The now.

I haven't written anything in particular for a while. It's tough to find the inspiration, motivation, and time for writing. I need to have all three at once, and they just don't coincide often. Now, in the steady grasp of sleeplessness, might as well be as good a time as any.

Tonight we're in Brooklyn, with a show at Brooklyn College tomorrow. Our sound tech (who toured with this company last fall) insists that tomorrow will be an excellent crew, and numerous. That's always nice. Today's (Monday?) crew was pretty exceptional. We had already played the space (Strand Theatre, Lakewood) once on this tour, and just last week Encore went through. They're well practiced this year. I think it was the fastest in we've had. The out was up there, too, but I think it was a few minutes shy of the record. I didn't write the record down so it's hard to be sure.

We've only got two more shows this week, and then we're off for thanksgiving until Monday. We'll be spending the break on Long Island, so I might spend some time exploring the city in somewhat greater detail than I have had the opportunity to, so far. So far, in my somewhat limited experience, I do like New York. It's a whole other sort of thing from any of the cities I've spent time in previously. Granted that's not much of a surprise to anyone, whether they've been here or not, but it is significant enough, I think, to be mentioned; even though we all know it already.

The tour is coming, rapidly, to a close. I can't say I find myself disappointed, and if you've read any of my recent writings I think you'd guess that without any mention. I like the idea of being on the road, but I want to be on the road with a show that challenges me, that gives me more than 15 minutes or so a day of troubleshooting, even perhaps a show into which I had some level of input. I know that I couldn't stomach touring forever. It's not the environment I need, but I do like the travel, the seeing of new places.

So where do I want to be? Really with any company that's regularly producing work (New, old, original, rehashed) with a proper creative team (so community theatre is not a great option, in most cases) who is actually interested in expressing something beyond the text. What role do I envision myself filling there? To be honest I think I could be happy in my electrician/carpenter/welder/audio engineer/wizard role from college, or in a more standard ME position, or as an LD, or some blend of all of those. Give me the chance to express myself and to create again. That's all I really want. And probably all I really need.

ennui

I'm not being challenged.

Maybe this is true of any tour, perhaps the thing to embrace about driving around in a truck and doing theatre in a new location every day (or every week, or every month?) is the part where you're in a place you've never been before. Perhaps you have to accept monotony when you're doing the same show over and over again.

Or perhaps, when saddled with responsibility for 'legitimate' theatre, as opposed to being handed the keys to a 30 year old rig (I have two instruments which are younger than me, the job begins to gain a sort of luster. Okay, maybe the rest aren't ACTUALLY 30 years old, but i have no reason to believe they aren't), given some focus charts and set out on the road. The most interesting part of my job is communicating with the house electrician and patching his front of house instruments and the house lights. Everything else is the same, every day. Here, I'll describe it to you.

1. Wake up. Eat some breakfast (does this hotel have meat/hot eggs? hopefully...).
2. Pack whatever shit isn't already in my bag.
3. Play the ever-changing game of tetris to get my bag into the van.
4. Drive truck to venue.
5. Try to find and talk to electrician very quickly about my power/DMX needs, then get back to the truck.
6. Unload truck.
7. Get back into the venue, see how my tie-in is going. Or, if there's no company switch, start wondering where I'm going to find six or seven different household circuits.
8. Lay out power and DMX cable for each dimmer pack.
9. Set up board. If using house FOH, talk to their electrician and get some reasonable instruments patched. Patch houselights or work out plan for running unison/older control system/light switch (I played a house where ALL of the houselights [for a 700ish seat house] were on a single lightswitch backstage. Baffling). Tell my SM we're patched so she can call the FOH focus. Set up the laptop and make sure the Keystroke is working.
10. Focus my rig. I have two actors who do the hang, thankfully. I'd never be done on time otherwise.
11. I usually finish about the same time as the SM, clear the board and get into preshow. This usually happens anywhere from 10-15 before house opens to a few minutes after. Now I take a couple minutes to hang out, then get on headset so I can make calls for the actors (the SM is in the house by now)
12. Once the show starts, zone out and push go when I'm told. Autopilot here, or else I'll memorize everyone's lines.
13. Show's over? Get a house crew member or two to start coiling cable, get the power killed, pack up my control stuff. Help with cable. Pack boxes. Start pushing shit into truck.
14. Once set's done we start the pack in earnest. Get it done, get the truck closed. On to the next city.

Seems fine enough, but I'll be damned if this isn't kind of incredibly unfufilling. I'm not challenged, I'm not engaged (the whole process is autopilot, to be honest) and we don't spend enough time in most cities to even be enamored with the new locations. 

I'm suffering from terminal boredom. 

Staying the hand of apathy

Some of you might have thought I'd have written more before now. I know I would have. I certainly set out with the intent of writing about my experiences fairly regularly.

The trouble with writing about my experiences on this tour is that my experiences, day to day, are somewhat indeterminate. My memory is a wash of similar hotel rooms and theater after theater. If you asked me where I was three days ago, I don't think I could tell you without consulting my log. Time has become a smooth gradient from one shade of gray to another shade. I have to admit this hasn't had the greatest effect on my own morale. Coupled with the other negative factors of this tour, that's probably not a great thing.

That's not to say I haven't had some singular and excellent experiences on this trip. But it is to say I've had quite a few days that differ little from their companions. This week I will spend less than 24 hours in any given city in texas, as we've a show each day. I don't think I'll remember much of this state.

That said, perhaps I'll write about the exceptional times soon.

Time, elongated

So I left off at the end of load in. The set is up, props are in place. My rig is assembled and appears to be functional, so now it's time for focus. The LD takes the stage and we start. It's a simple plot (We're pulling a little less than 100 amps, I'm told, so there's not a huge amount of instrumentation), but this is the only chance I'll have to practice the focus. We run through it, it's pretty straightforward. Later that day (Or the next day? I don't remember) I get the rest of my gel, get the frames labelled to match instruments and get it into the fixtures.

So we're ready to go. Tech starts out as a cue-to-cue of act I. This show is only an hour long, but it's heavily supported by projections, as it's teaching some basic math concepts and most of them are well illustrated by a projection screen in the set's mid-stage arch. What this means is that while there are relatively few significant lighting changes, there are several long runs of 10-15 cues that are closely spaced. It's one of those "Standby cues 12 to 26.... Go, go, go.... go, go go, go" things. It makes for re-working things a large number of times.

At this point most of this week is kind of a blur, to be honest. It's a lot of rehearsal, a lot of me trying to get my work box into a reasonable order, and little else. We had two dress rehearsals this week, the latest being on Thursday. After that one, we packed up and loaded the truck, developing our pack list as we went. Once we got it loaded, I drove it to the Ryder lot and we were ready to go. We leave for Albany Monday morning. I'm the only one who's driven the truck at this point, so I'll be navigating for Jeremy on this leg of the trip.

We'll travel almost 1500 miles before October, and end up in Georgia in that time.

Keep an eye on my widget if you're interested in where I am.

Fleeting moments

I haven't written since my arrival in Boston, and now I'm days away from my departure.

I feel as though I've been here for weeks and weeks, though it's only been two. So much has happened, so I'll try to describe it.

The weekend of my arrival was good, I got to the house and got settled in. The woman from whom I am renting a room was here, and we talked briefly. Her son, whose room I am in, left for Ireland the next morning, for two weeks. Talk about serendipitous timing. On Saturday, I went to find the rehearsal hall. I found the area where I thought it should be, but couldn't find a building with the right number [Turns out it was there, just very flaked and faded, and I missed the Masonic Lodge label. You'd think I'd be better at sniffing them out] and gave up. I went downtown after that, wandering around until I grew tired. I saw Chinatown, and sat in Boston Commons and wrote some postcards (I have so many more to send), and then came home.

Sunday, after speaking to my lone housemate; another employee of the company, (The landlady has spent all of her time, but for brief moments, somewhere else. It's just been Sheila and me.) I searched out the hall one more time. I discovered the faded number and the Masonic legend, and thought I was prepared.

Monday morning, bright and early, I boarded the train and hopped on a bus and stood outside the building which houses the rehearsal hall. I arrived perhaps forty-five minutes early, having only been told to be at this address at 10am. I stood outside, wondering how I might enter the building; my only company a man listening to a small portable radio o na pair of headphones and occasionally singing along.

Eventually two people approach the building and unlock the door, I ask if they're with Chamber, and they reply in the affirmative. I'm ushered upstairs by two folks who were seemingly quite excited to see me, having known of my impending arrival for some time. They are Kate and Jeremy, two members of my show's cast. My arrival is hailed by the rest of the cast, and my stage manager. I'm given a tour of the space, and then stand around for a while. There's a rehearsal which is, conveniently enough, a full run, so I watch that, as this is likely my only opportunity to see the show from the front. The cast is good, and I like the show.

After the run, the production manager shows up, and we talk briefly. I'm sent on a couple of errands, and the day is over.

The rest of the week is consumed in training on my rig. Everything is more or less prepared at High Output, in Canton. I get to assemble the rig and see what it's all about. We spend some time labeling things (Much of it is assembled by the two actors on my crew) and configuring equipment. I think this is the point where I begin to realize how different this show will be from the norm, in the sense of how little input I'm destined to have in the process. The show's been done before, and will be done again. It's being boiled down into a simple formula; a recipe for a play.

At the end of the week, we haphazardly pack the truck (A 26' box truck, with which I become fairly familiar over the next few days) and head to the tech rehearsal space, some blocks away from the company's primary space. Load in is... complicated. It's the morning of the last day of Ramadan, and the space is directly across the street from a moderately sized Mosque. Traffic is intense. The stage manager and I know very little about what to expect or what's expected of us. The loading dock is only ten feet deep or so. We back the truck straight in and look at the situation, and decide that's ridiculous, given the existing traffic. There's a misunderstanding, and I try to come around the block while the situation is sorted out... turns out this is not the decision anyone would have preferred. I finally get back to the theater (it's been fifteen or twenty minutes, traffic was ridiculous. I almost witnessed a fight in the middle of the road between two drivers) and it's decided to back the truck straight in, just as we (the stage manager and I; at this point the production manager and everyone else is there) had done previously. This is done, in spite of the absolutely insane traffic on this relatively narrow road. We leave the flashers on and figure it will be fine, just as it always is at this space. (I would guess most load-in days aren't on the last day of Ramadan...) I am informed that my decision was not the one that would have been preferred. Whatever, shit happens I guess.

Well. It's not fine. A police officer shows up and begins belittling and yelling at everyone. He asks the PM, "Is there something wrong with you?", and is curious as to whether I have ever driven a truck before. His requests were less than terribly clear, and the traffic is still absolutely insane.

The truck is repositioned and we continue with load-in. It's fairly uneventful, and I guess it's somewhat faster than the average. We're ready for tech week.

That's all for today, I'll write more this weekend, to catch up with current time, before we leave.

Someplace new

So, while you, likely a lone reader addressed here, were eagerly refreshing my blog, waiting with barely contained enthusiasm and desire to read yet more of my mindless drivel, you may have noticed that my location widget updated. I'm in Boston now.

I arrived in a stunning blaze of... fog. Everyone on the plane was surprised by the landing, it looked like we were in a cloud from 30,000 feet all the way to the ground. Nuts. Good thing the IFR is part of a pilot's license, right?

I've settled in (as much as I think i'm willing to) to the room I've rented for the duration of my stay in this city. It looks like it'll mostly be three Chamber employees in the house, as the lady who owns it isn't going to be here much, and her son's going to Ireland for two weeks. Whatever works.

Tomorrow I go to get lost in the city. So now I must sleep. More thoughts to come, and probably some pictures.

Taking Wing

I want to ride wings of will. I want to take flight and exist in a state of purgatory, cleansing myself of what I was in preparation for what I am to be.

I want to break out of this cage, this trap for pests and beings without dreams. Bend the bars and slip into a world of possibility and freedom. Step through the enclosure into a field of dreams secured and realized.

Emerge, so to speak, from a chrysalis of my formative years and take hold of my existence, announce myself to the world. I am here, I am ready.

Awash in my responsibility, adrift in my passion. Floating on and endless sea of possibility. See, in the distance, the first true beacon of hope.

Travel the veins and nerves of this country, seeking what I am to be.

Moving forward, free of stasis.

A new light in the sky.

On the horizon, bliss.

The How; The Why

One might say that there are two questions that are more important than any others when the decision is made to put on a show. Those questions are 'How?' and 'Why?'

Surely, other basic questions must be asked. We must ask ourselves 'When?', 'Where?', and certainly it's important to know what show is to be done. Don't walk away from this essay believing that I attempted to downplay the importance of any of these questions. I agree that they must all be asked, and answered, in a timely fashion before any sort of theatrical project is mounted.

But I do believe that the how and the why receive the lion's share of the attention of any group of people who decide to put on a show. Many times the where is obvious. "In our theater!" one might answer, incredulous, when asked. This would be true of any group fortunate enough to possess a space. The when is often easily answered as well, "In accordance with our established seasonal schedules," is an easy enough answer. The what presents a somewhat greater challenge, but would be a subject for a different discussion.

The how, though, and the why. These two are probably the greatest hurdles, but within their own fashions. Any group of people will focus extensively on the how. That's a given. What will the set look like? Who will be our crew? So on and so forth.

The why, similarly, often receives enough scrutiny. I say often, because I refer to professional, semi-professional, and collegiate theater in this case. In all of these instances, we see shows produced by complete creative teams. There's an overriding artistic director, whose job it is to ensure artistic quality and that the show doesn't get out of hand. There's a director responsible for the overall vision of the show, a lighting designer who, with the set designer and costume designer, creates the very world of the play. There is very often a sound designer, who I believe contributes more to the audience's immersion in a play than any other member of the creative team. They meet regularly to discuss the how and the why of the show. They will come to an agreement about what the show is saying, and what they, as a team, wish to say about the show.

In community theater, this is (within my own experience) not so often the case. Often the creative team consists only of a director, in smaller programs. Other times there are designers, but they are inexperienced or not blessed with a great voice in the creative process. The creative process is stunted, in many cases. Production meetings are not called, the creative team spends little time discussing the why, focusing their time on the how.

The result is that the set is built, the lights are focussed, the cues are written. The show goes on, but not one of the creators, none of the actors, and almost certainly not the audience knows what the creative team wanted to say about the show. The focus becomes the text of the show, rather than the intent, or the interpreted meaning, or even something unrelated to the text entirely.

I don't like that.

Detritus and Inertia

I'm in the middle of moving out of my apartment and back to Logan. My last hope at a job for the immediate present fell through, when Valley Fair amusement park in Shakopee, MN, hired the ME/Electrician spot op position before I received an interview, and filled the audio technician position with a local for the sake of expediency, even after taking the time to interview me.

Anyway. I'm writing about the moving process. It's raining and I'm sitting in Wendy's, hoping that perhaps it might let up (though it doesn't appear that it will) a bit before I return to my endeavors.

Over the years and moves I've accumulated a fair amount of shit. Junk. Crap. I hesitate to throw things away because of some potential future value. I hang on to every little thing, every DC adapter, every piece of electronic junk I might use some day. Tools that are obviously barely functional. Pieces of what anyone else might call garbage that I might one day use to build something.

Well no more. Most of it's in the dumpster already. I'm hoping that perhaps my enforced inertia, my seeming inability to move forward and change my state of being, is somehow connected to this debris of life. Like an emotional and mental anchor, lodging me thoroughly in place.

So by divesting myself of it, of anything not directly connected to my work or my amusements, anything that serves no purpose other than filling a closet, I hope that I cut this seemingly unbreakable tether to the status quo. That I am allowed to rise up like a balloon freed of its ballast,

Can it really make much of a difference? I don't know that I can say, but I know that it's a lot less shit to take back home and store there. I'll be glad to be rid of it. I'll return to logan a few hundred pounds lighter for it, and certainly with less shit to worry about.

I'll keep you posted on whether it affects my inertia.

For the Audience

A lot of people I have worked with in theatre seem to be about creating worlds for the audience, for immersing the spectator into a brand new world of their creation. For giving those people a chance to suspend their disbelief and lose themselves in the story.

I don't truck with that.

For some reason, I find myself perfectly content to do the theatre for the sake of itself. Sure, I like to see a good house and can draw satisfaction from a crowd that enjoyed the show. But I don't think that's my primary motivation. I guess I view the process as a series of problems to be solved, and I enjoy nothing more than solving them. From the very early stages of the show, everything's somewhat nebulous, but in whatever capacity I'm working on the show (be it as a designer, an electrician, the sound technician or carpenter, whatever) there's a series of problems to be solved. As a designer I have to solve the problem of presenting the world we've come up with to the audience. As a technician I need to solve the more practical issues of implementing what the designers and director have decided needs to be the world of the play. I don't know which I prefer, but I think they both have their merits.

There's something very visceral and real about constructing a world of our own, crafting a reality. If it's a giant blue marble world, fine; I guess I'll be setting up the router for a lot of tile. If it's a deconstructed city, well then let me grab the welder and plasma cutter. I don't have to worry about justifying these things as a technician, leave it up to the director and design team. I've done pretty much everything outside of the costume department in support of one show or another, from building and painting to composing music. Everything I do is in support of what we're building.

This is why I know that I'll be happier if I can find work in theatre, rather than the larger and less well-defined "Entertainment" industry. I know the skills are ultimately the same working as an electrician for a production company that does concerts and corporate events, but the intent is different, and that means all the world.

Working, or not

I've applied to a lot of places recently, and so far have had no real success.

This is tremendously discouraging. I have, in the past year or so, accepted the fact that I really am good at what I do. I think this is a big step for me. I believe it's natural for people to be self-deprecating, to not really believe in their own abilities. It's hard to accept that you might, in fact, be better at something than most (or all) of the folks around you. I would never claim to be the best, there's always someone better, somewhere.

At the same time though, I know I have an expansive skill set. I do electrics and sound, which isn't that uncommon of a pairing. I know lighting is my strongest suit. I'm fast with the hang and focus, I rarely fail to get the board to do what I want when I'm programming, I'm good at dealing with DMX networks. I know electricity, so I can build props or wire up any sort of practicals. My biggest failing is that I haven't got much experience with the latest generation of lighting consoles, or HOG consoles, but that's just from a lack of exposure. I know if I had a few hours with some of this technology, I could be well on my way to proficiency. It's just a matter of exposure.

I know quite a bit about sound, I know that there's always more to learn, but this is another area I've devoted a lot of time to. I understand the equipment and the theory. Again, not a lot of experience with the latest consoles (digital is getting big) but they're not that far removed from their analog brothers as far as the way they work. Exposure.

I'm a capable carpenter, I know that. Working in the shop isn't my favorite thing, but it's something I've been doing just as long as lighting and sound. I'm comfortable in a shop, familiar with any tools you're likely to run into in theatre. I can weld reasonably well, with the two most common processes. I even know a little bit of scenic painting.

You'd think that would make it relatively easy to find a job. That's not the case. I don't know if this recession means more seasoned professionals are vying for entry level positions or what, but even a minimum wage (well, $0.25 an hour more than that) in the middle of nowhere was flooded with applications. And that's one that included custodial duties.

I don't know what I can do to make myself more attractive as a prospective employee, or how to convince people I would really be a positive choice. I almost envy the actors' audition process. It's an opportunity to immediately and without a doubt demonstrate your abilities. I get a page or two of skills and work experience, and hopefully they call me for a phone interview. What good is a phone interview in determining someone's suitability? Everyone's going to give the same bullshit answers about dedication and passion, right?

It's immensely frustrating and I don't like it, no sir not one bit.

jobs

Right now I'm in the thick of job searching. I've sent resumes to both coasts and to more than a few places in between. Until last week the response has been minimal. That is to say, I've received a single email informing me that while the position I had applied for was filled, they would certainly keep my resume on file and contact me if a position opened up in the future.

In the past few days a couple things have happened. First and foremost, I received an email from Shakespeare and Company, in Massachusetts. The email was short, merely stating they had read my resume (which I believe reads quite well) asking if I was still available and interested in working for the company. I sent a resume out in January, applying for a position as ME. Looking back at the job listing, I discovered something that sounded genuinely exciting. The company does a 13 show season across 3 different theaters. The listing states that 'some' positions are summer only. I think I've decided that if the position they've got in mind for me (apparently, that is, why else would they contact me?) goes for the whole season (until next March!) then I'm taking that job, regardless of what else might come up. Excepting something yet more awesome, but what are the chances of that?

I also discovered that First Presbyterian Theater will be creating a position for someone with a technical background. Presumably to handle designs, set building and light hang/focus. The job would pay (not terribly well, but regularly) and offer benefits. This is, I think, a fairly attractive prospect. It doesn't offer the fast-paced, intense theatre environment I really crave. But it would offer a regular paycheck for a few years while I built up a design portfolio. Wouldn't a position of responsibility look decent on a resume, even in a community theater? I don't know.

Now, neither of these opportunities, obviously, mean much until I can learn more about them.

That said, it is a gluttony of choice, which is not something I've had to date.

I feel like I'll end up taking the job in MA no matter what, if it's available. The trouble with the local job is that it's just not theatre up to a level that I can really enjoy. If no one's invested in the show, what's the point?

Lost

I want to lose myself in theatre. I want to leave the stasis of the now. The uncertainty, the boredom, the doubt and the distaste. I want to descend into a maelstrom of activity, a beehive of preparations, of building, lighting, painting, welding, soldering and improvising. There's nothing more appealing than endless hours fighting constraints. Space and time. Pushing against reality to affix in its place one of my own creation.

That's what it's all about, isn't it? Control of our world. Wresting order from chaos, conversely, chaos from order. Imposing the will on the space and time and perceptions of the audience. That's meta. The down and dirty and grittiness of it is the madness of it.

I want to be invested in that. I want to spend all day on it, only to sleep for the briefest of periods to attack the world again the next day.

Tool Review - Stage Junk's Ultimate Focus Tool

I'm sure anyone who's spent much time doing theater beyond a purely community level has run into these guys. I came across their booth last year at USITT and saw their offerings. I quickly placed an order for my own tool, the 'ultimate focus tool.'

Here's a photo I shot with my cell phone not long after receiving it. It's got my name and everything.

This is a tremendously awesome tool for anyone who does any significant amount of time with lighting. It's machined from aluminum, so it weighs just about nothing. I shortened the fancy purple cord it came with so it'll hang from my wrist without being so loose it might fall off.

Being aluminum, it is now showing some signs of wear, but I don't doubt it'll last for a good number of years to come, and I won't mind replacing it in the event it does eventually fail.

They also now manufacture a ratcheting version of the tool, which I've also had the opportunity to play with. I was thoroughly impressed with it. It's heavier, but probably lighter than any of the ratcheting lighting wrenches I've used in the past, plus the addition of a steel toolface means wear is more or less eliminated.

The continuity checker is a lifesaver. I don't know how much time in pulling bases it's saved me, but it's probably a lot. It speeds the troubleshooting process very appreciably. Plus it's a dead simple design that can easily be repaired at home.

There's not really a whole lot to say other than, "If you do a lot of lighting hangs, get this tool."

Harvey

Currently my only theatrical pursuit in this town is a lighting design at First Presbyterian Theater, for their production of Harvey.

I've got a production meeting today with the director and other designers. As yet there hasn't been a lot of progress on my end of things. I helped with the set build, but I haven't been in all week to see what's happened with the painting. So that will be a surprise I guess.

Being a straight play, it won't offer a huge amount of opportunity for creativity and mind-blowing techniques, but I think I'll be able to lend a unique hand to the space. I've previously designed two shows at Pres, The Underpants and You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown, and I think both of those definitely showed a little bit of deviation from the norm.

I'll try and find something to push for, anyway.

Introductions

My name is Derek. I'm a theatrical lighting designer, electrician, carpenter, sound engineer, welder, fixer, inventor and general jack-of-most trades. I am currently on hiatus from schooling, having not felt my previous institution was guiding me in a direction that I was most comfortable moving in.

Currently I'm embroiled in a job search. I've sent resumes to both coasts and to plenty of places in the middle. I've received one response that seems positive, and I genuinely hope it results in a job. I promise I'll disperse details to the faceless internet should that be the case.

Recently I've felt an urge to resume writing, a craft I haven't seriously pursued since English classes in high school. A few abortive attempts at short stories resulted in some generic, dystopian science fiction akin to what I generally find myself reading. This seemed like a pointless venture, so I've decided to pursue the popular and relatively harmless blog format. I'll write about my job search, and hopefully about the job I find.

In addition to theater, I also pursue photography and music as hobbies. Perhaps I'll discuss those in the future.