My family is extremely supportive of me, though I don’t know why, and for that I am hugely blessed and grateful.

It’s funny to me. I’ve been acting since I was thirteen. My high school friends always told me I should be an actor, and I would always laugh and tell them there was no money there. In college, I began by studying Engineering, but I was also a Music and German minor, and I was always in plays, playing basketball and golfing. I burnt out, locked myself in my dorm room and composed an album of twelve songs. I still didn’t take it seriously until I finally took a month at the Gaiety School of Acting (an exchange program through their artistic director, Patrick Sutton, that my brother, Stefan, pioneered). I told the artistic director to watch me and tell me at the end of the month if he thought I should pursue acting as a career. At the end of the program, I posed the question to him, and he replied, “Do you think you should?” I said without hesitation, “Yes, I do!” He said, “Good, cause I do, too.” That was a major lesson for me. You’re not going to make it long if the drive isn’t truly rooted within.

All of it. I just wrote a short story based on an organization I’ve been working with, “Roots and Branches,” about a ninety-two year-old man. I’d never tried to write for an old man or woman before, and after working with this organization that employs actors both very young and very old, I found it relatively simple. I just had to focus on certain pieces of my personality and give them physical impairments. Acting is the same for me.

Everyone has their own approach and they’re all valid, within reason. Ultimately it comes down to whether or not you do the work. Extremely talented artists are often the most frustrating for me to work with. They have a capacity of not following through. Then they look at their TV screens and balk at less talented actors who have made it. My guess is a lot of those actors, including the ones who were supposedly handed their career, worked tirelessly at their craft and career for a long time with little reward. I can’t attribute this learning to one artist in particular. Instead, I have to credit the multitude of mentors, coaches, therapists, and friends that I’ve worked with.

Honestly, my friends. I’d like to collaborate with Motrya Tomycz, Eric Feldman, Ryan Holly, Josh Durham, Alexis Hyatt, John Halbach, Taibi Magar, John Hayden, Jared Van Alstyne, Claire Gailey, Alex Barnett…I’m sorry for the many I’ve left out, but the list goes on and on.

Like any experienced artist: lots of therapy and a little medication. More seriously, I truly believe that life and creativity are seamlessly intertwined. The more one grows in life, the more one grows in his or her art, and vice versa. Handling criticism is the same. Interestingly, on a good day, I take criticism of my acting as a challenge, whereas if someone criticizes my writing, I stop writing for days, weeks, even a month. I don’t believe in myself enough as a writer, yet. I can say that logically and see that the criticism is there to help me, but to own that is very difficult. What hurts in my acting is not criticism but rejection. It’s hard not to take it personally, though it rarely is. I don’t know too many people who can interview for about 70 jobs a year and get rejected from 69 of them without getting depressed. Like anything, it takes growth, and growth hurts.

Oh, jeez. I struggle with that all the time. Sometimes I think I should stop pursuing acting and become a social worker, because I often feel that my path is extremely self-centered and I have a heart for those who have been dealt a bad hand. But in the end I believe I’ve been created to be a creator in the world of art, so I have to play with the hand I’ve been dealt and hope that’s enough.

I only wish I weren’t an actor/writer/musician when I’m severely depressed. But that often has more to do with constant rejection and wishing I had more money. Every time I ask myself that question, I come up with the same answer: “I could be a social worker, I suppose, but I’d quickly burn out and spread hatred. I can’t imagine doing anything else and being happy. I’d rather be depressed occasionally doing what I’m doing and be happy and thrilled when I’m in my creative ‘blue flame’ (I wish I could remember who to credit that metaphor to).”

I know people may have a hard time believing this, and it sounds cliché, but no. What’s the point? I’m not in this for the money, though I fantasize about money all the time and sometimes forget that I’m not in it for the money. What would I do with a million dollars if I couldn’t spend it on my creative schemes?! The only thing that would make me second guess myself is if I could use that money to create wonderful things in other people’s lives. Okay, now I sound like Miss America. A smarter one. One who’s not crazy. That’s the problem with hypotheticals. Then again that’s the world I live in. Maybe I’m just as crazy as Miss America.

I wish I were better at this. I would be much further along than I am now. When it comes to business, especially in the arts, one needs to “think outside the box.” We’ve all heard this and often try to do so, but two things get in the way. One, it’s scary outside of the box. No one else is doing it, and everyone tells you it won’t work and you’re a fool. And they may be right. Two, most of us don’t even know what the box is. We can’t even see the walls though they’re all around us. Personally, I’m in the second category. I’m only beginning to see the walls so I can step outside of them.

What a vague answer! A more specific answer might be: network. I think that’s the most important tool and leads to the most opportunities. Also, don’t do things just to do them but don’t not do things because they seem silly. Weigh all the options, and keep doing things that inspire you. You’ll meet people, and opportunities will open up. Walk into every meeting room with an inner strength and assuredness. Finally, if you don’t like the journey, you’re probably in the wrong field or need to do some checking in. You’ll never get paid enough.

See how bad at business I am? What’s worse, I can’t follow my own guidelines most of the time.

Being happy at what I do and earning enough money to share.

I think it’s important for artists to do a quick reality check every now and then. Many of us would not be able to do what we do if it were not for rich people who want to be rich. These rich people, so often despised by artists, are the very people who keep the arts alive. They attend the shows and they fund the non-profits. Thank God there are people who just want to make money and don’t care how they make it! Anyone want to write a play about the Good Samaritan who appears to be a greedy bastard?? There is plenty of art out there knocking the Man.

The two grow together. We are a product of our surroundings. The rich man gives because he feels like he has to keep up appearances. He sees a play about a rich man keeping up appearances. He sees himself in the mirror. He asks himself why he’s giving. He changes for better or worse. For better, he may open up and give out of love, which then leads to his funding of many other organizations or people in need of his help.

This is one example of the relationship between art and life. I believe the relationship is akin to that of the Self and Art. They grow together, each affecting each other.

Watch the film, Inglorious Basterds. Funny, action packed, and disturbing, I believe it holds my favorite scene of the last few years: (spoiler alert) About three hundred Germans during WWII have gathered in a theater to watch a film about a German soldier shooting down Allied soldiers. They’re all laughing and clapping as the soldier mows down human after human from a bell tower. The viewer is disgusted, but the scene goes on. The theater is a trap. The doors are locked, and an American soldier starts mowing down the Germans. Not coincidentally, I believe, he looks much like the German soldier. The shots of the American are even the same shots used in the German film. The theater viewers around me were laughing and clapping as women and children were relentlessly mowed down by the American. I was sickened at my initial bloodthirsty desire for the same destruction and as a result could not laugh throughout the rest of the movie. That’s a fine example of the relationship between the world and art.

“…above all else, be true to thy self.” I believe and hope that if one follows this simple Shakespearean value, all else will fall into place. Quentin Tarantino can be written off by parents as a bloodthirsty film-maker (and I wouldn’t let my children watch his films), but by doing what he loves, he often causes us to hold up a mirror and question our values. Eventually, I hope my art will do the same. If not, I will consider myself a failure.

I’ve co-written and acted in the first episodes of two different web-series. Both are in the post-production phase, which seems to be taking a light year, since I can’t simply pay someone to finish it by a certain date. I’m writing my own feature-length screenplay and collaborating on another screenplay with a much more experienced friend. I’m auditioning without much luck. In one year, I booked four well paying jobs, three of which were roles on major network shows. I have not booked a paying job since. That was a year and a half ago. So I’ve had to create my own work, which has been much more fulfilling in the sense that it has forced me to grow. I started working with Roots and Branches recently and performed in a play called Crash, written by Brian Farish, directed by Kirsten Kelly. It’s a play that compares the Depression era to our current Recession.Roots and Branches seeks to bring together different generations to discuss topical issues and create plays from those discussions. The organization has been running under the direction of Arthur Stimling for twenty years now. We are currently developing our next play around the issue of sex and gender.

Fight with myself until the true side wins and then sit down and write or work on one of my creative ventures. When the Dark Side wins, I like to watch The Office, Modern Family, Parks and Recreation, 24, and above all….Notre Dame football games (bye bye, Charlie Weiss, thank you for your service, and best of luck to you).

Easy, go to http://lucasvanengen.blogspot.com/ and enjoy the ride. You’ll never be embarrassed again. It involves fake blow jobs.

I went to a liberal arts school. I never went to grad school. Instead, I’ve created my own grad school by stringing together mentors and coaches who have taught me multitudes about acting, writing, and life. I’d like to take the chance here to mention some (not all!) of them here: Gus Kaikkonen, Harry O’Reilly, Anthony Bova, and professors from Calvin College who continue to mentor me, including Stephanie Sandberg, Debra Freeberg, and David Leugs. It takes a village to raise one dope.

It’s something I learn over and over again and never truly envelop: Let go and enjoy the ride.

One more thing, financial security IS important. Don’t let frumpy, “cool” college kids tell you it isn’t. Their parents are usually supporting them.

This interview has been fairly self-serving for me. Please read it with a large grain of salt. That said, check out my new coaching site at www.LucasVanEngen.com/Coaching.html!!!