What I Teach.

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A student is struggling with Esther in Lynn Nottage’s Intimate Apparel. She’s terrified of the language and the relationships, and her body tenses every time she opens her mouth. So we slow things down. I ask her what excites her, what scares her, and where she sees herself reflected, or not, in the world of the play.

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And slowly, she begins to talk. About her life. Her worldview. Her connection to the play’s themes: race, class, desire, intimacy, isolation. And something opens. A real emotional current begins to flow.

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When we return to the text, she doesn’t “act” anymore. She is. She brings her history, her instincts, and her point of view to the role. It’s no longer about pretending, it’s about embodying. Owning. Living.

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That’s what I teach: the art of presence, the courage to bring yourself to the role, and the practice of trusting your inner life.

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What I believe.

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I believe acting isn’t about vanishing into someone else, it’s about uncovering the parts of yourself that resonate most deeply with the role. The best performances don’t mimic life; they reveal it. Quietly. Honestly. Moment by moment.

I believe the rehearsal room should feel both sacred and profane. A place where bravery is encouraged, rigor is expected, and discovery is joy. We train the voice and body, of course, but just as importantly, we cultivate empathy, imagination, and artistic identity.

I believe in teaching that meets the artist where they are and invites them into the work on their own terms. Whether I’m guiding an MFA candidate toward their thesis role or helping a teenager unlock a line of Shakespeare for the first time, the goal is the same: to help them step into their power and speak from the center of who they are.