Tuesday, October 25, 2011

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!


2 comments:

  1. "Specifically, the importance of being able to sew (...) Yes, seriously, even if you have a penis."

    What an unnecessarily crude and sexist remark. I'm disappointed in you. What if someone had posted: "It's important to be able to use a hammer. Yes, even if you have a vagina." Ridiculous.

    I'm sorry you're bitter a designer (who happened to be man) asked you to sew things as his assistant. I've been asked to sew things (props, soft goods, ect.) by designers i have assisted that are both male and female. Get over yourself. Assistants do what the designer needs them to do. Blaming it on gender is childish. Posting it on the web is churlish and unprofessional. Grow up.

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  2. Dear RL,

    Thank you for your response, though it is a bit inflammatory.

    I think that you missed the main thrust of my post, which is to say that sewing is an important skill to have as a theatre designer, be you male or female. And while I may have oversimplified things with my statement of "learn to sew... even if you have a penis", you cannot ignore that sewing is generally seen as women's work, even in the theatre, where fabric plays a large part in things beyond costumes.

    I should also explain that my bitterness over my first assistant job had more to do with wanting to learn something new, and not be relegated to just hand sewing props, which I had already mastered. The designer worked with a female paint charge closely, and he admitted that he didn't know how to sew when he asked me to complete the tatami mats. Fortunately for him, he had an assistant who could help him complete the fabric/sewing tasks, but I've worked in many a situation where either I do not have an assistant at all or worked with assistants who don't know how to sew (and balk at being asked to do so).

    I can see how the beginning of my post was a bit inflammatory, so let me put it this way: You should have to learn to sew if you want to work in scenic design because fabric makes a great scenic element beyond the usual soft goods and upholstered props. Experience in sewing and fabrics can aid a scenic designer in ways often overlooked in the design process.

    And, for the record, yes, if you have a vagina and work in technical theatre, you should have to learn to use a hammer. The road goes both ways and I'll be the first to tell a woman to cowboy up.

    PS. Why not identify who you are?

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