Ooooooooook-lahoma!

It's tech weekend (well, right now it is first dress) of the long awaited thesis Oklahoma!. It's been an interesting couple of days; I believe I've forgotten what the real sky looks like.

The most interesting thing about a show like this is the number of elements that have to come together in order to make it work. Obviously there are the scenic elements, but not until the lights were added yesterday and today did my design truly begin to take shape. And tonight we have the costumes; it's nice to see Laurie in a dress and apron rather than sport pants and shirt.

Over the next two days the last touches are going to come together (hopefully). And then we get to add the best part of the process: the audience. I'm looking forward to opening for so many reasons.

Now back to paying attention. We're at the dream ballet now:

Feminist Design & Design Realized

This is going to be quick since I am running behind today already and, well, there isn't much to say right this second because there is going to be a lot to say in about a week.

First thing, I am still reading Twyla Tharp's book The Creative Habit and I had a realization today about how useful this book is employing feminist design techniques and, thus, how much I wish I'd had this book when I wrote my paper last year. (And I'm attempting to get this paper presented at conferences... but have no time to update it with this new bit. Sadness.) Anyway, there was a passage today that specifically struct me as pertinent to my feminist design ponderings. In the chapter about spine, Tharp says the following:

"There's an obvious reason why, as a choreographer, I am constantly groping for a spine. Dance is preverbal; it doesn't have the writer's advantage of using language to establish meaning and intent. The vocabulary of dance is movement, not words. So I need something more in the form of an idea, an image, a memory, a metaphor to make my intentions comprehensible to the audience. I have to articulate this to myself because I won't be using words to articulate it in public."

In my notebook I wrote: Yes! This is why it is important to analyze your visual language as a female/feminist designer: you do not have words--it's all nonverbal! One must know your visual cues and those of the audience. Otherwise communication fails and either nothing is understood or the wrong thing is understood.

To elaborate, in Ringer's four questions about feminist design she calls on us to ask these questions: "How does visual language contribute to these explicit and implicit messages? How do I as a woman and designer relate to the visual language and the world around me? How do I visually process information?" In being aware of how I process visual language, I can better make decisions about how to communicate my ideas to the audience because I am cognizant of how visual language is created in myself and thus the population as a whole. And to be aware of how nonverbal the art of theatrical design is, is necessary in order to not just assume what I put on stage is going to make sense to the audience.

Take Oklahoma! for instance (which is the design realized part). I was giving a mini-talk about it to my stagecrafts class last week. I began by talking about my inspiration and process of turning that inspiration into a design. And then today, I got to see the theatrical realization of that design (in part) before the cast's first rehearsal in Aycock. The translation of my idea into reality has a bit of disconnect because the cast (as they are the only ones that have seen it yet) don't know the awe-inspiring, personal connection I have with the landscape of Northern California that I was inspired by. HOWEVER! My ability to interpret that into a majestic backdrop of sky and clouds atop a sumptuous yellow "waves of grain" gave them pause. They were swept up. I had achieved the awe-inspiring by creating the magic, even if the personal was left to be my own secret in my concept.

Now, think, if I had been more versed in how I viewed/interpreted/created the visual cues and how important my role as the nonverbal story-teller, how different (or better?) would my design be?

With this rolling around in my head I am ready to work on Pericles because nothing is getting by me now.

Generosity

Another installation of my thoughts on Twyla Tharp's book The Creative Habit. I've designated a journal I had laying about to write thoughts and notes in as I read the rest of the book, each page full of things that could jump-start a conversation or a blog post. However, at the end of her chapter entitled "Accidents Will Happen" she discusses the importance of generosity.

In the chapter itself she discusses the idea that luck is not so magical and fleeting as many would have you believe, but instead is a skill born of preparation and dedication to your project, and the willingness to and ability to notice when to take an opportunity when it presents itself.

"You have to allow for the suddenly altered landscape, the change in plan, the accidental spark--and you have to see it as stroke of luck rather than a disturbance of your perfect scheme" (120).

I could speak specifically about her call for planning and preparation that does not hem in the creative process, but instead let me go back to the activity that follows this chapter about being generous because it speaks to more than this creative habit she writes on.

"Generosity is luck going in the opposite direction, away from you. If you're generous to someone, if you do something to help him out, you are in effect making him lucky." (136)

Tharp's discussion of luck really being the skill to recognize opportunity is great. But this call to, essentially, create good karma in order to generate luck as well is the most fascinating. The highly collaborative nature of theatre is like a microcosm of the world at large. No one exists in a vacuum and people's happiness and goodwill is dependent on the happiness and goodwill that is given them from those around them. In theatre, the free exchange of ideas is an act of generosity. No one artist claims importance in the process by insisting that they are the mastermind of the artistic product of the team. There is no expectation that if the lighting designer makes a suggestion that turns into the solution that gels the entire design together that the rest of the team owes it to them. And so collaboration becomes an exercise in being completely selfless and generous with your fellow artists.

Tharp goes on to say that generosity is also linked to good teaching:

"... you invest everything you have in your [students]. You have to be so devoted to them and to the finished creation that your [students] become your heroes. It takes courage to be generous like that, to believe that the better the [students] look... the better the scene will play and the more satisfying the work itself will be. Without generosity, you'll always hold something back. The finished work shows it, and your audience knows it." (136-7)

This struck a chord when I first read it and I wrote quickly and furiously in my little notebook about how important this is to educational theatre. (By the way, I replaced "dancers" with "students" in the above quote, just to make it more relevant to my point, rather than Tharp's life as a choreographer.) I believe that the most successful productions at the educational level benefit from teachers and mentors that wholly adopt this idea of generosity as the guide the students towards success. There is no room in educational theatre for a teacher to grandstand, even if they are the designer or director or actor. Even in those instances, being generous with your process and knowledge pays forward to your students' own endeavors and will mean that the world will hand you the opportunity to be the recipient of someone else's generosity.

On an even more simple level, I think about my first day teaching Intro to Stagecrafts this semester. As I stood before the class, basically regurgitating the exact same spiel about the syllabus and handouts as the faculty and staff lecturers had just the section before, a lifelong dream became reality. That's right, ever since Kindergarten I wanted to be a teacher. I saw value and importance in the act of filling young minds with information about the world. Even though college students can be jaded punks at times, this semester has been one affirming day after another that teaching is a part of my future. And though I had always thought it was a bit cheesy, I told them, as I explained how the class would work and where they could get their notes and when I would be available to answer questions if they got lost, I said in earnest, "We want you to succeed. So don't be afraid to ask for help." Truly, though I'm only responsible for laying the foundation of knowledge about lighting instruments and actual measurements of lumber, it's also about inculcating in them a sense of empowerment and responsibility to their art form if they so choose to follow theatre as their path. Sure, it will mean more time answering silly questions or more time preparing extra lectures (about design!), but the gift of knowledge is my act of generosity. I've had some wonderful teachers and I hope to continue to have the opportunity to work with amazing mentors. I hope that this generosity will bring me that luck.

From Oklahoma! to Charlotte

Dear Readers (aka CT and Jenna), I had a great idea for a post. For about an hour and then it dropped from my mind. There are other things that I could write on but I fear they are too controversial and would be better left off of this public forum. So instead I offer you two things of note in my creative/theatrical life right now:

1. Oklahoma! is well underway, though painting is taking me much too much time. There has been a bit of an extreme learning curve trying to figure out how to paint new drops. I am working on drop #3 and it is taking a LONG time because not only is it new, it has to be painted relatively lightly so that it has a bit of transparency to it as it stands in for the cyc. The picture to the left, there, is the mid-stage drop, which was drop #1.

The other interesting bit pertaining to Oklahoma! (which opens in 3.5 weeks... have I mentioned that?) is that I am making a concerted effort to talk about it. I made sure I did a presentation to the cast, I am planning on bringing my model in for the stagecrafts class, and I have volunteered to be on the Q&A panel at the Super Saturday performance for local high schools on Oct 2. The reason is more than wanting to be self-centered about my work, but I feel like talking about a design is helpful for the next generation of designers as well as me. If I can explain my concept to people who are just starting to understand what a design concept is, then I feel I'll be able to articulate well to a director and the rest of the design team. Furthermore, there is so much more to a design than just what you see on stage, and I know that I want to pick the brain of designers after I see a particularly stunning production. Thus, I am offering my time to help my design live on as more than just a stage picture. I don't know if it will really be valuable, but, as Oklahoma! is my thesis, I figure this kind of work can't hurt.

2. I am also beginning to plan for the theatre conferences next year. I vowed after the last two years to not get caught off-guard by them, both in time-management and financial responsibility. I have decided that I will not attend KC/ACTF next year, in part because I feel I've out-grown it and also because it is all the way in Florida, which is a bit of a trek. Instead I am focusing my efforts on SETC, which was a great conference last year in Kentucky, and I have high hopes for the 2011 convention in Atlanta. I am also hoping to make it to USITT this year because it is in Charlotte, which is so close that it would seem a waste not to make an effort to take part in this professional theatre conference and expo. I'm honestly really excited about conferences this year and feel they are very important as part of professional development and learning. I am also working on polishing my feminist design paper from last semester in order to submit to the SETC emerging scholars panel and also the MATC emerging scholars work. Fingers crossed that perhaps I'm on my way to carving out an academic niche for myself. (And that I don't go bankrupt in the process).

That's about it on this front. I'm thinking I might post my work from my independent study this semester soon, so look for more artistic updates. But for now, I'm going to go wash Ultramarine Blue paint out from under my nails for the third time today. And perhaps my brilliant idea about a good blog post will come back to me. (And this time I'll write it down so I don't lose it. :P)