A Zak Barnett Studios long-time student and enthusiast of all things acting and self-discovery, Ava Marilyn seeks to capture the essence of the studio in her writing through her weekly personal experiences and epiphanies and her findings about the deeper self and others. Through these diary entry-type updates from someone actively studying and working through the industry, she hopes to provide an insider’s look into the studio itself, its practices, and its impact.
I’m quite sensitive, I always have been. As a child, my heart was tender, mind aware, eyes wide open. I choose to see the best in people. I dream in vivid colors. I have an endless curiosity. I love the path of spiritual growth. Early on, I quickly learned that my sensitivity and fearless vulnerability were the traits, though not often popular nor comfortable, I’d come to love about myself and for which I was certain I could build a life of meaning. These traits became powerful tools I could utilize for communication, goal achievement, and most of all authentic human connection. I learned that my fragile heart had a place to shine in an acting class… like there was a purpose for it.
When I was a young child, I decided I was going to be an actor. I inhabited an innocent certainty about it; a clear calling for as long as I can remember. I am an actor.
Cycles of agents and managers, years and years, of one or two auditions here and there, mixed with months of four auditions a week. No consistent pattern, just everything and anything I could grab hold of to count as reasons to stay. This is the tenacity people talk about. The one who keeps going is the one who wins. Being the detailed observer that I am, I would take notes from the hundreds of voices telling me in a thousand different ways to “tackle the industry” until, eventually I learn to drown out unhelpful messages and people, focus on what is in front of me; mine to do, and trust that my passion and work ethic would carry me through.
I was encouraged to trust that if my calling to be an actor was the loudest voice inside, then I was meant to do this and that my timing is perfect no matter how long it takes. This is the creative process. There’s no timeline.
My pursuit as an actor brought me to Zak Barnett when I was 12. My mother and I met him at an info night he facilitated that took place in another Hollywood training school. That happened to be the time he was about to break away and begin his own studio. My mom and I quickly realized there would be no acting class that could compare to one under Zak’s guidance. The greatest lessons, epiphanies, self-discovery, relationships, mentors, and creative projects have come from my time with Zak at ZBS. I have grown up at this studio. Every single day of my life since walking into those doors, I find myself reflecting on something Zak and the teachers at the studio have taught me. ZBS has been my home. They are my LA family when I’m in town.
I have journeyed through the pandemic, high school, living overseas, now almost a college senior and the one constant has always been Tuesday Night Master Class with Zak. My 3-hour refresh, my escape from the stress of the mundane and my microscope into my soul, my emotional check-in, my opportunity to wholly devote myself to the work through scene study, improvisations, self-tapes, and community. My chance to feel nothing but utter fulfilment doing the thing I love more than anything else in the world with people I treasure.
Now, through the difficulties of navigating a post-pandemic and post-strike industry where the competition is brutal and the auditions are few and far between, I can always rely on Zak’s class to allow me to feel included in the industry – an industry that can so often feel totally and completely untouchable. It keeps me “doing the do.” A chance to gather inspiration from my friends, watch them tell their stories, and soak up their artistic genius. Class allows me to value my sensitivity, to intentionally use my vulnerability, explore deeper facets of my character through questions, and create an internal story that directly conflicts with external circumstances. But my experience is just one of many wonderful ones…
