On knowing

I know a lot about my field. I'll be the first to tell you that I have a lot more to learn, but I have a wide knowledge base, and I'm proud of that.

I think I've briefly mentioned the feeling that I get sometimes, in which I think to myself, "My area of expertise seems somewhat simplistic." I think that because I look back on my engineering classes, and all the things I didn't know then, and I feel convinced that I could teach anyone what I know in short order. But if I really sit down and ponder it, I know that's not true. I know that while perhaps a majority of the concepts related to the nitty-gritty of my job aren't extremely difficult (for example, it's not hard to understand the purpose of most of the hardware involved with stage lighting. There is a lot of it though) and most of the skills are not beyond a precocious high schooler. That being the case, it is a very wide skill set that takes years to accumulate.

I sometimes struggle with the idea that perhaps my profession is below my potential, just because so many of the skills seem so basic. If it wasn't for constant reminders in the form of inexperienced crewmembers, I might forget that it's not inherently obvious what to do with DMX or how it is a gobo functions. I might forget that people won't immediately understand what rotating the lamp/lens of a PAR would do to the light, or why you shouldn't touch high output halogen lamps.

I once tried to teach, in brief, a group of people about the very basics of operating the sound equipment at my college. Twelve seconds into my planned lecture, I realized that I hadn't communicated basic ideas about gain structures and the layout of a sound board that were, in my opinion, vital to any real understanding of the subject. I stumbled through, but it really opened my eyes to the concept of intrinsic knowledge.

I do wonder, though, if an electrical engineer ever feels that he's not living up to his potential? I could convey a lot more about being a master electrician in an afternoon than he could about being an engineer, I think. At least as far as useful fundamental skills go.

On the road again.

So my last post was depressing.

Things have, since that last entry, changed quite a bit. I've just hit the road with a national tour of The 39 Steps. We had a somewhat difficult tech process, owing mostly, I think, to a master carpenter who broke his ankle days before he was supposed to fly out.

Difficult tech weeks are part of the business, though, shit happens right? Well, we got through it. My first load in was... not good. I was much less prepared than I thought I was, and the show looked terrible. I was dealing with a local crew who moved at a fairly glacial pace, and just couldn't seem to complete a hang position without a mistake or two, and circuit information was just not recorded well or consistently.

I pushed through as much of my focus as I could, and managed to at least light the stage, though the show didn't look much like its intended design. I was also learning how to run the Hog, as our tech process had left me with no time to familiarize myself with it. (The lack of any kind of ability to directly control dimmers is a huge downfall in my opinion.)

We did two nights in our first venue. The second day I was able to sort out the circuiting information by being a little more stern than I like with the local crew, but we got it done. Then I was able to push through my focus and get shit looking right. The second show looked great, I'm told, and I'm much happier about it.

We're en route to Iowa now, having stopped in Missouri for the day. That's all I've got for now, I'll try to write about my experiences living on the road later.

Oh, by the way, I have already lined up my summer job as Principle Elec/Board op at Shakespeare & Co. in MA.

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. 

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.

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.