Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Ashley Poulin. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Alright, Ashley thanks for taking the time to share your stories and insights with us today. The first dollar you earn is always exciting – it’s like the start of a new chapter and so we’d love to hear about the first time you sold or generated revenue from your creative work?

The first dollar I ever earned as a creative was when I was in the fourth grade. I had just signed with my first agency (who I’m happy to say is still a part of my team today) and I was ecstatic to have booked my first real job.

I was set to make my “big break” in a commercial for a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles toy. All I really remember from the audition was them asking me who my favorite turtle was and me replying “all of them” because I had never watched TMNT. We filmed in a pizza parlor and a subway station in Toronto but, don’t worry I’m sure I spent the money on even more (non TMNT) toys!

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

Hi! My name is Ashley Poulin and I’m a 22 year old artist who recently relocated to New York City (though I’m originally from Canada!) This past spring I graduated from Wayne State University in Detroit, MI with my B.F.A. in Acting (with minors in Musical Theatre and Forensic Investigations & Policing).

I was incredibly shy as a kid so when I was in the second grade my Mom signed me up for a local production of “Alice in Wonderland” (where I bravely played the Gingersnap). I fell in love with theatre and eventually the world of film and television too. I made my on-screen debut at the age of nine playing opposite Tom Cavanagh (“The Flash”) and Fred Willard (“Anchorman”) and have since performed and competed on-stage in places such as Scotland, Toronto, Los Angeles, and New York. One of my favorite theatrical experiences I’ve had was a production of a play called “Revolt. She Said. Revolt Again.” which encompases what it’s like to be a woman in the 21st century. Our show won 15 national awards from The Kennedy Center For American College Theatre Festival including one I had the privilege of personally receiving, Distinguished Performance By An Actor. Some of my other recent work includes a performance of “Silent Sky” by Lauren Gunderson where I performed as real-life Astronomer Henrietta Leavitt whose unrecognized work contributed to findings such as the Hubble Telescope. As well, two films I’ve been working on are set to release soon. “The Daughters of The Domino” (directed by Jesse McAnally) and “A Field Guide To Sasquatch Structures (and other serious signs)” (directed by Joe Van Auken) were some of my favorite experiences I’ve had on a film set and I can’t wait for audiences to see them.

I will also be performing on August 18th in “The Comeback Cabaret” with the Drama Company NYC at Don’t Tell Mama! And this fall I’ll be heading back on set to work on a new short as well as a TV project!
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Learning and unlearning are both critical parts of growth – can you share a story of a time when you had to unlearn a lesson?

.I recently graduated from college, a time not only for figuring out who you are as a human but one where the stakes for a career seem higher than ever. In my senior year, I worked on the piece I was most proud of: a play called Silent Sky written by Lauren Gunderson and directed by my professor James Kuhl. During this process I figured out a lot about myself not only as an artist but as a human. Many of the lessons I learned came from our amazing director, my favorite being “other people’s successes are not your failures.” It has stuck with me ever since.
In my opinion, much of the unhappiness that artists feel in the creative process stems from the fact that we started as fans of the thing we’re now involved in. You’ve seen everything there is to see. You keep tabs on your favorite actors. Read the plays. Spent the money you didn’t have and any moment you could spare on the cheapest tickets so you could see everything you possibly can and now, you too want to provoke the human experience.
Therefore, it makes us unhappy when we do it ourselves because we end up judging our work by impossible standards. I don’t mean judging it against people’s work that is superior to ours but in that there are two ways into a theatre.
There’s walking in with the excited crowd into the front doors, sitting in plush red auditorium chairs, fresh program in hand and a buzz of anticipation in the air.
The other way is the side street, through small corridors past the stage door, with a musky scent, peeling paint in your dressing room, putting on your costume still slightly damp from the night prior as you make your way backstage grabbing the prop you need for that first entrance for what feels like the millionth time.
There are two ways into a theatre: when you’re experiencing someone else’s work, you get to come in through the front of the theatre. You see it at the finished product. That’s how you meet it and therefore how you judge it. When it’s your own work, you don’t even get a ticket. You have to go around to the back.

In your view, what can society to do to best support artists, creatives and a thriving creative ecosystem?

.Show up. That is the absolute number one thing. All art is collaborative and therefore, all artists need their audiences. Your friends in a show? Be there. They’re putting on their first exhibition? Be there. But this goes beyond the physical– share their posts, mention their name in the right rooms, be specific and aware of where you shop and consume; support local!
During the pandemic, the drama school I was apart of had to close its doors. There is nothing sadder than a young artist’s safe space being taken away. For years I watched my teachers work overtime, fundraise, apply for grants, and more I probably didn’t see to make sure us students had what we needed to express ourselves. There’s a reason the phrase “they stopped funding the arts” has become a saying.
I remember discussing the state of live performances with people outside the industry. I was always met with looks of pity and concern. They’d cringe as I spoke on the true breadth of arts workers being affected knowing it was impossible to touch on all the lives left hanging in the balance. That’s usually when the apology would float in from well-meaning folks. When substantive support for the arts is neglected; we all suffer. This is something that occurred long-before covid and has continued long after.
I do wonder though why these people aren’t equally sorry for themselves. Every time a company closes its doors or an artist has to find something more financially fulfilling, we all lose. After all, it was artists we turned to on our screens when we were stuck in our homes for a year. And they’re who we turn to when we buy decor for our homes, order a creative dish at a restaurant, or purchase tickets to a show.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://ashleypoulin6.wixsite.com/my-site-1
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ashley.poulin/

Image Credits

Chuk Nowak Photography, Jen Gurniak Photography