Make-up are the first people the actors go to on set every day -
Make-up are the first people the actors go to on set every day - they see you at your most vulnerable. Then they paint the character on you, they're integral to that transformation. It's such an intimate art form that you develop a really close relationship with your make-up artist.
Hear the words of Ncuti Gatwa, who has unveiled a truth often hidden beneath the painted masks of the stage and screen: “Make-up are the first people the actors go to on set every day – they see you at your most vulnerable. Then they paint the character on you, they’re integral to that transformation. It’s such an intimate art form that you develop a really close relationship with your make-up artist.” Though his words are of theater and film, they echo the timeless wisdom of humanity—the recognition that transformation is not solitary, but born of trust, vulnerability, and artistry shared between souls.
For the first people the actors go to are not merely craftsmen with brushes and powders, but guardians of the threshold. Before the actor can step into the skin of another, before the mask of character is drawn upon their face, they must first appear as themselves—unadorned, raw, vulnerable. It is here, in this sacred moment, that the make-up artist beholds the actor not as the world will see them, but as they truly are. This is a place of honesty, where the outer self is made ready for the inner journey.
The act of painting the character is more than surface. It is a ritual, ancient and profound, that mirrors the face-paint of warriors before battle, the kohl of Egyptian pharaohs, the ceremonial markings of tribes across the earth. In every age, to adorn the body has been to summon the spirit, to transform flesh into symbol. When the make-up artist paints, they do not merely change appearance—they summon the hidden, they awaken the role, they bring forth the character who waits beneath the skin.
This art is integral to transformation, for none may become another without the bridge between. Think of the masks of the Greek stage, carved with bold expressions, amplifying the actor’s voice to the heavens. Those masks were not deception but revelation, tools that allowed mortal men to speak with the voices of gods and heroes. In the same way, the brush of the make-up artist does not conceal—it reveals. It shows the world not the fragile morning face of the actor, but the living spirit of the character they must embody.
And so Gatwa speaks of intimate art, for such transformation requires closeness, trust, and respect. The make-up artist does not stand at a distance—they lean close, their hands upon your skin, their gaze upon your most vulnerable features. It is a communion of two spirits: one opening themselves to be shaped, the other shaping with care. Over time, this intimacy forges bonds as strong as kinship. For who else sees you unguarded, weary, and yet prepares you daily to face the eyes of the world?
History, too, remembers such bonds. In the courts of Japan, the kabuki actor relied upon skilled attendants to paint his visage into dazzling patterns, each line a symbol of power, virtue, or rage. The actor’s glory was inseparable from the hand that painted him. In battle, too, warriors of the Maori tribe trusted their kin to mark their faces with the moko, not only to terrify their enemies, but to honor their lineage. These acts of adornment were never solitary—they were always shared, always born of relationship.
The lesson is thus: never underestimate the power of those who prepare you, who shape you quietly, unseen by the crowd. Honor those who help you transform—whether they wield brushes, words, or simple acts of kindness—for they are integral to the journey you undertake. Do not see them as mere assistants but as partners in creation, without whom your role, your battle, or your purpose would remain incomplete.
In your own life, ask: who are the ones who ready me for my tasks? Who paints upon me the strength I need to face the world? Cherish them, respect them, and know that the most powerful transformations are never yours alone. For greatness is not only in the one who stands before the crowd, but in the quiet, skilled hands of those who stand behind, shaping, guiding, and loving. And so, remember: every face that shines is lit by another’s flame.
QTNguyen Quynh Thi
Gatwa’s reflection on the intimacy between an actor and their make-up artist reveals a deeper layer to the craft. It’s not just about applying makeup; it’s about forming a connection that helps an actor embody their role. But how does this relationship affect the overall set dynamics? Does the trust and bond between the actor and make-up artist extend to other aspects of the production process?
HNHiep Nguyen
Ncuti Gatwa’s insight into the relationship between actors and make-up artists made me realize just how essential make-up is to an actor’s performance. It’s more than just a physical change; it’s a form of mental and emotional transformation. How do make-up artists approach this responsibility, especially when working with actors playing complex or difficult characters? Does the emotional connection make the transformation easier?
PLphuong linh
Gatwa’s quote really highlights the behind-the-scenes importance of make-up artists. They are more than just beauticians—they’re collaborators in creating a character. But I wonder, how do actors and make-up artists navigate the balance between artistic vision and personal comfort? How much input does an actor typically have in the make-up process, and how much of it is left to the artist’s expertise?
TDtran thi dung
It’s fascinating to think of make-up artists as being integral to an actor’s transformation. They’re not just helping with the physical look but contributing to the emotional and mental transformation of the character. But how much does the actor’s trust in the make-up artist affect their performance? Do actors feel more confident in their role when they trust the person creating their character’s look?
NTNguyen Hien Nhi Trinh
I agree with Gatwa about how make-up artists play such a crucial role in the transformation of an actor. They don’t just apply cosmetics—they help bring the character to life. But what happens when an actor and their make-up artist don’t have that close, trusting relationship? Can that affect the performance or the quality of the character portrayed on screen? Is there a risk in not having that bond?