Mark Evans Studio

Every actor knows what it feels like to doubt. You walk into a room, open your mouth, and for a split second wonder if you even belong there. It’s a quiet, invisible battle that can completely derail your craft if you let it. We spend years working on technique, text, imagination, and truth, but none of it lands if the nervous system underneath it is wired in fear or self-criticism. Self-esteem isn’t a luxury in this business. It’s fuel. It’s the grounding force that allows you to risk, to stay open, and to truly listen. Without it, you start performing from the outside in, trying to please rather than connect. You can feel the difference right away. When you’re acting from a place of insecurity, your choices shrink. You grip. You protect yourself. The moment-to-moment life drains away. And yet, this loss of self-belief doesn’t happen because actors are weak. It happens because the work demands vulnerability. I’m literally in preview performances of an Off-Broadway play myself right no...

Acting asks a lot of us, right?! It asks us to be open, curious, imaginative, and brave enough to show who we really are. But when you don’t believe in yourself, that becomes almost impossible. Low self-esteem doesn’t just make you doubt your talent. It quietly shapes the way you approach your work and also life outside of the work. You start worrying about what people think, (you should look into Mel Robbin’s ‘Let Them Theory’)  about being good enough, about how you compare to everyone else. And before you know it, acting stops feeling alive. It starts feeling heavy. When you don’t have a solid sense of self-worth, you begin chasing validation instead of truth. Every note from a teacher or reaction from a scene partner becomes something you read into. You stop taking chances in your work because you’re afraid of being wrong - I think we’ve all felt that at times.  The joy that used to come from discovery and play gets replaced by anxiety and control. You can end up trying t...

Acting is often described as “living truthfully under imaginary circumstances.” Yet what determines whether those circumstances feel truthful to the actor - and believable to the audience - is not only imagination and technique, but the actor’s nervous system. The body’s physiological state plays a tremendous role in shaping how present, an actor can be in a scene, whether it’s in class, in an audition, on stage, or on set. At its core, the nervous system regulates the body’s stress response, emotional processing, and capacity for presence. When the sympathetic nervous system is activated, we move into “fight, flight, or freeze” mode. How? The heart can race, breathing becomes shallow, and muscles can tighten. While this can sometimes be useful in high-stakes dramatic moments, more often it pulls the actor out of the present, narrows focus, and makes listening to a partner nearly impossible. Instead of responding authentically, the actor becomes self-conscious or mechanical, trapped in...

One of the biggest reasons actors take class is a simple one: we want to grow. We’re curious, we’re hungry, and we’re eager to feel like we’re moving forward in our craft and our careers. But - and many of you have heard me discuss these themes in class - growth in acting is rarely trackable in the way we’d like it to be. Unlike the gym, where you can see more weight lifted, or a language class, where you can measure words learned, acting growth often happens quietly, underneath the surface. And because it’s not always visible or immediate, we often get impatient. Or worse, we get hard on ourselves. The truth is, just because you can’t feel your growth doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. Part of the reason growth feels invisible is because it happens in small, incremental shifts. Each time you take class, rehearse a scene, take in a note, or attempt a new accent, you’re adding to your craft. But those changes are almost impossible to notice in the moment. Acting is also deeply subjective....

One of the greatest gifts you can give yourself as an artist is the decision to commit fully to your work and your journey. That doesn’t mean knowing exactly where your career is headed or comparing yourself to anyone else’s timeline. It also isn’t intended to make you feel shame when reading that if you feel you’re not ‘committing fully’ right now. Consider this an encouraging hand on your shoulder (mine), letting you know that you can do it(!), and that you deserve to show up for yourself with honesty, discipline, and curiosity for the path you are on right now. I heard this phrase recently that resonated with me and made me want to offer it to you. Be analytical, not critical . When assessing where you’re at in any aspect of your life, criticism shuts you down. It fuels doubt, shame, and the voice that says, “I’m not good enough.” Analysis, on the other hand, opens you up. It allows you to look at your choices, your habits, and your performances with clear eyes. Ask yourself: What w...

It’s time to get out of the wide shot and into the extreme close up of your life and your goals. Students in class have heard me talk often about “doing the quiet work”. There’s a quiet kind of rebellion in choosing to follow what you truly want. Not the goals you think you should have. Not the career path your parents or your peers approve of. Not the image your industry tells you is “marketable.” But the thing that pulls at you in the middle of the night - the thing you’d chase even if nobody clapped for you when you got there. The trouble is, we live in a world that measures worth by productivity, status, and how well you fit into an existing mold. In the arts especially, it’s easy to believe that success only counts if it looks a certain way - the Broadway contract, the major award, the agent’s stamp of approval. But these are someone else’s benchmarks. If you’re not careful, you can spend years sprinting toward a life that feels hollow when you arrive. Trust me, I experienced thi...