Talking culture shock, honesty and dreams with actor Akeem Davis

At last, Akeem Davis - one of Philadelphia's most continuously busy actors - has time off to contemplate the fact that he won the F. Otto Haas Emerging Artist Award at the Barrymore Awards this month.

The 28-year-old, Miami-raised Davis has cut a wide swath through theatrical genres since arriving in Philadelphia in 2011, from Arthur Miller's All My Sons at People's Light to the title role of Henry V at the Philadelphia Shakespeare Company to the recent sold-out closing weekend of Theatre Exile's Rizzo. For once, he wasn't rehearsing the next play while finishing up the latest: He'll start work on Lobby Hero for Theatre Horizon in January.

Yet he's still not a member of the Actors' Equity union. And only in Philadelphia, Davis told me, could he have come so far without that membership.

Whether you're black, white, from New York or Miami, transplanting to Philadelphia can be an adjustment. Tell me about yours.

I came to this city knowing no one. My first night here, I was in my room at 40th and Market above a store. I dried off with the undershirt I had on that day. I slept on the floor for a week until one of my fraternity brothers gave me a futon mattress. And that was tough. But I was so happy to be acting [at the National Constitution Center] that I kind of sailed on that.

But it was a culture shock. The food is different. The weather is completely different. The prevailing attitude of people in the city is different . . . an urban Northeastern city has its own racial inheritance that I wasn't privy to. It can be jarring. But I will say that the theater experience, both my colleagues and my friends, has been tremendous. I've felt a warm welcome from my first day in the city.

Good actors come out of Florida State University in Tallahassee, where you graduated. But growing up in Miami, how did your acting aspirations sit with your parents?

My father is a mason. He builds schools. . . . He always said, "I do this kind of work so you don't have to. So you can use your brain and do what you want in a career." They love it. They drove up for the Barrymores for the second year.

One thing that often comes up in your interviews is that honesty is a high priority. But what does that mean? In real life, total honesty can be a problem.

If I was the most honest person in my life, I wouldn't have a girlfriend. My parents and I wouldn't be on good terms. But the stage is a safe haven. That's a venue where I can be honest with the other characters.

You also say you don't want to "perform" - at least with the fakery implied by that word.

I want to show on stage the things that resonate in the pit of other peoples' stomachs. We spend a lot of time lying to ourselves and to other people. And if I can remove that from my acting . . . if people can recognize, "that is what it looks like to be in love, or to die, or to be a person" . . . that could take me far.

What does the Haas emerging artist award mean to you, with its cash prize?

When I woke up on that Monday, my concern was to scrounge up $3,000 so at the beginning of next year I could walk into an investment firm and find the right mutual fund. By the time that night ended, I possessed $15,000 of separate money. That will really change my life. It's not a million dollars. But actors struggle to make $30,000 a year.

What has it meant to you artistically?

The big things I dream for myself are very much more possible. . . . I want to be somebody who is known for great work and an even greater work ethic. I want to be someone who is known as a generous artist. . . . I want to be involved in the significant projects of my time. And all of that is possible.

Speaking of significant projects, it's too bad August Wilson is no longer with us. His 10-play Pittsburgh Cycle, which covered a century of black life in America, certainly was one.

But because of August we have many people writing for the stage and I'm excited about that opportunity.

Not to mention Shakespeare? Thanks to color-blind casting, you were Romeo at Philadelphia Shakespeare Theatre.

I didn't think much about it until our first preview, which was for students. There was this crowd of black kids there, and before the show even started, they were over it. So this black Romeo walks on stage. I'm not putting on airs. I don't have an English accent. I don't do flowery Shakespeare. I want to do guttural, visceral Shakespeare. I'm talking the way I talk.

And then these boys, they sprouted. It was like a flower opening up to the sun.

Wow. Simple casting can make that much of an effect.

dstearns@phillynews.com.