What Hand jobs taught me about self preservation

Ahhh, the wonderful and wild world of hand jobs!  The glorious yet often overlooked, undervalued, and unappreciated, work of actors and models who give life and movement to client valued products, goods, services, and more.

Oh, you thought… ah. I see.  Well, my apologies, mate. This is NOT that kind of hand job article.  Try craigslist. 

Anyway, as I was saying; hand jobs, or the professionally known job title - hand modeling - is a niche of the acting world that I managed to stumble upon quite accidentally.  Growing up, I was an athlete.  My toes are beat to all hell from being scrunched inside soccer cleats, perforated by opponents spikes in track and cross country (or my own clumsy footwork); my fingers, knuckles, wrists have been sprained every which way from here to Timbuktu, and showcase quite the array of tiny gashes, cuts, scars, and more from a life lived with no regard to the beauty of the hands or the care you should afford them. 

I was a persistent nail-biter, never one to do spa days with the girls (mainly because my stereotypical asian nail tech mother traumatized me every time she had to do my nails for a dance).  Plus, playing sports doesn’t really allow for a beautifully manicured hand.  Especially one that has fake acrylic nails plastered on that magically ALWAYS attract a bee-line pass of the basketball straight into said nail beds. Ouch.  

When I joined the workforce after college, I struggled within the entertainment industry, going from one failed endeavor to the next, just wanting to be somehow involved in anything artistic.  And in devoting my life’s work to such endeavors, I, of course, was broke.  As an artist, we have our passion which is our art, and we have our survival job, which is how we pay our bills until that wonderful passion of ours can take over the reigns (luck be a vision board with all my life goals, dreams, and prayers coming to fruition). 

I started working at the casino in Cincinnati in 2013.  As a bartender, it only exacerbated the ongoing mistreatment of my hands by battering them on bottles, twisting off caps to Bud diesels for good ol’ boys, and rough cut women, having my skin literally split from being so dry from constant temperature and environmental shock, red and agitated from citrus juices spraying over them nightly, and other violent actions that we never take into account because, well, they’re hands! It’s what they’re for! Being rough, and tumble, and strong, and handy.  

Enter all my theatrical training, acting skills, and yes, all my hand talking from growing up with an asian mother.  My agent sent out a casting asking for photos of hands for an upcoming SAG job in the area.  The client?  Febreze.  The pay?  Well, a SAG national commercial.  As an artist (and former athlete) the competitor in me said “hands? I’ve got those! Sure!” And I proceeded to upload my digitals of my hands in their best angles, which proved rather difficult to obtain, and sent them on their way.  And wouldn’t you know it, the client LOVED them!  I was then booked on my first ever hand job in the acting industry, an industry I’ve been immersed in for over a decade now, and had never been introduced to that side of the acting world.  

**Note to aspiring hand models:  be aware that your first official hand modeling booking will 100% result in insane anxiety, stress, and a ridiculous over-protectiveness of your digits until the job is wrapped and in the can (my older cinema folks will understand that term).   

For the next two weeks leading up to the shoot, I was absolutely meticulous (and deranged) about what my hands did at ALL times.  I kid you not.  I wore gloves to work.  Remember, I’m a bartender at a casino, who makes drinks for 8 hours a night with nothing more than my hands.  The questions and looks of pure concern from my customers was the least of my worries.  I went to bed like Curley from Of Mice and Men every single night, vaseline-lined gloves to keep them ultra moisturized and protected.  I cradled them in my arms gently like two newborn babies.  I would move them as if they were clouds, slowly, softly, gently through the air, as if the slightest dust particles would injure them.  I was an absolute basket case to say the least.  

On the day of the shoot, I was sweating bullets.  Would they see all my little scars and scrapes? Would they dismiss me immediately? Would I ever work again? Should I make sure they know what my hands look like up close and in person?! I had worked myself into such a panic that I had literal sweat dripping off my palms.  When your ONLY job is to hold, squeeze, and demonstrate their newest line of Febreze products, the last thing you want is a sweaty palm drowning your ability to do your job.  Luckily, a PA came and snagged me from my dressing room (yes, hands get all the perks, just like you and me), and brought me to the set where designers had engineered quite the contraption to display the Febreze before my hand would enter the scene and lift it from its pedestal.  It was AWESOME.  

The director took me aside and explained my action and in a matter of minutes I was on my way, swooping in heroically, lifting the bottle to greatness, unveiling a mystifying mist that you could smell through your TV set, and gently placing it back upon its throne in the middle of the frame.  I did this numerous times, for three different products, with multiple different motions, until the client was satisfied with what they had.  And when they pulled me off set at the end of the shoot, I was praised so highly and so heavily for having such great “skill” and “precision” and “attention to detail” and “ability to manipulate my hands in a way that tells a story on their own,” and it opened my eyes to the newfound world of hand modeling/acting.  

It wasn’t just about perfect, airbrushed hands raising gems and jewels in a tight frame for a photo.  It wasn’t about the perfection of my hands, but about the life they seemed to tell in just their movement.  Hand modeling has made me keenly aware of my entire instrument and how my whole body tells a story aside from just my face.  I know how to hold my hands in ways that signal whether I’m irritated, or content, or standoffish, or nervous.  I can show emotion by the way I handle a prop.  And most importantly, I found a niche in an industry that I love where I can continue to work and grow as an artist, even when my other typical acting jobs may become few and far between.  

Hand modeling, or more so, hand acting, taught me that our artistry is more than that one aspect that we continue to chase.  There are so many opportunities for artistic endeavors in so many other facets besides having your face in front of a camera or on a stage.  You can create with everything in you, and on you, and you can gain a new understanding and appreciation for art, in all of its forms.  Most importantly, I now care for my entire instrument in such a way that I feel overall energized and connected.  The hands that were just hands before, are now highly valuable tools; they are an extension of my internal creativity that, before, I thought was only able to showcase on my face, by emoting.  My hands have opened my eyes to the wonderful world of the arts, in all its forms.  I am an artist, I am a creator, I am aware of artistic value in the most mundane of places, and I, Abigail Esmena, am a FU*#ING queen of hand jobs.  



Abigail FroehleComment