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Last week Blacktress and her friend Iyanla Howard went for a hike up Runyon Canyon. Their legs made sluggish strides. Their mouths moved a mile a minute.
“You have to be playing the character you’re auditioning for from the first minute the casting person sees you. And you can’t break from it until you’re back in your car,” Iyanla advised Blacktress while scraping dog shit off the bottom of her sneaker with a stick.
“But what if you’re playing a serial killer? Shouldn’t you at least crack a smile on the way out, so that they know you’re not nuts?” Blacktress asked.
“I wouldn’t. The more authentic the better.”
“Yeah, maybe even slice a couple people up, in the waiting room, too. That would really win them over,” Blacktress said, her tone sodden with sarcasm.
“See that’s too authentic. You want to be Hollywood real. Not Cleveland real.”