Life & Wisdom Quote by Jessamyn West

Great acting, Jessamyn West suggests, starts with a paradox that makes polite people squirm: the actor has to love himself. Not in the tabloid sense of narcissism, but in the more demanding, craft-based way of taking fierce pleasure in the act of becoming. The line is blunt because it’s trying to puncture a cultural fantasy about performers as pure vessels - humble servants of the script, selfless conduits for genius. West flips it: the fuel isn’t self-erasure, it’s self-attachment.

The intent is clarifying and a little corrective. If an actor doesn’t find joy, fascination, even vanity in the work, the performance risks becoming dutiful. “Loves himself in acting” narrows the claim: it’s not “love yourself” as lifestyle advice; it’s love the version of yourself that appears when you’re doing the thing. That’s where confidence, risk tolerance, and stamina come from. Actors repeatedly volunteer for exposure: close-ups, criticism, rejection, the weird intimacy of being watched. Self-affection becomes a kind of insulation - a private permission slip to take big swings.

The subtext also nods to the unsettling economy of attention. Acting is a profession built on being seen; pretending otherwise is sentimental. West, writing from a 20th-century literary vantage point, is sensitive to performance as both art and survival tactic. Her phrasing implies that greatness isn’t just technique; it’s a relationship to the self that can withstand mimicry, ego, and vulnerability without collapsing into self-hatred or defensive cool. The great actor, in her view, doesn’t disappear. He doubles down.