My Mouth Cost Me Work: How, Why, and What Next

My partner sometimes calls me mouthy. It's an endearment, before you get the wrong idea. And refers to the fact that I don't really know how to play the politeness game when it comes to speaking my mind about the injustice inherent in the theatre world. See previous blog posts here and here.

Recently, this mouthiness lost me a scenic design opportunity with a midsize theatre company in Seattle. (N.B. I'm not sure if my definition of midsize is your definition of midsize... so the operating budget just passes $1 Million. In comparison, A Contemporary Theatre [ACT] has an operating budget of around $7 Million).

I am intentionally not naming this organization.

The point of this blog entry is not to cry foul and point fingers at a specific organization. I want to talk about (1) the thing that I was "mouthing off" about, (2) how my privilege allowed me to say something, and (3) where the theatre community can go from here.

Ready?

The Thing I Was Mouthing Off About

I posted on the Seattle Theatre Artists and Seattle Technical Artists Facebook groups the following message:

"Asking/requiring freelancers to get a business license to work with your org is a barrier that disproportionately negatively affects artists of color and artists of other under-represented groups. As Seattle Theatre figures out that representation around the table matters, there is a going to be a time where orgs will want to hire a freelancer that isn't making bank on their gigs (due to size & number of projects offered). And an independent contractor does NOT need to apply for a business license UNLESS they meet some specific criteria, most of which don't apply to theatre freelancers (we're not hiring people or selling anything that needs to be taxed). But most importantly, if you make less than $12,000/year, you're not on the hook for a license according to the state. Just food for thought, theatre companies, as you work towards EQUITY and diversity at your organization. (BTW, in 2018 I've made less than $10,000 so far with all my stipends... just to give you some perspective on someone who "works a lot" including stipend-ed production management gigs.)"  (Permalink) (Also, permalink to the convo in the Seattle Technical Artist group)

Whether or not you agree with my choice of words or use of all-caps for emphasis, this is a real thing that is happening in Seattle/Washington State. In conjunction with this post, I also asked questions of the original theatre company that requested a Business License from me, two other theatres that I've worked with or have personal connections at, and my fellow freelance artists. 

What I heard: This is not something that theatres have been asking of their freelance artists. BUT, theatres are also waiting to find out what comes of the audit that the original company is undergoing. (Oh yes, the original company [OC] is undergoing an audit, so this request comes from a place of both high tension as well as lawyer advice.)

I thought to myself, okay, clearly I need to know more about this for myself as a freelance artist in Seattle. And thus I went searching for information about Business Licenses in Washington State. This included looking at it from the side of the person needing to get a license but also reading through the document sent to me by the OC: The Independent Contractor Guide published by the Washington State Department of Labor & Industries. In this document, the employer asks a round of questions about the potential contractor/employee to determine their status. It's really unnerving, I think, to have a theatre company answering questions about whether I have a place of business outside of their organization that I can prove on a tax filing form, among other distinctions being used by LNI.

So I decided to ask LNI directly for some insight. First I ended up in just General Inquiries, then a representative who deals with Workman's Comp Claims in Seattle, then the Small Business Liaison Office, then finally Workers’ Comp Coverage Determinations Office. Apparently, you can e mail a contract to the Determinations Office to have them tell you if you're a Volunteer, Independent Contractor, Covered Worker, or Employee. Take note!

After going over my interpretation of the six questions asked by the Independent Contractor Guide, the Determinations officer advised me that I would be considered a Covered Worker and that the OC would be responsible for paying Workman's Comp and reporting my hours regardless of if I provided a Business License (aka UBI).

Hmmmmm.

This left me with even more questions about what to do as a freelance artist because the fact that a non-profit theatre company in Seattle is being audited (much like the rash of audits in 2005) and changing their contracting policies while other orgs watch... there is a change in the air. And the fact that the individual artists that are going to have to start getting those licenses don't really know what's going on, well, that IS a problem. I stand by what I said in my original FB post, that this requirement -- whether originating from the state, city, or the theatre company -- disproportionately negatively impacts artists that are under-represented in our industry, namely POC, LGBTQ+, Women, Disabled, etc. Access to knowledge about these decisions and laws takes time to get. Advocating for yourself and knowing your rights takes time. Being a freelance artist who barely makes minimum wage on the amount of things we're contracted to do, well, doesn't leave a lot of time.

Needless to say, I'm going to be staying tuned to this and seeing how I can advocate for transparency from our theatre organizations and the city and state.

How My Privilege Allowed Me to Say Something

Do y'all know about white privilege? If not, please pause and go read (just one of many) essays answering "What is White Privilege, Really" you can find on the internet. White people, this means you.

So, I'm white. I have white privilege. My ability to speak up about the impacts of this thing -- that is also impacting me as a white artist -- is related to the fact that my indignation and frustration is less upsetting than if a POC artist took to social media. In our society, people of color are not afforded the same understanding of their anger. Their responses must be milder and less incindiary or face harsher criticism and retribution from our society at large. Yes, even in Seattle. Privilege number 1.

But there is another privilege I lay claim to that opens this door for me (because I'm also a female-passing, queer-identifying individual, so it's not like I'm not a target): I have a day job and don't need the design gig being presented by the OC to survive. I'm not cobbling together my bill payments via my measly freelance checks.

This is not nothing.

I might be an independent artist in the theatre community, but I'm not as vulnerable as many. I can rabble-rouse and, while it still stings to lose the opportunity to design the set at the OC, it isn't going to make or break my life (my career is another story and covered in the last part, below).

Where the Theatre Community Can Go From Here

Again, I'd like to reiterate that the outcome of my Facebook post and educational traipsing through state and city licensing was to be removed from consideration from the job at the Original Company (OC). I spoke about my white privilege and economic privilege that allowed me some freedom in speaking out. But clearly I'm not immune to pushing a hot-button issue to the point of losing work.

And it stings. I'm not going to pretend it didn't. I wanted to work on this show with this director and at this company and on this script.

But more importantly, I'm disappointed that the OC felt so threatened by my posts to drop me from consideration. Which is not how they passed it off to me in our e mail exchange. No, I was originally told that the time it took me to respond to the production manager -- four days -- meant they had considered me uninterested and they had moved on. But that wasn't the whole story. I was fortunate enough to have the director want to continue to advocate for me in a forthcoming phone meeting with the OC. Then the director was made privy to my FB-related dismissal. So, I got to hear the real reason I was no longer being considered because the director had already committed to keeping me in the loop.

#WhyIndividualArtistsDoNotSpeakUp #ButTheyDoSpeakToOneAnother

I don't regret what I said. I don't regret what words I used or my indignation. I don't even really blame the OC in letting me go from consideration (I don't AGREE with it, but I also can see their side of things).

What I can't stand is that we have this very big issue that is about to impact every theatre artist in our community in relation to freelance work -- regarding getting and paying for business licenses and subsequent taxes, whether or how freelance artists are covered if they get hurt on the job, whether they will get paid the same rates -- and we have theatre organizations that are lobbying on behalf of themselves as they navigate this and making decisions and communicating out new policies without much transparency for the rest of us.

Seattle's theatre ecosystem is a mess, and not just because of our lack of representation and diversity on and off stage and the inherent racism that gets played out on our stages under the guise of "progressive plays": we're not really a whole community made up of artists and organizations. Organizations close ranks because they have the resources to reach out to their peer institutions for help and also warnings. But theatre artists are getting the short end of the stick with the lack of transparency about decisions that are impacting us directly.

I mean, in this case alone, it's good to know that the OC isn't cool with me being mouthy. That gives me some really concrete information about where to go from here with that particular company and the artists they work with. But I also don't feel comfortable revealing who this company is because I don't want to create backlash against myself (or the company). The environment here is very "behind closed doors and backs."

But we also have no advocacy in these organizations when we're not represented by a Union -- and so, so few of us will ever be represented by a Union.

Thus, I ask, where can we go from here, Seattle? Transparency. Communication. Heck, if I could have had the opportunity to actually respond to the OC about the issue they took with my Facebook post, well, we could have had a really great conversation. Probably still parted ways because I don't feel comfortable getting a Business License at this point in my career, but again, conversation would have happened.

Instead, I'm out here as an independent artist hoping to educate myself about this law that is impacting me and wondering what other organizations or individuals I have rubbed the wrong way by stating a fact that our government systems are part of a system of racism and oppression.

What's next for me, Seattle? Not going to stop being mouthy, that's for sure. And maybe not going to see another design contract for a while either because I'm too much trouble for y'all or because getting a business license is NOT in my best interest. (N.B. Once you get a Washington State Business License [$19] you'll also need to get a City of Seattle Business License [$45]. Don't listen to anyone that says it's just $20! Don't forget to do some reading about taxes as a business, too.)

Are Musicals Trying to Kill Me?

South Pacific @ Seattle Musical Theatre

I had a wonderful meeting with a Producing Artistic Director yesterday who is considering me as a designer for his next season. As is the case in many of these meetings, I was asked to talk in-depth about the process of one my most recent projects. Given that it just closed, the topic at hand was my costume and co-scenic design of South Pacific. More than just a conversation about how it went, I was asked a question I've been asked by many non-theatre people: How did I manage to do a show with so many costumes with such a small budget, no help, and a tiny stipend? Well, most non-theatre people ask simply, how do you do that? But behind both questions is the same implied question: Are you crazy?

My husband, who has seen me through five years of freelancing as a scenic and costume designer, has, on numerous occasions, questioned my sanity when I tell him about a costume design I've been offered. He knows, as a former pit musician, that musicals are not small. He also knows, as the poor soul that has yet to have a dining table to actually dine at regularly since meeting me, the work needed to costume 10-30 people in multiple, dance-worthy costumes is no small feat. And he has, on more than one occasion, tried to talk me out of certain projects because, he says, the work I do on musicals might kill me.

But the reality of the situation is that while musicals can be deadly theatre, they are not actually out to kill me.

Musicals, like any show, require organization and communication. If those two things are in working order, death is not a given.

Organization is in the hands of the designer. I read the script, I create character and costume plots, I make lists, tables, graphs, on and on and on. Organization is at the heart of any successful completion of a project. Even those artists that are messy and scatter-brained have an organization somewhere in their head. Often, though, because bringing elements of a theatre design (be it lights, costume, or scenery) from idea to fruition is not only affecting that artist, many theatres have shops and staff and assistants that help keep those artistic souls on task, or at least organized, despite themselves.

When you're a freelance designer at the community or fringe theatre level, you're often on your own. Especially if you're the costume designer. Rarely do companies have costume shops anymore, or if they do, they're not staffed. Here, use this space to sew, by yourself, in the wee hours of the night, if the machine works...? So, organization is key. Part of being organized is time-management and budgeting for the show. Again, in (more) professional theatres, designers are not responsible for these. As a freelance designer, it's a one-woman show. As any work-from-home-type will tell you, a schedule is key to getting up and doing your job every day. I can't tell you how many times I've squeezed in an hour or so of sewing in my PJs before heading off to my day job because, if not then, when? And when it comes to budgeting for the show, well, that's just common sense. Keeping track of expenses as you go allows you to manage your expectations as new ideas come from your director. But, more importantly, it either keeps you off the hook in accounting for the money you were advanced or keeps the company on the hook for reimbursing you. Be it a show of thirty or a show of two, organization is how I, as a designer, can manage any given project. Part of that organization is being able to accurately manage incoming project requests. Can I actually pull of a 25 person show in 2 weeks? Not unless you pay me enough to take a leave of absence from my regular job. Etc.

And now that you're ready to quote Robby Burns at me with "The Best Laid Plans...", I did mention another piece that was required: communication. Say it with me: COMMUNICATION. Unlike organization, this is not solely in the hands of the designer and this, my dear friends, is what is like to stab you in the back and kill you dead while working on any show.

A designer can do her due-diligence in this department by attending all production meetings, responding to all outstanding requests, asking questions about things that need to be asked, send e mails, warn producers the show is going over budget, contact the stage manager when actors don't show up for fittings, publish inspiration boards for the entire cast, etc etc etc. A designer, however, cannot force the director to respond to her e mails about character tracks for the ensemble. Or the stage manager to send out rehearsal reports. Or the choreographer to answer questions about dance shoe needs. Or the accountant to send a budget advance. Or the production manager to make keys available to stock. And the list goes on. These are the things that make designing a show with no shop, no assistant, no stitcher, no dresser, or no help apt to kill you. Or me, as these are all things I've experienced, often on the same show. And, on a musical, where the demands on costumes can be exponentially greater due to choreography, blocking, and, so often, the scope/time-period of the story, these little communication issues start to magnify really quickly. So quickly.

So when asked how/why I keep costuming musicals with the implied whisper of "you're crazy", my response is often this: I am good at what I do. Musicals are by no means my favorite genre to work on and I welcome a nice one-era, afternoon at tea drawing room show. However, when you've proven yourself a master of 75% of the mathematical equation of costuming a show (let alone actual design skills), you're going to get called back because the producers can tell when things fell through because of a disorganized, non-communicative designer or some other piece of the puzzle. Musicals also pay well because, hey, they are a lot of work. Now, when you find me taking on another musical for less than a grand without any help, then, honey, crazy and likely to die, I am.

Keep on Keeping On

Every once in a while I think, hey, I should write about that on my blog/in my journal/to my friends. Rarely does this occur where I can immediately act on the impulse (generally it happens in my car while stuck in traffic, mulling over the day). So, yes.

I don't have any illusions about becoming an amazing blogger. At this point there isn't much that I'd put out into the world that would interest anyone beyond my immediate circle of friends. Nevertheless, I don't want to say the blog is dead. In fact, I seem to get quite a few visits to my post about prop money so maybe I'll do more How To's. Who knows.

But for now, things are changing. CT and I are married. WHAT?!? Yes, married. It was a great ceremony at my step-mother's house in Chapell Hill, NC. Very small and simple. Still expensive, but good. We're anticipating a move closer to friends and San Francisco. So, woo.

More to come, I hope.

Radio Silence Over

You know how it is, you put something off for so long that getting back to it becomes harder and harder. Especially as a blogger, where do I begin in the time that I've been away. How long do I push the rewind button?

So much has happened.

I finished up the drop I last wrote about and never got any kind of production photos.

I supervised the costumes for Broadway By the Bay's The Marvelous Wonderettes and taught children at Pied Piper Players's inaugural summer camp.

Teaching children about theatre is the most rewarding, and I had my first experience working with a child with Asberger's. It was a challenge, but I felt very good about how everything went.

This is the cast and staff of Charlotte's Web. I love this picture of everyone and you can see the awesome backdrop the kids designed and painted!

And our small but mighty cast of How to Eat Like a Child. You can't see it here, but they also designed and painted two legs. This was a great group.

Possibly the most exciting bit of work I did this summer was a design for Pericles at Shady Shakespeare Theatre Company. I have some great images from that show and will be uploading them in a blog post all their own.

So, this summer was a success in the freelancing world, although I nearly dropped dead the week that Pericles was teching and we were finishing up the second session of camp. I've got some fun projects on the horizon, most notably working on BBBay's A Chorus Line and a few actual designs. I'm also going to try to get back to blogging. No more excuses because we're all caught up!

Oh, also of note: Working on my biggest design yet: My wedding!!!

Ask and You Shall Receive or How I Became a Freelance Theatre Artist

So that we are all on the same page, let me recap that I'm wrapping up week three of my open-ended hiatus from CTC. And I've got my form all ready to send to unemployment. And I've still got bills to pay. And CT and I've pretty much decided we're going to (have to) stick it out in our one room apartment for a little while longer.

Our apartment. That is not our bed, just our couch.

But in true self-sufficient, pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps-fashion, I've been sending out applications and résumés since before I was officially on hiatus. I am happy to report that all of my efforts and frantic e mailing has paid off. Here is how I've been making/planning to make money since April 23:

Week One: Résumé and application blasts to theatres and craigslistings all over the place. By Tuesday I had two interviews with non-theatre companies, one an supplementary education company (read: after-school enrichment center) and one with a print company. The first interview I apparently bombed and the second, the print company, I was hired on the spot. Hooray! I started training the next day, Wednesday. For two days I gave it a go. At $12 an hour, doing graphic design and answering phones and running xeroxes didn't seem so bad. Except I was going to be the only person doing that and was expected to be so awesome I could replace the woman who'd been working for that particular company for over three years and knew all of the account abbreviations and quirks like the back of her hand. It wasn't looking good.

Also on Wednesday, I went to an interview at SJ Rep for a box office assistant position. Many of you may remember I did a stint at The Dallas Opera's box office when I lived in Texas and loved! it! Turns out SJ Rep uses the same ticketing program, had someone leaving the fold, and hey, they wanted to hire me. $9 an hour with hours fluctuating from 10 to 30 a week... well, I thought, it's something. And it's something that is flexible and low-stress enough that I could do other things. So Friday morning I quit the print company, thanked them for the opportunity, and drove to San Mateo to open Pied Piper Player's Once Upon a Mattress.
 

The Queen tries to make Winnifred as sleepy as possible.

Week Two: More résumés and applications including bookstores and Starbucks. Pretty much anywhere I thought I might be employable, I applied. But things that week were pretty low-key and boring. I worked on my friend Margo's website and even my own website. (BTW, now offering portrait and wedding packages!) On Thursday I trained at the SJ Rep Box Office and it was like riding a bike. Sure, there were things that they do differently than the Opera, but it was pretty easy and I felt good about my choice to take the job. And on Sunday I struck Once Upon a Mattress and got the last of my paycheck from PPP and made plans to talk about other work with the company.

Week Three: (That's this week) Everything started to fall into place. Monday I had lunch with the Artistic Director of PPP and we worked out a plan for me to come aboard as the Production Manager for the company, teach during their conservatory, and designing on a regular basis. Tuesday I went to visit family in Oroville.

My sister Hannah and nephew Hunter

Wednesday I worked at the box office. And then yesterday, Thursday, I got a slew of e mails and had two meetings that resulted in 3 gigs (one painting a backdrop, one designing costumes, and one costume supervising) and a call to work over-hire on a load-out for a theatrical supply place in the area. Bada-bing, Bada-boom.

I've done the math. It's not spectacular money for the amount of work, but it's close to what I was making before. And it's on projects ranging from Shakespeare to Gilbert & Sullivan. Which is pretty neat. The thing that has kept me from doing freelance work before is the difficulty at keeping sane. What do I mean by this? Well, in a 9-5 job, even in theatre, there is structure. You go to work, you complete your work, you go home. Sure there are crazy days during tech week and strike, but those are planned in advance, you see them coming, and time is allotted for them and subsequent recovery. As a freelancer, that is on you. Working with five different companies means that you have to be sure that tech weeks aren't going to collide and that you'll have enough time to complete fittings and paint flats and whatever has to happen. And then there is the travel time. And gas. When you work at one theatre you go there and come home. Some traveling may occur for the company, but life is contained. When you work for five different companies you're running all over the city, or in my case, all over the bay area, trying to get everything sorted and done. Sure some work can happen at home (especially costume-related work), but mostly you go to their space and use their tools and then you drive somewhere else the next day... it gets overwhelming.

But perhaps the biggest stress about being self-employed, working gig to gig, are taxes. I've never had more than one 1099 a year, so while a pain, it was pretty straightforward and didn't change my taxes that much. But with this much gig work, I'm going to have to do quarterly taxes or I'm going to end up owing hundreds of dollars I've already spent come April of 2013. I'm not sure why companies can't take taxes out. Okay, I'm sure it has something to do with paperwork and calculations that are far beyond just issuing a check, but can't there be a way to make this easier? Can't there be a way to take the burden of this off the artist? More importantly so that the artist doesn't accidentally spend money that really has to go to the federal government??? For now I just automatically deduct 20% out of the fee and put it in savings. And now with quarterly taxes, I won't get hit with a big OUCH! next year.

So now I can call myself a freelance theatre artist. And really raise my parents' anxiety levels. Woo.

The Great Job Search

Here's the low-down: I'm unemployed. Well, underemployed might be a better term. This week is week two of the open-ended hiatus I was put on from CTC when I turned down the opportunity to design their Summer Rep Shows (more on this at a later date). This is the second hiatus I've been put on, but the first without a fixed end and that involves losing my health insurance. Times are lean in theatre, it would seem.

And so! I've been diligently applying for jobs, both in and outside of the theatre. I'm in Silicon Valley, so I've hit the big places: Apple, Google, Yahoo, Facebook, etc etc and the national companies: Starbucks, Target, etc etc and the theatres. Oh, have I hit the theatres. From actual listings on places like TCG's ArtSearch to Bay Area Theatre Bums to individual websites of each theatre I have come across (I've got them all bookmarked). It's a lot of work applying and sending out feeler résumés, especially when there isn't much to show for it. And you're stressed out about how on earth you're going to pay your rent in one of the most expensive regions in the world.

The good news: I found a part-time job at San Jose Repertory Theatre in their box office.

The bad news: It only pays $9/hr and my hours will fluctuate from 10 to 30 in any given week.

The also good news: My partner in crime, C.T., got promoted last week and is guaranteed 40 hours+ a week and is making somewhere close to, or over, $15/hr.

The really bad news: This is still not going to be enough.

Let's set aside the fact that I'm back to being uninsured (I had a bunch of physicals and exams before I lost my insurance and so far I'm healthy) because, well, that comes with the territory and I've been there before. And let's just talk about what it means to be living in a 450 square foot, studio apartment which is about to cost us $1050/month and I'm only guaranteed to bring in $90/week before taxes. What, huh? This is a low-point. This is why I am applying to complete reach-jobs at the tech companies. I don't really care about the perks of working at those companies. I just know they are stable and will pay me the living wage of this area for one simple reason: They are the reason that it costs so frickin' much to live here in the first place.

From the article "High Cost of Living Shrinks Silicon Valley's Sizable Paychecks" by David Schepp at Aol.com.

This whole situation has me, for the first time in my life, seriously kicking myself for getting a degree in theatre.

When I chose my major at Grinnell I did it with pride and a bit of rebellion swelling in my heart because I knew that it was a pretty stupid field to go into for financial security, etc. But I was young and wanted to follow my heart. And I didn't want to choose a career path just because it would make me money. I wanted to go out into the world and make art and do something meaningful and be poor because I chose to be poor (not, as was my mother's case, because life sucks and circumstances bore her into decades of abject poverty and welfare). I was your typical, naive idealist.

And when I decided to go to graduate school it was with a more tempered idealism, but idealism nonetheless. I felt that my Master's degree would grant me some kind of security, some options that would be more stable, and help quiet my step-mother's fear of my looming destitution.

Even applying for summer employment during graduate school didn't have me second-guessing myself. I was confident this path would be awesome, if also frugal. Then, upon graduating from UNCG, I landed a job as the Resident Designer/Painter/Teacher at a children's theatre in sunny California. I wasn't going right into teaching! I was getting to move back to the West Coast (a dream I'd been harboring since I first hunkered down in the Midwest for college)! Things were going to be awesome!

Except it's expensive to live in this part of the country. And the recession is still taking its toll on the "unnecessary" items including the obvious: the arts, and the not so obvious: school bus transportation (important when you work at a children's theatre). But even two weeks ago when I heard Republican Candidate Mitt Romney talk about choosing an engineering major over his own field, English, I firmly believed that I had made no mistake in my choice of study. (And was pretty incensed about his statements as a mark of privilege as well as the wrong mindset when you want to have a society that also has beauty. Why not, instead, talk about needing to provide funding for art, writing, those non-engineer fields... but I digress.)

It's funny how money, or the lack-there-of, will make you question everything you hold dear. But unlike many of my posts in the past where I wonder about continuing in this field because I've been unhappy with this, that, or the other project, I'm now wondering how I can continue when I can't even afford to buy myself new bras. I've been so fortunate that the last few times I've been in this mess I've had a partner to help support me as I get back on my feet (ironically enough that time also ended with me starting work in a box office). This time it's tougher because we're living somewhere more expensive and C.T. is just now getting into making good money. We're going to make it. We have to. But as I look at job postings many things cross my mind that never did before: Maybe I should consider getting out of theatre. Maybe I should consider getting out of non-profit. Maybe I should consider moving back to the South where the cost of living is lower. Maybe I made a mistake.

Maybe I made a mistake.

No one likes to admit that they were wrong. Especially not me.

But all I can do is keep my fingers crossed and keep sending out those résumés.

I'll keep you posted.

What Would Hallie Do?

Things are bleak in the world right now. The economy is still recovering, the arts are still suffering, things are still tough.

Today, as I drove home from a long, long day, I racked my brain over how to put into words the turmoil of life. And I thought of Hallie. I often find myself thinking about her statement that "Theatre, when it's good, is always dangerous" when I feel lost. When I question why I am in this field and what on earth I do it for.

Hallie Flanagan's Antony & Cleopatra 1934 at Vassar

While I don't really know what Hallie would do in my position, I know she wouldn't give up. She'd continue to pour her heart into the theatre, believing that it is important to explore our world through the theatre. She'd probably stage some amazing piece about the economic crisis, subverting all kinds of things, maybe even convince Obama to resurrect the Federal Theatre Project, and generally be a bad ass. While I'm not likely to do much of that (yet), it's good to be reminded of Hallie's spirit and gumption.

As a very intelligent person tells me often, you have to work your way up in the game of life. While I know that I've put in many hours on the low end of the totem pole, sometimes part of the low end of the pole is the hard-knock part of life where you scramble to make ends meet while doing the thing you are most passionate about (sometimes all over the Bay Area). It's rough, but paying your dues only makes you stronger and better. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. That, and asking what Hallie would do.

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.

---

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.

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:

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 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

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?