Past the setup of lights and colourful backdrops lining the walls, the first thing you notice when you step into Shiki Studios, is that it’s very welcoming. A small group of slightly nervous actors greet one another as they wait for class to begin. Stella, the four-legged teacher’s assistant, weaves between chairs, occasionally claiming a patch of floor for herself. And then there’s Kayleigh in her spinning chair, ready to start.
Kayleigh Shikanai
For Kayleigh Shikanai, acting has never been a phase or a hobby. She began working in the film and television industry at just five years old and never left. What started as a career in front of the camera eventually evolved into much more: mentorship, entrepreneurship, and the creation of Shiki Studios.
In this conversation, Shikanai reflects on life in the industry, redefining success in a chaotic profession, navigating doubt, launching new ventures, and why, despite everything, passion remains the one true constant.
Stella, the pomeranian, sitting on Kayleigh Shikanai’s lap, mouth held shut (gently) during a taping.
Three years ago, what was meant to be a self-tape space for rent took an unexpected yet welcome turn into a thriving acting program built on more than just technique. The shift felt natural. “It was an organic journey – going from being an actor to starting a business to teaching and coaching.”
What stands out in Shikanai’s class is not rigid doctrine or a single ‘correct’ approach; if anything, she pushes in the opposite direction. “There’s freedom in how you present,” she tells her students. “Freedom in how you audition. Freedom in how you see the lines.” And even more plainly, “There are no rules. You can do whatever the fuck you want. The ultimate question is whether they [casting] like you, and that will come back to whether you like your own performance – whether you’re comfortable within your choices.”
This philosophy shifts the focus back to the actor. The goal isn’t imitation or a chase for approval. It’s developing something more personal, a taste, an instinct, and ultimately, ownership of your work. Shikanai is careful about the authority that teachers can sometimes assume. “Teachers who put their own notes on your work aren’t always right,” she says. “Sometimes you’re right. Your gut feeling – that voice within that says, ‘I don’t like this note’ – that’s the voice you listen to.” For actors used to being corrected, adjusted, and reshaped, the idea that their instinct may be worth listening to can feel quite radical.
That doesn’t mean she avoids discipline. Shikanai talks frequently about preparation. “I want actors to learn more than just acting skills in my class,” she says. “I want actors to learn about themselves. About the process of self-discovery. About work ethic. About your own human.”
Teaching has changed her outlook, too. “It’s helped me a lot with my communication,” she says. “It’s helped me be more empathetic toward other people’s lives. You encounter all kinds of different personalities. You have to learn how to communicate with everyone.”
There’s an obvious attentiveness in Shikanai’s notes, and it is common for actors to agree with her redirections. But even with questions and suggested adjustments, the ultimate choice always remains with the actor. “It’s a pay-to-play industry,” she says. “If you want to audition, you need to audition with something you’re confident in. Something you are proud of.”
Confidence, in her view, comes from clarity. That clarity largely connects to how she thinks about success.
“I think the word ‘success’ is defined by each individual for themselves,” she says. “We all have a different version of what success is. I write a list of goals at the beginning of every single year, and at the end of the year I see what I checked off. If I can check it off, that means I succeeded in growing.”
Each year, Shikanai’s goals get bigger, and the industry’s unpredictability remains unchanged.
“Being an actor is hard,” she says plainly. “It’s not a consistent job. You don’t know when your next contract is coming. That unpredictability can be difficult — financially and mentally. It’s where a lot of self-doubt creeps in.”
She doesn’t sugarcoat that reality in class; “When you’re in this industry long enough, it comes with its bullshit. However, it comes with a lot of good too. The highs are very high and the lows can be very low. It’s how you deal with rejection and how you rise above and keep moving forward.”
Her guiding principle is succinct: “Where energy flows, your focus goes.”
“We decide where our energy goes,” she says. “When you decide to focus on the bad and the negative and all the rejection, that’s where your focus is going. You’ve got to keep moving forward. You’ve got to keep pushing through. And you’ve got to do it with a positive mindset.”
This perseverance fuels her current ambitions. On the business side, Shikanai plans to expand Shiki Studios by incorporating more classes, bringing on additional teachers, and building structured levels for youth, teens, and adults. She is also developing a new tech venture – an app called Cue Actor, designed as an AI-supported rehearsal tool for actors with various functions. Her personal actor’s aspirations are equally specific. “Someday I would love to be a lead on a series on a really big network like Netflix or HBO.”
Ambition, however, does not negate doubt. When asked whether she questions her career choice, she answers immediately. “Yes. The answer is yes,” she says. “It’s not easy all the time. I go through hard times as well. I feel like I try my best to make it look like I have it together all the time. However, as a businesswoman, being someone who runs multiple businesses at this point, there’s a lot to do, and there’s a lot of pressure I put on myself. I have most definitely questioned, am I doing the right thing? Did I make the wrong choice? Should I have gone to school? Absolutely those thoughts have gone through my head. I would be lying if I said they didn’t.”
And yet, at the end of the day, the conclusion remains the same.
“Every single day of my life, even with how bad it’s gotten or how sad or how down on myself I’ve been at times, the truth is, every single day I wake up and choose to do it all over again.”
“You have to be passionate,” she says. “If you’re not passionate about what you’re waking up to every day, that’s going to be a difficult life. We all have to work. You might as well care deeply about what you’re doing.” She repeats it without hesitation when asked if she still believes passion is the key to success: “One hundred percent.”
At the end of our conversation, she returns to her students. “I hope they learn work ethic,” she says. “I hope people learn that it’s important to enjoy what you’re doing. If they do enjoy it, then absolutely – do it. Try it. Try your best. You never know what could happen.”
Industry standards are high, and the decision to keep showing up is personal. But in five weeks at Shiki Studios, I’ve seen more growth than in five months elsewhere. There’s no theatrics around the work, no inflated promises. You’re expected to arrive prepared and present, but the classes themselves are generous and the notes are clear. You’re allowed to try, to miss, and to adjust without embarrassment. As one of my fellow students, Jacki, put it: “She’s such a lovely person. You know those people who you wish the best for in everything that they do because they’re so kind and sweet? That’s Kayleigh.” The classes are genuinely enjoyable, and over just five weeks, a real sense of community takes hold – something rare in an industry that often feels guarded. Shikanai is the center of that, setting a tone that’s open and encouraging. It becomes a kind of pocket within the industry: a space where you can experiment, take risks, and where trying something that might fail is part of the point. Shikanai meets actors where they are and gives them room to go further.
