Just to See What Happens
By Ali Grams
Without knowing it, my family raised me to be an artist. Specifically, an actor.
I am the youngest of three children to a single mother who loved to play. Growing up, we had your typical late 90’s/early 00’s basement playroom: Barbies, Polly Pockets, Beyblades, etc. By the time my older siblings had reached the age to go to school, I spent hours playing alone and fostering my early imagination. I was all too happy to play alone, where I could invent anything I wanted.
At the same time, my grandmother fostered in me a curiosity to create. We would bake cookies (her famous thin, crispy, almost cracker-like sugar cookie), fry crepes, paint with watercolours, and sew pockets and patches in her little sewing room. The thing I remember most is that my grandmother would always encourage me to keep going on my project. I grew up learning to create without expectation of result. Looking back now, as an adult, I find this funny—my grandmother herself was always critical of the results of her creations, whether it be a dinner that is too salty or a painting that isn’t bright enough— but she taught me to be proud of whatever I created.
My mom always quotes how one day, at age thirteen or so, I came home and announced, “Let’s make chocolate truffles!” Had I ever made chocolate truffles before? No, but how hard could it be? Around this time as well, my mom let me paint my first (and only) mural—and on her garage, no less. My early foundations of “jumping in head first” were beginning to blossom into tenacity.
Amounting all of these together, I find it unsurprising I chose to pursue theatre. As an adult, I like to think I have retained nearly all that imagination I had back then. I’ve summarized my plucky approach to new tasks and creations with a simple phrase: “just to see what happens”.
I discovered this phrase as I was completing my Bachelors of Performing Arts. I was completing my final, capstone course online due to the pandemic, and was creating new works through zoom and all alone in my bedroom (which coincidentally is the same room that was once the childhood playroom). I was challenged to create a solo body performance about anything I wanted: a “what is moon” type assignment (if you know and have ever attempted “what is moon”!) I called my piece “Just to See What Happens” and I did exactly that: a bunch of wild tasks with the only goal to just see what happens. Being back in my childhood home, I was reinvigorated with my childhood impulses. For example, I was always fascinated with the water in the rain barrel and wondered what it would be like to make the rain barrel my swimming pool. So, just to see what happens, I jumped in it and filmed it for my project. So, what happened? It was cold!
I’m grateful for all the support I’ve had in my life. My most influential caregivers growing up helped me to believe that I could achieve anything I put my mind to. And even if the result of my attempts was not what I had hoped, that’s okay too. Failure also helps us learn. Were my chocolate truffles worthy of a French patisserie? I highly doubt it. I’ve had many “jump then fall” attempts at writing plays, sewing outfits, and painting murals. Often, the result of “just to see what happens” is not achievement or failure, but learning.
As a Quest instructor, I try to input my philosophy into the works I create with students. I admire Quest’s “kid-led” approach to creations. When I tell students they’ll be performing at the end of the week, and that the play is entirely up to them, there is a lot of initial excitement to create without bounds. What if the cheese people went to Mount Everest? What if the basketball players and cucumber island cats played a game of Minecraft? Once we get deeper into the process, then grows the hesitation, worry of failure, or fear at the size of the task in front of them. I do my best to be the voice that I had as a child. We are here to have fun, put on a play, and explore something creatively as a team. At the end of the week, during and after the class’ performance, I see their initial excitement bubbling to the surface again. They’ve now felt the accomplishment of performing an original work that they created with their classmates. And I hope they hold on to the feeling of accomplishment, unworried about the quality of the result. Because that’s showbiz, baby!
About Ali Grams
Ali Grams (she/her) is a professional theatre artist born and raised in Calgary, Alberta. Ali is an avid actor, singer, and dancer and is thrilled to be joining Quest Theatre as an instructor. She has studied at the Canadian College of Performing Arts, Capilano University, and Bow Valley College. Ali also regularly works with YYC Princess, is a lover of Shakespeare, and has a keen interest in the areas of directing and theatre administration.