Portrait of an actor as a young man

DS Jenna Lo Bianco Portrait of an actor as a young man

The man sat in front of me, coffee in hand, is not the man I have seen in action. Today he is poised, articulate and composed. With grace and unabridged honesty he recounts the ups and downs of his life journey. So far, in all my encounters with him, I have been his audience: I sit gripped, hanging on to every word. I feel as if I am speaking with a wise mystic who has lived many lives. During previous encounters, I have been captivated not by ‘the person’, but by ‘the character.’ Today, however, the real man is mine to unpack and explore: actor, Fabio Motta. Creative spirit. Realist. Passionate dreamer. Worldly. Open. Driven by experience. Though these might seem counterintuitive and contradictory, as Fabio peels back the layers of his life, the evolution of the person he has become reveals itself to me. Fabio is all of these things. He is, if nothing more, testament to the power of dedication, having clear objectives and understanding one’s own limitations. With an impressive dossier spanning the globe, Fabio has ticked all the boxes. He has studied under Phillipe Gaulier in Paris, Larry Moss in Melbourne and New York, not to mention training at HB studio in the US , and the Accademia Teatrale Veneta in Italy. He has worked and studied across three continents, though that fails to scratch the surface of his achievements: film, television, theatre and teaching. What’s interesting, however, is that over time Fabio’s direction and passion become clearer. Fabio is a clown, quite literally. “School was an opportunity for me to play,” he starts, reflecting on his early years growing up in Como, in Italy’s north. Fabio’s passion and love of clowning took shape in his formative years; little did he know how his story would unfold. Migrating to Australia with his family at the tender age of eight, Fabio’s journey of self-discovery wasn’t always smooth sailing. “I had to push. I had to fight. I had to learn English. I wanted to be an equal like everybody else. I felt like I was different. When people made comments about my ethnicity or about my accent it alienated me. I was very Italian and that took a while to make friends with, I think.” Fabio’s love of performance transcended both age and language, and led him to a career in theatre. Guided by a supportive and equally creative family, he has lived his first twenty-nine years rich in experience, driven by a thirst for self-exploration and social awareness. “Theatre is created for the people so that the people can have a voice,” he clarifies. “We need to ask the questions: Who am I? and What is my drive in life?” As his story unravels it becomes clear that both questions underpin not only his professional practice, but personal growth and development. Fabio speaks fondly of his experiences overseas, taking nothing for granted. He is indebted to Gaulier for his attentive hand during his clowning training in Paris, and equally so to Moss in the US . “Working with Larry reawakened me, theatre was always my passion,” he shares. “To be an actor, you’re cultivating selflove. You have to. I have a lot of love for theatre. I love learning about it, and now I’m in the state where I’m starting to teach.” Fabio’s most recent experiences in theatre, more specifically in the world of Commedia dell’Arte, are challenging him with new curiosities and avenues to explore. Fabio’s philosophy on clowning stems from his childhood experience in trying to negotiate the challenges he faced. “The fact that I felt like an outsider, growing up was fundamental in discovering the archetype of the ‘clown’,” Fabio explains. In his book entitled My Thoughts on Theatre, Gaulier states: “The clown comes from very far away, like the Wandering Jew or the Gypsy. He talks with a special accent which has never

A driano Vittorio Photo

C urto Photo Daniele

been heard before. He comes from nowhere in particular… He helps us dream because he isn’t from around here… Where does he come from?”(2007, p. 280) “The Clown” Fabio continues, “is the one who makes people laugh because of his simple mind, accidents and failures. He reminds people about imperfections, chaos and even the fragility of life which must end with death, purely from a place of humour. Having had a foreign accent and coming from literally the other side of the world, trying to discover how I could assimilate in the Australian culture was both a difficult and a very humorous experience for those witnessing it.” Was this the beginning of the evolution of Fabio Motta ‘the clown’, simply learning to adapt and ‘fit in’ his new world? “We live in a time where the clown’s voice needs to be heard more than ever, and I believe it is the actor’s role to be brave enough to uncover their humanity in order to give courage for society to do the same.” Fabio links his own philosophy with clowns in the Middle Ages, as it was the clown’s duty to remind the King and court of the importance of the fragility of life and the human condition: “How do we make something, even if it’s exaggerated and over the top, truthful? You can feel it as an audience when someone’s acting, or when they are actually connected to something honest. It could be the sound of their voice, their breath, in the way they hold their body,” he explains. Despite his general love of theatre, clowning is truly his passion in life. “I think clown training is essential for acting training, because we’ve forgotten about that sense of pleasure and joy. Things become quite technical, ‘I have to know my lines’… and we forget why we’re doing it in the first place. That sense of pleasure. That’s what clowning brings.” Seeing Fabio in his element, clowning, is an overwhelmingly enjoyable experience. Masked, in both the literal and figurative senses, when Fabio is at ‘play’ he is at his best. Fabio is able to explore the inner-most depths of his characters, in particular those of the Commedia dell’Arte style, with fervour and conviction. “The mask allows me to do that,” he affirms. Fabio reflects on wise words offered to him by Moss: “find something you are good at, and do it like Hercules.” Excited by what the future holds, Fabio has a big heart and lots of wisdom to share. He dreams of exploring new characters, establishing his own practitioner-centered theatre company, and to further develop his own craft. I don’t doubt that he will achieve all of this with dignity, respect for growth and change, and an acute awareness of the social power of his work. LEFT Clowns remind the fragility of life and the human condition RIGHT Fabio wearing Arlecchino’s mask

Fabio Motta trained at the Accademia Teatrale Veneta (Venice, Italy) where he completed a master in Commedia Dell'Arte. He furthered his studies at HB studio in New York, the prestigious 16th Street Actors Studio and with clown master Philippe Gaulier in Paris. He also studied acting under some of the world's most acclaimed acting teachers; Larry Moss, Lindy Davies, Catherine Fitzmaurice, Carol Rosenfeld and Austin Pendleton. He has appeared on stage in New York in The Three Sisters (New York Theatre Workshop), My Uncle Chekhov directed by Aleksey Burago (West End Theatre) and Pal Joey directed by Robert McQueen (HB Studios). He has toured Australia with Polka Theatre’s ‘Charlie and Lola Best Bestest play’ and Extremely New Play performing at the Sydney Opera House. Currently a conservatory company member at the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival (Garrison, NY) performing in Measure for Measure, As you like it and the devised clown show So Please You. Fabio Motta

WOR DS and Ph oto Arch imede Fusill Future

In Their Past

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Bittersweet memories of a life in Australia that wasn’t meant to be

Domenico De Mase has two sons with very English names. Alan, the eldest, was born in Australia just before the earthquake that devastated much of the Basilicata region in 1980. He was barely five months old when the family decided to return to Italy, where second son William was born. “Eravamo andati in Australia perche volevo fare conoscere i miei famigliari a mia moglie,” Signor De Mase tells me. He adds how proud he felt to give his sons strong English names he had come across during his first stint in Australia as a much younger man in the very early 1960’s. His wife, he assures me, had never wanted to migrate to Australia or elsewhere. Their trip to Australia had been purely an attempt to introduce her to her husband’s brothers, sisters and father, whom he had in turn sponsored out in the same way he had been sponsored out by an older sister back in 1960. Ironically, his wife had four brothers of her own in Australia at the time, her attachment to her native land was such that this family connection was not enough to compel her to want to remain in Australia. “Ho messo un nome inglese al nostro primo figlio anche perché avevo una certa speranza che questo avrebbe convinto mia moglie di cambiare idea e rimanere in Australia,” Signor De Mase grins, then with a slight shrug he adds, “Ma, no, non è stato possibile.” There is both resignation and an underlining sense of sadness in Signor De Mase’s voice as he tells me how much he enjoyed the Australian way of life, the fact that work was readily available, and with effort he believed even the language could be conquered. “Dopo la guerra non c’era niente da queste parti in Italia,” he reminisces. “Mia sorella era partita nel 1957 dopo alcuni miei cugini. Quando sono partito io per l’Australia nel 1960, a vent’anni, c’era soltanto la miseria in Italia. Guarda, ognuno dice la sua, ma c’era la miseria. Non c’era lavoro e quindi neanche futuro. Non avevo che i miei genitori qui a Viggiano a quel tempo. Non avevo nulla da perdere. Sono partito con nessun dubbio che non sarei più tornato in Italia.” Il Signor De Mase pauses and leans slightly forward, as though about to take me into his confidence, then adds, “Caro, si sa dove si nasce, ma purtroppo non dove si muore.” This statement is perhaps meant to help explain the foibles of life, the moments of decision and indecision, the unexpected turn of events that lead one to places and ways of thinking that are often unforeseen, or at least unexpected. And so it was with Signor De Mase. Well spoken, open and amiable, the once carefree young man sits before me as a much more self-aware, deep-thinking patriarch of a family itself now dispersed around Italy as work, love and life have dictated. “Anche i miei figli fanno la loro vita di emigranti ... in Italia stessa,” he says thoughtfully. “Pensa che per Alan l’Italia non è il paese della sua nascita, come l’Australia non lo è per William. È una cosa da pensarci su, questa decisione che abbiamo preso noi genitori.” I ask him if this inconsistency in the birthright of his sons has ever caused them or him, any angst, if it has impacted on how his sons identify their birthright. Signor De Mase is thoughtful for many long moments, sighs lightly then whispers that he has never really raised the issue with them. As far as he can tell, these are questions others might ask of them rather than they of themselves. Il Signor De Mase is effusive about the benefits of his time in Australia as a young man in his twenties. He speaks fondly of having worked at General Motors Holden in Fishermens Bend, then as a carpenter, and later still as a technician with elevators. “Ho abitato a Carlton, proprio nel centro della città lì a Melbourne. L’Australia era e resta una terra ricca con un ottimo tenore di vita. A parte la difficoltà della lingua, si stava bene.

Gli australiani non mi hanno mai fatto sentire a disagio, mai. Io ero fortunato in un certo senso perché avevo famiglia lì, ero in contatto con tanti viggianesi già avviati nella vita nuova, persone che avevano già fatto strada. Avevano iniziato a mettere radici in una terra nuova. Ricevevo consigli da persone che avevano esperienza di vita in Australia più di me.” With most of his family in Australia, il Signor De Mase decided to return to Italy to visit a sister in Udine. While there he got word that one of his brothers, Vincenzo, had died suddenly in Australia. That was back in 1968, and the following year he decided he would return yet again to Italy, this time to find a wife, which he eventually did. At this point his long-term prospects of returning to Australia for good were challenged. “Mia moglie mi disse dal principio che lei non lasciava l’Italia, anche se aveva fratelli in Australia,” he says with a wry grin. “Se fosse per me ci ritornerei volentieri. In Italia purtroppo l’ambiente è sempre quello. Se vuoi trovare qualcosa devi trovare qualcuno. Non si ottiene per merito. Non è cambiato nulla. La mentalità Italiana è sempre quella, anche oggi. In verità sento tanto la mancanza dell’Australia, anche dopo tutti questi anni. Peccato che la salute non mi ha datto la possibilità di tornarci.” Il Signor De Mase pauses a moment before adding, “Ma soppratutto, ci sono i figli da considerare.” In closing, I ask Signor De Mase about any difficulties he thinks his sons faced in having such obviously English names in Italy at a time when it was not perhaps accepted as it is today. He laughs and extends his hand, “Dovresti chiedere a loro,” he says. I get the sense it’s a mute point, for they were names given in homage to a country and way of life still very much held in esteem and admiration. Domenico De Mase