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!!!

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.

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?

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.

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.