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.

Two Weeks of Thoughts

My apologies for not having posted in the last two weeks. I've not had much to write about and my Sunday schedule has changed enough that I don't find myself sitting at the computer thinking, hey, write on your blog.

For now I have a few things of note, things that have been happening and the thoughts I've had:

1. I have started applying for jobs. I feel like a fraud, in part because the jobs I want I don't look qualified for on paper. These jobs are in the artistic department as Artistic Assistant or Artistic Associate. They are also jobs that want to be filled before I graduate in May. The other jobs I'm applying for are teaching jobs. That feels fraudulent too because I know that I'm applying more because I look somewhat qualified even if I feel like a professor of theatre design should not be directly out of graduate school. But I've got to pay the bills, right? Hopefully something good will come of all of this.

2. I am going to NYC in 2 weeks. I'm excited and nervous and financially strapped. I probably will only get to see 1 well-reviewed show (and perhaps one by Village Light Opera) because I'm just too poor. Oh well. Museums Museums Museums.

3. I have been stitching for Triad Stage's Christmas Carol. It makes me nostalgic for Portland. But I am enjoying these bursts of simulating real employment. And I like to help out a theatre that I care about and want to see succeed.

4. Speaking of Triad Stage, I saw Educating Rita last night. A wonderful play and I'm so glad I got to see it. I loved the set design and the premise, Pygmallion updated so you don't think that the Eliza Doolittle character (the aforementioned Rita) is really a sodding idiot for falling for her teacher. The whole play is a fascinating discussion about the power of choice and education, how people change and don't. I can't even begin but really, you must read or see the show (not at Triad as it just closed, but you get the idea). Powerful, powerful stuff.

Alright, told you it wouldn't be terribly exciting. I'm off to get ready for a mock interview for class. I'm sure it will be helpful, but I'm definitely not looking forward to it (I'm fairly unprepared). And to send off my application to the Goodman.

Quietness Without Loneliness

I realize it is not quite Sunday, dear readers, but I was reading Twyla Tharp's book The Creative Habit before nodding off to sleep here in Georgia and was struck with inspiration for this week's post. I suspect that this book will be a source of many posts over the next few months as it was recommended by and now required reading for one of my professors.

The premise of the book is a discussion of how to make creativity habitual, something that does not leap out at us blindly, but a product of our imaginations that we can conjure as we need to. Tharp discusses the necessity of schedules and rituals, and, in the most recent page, the importance of solitude and lack of distractions.

For the last few months I have, miraculously, had the graduate office space to myself. My apologies to the recent graduates and incoming students, but this solitude has been a blessing. I joked, at first, about the emptiness of it and how lonely it felt, but the honest truth is that I work best when I am alone.

This has often been the case.

I did not do well in group projects in school, often ending up doing it all on my own. The year that I shared a room with my younger sister in high school was, perhaps, the single worst year of school I ever experienced. And, up until this beautiful, lonely summer, I work in my apartment bedroom more than my office despite not being equipped, really, with any supplies or proper space because of the simple fact that I can close the door and shut out the world.

Now, Tharp argues against distractions of all kinds (from watching movies during the lifespan of a project to ignoring numbers to not playing music in the background). These things make sense. But she also discusses the importance of solitude, and the state of mind that is a "quietness without loneliness." She says it is a form of meditation, but instead of clearing the mind, you let it wander. You embrace the mind's randomness and pay attention to the patterns that emerge while it is allowed to flit about unfettered.

Because I do prefer to have some background music and I don't intentionally avoid movies or TV during a project (though it seems to happen for time reasons alone), this idea of letting the mind wander captured my attention. But even more so, because of the place I am at personally and a philosophical conversation I am currently embroiled in, I feel that "quietness without loneliness" is applicable to life at the general level.

In the statement alone, I feel there is a call to accepting the quiet moments, the lulls of life, without seeing them as dull and lonely. In a society obsessed with relationships, practically screaming for a constant search for your "one and only soul mate," we often forget the importance of the time we have just for ourselves. This time that allows us to realize who we are as a single person, what our hopes, dreams, likes and dislikes are without the complications of another person whom we are trying to please.

I feel that for theatre artists, especially, the moments unfettered by relationships/family can provide us with the perfect time to not only explore dreams and opportunities we could not otherwise, but also to see how our creativity arises from within ourselves alone.

I suppose that this post is directly related to last week's, and I appreciate how life seems to present answers in due course when I am at my most confused and befuddled. After last week I did send an e mail to Anita regarding work with her next year. I have also begun making plans to visit potential theatre communities that I am not yet familiar with in order to decide upon places I could move to and start working. Nevertheless, it is in Tharp's words that I see the necessity of this time in my life as a honing of my creativity and thus myself. I feel that this moment in my life is what is needed and was meant to happen in order to allow all of my thoughts and ideas and feelings to be heard. And to understand and feel and know that quietness of all kinds is not a lonely venture.

The Summer Doldrums

I have been racking my brain, trying to think of something profound and meaningful to write on. Much of what I have been contemplating I have covered before. For instance, yet another person--a man--commented that it was unfortunate that my initials make it so that I'm "Mr. Toomey." This, after looking through my portfolio, which presumably I had control over whether or not to be "MR Toomey" or "Margaret R Toomey" or whatever, and yet seemed to think that I was blind to this choice. So very infuriating, on so very many levels given my relationship to this gentleman. (I speak more on this topic in my first post.)

Also, I have been feeling the anxiety over what happens next after I graduate in May. Though the big day is still 10 months away, I can't help but feel distraught at the crossroads I am facing. Do I follow my heart and make a move to a community that I want to live in for a while, even if there isn't the perfect job lined up there? Or do I make a wise career move and ingratiate myself to someone who will take me on as an apprentice and continue to live a gypsy's life? The second option is specifically wrapped up in a pipe dream I have to shadow the wonderful Anita Stewart at Portland Stage. There is a grant I could apply for to fund my work with her, but I can't even bring myself to ask if this is something she would be interested in, let alone applying because I can't stand having yet another expiration date on a part of my life.

This choice between career and, well, not-career was easy once-upon-a-time when "not-career" was synonymous with "family." Without getting into the details of the last 10 months of my life (though most of you probably know about it anyway), it was much easier to decide that career came second when I thought I was making a decision against it for the ideal of family. Now that I am unencumbered by that in my immediate future, I feel stupid for not taking the risk of moving around as much as I need to to make the connections I need in order to fulfill my dreams in theatre. In some ways, having a partner to make decisions about where life will take you is the most difficult thing you could ever face, but on the other hand it would make things easier... I could just blame him for ruining my dreams. Ha ha.

What all of this--my moniker, my future, etc--boils down to is that I have hit one of the valleys in the emotional roller coaster that is a career in theatre. I need a project to be passionate about, that excites me, that makes me see why I would bleed myself dry, make ridiculous geographic decisions, and shun personal happiness for this crazy art form. These kinds of moods come around for me like clock-work, especially in the summer when the seasons have ended and everyone else is, rightfully so, taking a break before getting pumped up about the upcoming season. In a few weeks people will begin to trickle back onto the UNCG campus, Oklahoma will start getting built, and, perhaps, I will be sucked back into the joy (rather than the anxiety) of putting together another show. Perhaps, too, I will send Anita an e mail and just see if there really is anything worth worrying about in potentially moving back to Maine next year.

Lady... Sing Me... Over Home

Photograph by VanderVeen Photographers, courtesy Triad Stage

I have just returned from watching the closing performance of Triad Stage's Providence Gap. Another beautiful, heart-wrenching performance, which I won't wax poetic about, at least not too specifically.

The final moment of the play, which is, rightfully so, a teary-eyed moment as Chance is reunited with his love, was exceptionally poignant this afternoon as the actors prepared to bid farewell to the show. As Laurelyn Dossett, the talented musician who wrote and performed the music of the original piece played her way across stage in the final moments, her voice cracked and the staggering emotions that bringing to life a piece of this nature and sharing it with an audience was written across her face. As the cast took their bow, tears streamed down many of their faces as the audience stood in ovation.

The magic of theatre is not reserved for the tricks that we pull out of our sleeves and from our fly lofts to create a new world for the audience. But it also includes the transportation of the artists who have invested their souls into a piece. Not every production on stage moves the audience, and even less move the artists. But there are these rare shows that break your heart as the final curtain call is taken, like saying good-bye to a friend who you doubt you will ever see again. As sad as those moments are, these are the productions we are looking for.

I remember a production of Lynn Nottage's Intimate Apparel which I helped with at Portland Stage Co. in Maine. I was on the run crew and so only saw the show from the wings. But I believed so much in the story being told and enjoyed the artists who had come together to tell it, that I feel, to this day, it is one of the most important performances I have bared witness to. And everynight, there was a scene that made me cry and all I heard were the actor's voices carrying over the flats to where I sat, waiting for the next scene change.

The magic of productions such as Intimate Apparel and Providence Gap is rare, but for me is like finding home again. I have been a wanderer for much of my young life, yet the theatre has consistently made me feel rooted. Unfortunately, not every theater company or production has the right chemistry, and in those cases I have moved on, searching for the magic I found in high school, at Grinnell, and in Portland. As an audience member, Triad has enveloped me in the heartbreak of home, especially with Providence Gap, but I know that I am still looking for my artistic home. And while I hope that I find it, I must heed the mountain woman's words to not "look too hard" as it isn't a place that can be found by lookin'.

Boy Toys and Girl Toys

This week's blog post is inspired by today's webcomic from Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal:



Funny and oh-so true.

This got me thinking about the gender divide in theatre and how this could easily be a comic that questions why there are not more female scenic designers. Though changing, young girls are more likely to be exposed to toys that promote girly things, like mothering or fashion-sense. Meanwhile, boys get toys that nurture imagination and, well, engineering.

Personally, I had Barbies and Legos at my fingertips as a young girl. But where I think it makes a world of difference is that I was also exposed to boy things. None of my parents (I have three-- mom, dad, step-mom) ever told me that there were certain things that I could not do because I was girl (like help with building stuff or run around outside making mud pies). Recently I had a discussion with a male friend of mine about playing dress up. He assumed that I had been the typical tom-boy with no interest in girly things like playing princess and wearing pretty clothes. That is incorrect. I loved to play dress up and there are many pictures of me sitting with my flannel nightgown swirled out around me combing the hair of my Barbies and My Little Ponies. Nevertheless, I also knew that on a daily basis I'd much prefer to wear pants so that I could run and jump and climb. I'd say that I viewed the world as an equal-opportunity place.

And then I really started to delve into theatre (and hit puberty) and it became obvious that if I wanted to be the girl who didn't work on costumes I needed to either stick to the painting and props, or I needed to be more butch. I did both, but really embraced my inner tom-boy and set aside all notions of girliness in favor of being "one of the guys." This has continued to this day, bleeding into my friendships and relationships. I have not been considered someone who wears a dress willingly by anybody for the last five years. And I do believe this has a lot to do with my desire to be accepted by the guys in the shop as their equal. Removing the gender markers that clothing provides, I strive to prove my worth as a scenic designer by denying my gender.

Not anymore.

This year I vowed to care more about my appearance and buy clothing because I liked it, which often means because I think it is pretty. This means I now own dresses and skirts and high heels. And the first day that I wore a dress to class this semester, even my professor (who is male) commented on it. And while I can't really wear these clothes in the shop anyway (not just because of safety, I mean, I don't want to have an entire wardrobe of paint clothes), I feel like I have been able to embrace a part of me that has lain dormant because I felt that my gender was a problem. I am going to be the tom-boy and also enjoy wearing frilly dresses. There is a time and place for both and they are not mutually exclusive.

So, I say, give your daughters Legos and Barbies. And your sons too. Allow them to help Dad fix the sink and Mom bake pies. Demonstrate that it is about what you enjoy doing, not what you're supposed to do because of your chromosomes. The world should be equal for all. Sure, it isn't and children will pick up on it, but who knows what kind of ideas might come if they can not only pick out Barbie's prom dress but also design the venue as well.

What You Can't Have if You Are a Woman in Theatre

I have house-fever. Not baby-fever, but house-fever. I dream of owning a house, what it will look like, how the sun will pour through the windows, and how I will have friends over and they will admire the art on my walls as I feed them fresh baked-goods.

These daydreams play a role in answering the question, "What happens after graduate school?" which I have been getting far too much lately. I have a few ideas for specific projects up my sleeve, but what I really want to do is find a place that I want to live for at least five years, and become a part of the community. And maybe buy a house (though, in my dreams, house can be synonymous with apartment, so home-ownership isn't necessary, just a great place to call my own). This magical place I want to live will likely have a large theatre community because it will likely be a large city, but to be honest, my desire to settle somewhere for a long period of time isn't about theatre.

And there is the problem.

To be sure, the idea of a house and community lay the groundwork for starting a family someday, and I've been grappling with how I will balance creating a home and family with the crazy hours and travel schedule set forth by my chosen profession. And then I read about female scene designers and how many of them hardly have functioning marriages, let alone children. Articles that talk about these fantastic women usually touch on their choice to move away from the traditional female role of mother, deciding that motherhood is not their primary role or altogether unnecessary.

I wonder about this choice before me because I've worked with many amazing women who seem to have found a way to balance their lives. Both have had incredibly supportive partners, but I also feel like it goes back to the old statement "where there is a will, there is a way." Nevertheless, their conviction to have it all has been questioned. People wonder if the children are getting enough time with mommy or whether it's okay to miss important moments in your child's life because of the strict schedule theatre keeps.

The choice laid before women in theatre I feel is unfair, and not just because family and theatre should not be mutually exclusive. Instead, I think this notion that women are going to or should put family first keeps women from powerful creative positions. Or, people wonder at the unnaturalness of a woman with no desire to have a family and put her career first. I don't think mothers or fathers want to be absent from their child's life, but it is somehow okay for a father to work and travel too much. Similarly, society hardly bats an eye at a successful, child-less man.

To bring it back to my house-fever, is it so wrong of me to want to anchor my work in a community rather than idealize a nomadic existence, hopping from theatre to theatre following some sort of success trajectory? Some of my mentors and peers think I will be selling myself short (unless, of course, that community is New York...). I suppose my priorities are different, because I have always valued a strong arts presence in communities and have appreciated theatres that nurtured local artists rather than always flying in outsiders. I also hope that having roots in a community will keep me grounded if I travel, and I think the same goes for having a family waiting at home. Sure, compromises will have to be made because the schedule of a daredevil child is not going to mesh well with that of first dress. Life never really seems to want to work within the confines of a production calendar anyway, but just because I have an X-chromosome does not mean I can't have a successful, fruitful career as a designer and consider or even start a family. And if I have to face that choice, then my male counterparts do too.