Good Theatre & Teaching Philosophy All Rolled Into One

I wrote this recently and while it is a little less polished than it should be, I had a lot of revelations about my thoughts on theatre and teaching theatre that I think are important to share.

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As a working theatre artist, my philosophy on teaching is deeply intertwined with my philosophy about theatre as an institution. Thus, let me quickly outline my thoughts on what makes good theatre.

First, good theatre is truly collaborative. By this I mean it is more than a few artists coming together to make one artistic piece. True theatrical collaboration is about a few artists coming together to influence each other’s work and input in creating one cohesive artistic piece. In order to do this, a scenic designer must not only welcome suggestions from the lighting designer about, say, what material is used to build the set in order to facilitate an interesting look scenically and through light, but also know enough to suggest specific alternative footwear to the costume designer if the deck poses trouble for an actor who is supposed to appear barefoot. Furthermore, I believe truly collaborative theatre allows the designers to work alongside, rather than subordinately, with the director so that all ideas can and will be considered.

Second, good theatre is more than the final product and the bottom line. While it is important to create a product that will garner recognition enough to get the proverbial “bums in seats,” theatre cannot be an example of “the ends justify the means.” Theatre is an art form that has allowed countless playwrights, directors, designers, actors, and audience members explore society from new and engaging ways. When we answer “Why are we doing this show?” with answers like “It is a crowd-pleaser” or “It will make money” we are not doing the art justice. As theatre artists we must engage with the production from start to finish, finding the important reasons to tell any story, from Oklahoma! to Orpheus Descending, from The Cherry Orchard to The Little Mermaid. Furthermore, theatre is a living, breathing art-form. It changes in the design, rehearsal, and performance process because of the many different people—including the audience—that are a part of making it happen. Good theatre and good theatre-artists recognize that not only are the public performances important, but also the journey from conceptualization to realization.

Lastly, good theatre is vital to our society. Sadly, theatre’s popularity is rapidly dwindling in the face of the instant, often-free media offered up by our ever-wired life in the twenty-first century. Too often theatres face concerns over the rising age of their dwindling audiences. Nevertheless, as theatre artists we know that theatre is important. Why else would we be in the business? But, more than that, good theatre is important. As hinted above, it is easy to look at theatre as merely a money-making operation and pander to many audience’s desires to be transported from their mundane lives by special effects and happy endings. While there are some truly remarkable plays and productions that do happen to have those elements, more often than not, much of that theatre is Peter Brook’s definition of deadly theatre. Historically accurate, devoid-of-life productions of Shakespeare for the Canon’s sake. Ridiculous farces that make the audience laugh but leave them with hardly a new thought in their head about life. But good theatre, vital theatre, is more often the spark that reignites the people’s passion for our art. Productions of August: Osage County, Ruined, Next to Normal, Spring Awakening, Rent, The Lion King, to name a few, all brought audiences back to the theatre through gripping stories or amazing theatrical magic (or both). And all of those productions of good theatre proved to artists and audiences alike that good theatre is a vital, unmatched way of dissecting and understanding our world. Only through this live, collaborative art form can the audience commune in real-time with living, breathing, nearby people on and off stage. Through these types of productions theatre becomes, even for an instant, important again.

Now, how does this translate into my teaching philosophy? Do I envision myself using my role as teacher and mentor to grandstand about these points on theatre? No. My passion to be an artist who makes and takes part in good theatre drives me to be an inspiring and demanding teacher of theatre. I want to give my students the tools to define good theatre for themselves and know how they can contribute to that theatre if they choose to pursue it as a career.

Theatre as a collaborative art form is most directly applicable to my work as a teacher. While I was more than content to work solo on projects during my time as a student, group work and discussions allowed me to grow the most as a critical thinker and artist. As a teacher I translate my desire to bounce ideas off of people into encouragement of a collaborative way of learning and, thus, creating art. As a design professor I envision projects that mimic the collaborative process of designing with 2 (or more) other designers and even a director. This teaches students about the process of designing, and encourages a growth in communication and public-speaking skills. It also can create the space for students to learn about very important traits as a collaborative artist: humility and compromise. Undergraduate theatre students often have the most exciting ideas about art (because they don’t know what is “impossible” yet) but also have the most challenges either overcoming or building up their egos. A good theatre teacher will nurture the exciting possibilities that the untested artist brings to the table while identifying which students need to learn how to step back and those that need encouragement to step forward in sharing ideas about a given project.

My second assertion that theatre is more than the final product and the bottom line is more in line with my philosophy on (theatre) education as a whole. It speaks to the question of what is more important, the process or the product. Many of the educational institutions I have had contact with have struggled with this concept. It is easy to say on paper that the theatre department is committed to the process of putting on a show, but, when push comes to shove, the product takes precedence over the process because of ticket sales or institutional oversight. I firmly believe that my role as a theatre teacher and mentor is to highlight the process as a learning opportunity for the student as student and as artist. In her book The Creative Habit, Twyla Tharp asserts that the best productions for her have been critical failures because she learned the most from them as an artist. Through critical evaluation of the artistic work during and after the process, I wish to instill in young artists critical thinking both for their own, their peers’, and their mentors’ work. As well as encourage them to see that the act of making art is as vital as the final artistic product.

Furthermore, as a woman in a male-dominated area of theatre with an underprivileged childhood, I personally have struggled to define what the process of design is for me. As a teacher I not only expose my students to the traditional design process as discussed by the forefathers of design (Robert Edmund Jones, Adolph Appia, Lee Simonson), but also encourage students to define their own process based on how they artistically interpret and experience space. During my time at UNCG I was fortunate enough to read and discuss new design pedagogy, including that of veteran theatre professor Richard Isaacks of UT Austin. He has challenged the script as the sole jumping off point for design, instead creating exercises that force students to create the visual narrative and then apply it to the written word. As an artist I’ve challenged myself to break out of the process in this way with great and eye-opening results. As a teacher I aim to challenge my students to approach design from every angle and to question not only what they are choosing but why they are choosing it to represent the world of the play. This ties directly into my paper on the intersection of feminist theory and the design process, which is less about a gendered approach to design but more about the individual’s response and synthesis of their world into the picture created for the stage and what role that plays in creating meaning for the actors and the audience.

Finally, as a student of theatre for seven years I was painfully aware of the professors that no longer cared about our art. I worked with professors who had been in academic theatre for so long that they were out of touch with the current trends in theatre and only viewed the art form through an academic lens. While academic theatre can be vital, it is often too bounded by curriculum and community desires to challenge its audiences and artists. As a theatre teacher I believe it is important to continue to work professionally. This not only allows me to continue to grow as an artist, but keeps me up to date with artistic and thematic trends that my students will face as they pursue a career in theatre. I aim to mentor them on their theatre, not merely my own.

Sew, This is What You Have To Do

My apologies for the silly pun in the title, but how could I help it? What is this blog entry about: sewing. Specifically, the importance of being able to sew if you are a scenic designer/painter/carpenter/prop master. Yes, seriously, even if you have a penis.

So I learned to sew from my mom when I was young. She actually sewed me clothes and costumes and barbie outfits. Yep, my mom is pretty awesome. This is her the spring after I was born (it's the most readily available picture I have of her and I like it):

I never really thought much of sewing until I got to college where I had to sit through the "costume" portion of stage crafts. Basically, we sewed on some closures (button, hook and eye, skirt hook, etc) and learned to use the sewing machines and serger. I was pretty proud of my ease with all that, and low-and-behold, after successfully completing Intro to Stagecrafts, I got a job in the costume shop. And my knowledge of basic sewing blossomed into the awesome power to whip stitch, cut patterns, and be awesome. Yeah, that's right, working in the costume shop makes you awesome. (I apparently like the word awesome tonight.)

Even when I transitioned into the scene shop at Grinnell, I kept working in the costume shop because I was a work study student and I wanted to work anywhere but the dining hall. This lead to an tell-tale event my junior year. I was assigned to assist a visiting scenic designer. I had not met him until the first production meeting, which was at 4:30pm on some weekday, after my weekly shift in the costume shop. Before the meeting, I was happily hand-sewing a strip of fabric to the inside of a kimono collar. I had about 5 inches to go and the meeting was just down the hall from the costume shop, so I figured why not take the project with me and finish sewing while all the grown ups talked about the show. During the introductions, the scenic designer shook my hand and said, "I see that you can sew." He had a bit of a glint in his eye, and the next day I found out that my primary job as his assistant would be to hand sew the tatami mats (we were doing a Japanese play, can you tell?). I never set foot into the theatre during the entire process because he kept sending me down to the costume shop to sew props. I am still a little bitter about it, mostly because it was my first assist on a scenic design and I really didn't do much scenically.

However, since then I have put my sewing skills to great use in a non-costume way. From building a crazy quilt for a production of Intimate Apparel:

To sewing 6 32'x5' lenghts of white polyester together to create "Antarctica" for Angels in America:

To repairing a scrim after an actor rammed a piece of scenery right into it during a performace.

But other than being able to put my sewing skills to good use, my knowledge of sewing and fabric and even costume construction means that I can make better decisions as a scenic designer. For instance, when I came up with the idea for Pericles last year, I was drawing upon my experience with the variety of fabrics I had worked with in creating dresses and flowing costumes. I could articulate how the design of fabric panels spoke to the costume designer's ideas about Diana's costume. Overall, I would not have felt so confortable including such a dramatic design element without the knowledge that my years of sewing for pleasure and theatre had taught me.

This is all to say that, be you male or female, learn to sew! And stop complaining about it. Right now I am working at a theatre where I am a team of two in the scene shop. So when I designed a creepy tree branch border/leg combo, it's on me to make that happen. No problem! And, it hasn't been. I went and picked up the fabric and sewed the two pieces together, and tomorrow I will cut the branches out and attach some bird netting as a cheaper stand in for scenic netting. Yeah. All because my mom taught me how to sew a button when I was five. Thanks mom!

Mermaid's Horatio and Such

I am fired. So unbelievably fired. My only excuse for not having written since my last post is that I'm just tired and worn out and there are things I want to talk about but cannot in a public forum. One day, promise, but for now, things are better left unsaid.

So, what have I been up to? Well, The Cherry Orchard is over and done with and I'm trying to get CTC's The Little Mermaid ready to open on Monday. OMG, on Monday. And then I have a week to do all the stuff for CTC's The Legend of Sleepy Hollow... oy vey. Things for Mermaid have been going well. I carved a statue for the show. Yes, see the pictures below of Horatio in progress:

Step One, Draw him out on pink foam.

Step two, Cut out his basic form.

Step Three, Start to carve on the Z-axis... and freak out a bit.

Step Five, Continue to carve and question what you're doing.

Step, um, nine? Chisel his face with a hot knife and make him look weird... Are those Mick Jager's lips?

Look! He's done! And still slightly pink. But you can see how he turned out. :) These two lovely friends of his are Brendan North as the Prince and Sarah Thermond as The Little Mermaid.

Here is a picture of part of the set:

Overall, I'm pretty happy with the show. The crunch of time and energy has been trying, but that's what theatre is all about. And, damn, designing for a touring show is hard. :( But I suppose I will get the hang of it. I hope so, because otherwise the rest of the season at CTC is going to feel like a constant up hill battle. And, for reasons best unsaid, I'm very done with uphill battles in theatre.

I just want to work in this business I love, creating amazing art in a collaborative way, and with people that are generous and awesome. Sure, things go wrong; we're only human. But let's not stab each other in the back. Okay? Thanks. More blog updates soon. Maybe even something of substance... I'm working on it. ;)

Work Where You Live & Live Where You Work

Okay, The Cherry Orchard opened on Friday and I have finally been able to stop driving to and from Martinez. The one thing I realized during this process is that commuting to and from theatre is not fun, especially when you are the only crew and you are holding down another job.

This was my commute

View Larger Map

It takes 1 hour 14 minutes according to Google, but really, it's an hour. But when you add in traffic... one day it took me almost 2.5 hours to get there. And on the way home I had to stop at a sketchy gas station, at midnight, to get gas because I wasn't sure I would make it home otherwise. Not cool.

So, while it might seem great to get a professional gig and some extra money, I think when I factor in what I spent on gas and the amount of years shaved off my life from the stress, was it worth it? Probably not. And despite realizing this during the project, I had made a commitment to the show and what's done is done. So I put in my all, or as much of my all as I could spare as I got back to work at CTC and chalked it up to a lesson learned.

Next up: CTC's The Little Mermaid. I have had some trouble wrapping my head around making a touring set, but I'm going to make it happen. And it will be great! Pictures to come after final approval tomorrow.

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For those of you who may not have seen them on Facebook: Some photos from my phone of The Cherry Orchard & process for the cyc:

Raw Materials for the cyc.

One garland done.

Many garlands hanging in my window.

First part of the install... I did not have enough, even with the store-bought ones added in.

Not quite done, but you can see where it was going.

Pretty much done, though there was still work to finesse some stuff.

Making Prop Money

Okay, one of my biggest pet peeves as a designer and as an audience member is prop money. I don't know if it is because it's just left to the last minute or proppers assume that the 30 foot rule will absolve them of all sins, but too many times I see prop money the wrong size, the wrong color, the wrong everything. And, yes, I'm likely a bit pickier than your average audience member, but you could have a numismatist sitting in the audience. (Yes, go look it up.)

The first thing to consider when setting out to make realistic prop bills is color and size. I find that the worst prop money I've seen on stage is often the wrong color, even American Bills have a specific kind of green. And European bills, while not always a known entity to your audience, have a certain look (often more colorful) and are bigger than we're used to (well, unless it is the Euro, then it's pretty much the same size).

The reason I am thinking about this is that I just finished a bundle of rubles for The Cherry Orchard and had to go in search of some images that would work for turn of the century Russian money. But Google-searching for an image of a Russian Ruble is not as easy as so many of my generation seem to think it is. As is with any image you want to print rather than see on your screen, you must must must pay attention to the size and resolution of the image. How many times have you taken a picture off the internet that seems big enough, only to print it out and it be the size of a postage stamp. Or all pixelated and ugly. That, my friends, is because of the resolution of the image. So, here are a few things to know and do when making prop money:

1. Get a hold of the real thing. Yes, if you can scan a real bill, you are in luck. Scan it with a high resolution (pixels per inch). At least 150 dpi, but if you can, go up to 300 dpi. This is the magic number that graphic designers for print like because it gives them enough pixels per inch to resize, but isn't so big that the computer freaks out about the file size.

2. If you don't have the actual bill, by all means, do an image search. But PAY ATTENTION TO THE SIZE of the image. Do this: Google image search "Russian Ruble." You will probably get this picture as your first result:



When you moused over it, more info should have popped up that told you what size the source image is. In this case "700 x 303" . That means that the image is 700 pixels by 303 pixels. Sounds pretty good (and if you follow the link and then right click "show image in new screen" you can see that it is a pretty good-sized image.) But, you are not out of the woods yet. If you copy the image into a photo-editing program, like Photoshop, you will have even more info to determine whether this image is worthwhile.

3. Once you save the image (right click>save as) open it in Photoshop. Go to Edit>Image size. Look at the info that is there. There will be a place where it tells you the resolution, at the bottom of the dialogue box.



The number in that box tells you how clear and crisp your picture will be when you print it. (Okay, little known fact to non-computer geeks and graphics people of the web: your computer monitor of non high-def fame will display beautiful, crisp images with a DPI as small as 72. And the lower your DPI, the smaller your file. So most web people [and programs that compress images for people who don't know what they are doing] save their images to be published on the web at 72 DPI. Do not let the pixels on the screen fool you.) Okay, so you now know that this image has a 72 DPI... is all lost? Not necessarily.

4. The next thing you need to worry about is the printable dimensions of your money. Look at the size of the image, which is just above your DPI in inches and a little further above in pixels.



Now, you need to know or decide what size your bills need to actually be. Because if your bills need to be 9" x 4", then you're going to have super pixelated bills on stage. But if you're making these for a performance where the nearest audience member is thirty feet away, that might be okay. However, if you want an image for your bill that isn't going to look like a weird Magic Eye puzzle, then you need to find a better image.

5. So, google images has come a long way in the last few years and now it allows you to sort through images by size as well as relevance. So if you go back to your original google image search of "Russian Ruble" you'll see on the left side options to choose size. Obviously, click on "Large" rather than "Any size" because Bigger is Better! In this case, I'm going to talk about the fourth image result:



Because it has a very important element that you may not have thought about when planning to make your prop money: The back of the bill. Yes, money is two sided. And yes, you should strive to have the matching artwork for the same bill on both sides of your prop bill. Obviously, you are not always so lucky, so you can fake it with two different bill images and some time spent in Photoshop, but let's assume you get as lucky as I did and get a large enough digital image of both sides of your bill. Hooray!

6. So, download it and open it in your image software and look at your image size. What do you see?




Yep, that's right, the resolution is 72 DPI. But what else do you see? The dimension of the image is 12"x12". I don't know about you, but a 12" long bill seems a little beyond the large scale of European bills. For whatever reason, when this image was created, it was compressed to 72 DPI, but the image dimensions blew up. This means if you printed it out on your printer, it would be bigger than sheet of paper but be pixelated. And this will work in your favor.

6. You can change the resolution of an image like this (where the actual dimensions are much larger than the dimensions you need but the resolution is too low). Do that. Type in 300 into the resolution box instead of 72. You'll notice that the pixel size changed (because you've told the computer that per square inch, you want to have 300 pixels, not 72... this is not hard math). But before you close the box, you also have to change your width dimension. In this case, I changed it to 7" because I feel like that will give me the right size bill (give or take some centimeters). Note: you only have to change either the height or the width dimension because Photoshop assumes that you want to proportionately scale your image, and so it links them and changes them as you like.



7. Okay, now that you've done this, you're ready to crop your images so that you will have two different documents, one with the front of your bill and one with the back. If you don't know how to do this, get Photoshop for Dummies. And now, all you have to do is create two identical-sized images in, one of the back and one of the front, that you can print back to back on a piece of paper. When you cut apart these two sides of the bill you can actually print two bills per page, so I ended up stacking my fronts and backs:



(PS. I changed the DPI for this image to 72 because otherwise it would have taken an hour to upload. So, don't try to cheat and use it.)

8. With two images, one front and one back, you just have to do one simple thing: print one side of the image in photo shop (don't worry about resizing the image or canvas to match your paper size because Photoshop is cool and will automatically center your image, and you want it to do that because when you print on the other side of the paper, your back image will be automatically centered). Once you print the first side, flip over, rotate, whatever it is you need to do with your printer to print on the backside so you get a double sided piece of prop money which, once you cut away the paper border, looks awesome.

A few final thoughts:

REPLACE YOUR INK CARTRIDGES! I worked on a production once where the American dollar bill used to create the bills on stage was printed with a printer that was running out of color ink. The bills looked teal. Check your colors, please. Especially when you're trying to duplicate American Money.

NULL AND VOID THE BILL! You can see on the example image I used it has a big ol' stamp that says "Speciman" and the web address of the company I pulled it from. The company that uploaded it did that so no one could try to counterfeit with it. If you come across an image (or you scan your own bill) that does not have a watermark on it, put something on it that, when the Feds look closely at your fake bills, won't lead anyone to think you were trying to get rich quick with your Canon printer and Google image search. I knew one prop designer who changed the blurb about the American bill being legal tender into a statement that said the "bill" was intended for theatrical use only. DO THIS! It saves your butt! Especially with American currency.




AGE YOUR MONEY! Have a big party while you're watching TV where you crumple up ever last bill that you've cut down and then uncrumpled them (unless you need crumpled bills) because, trust me, unless you have to have crisp bank bills (and I hope you don't because those are really hard to replicate) your crumpled and then uncrumpled bill will look so much more realistic (and it breaks down the paper you printed it on because, well, printer paper and the paper they print money on is different. Go figure.).




USE PARCHMENT PAPER! Go to the office supply store, go to the resume and nice paper section, buy a box of parchment paper. Trust me. The base paper of any bill around the world is not 92bright copy paper. It is usually fiber based and off-white. Save yourself the tea-staining headache and start with an off-white paper that already has some texture to it. Trust me.

Any questions? Let me know and I'd be happy to help.

The Blossom Cyc or Reality vs. The Dream

Okay, so I haven't updated for a while not because I've been putting it off but because I've been hunched over a sewing machine making paper flower garlands for The Cherry Orchard. This past weekend I had made enough (9) in order to determine what I thought I would need in order to complete a 20' curtain. By my estimation: 125 garlands total. And I have been completing about 3-7 a day. Yeah, you do the math and say what I said: Ummmm, what was I thinking?

So, the reality of the situation is while I'd like to make an entire 20' curtain made up of my garlands:



I have to supplement what I've done with something prefabricated. I think I've found some options, though the colors are wrong wrong wrong. And with all this paper I fear that the set is going to burst into flames... But whatever.

Then today I came across a blog post about a flower curtain which is a far more remarkable version of what I envisioned, but still awesome:


No Betweens, 1996, sculpture | silk, cotton, polyester, and thread, by Jim Hodges

Source: http://www.sfmoma.org/explore/collection/artwork/20917##ixzz1XPwk0R23
San Francisco Museum of Modern Art


And it is at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art!

Anyway, what this all boils down to is that, while I wish I had more time and more labor and more money in order to create this curtain of flowers like this image (and maybe it is a good thing I didn't see this image until after I'd started in this vein), it's the sad truth about theatre that the artistic vision is often watered down due to the lack of those things. Nevertheless, I have faith that my design for The Cherry Orchard will rock socks, if and when it gets built. :)

Procrastination

Okay, if Josy is reading this, I promise I'm doing work.

No, seriously, I've been putting off Cherry Orchard stuff like I just don't have a deadline. For the record, I do have a deadline and it is Monday afternoon when I drive to Antioch for the first read through.

This is pretty par for the course for me. At UNCG I put off doing work until the last minute too. It was this weird desire to feel rushed and stressed in order to get stuff done that I think grew out of my busy, hectic life in high school and, especially, Grinnell.

And now that I have nothing else to do but this design, I am sitting on my hands and dragging my feet. (And watching lots of stupid TV on-Demand.) One of these days I have a feeling that this is going to bite me in the butt. Fortunately there isn't much more that has to be done with the design. The prelim drawing was approved, I just need to get a floor plan together and working drawings from which to build. And since there are only 4 set pieces, which are all identical, I think that will be pretty easy.

In the meantime, does anyone have any thoughts on putting a chandelier on a traveler?

A Blossom Cyc?

Hello! Two posts in one week! It's because I have been busy busy busy trying to make headway on this design for The Cherry Orchard. Keep in mind, it's hard to be that bus or productive (or excited) when I only have one floor plan out of two for the spaces the show is performing in. And no sections. And no idea what space #1 looks like (that's right, I have no idea what the first space the show is performing in looks like... wah-wah).

BUT! I have done some sketches. Based off of this research image of a Victorian sun room:



I like it because it's open and airy and has an linear quality that evokes the idea that the house is made of those taut strings that snap at the end of Act II.
And so I rough-sketched this:



And, though you may not be able to see it, have been toying with the idea of a cyc (that's short for cyclorama) that is composed of "cherry blossoms."

I've since sent my sketches and thoughts off to the director, and now I wait. Fortunately I have a walk through scheduled at theatre #1 on Tuesday, so that will also answer a lot of questions, and potentially dash some of my hopes and dreams. So woo?

In other news, I'm also updating my website with my big paint show for CTC. And just realized I never got photos up for Orpheus Descending. Must go remedy that now. Or after lunch. :)

The Horse and the Cherry Tree

In many things, once you fall off the horse, it is hard to get back on. You beat yourself up for faltering, you feel embarrassed that you didn't get back up sooner, etc. That's how I feel about this blog. What started as a creative outlet for writing during the spring semester of my second year at grad school has turned into something I dread sitting down to write. In part because I'm embarrassed that I have been away so long, and because all I can think about are things to complain about.

Well, it's time to "Suck it up, Buttercup" as my friends at CTC are want to say. Okay.

So, what have I been up to lately? A whole lot of not much. CTC is on summer hiatus Aug 3 to Sept 16th. So for 6 weeks I am left to my own devices and unemployment. I did manage to snag a job at Hapgood Theatre in Martinez/Antioch, about 1.5 hours north of here. It's a bit of a stretch, but it's for The Cherry Orchard and after my design for The Seagull a couple of years ago, I was more than happy to make arrangements to make it happen. It will be a bit of juggling because the show opens a week after I'm back at CTC. But I'm a masterful organizer, so I'm going to make it happen and not let either theatre company down.

This also means that I'm racking my brains for ideas for the show. The time period is staying the same, but the directer wants to strip it down. (She really liked my design for The Seagull.) I have the added bonus of having to move the piece from the theatre in Martinez to a theatre in Antioch... so it can't be anything too big or complicated. I've got some great ideas swirling in my brain, but my big thing right now is trying to get up there to see the spaces in question. [Update: Not happening until next week... we're going to start drawing tomorrow w/ no idea whatsoever about the spaces. Check!]

So, my ideas about The Cherry Orchard include focusing on windows, and the way that they denote looking in and out. And the fact that they can indicate an interior/house/exterior without being very heavy visually or in real life (remember, changeover). For me, The Cherry Orchard's surrealist feeling is epitomized in the sound of string breaking that happens in Act II. I want to know if I can include that in the design. Perhaps there are intentional strings hanging the windows in place and indicating the wall expanse that they are floating in. Perhaps there is a sense of the trees, or the linear qualities of the trees, indicated by taut rope. I'm not sure. The one thing I am sure of, which is both good and kind of saddening, is that Chekov didn't set any of the scenes in the cherry orchard. So, while it feels like the orchard should somehow be visible, the fact that Chekov doesn't show it to the audience is significant. This is because the orchard only exists as each character describes it. And it means something different to each one. It represents hope and longing and the past and the future (once it is torn down) differently to each character. So if I tried to visualize the orchard, I would be taking away the ephemera that it represents. Thus, no cherry orchard in The Cherry Orchard. At least not directly.

Like I said, sketching will begin in earnest tomorrow. I've got lots of research images. But I will leave you with one that is both research and inspirational:

Life Thus Far

With no one holding me accountable to updating this blog, I have failed. That and life is busy and rather depressing right now.

The Intermediate/Advanced conservatory has begun. This means we're working with 11+ y.o. It's both great and frustrating, all at the same time. Some of the kids are interested, engaged and superbly well behaved. Many are still a little immature. But what gets me is the short timeline to create things. We go into tech for the Advanced shows on Friday and we have yet to erect the set on the main stage. This worries me immensely. But John and I are pretty much our own crew of 2 for 6 shows. And have to teach and visit Core Conservatory sites on a regular basis... just not sure how things are supposed to get done.

I'm just grateful that I came up with a design that does not involve a lot of shifting between shows. There is a rep set of platforms that is not going to move. We're just going to be dealing with things hanging in the air that have to come down and change out. Phew.

In related news, I've been soul-searching a bit about whether design is really my chosen path. I enjoy it, don't get me wrong, but having to do all the grunt labor for it: building/painting/propping is frustrating. I feel like some kind of lazy humbug when I admit this to myself, but I really would like to have a less physically demanding job. And I'd like to wear non paint-clothes on a more regular basis. Is that too much to ask?

Okay, off to work today. I leave you with a photo of the drop design for Los Altos 2 for a show called "Romeo and Winnifred."

These Are a Few of My _______ Things

It's Sunday, a week after my last blog, and I'm updating! Whoa.

This week I will touch on some stuff because I actually have to leave for tech in 1.5 hours as well as call my mom and get ready, so this will be more listy than usual.

1. This week I "designed" a backdrop for the first Summer Conservatory here at CTC. I did this by taking all of the ideas drawn and colored by the kids and mashing them together into something coherent based on the two director's opinions. It was fabulous! All my creative input was layout (which I actually enjoy) and some toy ideas, but the majority of what made it was the kids' drawings. Including an awesomely spiky, lime green dinosaur. (I will get a picture, promise). Then, after drawing out the final design on 18'x24' piece of paper (finally getting some use of of my huge sketch pad from Grinnell) I went to the site and drew it on 4 king-sized sheets sewn together.

Again, it was freeing. I can be so anal about drawing, but when you're outside in 80+ heat, in the noonday sun, on a blacktop w/ no shade, drawing w/ a permanent marker, you just accept the lines you draw. And it turned out great. I cannot wait to see how the kids paint it. :)

2. Tech! Is today, as I mentioned. Tomorrow is my day off. Seem strange? Yes, it is. While I do not mind coming in tomorrow to work if I need to (this is the first time the designer has seen any of the set), I also don't know if I get a day off instead. I really wish I had control over my own schedule. It would make me feel better about the hours I put in and more likely to work more, actually.

3. I applied to some jobs yesterday, and sent out feeler resumes for the 1.5 month that I have off at the end of summer. While I would like to be employed, it isn't life or death since CT will be bringing in money and I am planning to put as much away as I can to cover that open gap of income. So it was nice to send out resumes and not freak out about all the details. If they like me, great. If not, oh well. I do kind of hope that I can wrangle a job somewhere to start getting my name out there in the Bay Area. We'll see.

I think that may be it for this week. Next week starts 2 more Conservatories--so 2 more drops!--and Black Coffee opens on Friday. Followed by my own Intermediate/Advanced Conservatory teaching experience. I am definitely enjoying myself this summer. Perhaps I am more cut out to teach younger kids than college students. :P

The Business of Theatre

I make no claims that I am business-minded in any way. However, having worked at a fair number of theatre companies, from professional to opera to regional to community, I have learned a lot of what not to do. And, as might be expected, what I would do differently if I were heading up the theatre, or, for that matter, my own theatre.

Yesterday, CT and I had a very long conversation about theatre as a business. I've said before that many theatre practitioners do not view theatre as business; they view it as art. The problem is, if you're taking in money for a product, then you've got a business on your hands. And while most theatre companies do not have "make money" as part of their mission statement, it's a necessary goal in order to achieve whatever the mission statement is.

Along with thinking of theatre as business in relationship to your customers (aka audience members), is thinking about how to run the most effective business for your employees. I've worked at some really spectacular, morale-boosting theatres and some soul-crushing theatres (all of which will go unnamed so no one feels called out one way or another). And I know that I've done better work as an artist and wanted to bring more people into the theatre as a spokesperson at the former. But when, as an artist, you are working under crappy circumstances, you wonder, why am I doing this? Do I really want to sacrifice having a comfortable bank account for this? It's not a good thing. And I think, if there is any reason I would want to start a theatre company, it would be as much about having an artistic vision that I believe in, as it would be having a group of artists feel taken care of and happy in choosing a profession that burns you out with little financial reward to show for it.

This is all to say that, more so than ever, both because I'm done with school and was charged by many faculty members (not personally) to go out and start my own theatre, and because I am tired of being taken advantage of (I am more a rug than anything else sometimes) that I am, more than before, seriously considering starting my own theatre. I think it helps that CT seems to have a head for business ;), if I could convince him to take that financial plunge with me. Meanwhile, any of my awesome colleagues and peers want to join me?

Rhythm, Rhyme, Reason

Okay, so I have been trying to find a schedule that will allow me to post more. Ha ha. We are in the midst of the Summer Repertory at CTC and just opened Around the World in 80 Days last Friday and will open A Servant of Two Masters this Friday... so yes, schedule sh-medule. But, hey, we now have a chair! Which makes sitting down to write easier.

Well, the things that I have been thinking about to write about are the following:

1. Weekly schedules are not the best, but can be dealt with. However, getting the calendar less than 24 hours in advance of the beginning of that week makes it difficult to deal with. :( And not having a full day off, super :( .

2. The reason it is nice to have a paint/design assistant is not really to have someone fetch your coffee or do the grunt work, it's nice to have the company. Last night I had to stay to line the stage (AGAIN!) and was by myself. It was very lonely. Especially in a mostly dark theatre (because I didn't want to have to go to the booth to turn off the lights). I kept thinking about my awesome assistants in the past and how much I miss them for their help and company (and input).

3. Being a scenic painter for someone else is hard. I already knew that, but this summer really hit that home with me, in part because the designer is only around a few times a week. So I have to make decisions (without complete renderings) so I can continue and move on, hoping that when the designer is around, I didn't waste my time. I vow to be a more available designer, or, barring that, have complete renderings available.

4. Children's theatre is interesting. I have more to say about this, but I need to get my head around the best way to talk about the importance of the genre compared to the stigma and quality often associated with it. So more on this later.

On that note, it's my first full day off in 14 days. Time to go get my oil changed and go grocery shopping. Woot. Such a life.

PS. CT is employed!!

CTC's publicity photo for Around the World in 80 Days:

California Theatre Center

I have been remiss in writing in my blog. Right now I am steeling my nerves to get going on the day so I figured I could update quickly.

CTC's theatre is small but functions. It does not have a real fly space, which makes me very sad, but I suppose with touring shows, that doesn't make much difference. The company rents from the city of Sunnyvale, so there are all kinds of rules and regulations to follow including not being able to build on stage (though I suspect that has more to do with rehearsal time/space), which makes the small, postage-sized shop get crowded very quickly.

The one thing I know for sure is that it gets tough to come into a situation in the middle of things. As the official summer scene painter, it is frustrating to find that paint for shows opening this morning was not labeled as such. And there isn't a stock of basic colors. And things are a mess. But I'm getting a handle on that (organized a lot yesterday while also doing paint touch ups the best way I could with mystery paint). I also mixed a lot of color and am ready to jump in and paint columns and arches a lovely speckled sandstone.

Hopefully by Friday I will be more on top of the show we load in on Sunday.

Okay, probably should get going then, huh? More soon.

California or bust

Today we leave. Today my world changes and shifts. Today I feel like I jump off a cliff.

Moving is scary, stressful, and expensive. But I am excited. And I am so glad to be doing this with CT. Despite all the stress and arguments and questions. Yep, I am one lucky girl.

First stop, Jackson, TN. Stay tuned.

Kindness and Generosity

The best part of moving: having to clear out your pantry. This means you can justify eating pancakes for lunch. :)
The worst part(s): too numerous to count.

Though my silly eating habits may seem interesting, what I did want to write about is how awesome people are. A while ago I posted on Facebook that I was accepting donations for my "Sunnyfund" and in return people would get some framed art. And I got some donations! As well as family who have offered money with no expectations at all because they want to make this move the best it can be. I am so extremely blessed.

And what this got me thinking was how much I cannot wait to be employed and able to help other people out. I've donated to a few charities when I've had some extra money (especially when I came into money that was purely gifts, like scholarships/refunds). But I've had to turn a blind eye to some of my family's troubles in the recent past and that sucks.

My family hasn't always had a lot, but one thing that I will never forget is how amazingly generous they all are. Seriously. When I broke up with S., my grandmother sent me $300 to help me get through the winter with the sudden shock to my finances. And now my mom and her person, Bob, are sending me a little money for gas. It's nice to be surrounded by people that will share their last dollar with you. I look forward to being able to do that someday.

Okay, back to to the pancakes.

The Real World

Okay, most of you already know this, but in three weeks I'm moving to California. And in 4 weeks I start my job at California Theater Center as their Set/Prop Designer & Painter. For reals, I have a job. I will have an MFA and I will have a job. And I also have an apartment. In California. Sunnyvale, California.

Do you know what else I have: CT Hall. It's weird to think that a little less than 2 years ago I broke up with "The One." I was devastated about being alone, but I embraced all the exciting possibilities I felt I had, being untethered to someone. One of those exciting possibilities was getting to date people! And then, 8 months ago, I had coffee with the last guy I was planning on having coffee with, not because I felt that sure of his awesomeness, but because classes were starting up again and I knew dating was going to have to take a backseat to my last year in grad school.

Little did I know that the man sitting across from me would be the last person I "had coffee with" because he would be "The New One."

CT and I have come a long way in the last 8 months. And this update isn't about being super gushy about him, but I do want to give credit where credit is due. His dedication to making our relationship work and his excitement about all of the possibilities that lay before us (remember that part of the break up before?) has helped cement in my mind why we are still together. And, as far as I can tell, I probably wouldn't have take the CTC job so easily and light-heartedly if I didn't know I'd have such a wonderful person by my side.

Now, you may be wondering, like me, whether I am just incapable of being alone since I am talking about my love for CT via my need for a companion. And while I will not lie and say that that hasn't cross my mind, I honestly believe that people come in and out of our lives for a reason. In many ways, I would not have made it to graduate school if I hadn't been at the point I was with S, believing him to be by my side on that harrowing journey. And it was fortunate that we didn't break up until I was entrenched in my second year, or I may not have stuck out the rest of the program. This is not to say that CT is merely my pillar of strength to get me through this big move. This is just an example of how much better we can be together. (That's the universal "we.")

I expect that over the next few weeks I will be posting a lot about my fears and stresses over the move, but I wanted to start by talking about the sanity that CT brings to my life. Poor guy has been dealing with some very strong personalities in my family this weekend, and has been nearly a saint (but he is human, as am I, and I don't blame him for that).

Consider this a preface to the next chapter in my artistic life. I won't gush too much more about CT (really, what you will get will be merely what has to be said), but know that behind every entry is this person, who holds my hand and massages my neck and reminds me how very fortunate I am.



At Wrightsville Beach, NC

Paula Vogel on Darwinian Theatre and Love Letters

This evening I had the opportunity to listen to Paula Vogel in a question and answer setting at UNCG. Like Tony Kushner last year, my head feels like it is about to explode. In a good way.

Professor Vogel said a lot of really amazing things, much of which I am still trying to process. But one thing she mentioned was the importance of theatre pedagogy that does not insist that there will be only one person standing at the end of the program. Instead, fostering an environment that encourages people to collaborate (shock!) and work together, to lift one another up in our pursuits and, in turn, be lifted up by our peers, that is what we should be striving for in education (and the art form). As a student and (soon-to-be) educator, I definitely agree with this opinion. I sincerely believe that it's not about hoarding the opportunities and connections, but instead sharing with peers, students, mentees, and fellow artists the same things you hope to have shared with you. It goes back to Twyla Tharp's idea about generosity and how, in this collaborative art form, we must work together as a team to make our art viable, desirable, and beautiful. From these two amazing women is an important idea about art and theatre. I will definitely keep coming back to this because I know I was fortunate enough to have people who were generous and did not treat my education like a Darwinian fight for survival.

The other thing Professor Vogel mentioned was that her plays are Love Letters to the actors, directors, audience, and people who inspired her. I love that. I love the idea that as a playwright she is in conversation with everyone who will make her play come to life (and that she admits that designers [and directors] will know where the furniture should go) through her work. Sometimes I feel like designers don't give the play enough credit as a piece of work by a person. They take it for face value and don't wonder about who wrote it, what had happened to them, what was going on around them. I think it is important to remember, just as we were taught in our English classes, that to understand the written word, one must understand the writer. Oh, so important. And to think of it as a Love Letter, written to the creative team, that makes it that much more special and important.

In short, this was an amazing evening. I feel energized to work with amazing artists and put my philosophies to work. Thank you to the anonymous donor that helped pay the honorarium for Professor Vogel's visit. And I cannot wait for Suzan-Lori Parks keynote next weekend!

Getting Overwhelmed Again

Actually, that's a lie. I have just been trying to fill my life with things that don't involve the computer.

Right now my life is 1 of 2 things:

1. Working on Orpheus Descending. Getting all the last minute details put together and trying to be ready for tech a week from now.

2. Waiting on jobs. I have sent in about 20 applications. I have interviewed for three. One I am definitely being considered for. Two I am not so hopeful. And the rest, who knows?

Thus, stealing a few hours to read (even for class!) and hang out with CT makes getting through the last 4.5 weeks of school more manageable. It's a tough time to care about the immediate future when the great wide open part of life is beckoning. It's not so much senioritis is not caring and being lazy but being crazy excited about what is around the next bend in life. That is where I am at. But for now I just wait and avoid my computer because I feel like I'm sitting next to the telephone waiting for a boy to call. And that's just silly.

In the meantime, enjoy my favorite shot from the Orpheus photo shoot the other day:

Financial Strain

As one can imagine, after attending two conferences back to back, my finances are dwindling. This makes me think about the financial burden of being an artist, specifically a theatrical artist.

In my third year of undergrad, my mentor took my design class to Actors Theatre in Louisville, KY for the Humana Festival of New Plays. It was one of my top-ten theatre experiences, including my time spent in London. One of the students with us was looking at one of their internships and one of our own was, at that time, one of their interns. I remember being drawn to the idea of working with ATL because of the work they did with new American plays, but was devastated to learn that they paid their interns nothing. Not only that, but interns were expected to work so many hours that they had no hope of holding down any other kind of paying job. My dreams of working at ATL left me with a sigh.

The unpaid or underpaid internship is not uncommon. In fact, the Federal Government has weighed in on whether or not labor laws are being followed for internships. Theatre, an industry that relies heavily on the unskilled worker being paid little to "learn" and further their craft, has been hard-hit by the Federal Government's "meddling." However, many companies have found loopholes in the system, calling what little they do pay things like "expense reimbursement" rather than pay so that they can continue to pay pennies for eking out every last drop of sweat from young, aspiring theatre artists time and energy.

But, more so than at the internship level, theatre artists are paid very little for the time put in. If we seriously sat down to tally the hours worked for freelance gig, that one-time stipend (for which we usually also must pay our own taxes), we are definitely working under minimum wage. And from that low pay we take out money to pay for supplies and tools, for computer programs and classes, for trade shows and conferences, all in the name of getting better and being the best. Yet, we are struggling to make ends meet.

I think about my own situation. I do not have a family that I can call up for support. For undergrad I walked away with 25% of the four year bill in student loans. My parents paid about 2% of the four-year bill. The rest was the magic of scholarships and grants that were predicated mostly on my academic abilities. For graduate school, I have been making ends meet on my small graduate assistantship. And this month, my ends needed to meet over two conferences (one of which I will get partially reimbursed for, one of which I didn't pay for registration), tire alignment, an oil change, a dentist bill, and my usual slew of bills. I'm cutting it close and praying for my tax refund to magically arrive in my bank account very, very soon.

This stress over money is why I am drawn to apply for work at the college level, rather than risk freelancing. While I am fortunate to have a partner with whom I can face the financial stress of adulthood with, I do not have the luxury of moving in with parents (or my partner) while I see if I can make a go of it between $500, $50, $2,000 gigs. I also really like my teeth and am tired of not having dental insurance. And yet, I don't want to enter into academia and shrivel up and die. I want to go out there and be passionate and take risks over my art. But, as Ben Cameron of the Doris Duke Foundation said during his keynote at SETC this year, if there is any industry that has the most donated hours of work and time, it is the arts. Our passion, our field, our industry is predicated on our volunteer time and efforts because we are not paid enough to make it our job and our career.

What, then, can be done? What, then, can my path be? I hope that it will be full of theatre and jobs that take me to many different theatres to work with many different directors, but it will also include something that will pay the bills for a while. Whether that is a job at Starbucks or teaching theatre or answering phones or whatever, I will work myself to exhaustion so that I can make theatre come to life. As a child raised in a welfare home, I have fought not to fall into the typical career paths just so that I can have a well-paying job, but to follow my heart and passion into a career path that makes me happy and that I love. I hope, one day, though, that perhaps, like the public school educators that also deserve a break, that our country's artists will be able to do just what they want to do: create art. And not worry about that Vente, triple shot latte, half-caf, non-fat, three pumps of caramel drink they need to make for the well-paid customer who walks through the door.

Spring Fever

Today I went to USITT... it was a trip. It's a lot more low-key than SETC, which probably has something to do with the lack of high schoolers and high-strung actors. But, what USITT lacks in stress, it makes up with over-stimulation. The Expo Floor is full of all the possible theatre companies and theatre schools... it's amazing. And if you're lucky enough, you get to pick up some fun swag from some of these companies. This year I scored an awesome tote bag from Syracuse Scenery made out of stage drapery. I also managed to get a USITT coffee cup.

But the thing that I really want to talk about is the fact that all of these conferences (SETC & USITT this year, KCACTF in past years) do one really unfortunate thing for me: make me feel incredibly inadequate. I look at work done by professionals and my peers and all I think is that I can't draw that well. While I figure I've got just as good design ideas as the next person, my inability to convey them through my sketches, well, that is a problem.

It makes me think about the holes in my education. I've gone through 7 years of schooling to be stamped with the coveted MFA diploma in just 6 weeks (yikes) and what do I have to show for it? The same level of sketching capabilities and, in some ways, less finesse in my model-making, the one place I feel like I had real talent leaving Grinnell. It also doesn't help when I get to catch up with my Grinnellian peers, one of which is finishing her first year of graduate school and one who is in his first year of freelancing (and headed to Prague in May). All I could think was that I haven't made any strides this way. I also don't know that I'm cut out for freelancing... I wonder what it is that I'm doing all of this for. What have I been striving for? What is this all worth? Am I going to try to make it by freelancing, hoping to be a resident designer, or becoming a teacher? What is it worth? Is this just a quarter-life crisis?

Or just the ramblings of a tired, overworked graduate student?

SETC 2011

It's wrapping up now, and I'm about to get a good night's sleep before driving home tomorrow. I did want to share one idea that struck me during the keynote speech by Ben Cameron, Program Director of the Arts at the Doris Duke Charitable Foundation. Among many gems, Cameron said that the future and responsibility of not-for-profit theatre is "Epic imagination with intimate encounters."

YES!

That is exactly what it's about.

His keynote address was moving, and inspiring. And I want to write more about it and something that Triad Stage's Preston Lane said last week. For now, though, I'm going to focus on getting home in one piece.

Oh, PS, I did not win anything in the design competition, but my paper presentation went very, very well. :D

SETC 2011 Atlanta

I'm in my office, FINALLY! really preparing to go. I am fighting the office printer to see if I can get some of my things done here rather than at Kinkos, but it does not look promising.

(I wanted to link to one of the pages, but Facebook's new photo viewing BS won't let me. WTF? Facebook. You are annoying.)

Anyway, SETC is going to be a crazy experience this year. I've entered two boards into the design competition: Oklahoma! and The Waiting Room. And signed up for Job Contact AND am presenting my winning paper on feminist design ideas. I'm not sure I'm going to have time to do any kind of workshops. :P Oh well. It should be fun, right?

Then I'll have 2 days off before USITT in Charlotte. Fortunately, I'm just going to USITT--no presentations, nothing. Hopefully I'll be able to enjoy it.

Wow, I thought I would have more to say, but, no. After the conference, I'll have plenty to say. :)

Being Better

Well, Pericles is open and good. We never managed to replace the noisy jack-chain in the bottom of the curtains that fly in and get moved about, but I think that the actors have been able to manipulate them in such a way to reduce noise. We tried all kinds of other ideas for the weights, but it was too last minute. If we'd thought about it earlier, perhaps before the chain pocket was created in the first place, we would have been better off.

While the opening of the show has been a relief, things feel less than awesome right now for me. I'm still waiting for a job to emerge and I'm struggling with some personal demons, while also diving head first into Orpheus Descending and preparing for SETC in Atlanta.

I ask myself, as we get closer and closer to graduation (just over 2 months at this point) what I'm doing and why. I felt a lot like this as I was leaving Grinnell, having been embroiled in nasty department politics and feeling generally burned out from four years of school. My time at Portland Stage really helped heal me and remind me of the passion that I'd followed into my college major. And now that I feel that I've found myself in this very familiar valley, I hope that whatever happens after May 6th will involve some more healing.

But what I have been trying to take away from the situation I find myself in is how I would do things differently. For instance, how will I be a better teacher and mentor? How can I keep students from being overwhelmed by academics at the detriment of their artistic development? How can I make the boring stuff, the red tape, the things that can't be gotten rid of be less important to the excitement of creating and collaborating and being involved in theatre?

I don't know that I have concrete answers as to what I would do, but I definitely can see the pitfalls. I had two lovely friends visit me this weekend and one asked me, where do you see yourself in five years. The honest/ideal answer is that in five years I'll be teaching. In five years I will be settling down with a family. But the reality is that I'm probably going to be teaching next year because that's the most tangible way that I can be employed. And while I won't have a lot of professional experience under my belt, I definitely plan on being the best theatre educator I can be, because I at least have a lot of experience in the system. And it's time to change it.

Pericles Tech

We're in tech! It's going slowly!
I'm going mad!

But here's a picture.



Or two...

Education vs. Efficiency

Design! Design! Design!
Read! Read! Read!
Prepare! Prepare! Prepare!
Draw! Draw! Draw!
Apply! Apply! Apply!
Blog! Blog! Blog!

I feel like there is a constant harping on all the things I have to do right now, including trying, trying, trying to keep up with writing. I apologize for not, really, but I feel like I might drop dead at any given moment. Which means, you guessed it, I'm about to head into tech. Sunday, in fact, will be Day #1 of Pericles tech... and we are running around like chickens with our heads cut off trying to get ready. Today was both rewarding and infuriating. Rewarding because we started planking the main rake of the floor (which, without pictures, probably doesn't mean much to you, but soon). Infuriating because Education and Efficiency went head to head, and I'm not sure who won.

As an educational institution, theoretically we are supposed to be worried about educating the students who are serving Practicum hours in the shop. Thus, we (grad students, undergrad assistants, staff, faculty) are primarily supposed to oversee their work, offer guidance, and not just shove them out of the way to stand looking at us stupidly rather than wielding the tools themselves. So today we started planking the floor at approximately 2:30pm with two teams of undergraduate practicum students running the show (well, I was running it, but they were operating the tools and what-not). By 4:45pm, only about 1/3 of the rake was done and it had to be done by 6pm. It was a nightmare. I had the Technical Director, staff, and various other higher-ups breathing down my neck, but I was specifically instructed to be the Artistic Eye and not the labor. BUT! We were not making progress. We managed to get it done, finding a rhythm in what felt like the eleventh hour (and then our amazing Master Carpenter jumping in with his mad stapling skills) and finished by 6:15... but, as I said, it was infuriating.

At a certain point I felt like all I was doing was cracking the whip rather than paying attention to how the boards were being laid out in regards to color and staggering the seams. Though I feel like no major problems occurred, per se, I am left wondering why we allow this broken system to prevail.

In a carpenter's shop (where they are making actual things like furniture or what have you rather than useless things like scenic elements), young, unskilled workers spend time as merely hands cleaning up or holding tools (and observing). Why can't we do that in the educational theatre setting? Why isn't that considered a valid way to learn? Is it perhaps because many of our poor, unskilled slaves undergrads are forced into our scene (and costume) shops because of requirements, not interest? Thus, we must entice them to want to be there by giving them tools and letting them slow us down and screw things up (oh, you cannot imagine how many times I just had to let go of having a perfectly spaced out deck today...). This is a problem. It is a disservice, not just to the show (and design/designer) but to the students who are being entrusted with the responsibility to build things that they cannot. They get yelled at or they at least can tell when whomever they are disappointing is, in fact, disappointed. (I had one young man apologize profusely for his team's slow pace today, but really, who am I to get angry? They were doing the best that they knew how.)

It is irksome, and, as I may have said, we're behind. I feel stressed in a way that is unproductive. I can't do anything about where we're at and I know that someone higher up is going to complain, going into tech, about shit not being complete. And because I'm not someone who passes the buck or points fingers, I'm going to feel incredibly guilty and like I failed my own design. Urg.

Let's hope that by February 18th, when Pericles opens, it will all have been worth it.