On Friday, UNCG opened Lisa Loomer's The Waiting Room. For this production I tried on an all-together different hat, that of Lighting Designer. It was a panicky situation because the learning curve was extremely steep, and despite the show being in our black box, it requires more than just a "lights up/lights down" approach. But now that the show is open (and I'll see it in performance this afternoon), I am very happy with it.
First, let's talk about the play. The Waiting Room is the story of three women: Wanda, Victoria, and Forgiveness From Heaven. Wanda is a modern day woman who has breast implants that may or may not have given her breast cancer. Victoria is (appropriately) a Victorian woman who faces hysterectomy and all of the physical troubles caused by wearing a tightly-laced corset since pre-pubescence. Forgiveness From Heaven is a Chinese woman whose feet were bound when she was a little girl. The play deals with issues of gender, beauty, body modification, health-issues, post-colonialism, and a host of other things.
I chose to do my lighting design in this season slot before the show was announced. But was very happy when the title was revealed because the play, as might be surmised by the cross-section of time periods represented by the women, would allow me the opportunity to explore artistic light sculpting in melding reality with surreality. But as I said before, the learning curve was steep. My only other lighting design experience had been in a community theatre with limited resources. Furthermore, I was more the master electrician than even the assistant lighting designer. Though I knew the theory of lighting design on paper, actually having what was on paper made manifest was a bit overwhelming.
Furthermore, my poor master electrician was in a motorcycle accident (he's okay!) in the midst of hang. Fortunately I had some amazing people step in to take his place, but their time commitment could not be as much as a true master electrician. But this also meant that I had more time sitting at the Ion Board learning how to program the lights, which included DMX scrollers, DMX Irises, I-cues, and LEDs. The tech process was slow and arduous, but eventually I got the hang of it and I'm pretty happy with the result.
Despite that, looking back on the process I truly understand an aspect of the gender divide in theatre having worked in the land of lighting for the first time. Despite the fact that the art of lighting design as we know it today was developed in large part by the mother of lighting design, Jean Rosenthal, the field is dominated by men. At UNCG, where we are an equal opportunity educational institution, Electrics (as we call the area dealing with sound and lights) is still the boys club. On more than one occasion I was the only woman in the theatre during the hang and focus of my lighting design. And because I was at a severe disadvantage in the field due to my lack of knowledge, the gender differences became obvious and frustrating.
The reason I mention this is because it is ironic that I faced the most glaring gender division while working on a play that many consider to be a vital part of the third wave feminist canon. My own determination to push through gender barriers was magnified by my need to bring a feminine voice to this production (directed and scenically designed by two men). Unfortunately, my desire to highlight certain parts of the story that I thought were important as a woman had to cow-tow to the desires of the director. (The student-faculty dynamic also playing a role.) So, instead of doing obvious shifts in the lights to underscore poignant moments and speeches, I focused on subtle shifts that focused the audience's attention where it was needed most, all under the radar of the director and other faculty in the room. And I went home the night of opening happy with what I'd done, and pretty damn impressed with how well I managed to master a new lighting board, DMX equipment, and create an aesthetically pleasing design. My own satisfaction reward enough. And then the director called (with a change he wanted for the end of Act I) and thanked me for the work I did, including the subtle shifts he'd not had time to take in until opening. At which point I realized that sometimes working under the radar is just as affective as working above it.
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