I started acting because I liked living in the skin of another person. Sounds gross, but you get what I mean. I enjoyed inhabiting someone else’s world.
Editor's Note: Joey Parsons is co-host of the thebigda Podcast, where she and Dan Abbate explore authenticity, creativity, personal growth, and the often messy journey of becoming who we're meant to be.
Recently, I had a discussion with my lovely manager regarding getting new headshots - a photo of oneself that is the first thing a casting director sees when considering someone for an audition. I’ve been thinking a lot about branding, and I’ve needed new shots for a while.
My manager wants a shot that is open and alive and engaging. Headshots are tricky when what you’re trying to get across is a feeling without being super specific. Casting directors no longer want to see a character. They want to see YOU. I’ve been giving myself migraines trying to crack the code on a perfect headshot, when really, what I need is a clean message.
I started acting because I liked living in the skin of another person. Sounds gross, but you get what I mean. I enjoyed inhabiting someone else’s world. When I was a member of an off-Broadway repertory company, I was often asked to play roles that were not a perfect fit, and it was in those situations where I stretched as an artist and as a professional.
What Casting Directors Actually Want Now
About midway through my career, a new trend took over. Casting directors seemed to want the exact thing they were looking for - the exact person to walk in the door and land the role. Not somebody who could embody the character, but somebody who was already the character. I found this frustrating because I didn’t get into this to play myself.
The Headshot I Almost Didn't Choose
My first truly professional headshots were taken in New York City just before graduating from Yale. This was back in the age of contact sheets. I remember taking the train from New Haven to New York City to pick them up. When I got on the train to return to New Haven I tore open the envelope and stared at the four sheets in front of me.
I was crestfallen. I wanted something that I couldn’t even define at the time, something magical. I didn’t see it. I showed the contact sheets to a couple of classmates and teachers, and asked their advice.
One classmate, a man with whom I’d had a deep and tumultuous situationship and who probably knew me better than anyone else at that time, pointed to one picture and said, “That’s the one.”
I thought he was joking. His choice made no sense to me.
When asked to explain, he said, “Because no one else looks like you and this photo shows it. Your strange mystery, your odd face shape. You’re not like anyone else and this is the one that most shows that.”
I did not choose that shot. Instead I chose the most straightforward, conventionally commercial shot I could find, hoping to someday soon be on set at The CW or The WB.
Not long ago, I cleaned out a box full of photographs and came across those old contact sheets. My reaction shocked me: I was so sweetly pretty, and every shot was terrific. And the one my situationship had chosen? He was right. It was the best.
I was too afraid to be different and so I chose a safer path.
Image Making, Then vs. Now
I recently finished a biography about Joan Crawford, who was an absolute master at image creation. She spent years meticulously crafting her persona with makeup and costume. But this was at a time when glamour and sophistication trumped everything. It’s not like that anymore, at least not in my experience. What they want to see now is the truth of you. But who is that, exactly, if as actors we strive to be fluid, adaptable, and transformative? So I decided on a little experiment.
What My Friends Actually Said About Me
I sent out queries to several past colleagues - castmates, directors, and close friends who know who I am off stage. I asked them: if a brand new casting director came to town and said “I’ve heard about this actress Joey Parsons. Can you tell me something about her?” what would they say?
I asked for zero flattery, just three or four words or a sentence. The results were fascinating and, might I say, also good for my heart and ego. Across the board, some very distinct patterns emerged. One friend clocked me: “As if Gumby and Claire Foy had a baby dipped in chili crisp dark chocolate.” A few other consistent descriptives were unusual, mysterious, witty, and clever.
Qualities I’ve been ignoring all along.
Maybe the goal now is not to create the perfect image, but to stop obscuring the one already there…
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At Clotine, we're fascinated by people who choose authenticity over approval, curiosity over convention, and growth over comfort.
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