Smelly socks? Come again?
Is very likely what you are thinking if you read the second part of this blog series.
Well, let me at least try and explain.
Basically, when you delve deeper into the rather surreal world of freelance work, you discover that there are some quite unusual ways to go about making money. Opportunities are out there to sell your well worn socks and shoes to people with fetishes. Opportunities are out there to sit at home and talk sexy to people over the phone. Opportunities are out there to pose nude as a still life model in front of a room full of strangers. You may be noticing a theme here.
I personally didn’t utilise these particular opportunities but found it interesting finding out about them and realising that some people do genuinely take part in them to make some extra money, it’s not hurting anyone, quite the opposite by the sounds of it!
I, instead, decided to try out as many of the other ways to make money that I had discovered as I could in the hope that, with enough of them, I could build that up to a full-time wage and be completely in control of my life. Control didn’t quite turn out to be the correct word of choice in the end. I can think of a multitude of others, though none that wouldn’t turn this blog post into a Certificate 18. Although arguably I’ve already done that with the above paragraph. But I digress.
Take extra work for example. Being an Extra or Supporting Artist – as it is more professionally known – is something I took part in and it really opened up a whole new branch of curiousness to my rapidly expanding repertoire. I got to rub shoulders with the stars, luncheon with (or be adjacent to) the cast of soap operas and up and coming TV shows and films. It was extremely glamorous and I went home every day feeling like a true Hollywood star.
Not.
I mean, have you seen Ricky Gervais’ show Extras?
There were some days I thought I’d never feel my feet again as I stood on freezing train station platforms and was trudging through thick mud in cold February whilst wearing thin and worn period drama shoes and almost non-existent bits of material that could scarcely be called socks.
There were days when I had eaten so much of the yummy lunch served at the food van that I thought my stomach would explode – imagine that feeling but being trapped on a very strict, professional film set for 12 hours or more and wearing an absolutely huge Elizabethan dress and a very tight corset. Not the most comfortable of times. Yet still insanely fun and unique.
There are only so many films and shows at a time that each actor can be a part of, so each job you embark on is familiar yet unique. The temporary coming together of a cast and crew is very full on and intense but it sparks a kind of magic. Being a supporting artist is usually extremely fleeting and the word I have used above is so fitting – magic. It is a truly magical experience; despite the cold, despite the mud and despite the discontented stomach. A little community is created and these people spend most of their waking hours together for a short while to create a piece of art. It’s momentariness is special.
Most days I forget I have been a supporting artist and appeared in films and shows, it is something that gets suppressed as you go about your life and do other things; get full time jobs, embark on a new course, find a whole new path in life that is not as allowing of flexibility. It is something you need to do regularly to keep that magic alive. I have spent hours and hours with people in the most unusual and sometimes gruelling situations and felt like they were almost becoming new close friends or family to me, people with whom I willingly shared my most deep and personal thoughts with. Yet once your part is filmed and the corset and wig come off signalling the return to normality, time passes and you find that years later, you can hardly even remember their names.
I only have photographs now of some of my experiences and the odd (hilariously) fleeting flash of my appearance in several film/TV productions. Other than that, it is something that I completely forget I’ve done and almost feels like I never actually did.
But I did, and here are a couple of little stories.
2014
I had filmed for a show once and went into work one morning, back when I worked in a nursery, and a colleague came up to me and showed me a screenshot on her phone, excitedly expressing her shock to have seen me on TV. “I saw you on TV last night!” She exclaimed. “You were sitting in the courtroom making notes on a phone, I think you were one of the journalists!” Several other colleagues came to look at the picture on her phone and congratulated me.
I felt amazing, not like a star that had truly made it of course because honestly, all you pretty much have to do as a supporting artist is apply, show up and mostly stand or sit about all day waiting for a little bit of time in front of the camera, it can be extremely monotonous. but a sense of contentment that I had done something out of the ordinary and been awarded a bit of recognition. It felt fun and gratifying.
One experience filming for a TV show involved me playing the role of a Victorian prostitute – back in Victorian times it was quite normal to call ladies of the night ‘whores’ so the label I was given for my character was ‘Victorian Whore.’ I had lots of fun with two other female supporting artists getting dressed up in long dresses and tiny corsets, feathers in our hair.
When all the extras were gathered in the holding room – like a sixth form common room but for budding and aspiring actors ranging from ages 18-80 – we were asked if any of us would be comfortable kissing in a scene. Oh goodness, I thought. This is a first. I had to think fast, I mean, I had a boyfriend but that didn’t matter it was only for a role, for art. My quick thinking led me to the conclusion that for £20 extra I didn’t really fancy it. I was a bit scared at the thought of it – a shy and retiring extra was I.
When we got on set, there was all sorts going on because it was none other than a soft core brothel scene. There was no nudity, just a bit of cleavage. Some actors had to pretend to be snogging and groping, it was all very exciting. I wasn’t to be a part of all those dizzying acts but, instead, something fun and quite nerve-wracking for a more anxious supporting artist among the group was asked of me.
I was given a line.
I was to perform a verbal exchange with one of the lead actors. I was so excited!
No more information was given other than I was to say “Good evening, Sir.”
Euphoric doesn’t quite cut it.
To be speaking on TV was a bucket list tick off for sure! My euphoria continued paired with a humbling reminder of my need to be professional as I had to militantly listen to the direction of the er…director – is there a better way of phrasing that? My convoluted and hidden quandaries continued, swiftly followed by a feeling of going weak at the knees when one of my favourite actors suddenly appeared in front of me! I went into inward meltdown – act cool, don’t appear alarmed in any way, try not to appear like the potentially stalker-ish star struck supporting artist you so clearly are.
I’m sorry but I have to name drop, it was Stephen Mangan, an actor I had come to very much admire from his fantastic work in ‘Episodes’ where he stars as a bumbling, ticking time-bomb of a man alongside the wonderful Tamsin Greig and the one and only Matt Le Blanc. Just knowing he had been in the vicinity of Joey from Friends was enough to send me docile! The internal monologue continued:
Keep calm. No sweating. No puppy dog eyes. I shall slap thine own wrist.
He said a quick hello and was very professional and together we listened to what the director wanted us to do. I basically had to walk past Stephen Mangan when he came to a certain part of the room and say my line and then basically just mill about the area looking like I fitted in with all the other prostitutes. It took a few glorious takes but before I knew it, I was frog-marched back to the holding area, a little stressed by the knowledge that I would most certainly never see Stephen Mangan in the flesh again.
It was an experience I’ll certainly treasure. There have been many more and without meaning to sound conceited, I’ve gotten to share breathing space with several actors that I love. I’m not going to name drop here, as tempting as it is. I will save that for another time but I’ll give you one clue – KH. That is all I’m saying, there was a day back in 2014 that will be regarded as one of the best days of my life and it involves the initials KH. Oh hell yes it does.
There have been some fraught times whilst working as an extra which include: getting stranded in Sheffield on a dark night of torrential rain, a fellow supporting artist passing out during a take, and me agreeing to do a scene smoking a cigarette when I’m a non-smoker and – despite dabbling a tiny amount in smoking during my Uni days – hadn’t exposed my lungs to anything smokey for the best part of a decade. So that was…interesting.
But for now I’ll leave it there.
I have really been enjoying writing about some of my experiences doing lots of different types of freelance work over the past few years; so much so that I have decided to write a book about it. I have already written a proposal and there has been publisher interest but I am unsure at this point as to how trustworthy this particular publisher is so I will write the book to the very best of my ability and see what happens.
I am going to do a few more blog articles on this series about ‘My Life Mystery Shopping’ which will focus on a day I experienced recently which I think really has to be the end of my freelance/mystery shopping endeavours as just everything went wrong and it was genuinely bewildering. I am starting to lose patience with it but not in a funny way- well it’s funny after but really not at the time and I think I have collected more than enough tales to tell now. You’ll see what I mean in the next article which I will get written and released very soon.
I do hope you’ve been enjoying these tales and your support with this is really appreciated as I try and knuckle down and get this all written in the form of a book.
Thank you for reading about my experiences of being a supporting artist!
See you soon for the next installment.
