Rising Stars: Meet Jeremy S. Walker

Today we’d like to introduce you to Jeremy S. Walker.

Hi Jeremy, please kick things off for us with an introduction to yourself and your story.
I was born and raised in Memphis, Tennessee. When my parents divorced at seven, my brother and I went to live with my mom. She worked two, sometimes three jobs, so we were home alone a lot and had to grow up pretty fast. To this day, my mom is my hero. Watching her juggle everything with grit and grace showed me what strength really looks like—and it taught me the power of faith and resilience.

As a kid, I was drawn to storytelling, reading, and creating characters. I’d make up elaborate stories about sports teams, or alien invasions, and when I discovered girls, those stories shifted into romance, with language my devout Christian mom definitely would not have approved of! My imagination was my playground, and every weekend, I would make silly movies with my cousin and friends on an old VHS recorder. We were all a bunch of young, mildly degenerate, kids with working single parents and way too much time on our hands. It was our way of making sense of the world.

Music was another outlet for me. I became the king of mixtapes, filling binders with burned CDs across every genre. My playlists could take you from hardcore Southern rap to R&B slow jams—then pivot straight into an uplifting Bob Marley track or a 12-minute Phish jam. Not exactly the soundtrack you’d expect for a Black kid growing up in Memphis.

But it was the jamband and psychedelic music that truly cracked my mind wide open. My friends and I would pack our cars on the weekends and travel all over the south and midwest to see shows. That season expanded me as a thinker and planted the first real seeds of both my artistic and spiritual journey. Looking back, it taught me something I still carry today: art has no borders—it’s about connection, not categories.

After high school, I moved to Colorado. That’s where my creative side really blossomed. I got involved with a jamband called The Menagerie—not as a musician, but as their manager. I booked tours, traveled around the country with them, and eventually built a management company and booking agency with eight touring artists. It was fun, exciting, and I loved being close to people creating art, but something was missing. I knew I wasn’t living out my own creativity.

One day I was in my office, staring at a tour spreadsheet, totally burned out, and my older brother, who was also working in music at that time, gave me some sage advice, “You’re an artist dude, do your own thing.” That stuck with me. Not long after, I went back to school to study acting, and it was like finding a missing piece of myself.

Acting hit me hard. It was like finding a soulmate I didn’t know I was searching for. It brought me back to my childhood love for stories and characters, but on a much deeper level. My teacher, and the Dean of Acting at my school (Colorado Film School), Galina Boulgakova, was huge in that. She had this unique approach, rooted in the Stanislavski technique, that really cracked me open as an actor. I’ll never forget—after graduating, I asked her if I should stay in Denver to keep training. She locked eyes with me and said in her thick Russian accent, “You’re ready for Hollywood.” A month later, I packed my bags. Here it is, almost 16 years later, and I’m still at it.

Thankfully, I’ve been fortunate to work fairly consistently. That’s not to say there haven’t been challenging times, because there have been, but it’s all part of the journey. To me, it’s the relationships and connections you make along the way that make it so beautiful. Those people you spend in the trenches with in play rehearsals—or 12 to 16 hours with on set—will share something with you that no one else ever will. It creates a bond and usually a lasting one.

Recently, I had the thrill of performing alongside some incredible artists in the world premiere of Peter Lefcourt’s play Ménage à Quatre, which got rave reviews. I’m also currently part of Geico’s largest marketing campaign ever, with two commercials airing nationwide. And this October, I’ll be back on stage in Burbank at The Colony Theatre in the world premiere of the play, “I’ll Give You My Heart.” I play a witty ad executive named Sam in that one, and it’s a funny, heartfelt piece I’m excited to share.

Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
The road has definitely has been anything but smooth. I’ve had years where I made a year’s salary in a single month, and other years where I wasn’t sure how I’d make rent. Some days you walk into an audition feeling like you’ve got that sparkle, and other days you look—and feel—like you’ve been hit by a truck. The key, at least for me, has been simple: just keep going.
In those tougher stretches, I used to ask myself three questions: Do I love it? Yes. Could I do something else? Probably. Do I want to? Absolutely not. That little checklist always kept me grounded and reminded me that I am in it for the long haul. This career isn’t for the faint of heart. You really do have to love it to keep showing up. But for me, it’s always been worth it.

I’ve been really lucky to have great people in my corner. Commercial work was often my bread and butter when theatrical gigs slowed down, and I’m deeply grateful to my commercial team—Maureen, Alex, and Angela at The Osbrink Agency, who have stood by me for 14 years. They are like family to me and I’m so blessed to have them in my corner. My manager, Alex Czuleger at The Green Room, has also stuck with me through the peaks and valleys, reminding me to keep going even when the road felt long. And I’ll always appreciate the casting offices who kept calling me in, even when I wasn’t at my sharpest. In this business, relationships are everything. If you keep your skills sharp, are good to work with, and don’t act like a jerk, people usually want to keep you around.

Still, the hardest battles aren’t out there—they’re in your own head. When work slows down, doubt and ego show up loud. For me, meditation and spiritual practice have been a saving grace. They help me quiet the noise, stay grounded, and even use the tough times as fuel for the work. I remind myself often: every hero’s journey has conflict—without it, the story wouldn’t matter.

Those struggles and breakthroughs eventually inspired me to create my podcast, The Boho Black Label. It’s a conversation-driven show about what it means to live between two worlds—in identity, in art, in culture, in community. The same challenges that once made me question my path now spark dialogue about resilience, belonging, and growth. Each episode mixes raw honesty with uplifting perspective, because I’ve learned that the struggles that test us most often become the bridges that connect us.

Can you tell our readers more about what you do and what you think sets you apart from others?
I wouldn’t say I specialize in just one type of acting—it really depends on the season of life I’m in. For years, I was all about comedy. I even did stand-up for a while. These days, as a father who’s been through some real-life challenges, I find myself drawn back to my training—slowing down, digging deeper, and stepping into roles that let me bring more of my lived experience to the work. That said, I’ll always love comedy. It’s in my bones, and I still get plenty of joy from it. But right now, I’m really enjoying the balance of both—the chance to make people laugh and the chance to make them feel.

For me, acting is therapy—the ultimate therapy. No matter what I’m going through in life, there’s always a character who’s been through something similar. The beauty of acting is that these characters only exist on the page until we breathe life into them, make them three-dimensional and real. And because we’re constantly changing as people, the work never repeats itself. My Hamlet today won’t be my Hamlet tomorrow, and your Hamlet won’t ever be mine. It’s like the jambands I used to follow—every show was different, no matter how many times you saw them. That’s what makes acting feel alive to me.

One of my proudest moments was working on The Identical in Nashville. Not because of the film itself—I’ll be the first to admit it’s not for everyone—but because it was my first time on a major set, standing shoulder to shoulder with actors like Ray Liotta, Ashley Judd, and Seth Green. That experience gave me the confidence that I belonged there, that I was capable of doing the work at that level. Some of the friendships I made during that shoot have lasted, and the memories still make me smile. The highlight was probably Seth and I doing a karaoke duet of “Shake Your Tailfeather” on a night off. Walking off the stage, he said to me “that was the best work we’ve ever done together.” Honestly, I think Nelly himself would’ve been proud.

But the role that means the most to me is being a father to my five-year-old daughter, Bowie. She flipped my world upside down in the most beautiful way. I believe children choose their parents, and I’ll always be grateful she chose me. She keeps my imagination alive, challenges me to grow, and reminds me what really matters. She’ll always be my greatest creation.

At the end of the day, I don’t see acting as a destination—it’s a journey. Art in all its forms teaches us about ourselves and connects us to one another. If someone can watch my work and see even a piece of their own story reflected back, then I’ve done my job. And if years from now, someone tells me that something I did helped change their life? That’ll top even the karaoke duet with Seth Green.

Let’s talk about our city – what do you love? What do you not love?
LA has been my home for 16 years now, and at this point I can’t imagine living anywhere else. Where else in America can you ski in the morning, hit the beach in the afternoon, and end the day at a movie premiere? I grew up in Memphis, Tennessee, and spent several years in Colorado, but this city has my heart.

I love LA’s diversity, its culture, and, of course, the food. Everything you could possibly want is at your fingertips here. More than anything, I love that there’s something for everyone. LA gets a bad rap sometimes—people think it’s all surface, or that the people are flaky. Sure, there’s some truth to the stereotypes, but I think LA is beautiful in its messiness.

I’ve traveled all over the U.S., and in many places everyone looks the same, acts the same, or falls into the same political or social bubble. LA is different. Most people here are transplants, so you’ve got people from all over the world coming together in one place to express themselves in ways they couldn’t where they came from. That makes everyday life here uniquely unpredictable and wildly creative—and that’s what I love most.

Growing up in Memphis, I experienced more racism than I ever should have. Even in the 90s, the tension was real, and it left a mark on me. It’s always been something I’ve spoken out against, because racism has no place in our world. One thing I’ve been grateful for in LA—knock on wood—is that I haven’t had to deal with that here. The city isn’t perfect, but its diversity and openness have given me space to just be myself, and that’s something I don’t take for granted.

Of course, LA has its challenges. Like many of us, I worry about the unhoused crisis. It’s complicated, and it’ll take more than frustration and finger-pointing to solve, but I do think the city could be handling it better. Housing costs are another reality. Prices are steep, no doubt—but that’s also part of living in a place so many people dream of calling home. For me, I’d still rather pay LA prices for my three-bedroom condo than imagine what the same space would cost in New York. And hey, at least our rats are smaller here.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://jeremystevenwalker.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jwalkerscene
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JWScene
• LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/jwalkerscene/
• Twitter: https://x.com/JWalkerScene
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@jeremyswalker

Image Credits
Jackson Davis Photography

Off The Record Production Still – Sebastian Plaza (DP)

Jeremy S. Walker and Seth Green on the set of The Identical