Archive for July, 2006

Silence, stillness and shadow

Friday, July 21st, 2006

John Cage in his essays on silence writes extensively about the role of silence in music. They are essays, but in a very real sense they are musical compositions without noise. In fact, his discourse on silence is so powerful precisely because it forces the reader to focus intently upon the subject matter at hand. The words themselves are in a way immaterial. They serve to guide the mind into that still point of silence.

Th modern world is one of constant frantic energy. The pace of everything increases daily. Minute by minute we move faster and faster. A perfect symbol for this is Times Square. I love watching films from the fourties or fifties when they show their fast paced Times Square imagery. I think of the opening sequence in The Sweet Smell of Success. That fast paced Times Square would be such a relief today. If only we could go that slow!

The modern world is about movement. It is about action. Frantic action. Chaotic and uncontrolled.

Growing up I studied Aikido. For about eleven years I went once or twice a week to the Dojo and trained. Aikido grew out of Judo and is a technique of controlling and redirecting one’s opponent’s energy. At one level Aikido is all about movement and energy. You step inside a dojo and you see people fly through the air and fall in the ruffle of a roll or the crash of a hard landing. But in reality Aikido is about stillness.

The founder of the Martial Art, O Sensei, was a tiny Japanese man. There is some wonderful film footage of him, old and white haired, being attacked by his students. These rather large young men come rushing at him full bore. With hardly a flick of the wrist he sends them flying through the air and crashing to the ground.

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Sunset Distortion Copyleft 2002

I find a lot of designers think lighting is about writing light cues. Sure that is what we do and without them the house lights would never go down and there would never be a blackout at the end of the piece. The writing of light cues is integral to the work of a lighting designer, but to say that is what lighting is about is like saying the point of writing is constructing a plot. Sure this is necessary, even if the plot is no plot, but it is hardly the core essence of the written word.

There was a line from Cupid and Psyche, “It is in the silence that the gods reveal themselves.” So too is it in the stillness that the light reveals itself. Watching a sun set is a gloriously beautiful thing. Growing up on the West Coast we would get these amazing sun sets over the water, the sun falling behind the Golden Gate Bridge in midsummer, or behind the Marin headlands in the winter. I strongly recommend this experience to anyone with a passing interest in light.

There is a moment in every sunset, where the pace at which the sun is falling increases and then, just before it goes away, it appears to stop. Time stands still. The last sliver of sunlight clutching the horizon.

And then gone.

It is in that moment of stillness that the sun reveals all its secrets. It whispers them out over its long extended fingers, and if you are very very quiet, you might just hear a little. The trees understand. Like John Cage they stand there silent and still, waiting to hear the grand symphony of the setting sun.

Risk and Failure – Seven Deadly Sins

Thursday, July 20th, 2006

Risk is something we must always engage with when creating art. There is no foreknowledge of the efficacy of the project. It necessitates a strong a deep trust in the work of ones collaborators. Sometimes these are people you know well, other times they are people you have met quite recently. Often some combination of these two elements is inherent in any production. Regardless, one must place a total trust in the work of your collaborators. This situation leads to an energetic combination of danger and excitement.

When I worked on Seven Deadly Sins we had no idea until the show was over if it would work. There were so many pieces to fit together with the Orchestra, Opera singers, cabaret dancers, blacksmiths, acrobats, fire dancers, etc. etc. The stage was a ninety foot long, four foot wide, catwalk with small end stages on either side. The audience sat arena style sandwiching the runway. We had seating for somewhere around 700 people and the it quickly became evident that the other side of the audience would become a primary visual element of the overall experience.

As a general rule of thumb, a lighting designer tries to keep the light on the stage and off the audience. Of course rules, as we all know, were made to be broken. So rather than try and hide this very present and potentially massive audience, I chose to make them a feature of the evening. Large colored floodlights were pointed at the seating areas in an attempt to light our audience in various colors and thus take them, literally, on the emotional journey of the opera.

These discussions with my director, Roy Rallo, were quite difficult. Given that we did not have an audience, there was no way to test out this effect prior to the opening. As a result I had to convince someone, who I had never worked with before, that the primary storytelling device we would have with the lighting, was an effect we could not test prior to the show opening. Essentially he had to trust me that this was the right course of action to take. I confidently told him it was, and silently prayed that I was right.

The final effect that I saw at the opening was far greater than I had anticipated. We were fortunate enough to have a filled to capacity house, so the effect was to be the best it was going to be. And it worked brilliantly. The faces of the audience were clearly visible from across the space and not only did their personal emotional reactions show, but they took on a wonderful quality with the shifting light. There was an immersive quality to the experience that in some significant way derived from the environmental quality of the lighting.

Had we gone with a traditional lighting style and kept the lights out of the audience the effect of the piece would not have been so strong. The shifting backgrounds and the degree of contrast with the fire that we achieved would not have been possible. Without that risk of failure, the best aspect of the lighting for that show would never have been. Without risking failure, we can never achieve greatness.

More Festivals

Wednesday, July 19th, 2006

So being a lighting designer in the New York Fringe Festival ranks right up there with a root canal on my list of activities I want to do. However, through fate’s cruel irony I will be lighting two shows for the Fringe this year. The lighting situation for both of these shows looks to be not quite as terrible as I have seen in the past. Of course nothing is set yet, so I hold full rights to retract that statement based upon future experience.

The Unlucky Man in the Yellow Cap will be at the Henry Street Harry de Jur Playhouse, a beautiful off-Broadway space that seems almost too luxurious for the Fringe, but is just right for this play. First off, the Harry de Jur is an actual theater. This is not often the case for fringe venues. Not only is it a real theatre, it is a beautiful theatre, one that am quite excited to be working in, even if in the limited repertory situation of the Fringe. The play is very interesting, but tricky. A ‘play with music’ set in a concentration camp holds high risk of failure, but I think the potential pay off can be quite strong, and I am rather optimistic about it.

The other play is La Femme est Morte or Why I should not fuck my son also performing at the Henry Street Settlement, but in the experimental theatre. This space I am not familiar with, but I hear good things about it. I saw part of rehearsal for this pop-culture adaptation of Pheadra last night and it looks to be quite a good time. I only wish we had the resources to properly light it, but such is the way of festivals.

I must say, that I was very pleased with the production style of SPF. By doing every piece in series rather than all at once, the design teams are really able to make something unique to the piece, rather than settle for something substandard. But every situation is different and demands its own standards and operates under its own rules.

Outstanding News

Tuesday, July 18th, 2006

I have been nominated for Outstanding Lighting Design for Cupid and Psyche by the Innovative Theatre Awards. My fellow designer on the show (and NYU alum) Michael Moore was also nominated for Outstanding Set Design. He is a fabulous designer and infinitely pleasant to work with. One of the most cheerful under pressure personalities I have ever encountered. His work was truly fantastic on the show. I sadly do not have any pictures of Cupid and Psyche yet, so if you did not see it you will have to imagine.

I did not stay very long at the event as the air conditioning was broken and it was uncomfortably hot inside. Too bad because it could have been quite a fun evening, but it seems that most of the folk left shortly after the announcements. I ran into my director for Ajax on the way out. One of her actors was nominated for best solo performance for In Delirium. The three of us left right after the announcements and got food across the street at the falafal place formerly known as Cinderella on 2nd Ave. They do an amazing falafal, I survived on them for two years when I worked for the NYU Dance Department.

The greatest thing about the evening was seeing a new misspelling of my name. I have seen Lukas, Luca, Benjamin, Kreche, Kresh, Crech, Krecsch and Kresch. This new one was a misspelling of my middle name, it was “Bengaminh.” For the record, the correct spelling of my name is “Lucas Benjaminh Krech.” I once had a program corrected three times by two different people and they still got it wrong in the final printing. So much for cut and paste.

Brecht would be proud

Monday, July 17th, 2006

I saw the Rapid Response Team perform last night. It was quite excellent. Unashamed political art. A rollicking good time. Having a waitress come through taking drink orders sure helped keep the crowd lively. The laughter was almost continuous. Much of Eastern Blogistan was in the house; George, Dan, James, and of course Isaac.

RRT was a great way to end the day. Yesterday felt quite long. I had two meetings for two separate shows. One, ‘a play with music’ for the NY Fringe Festival, called The Unlucky Man with the Yellow Cap and the other a workshop for a production of Ajax that will eventually be presented in Rumania in 2007. Every play that I have coming up deals with war, torture or both. While it may be sad for the state of the world, it is encouraging for the state of the Arts. All we need now are politicians who can be more than mere mouthpieces for Trans-Global Corporations.

In other news, the premier of the making-of documentary about the Medea I lit last August is being screened next month. I will be unable to attend as the company is not providing plane fare to San Juan for the event. If any of you will be in Puerto Rico in mid-August, it should be fun.

Also, my sister is funny:

Circles

Saturday, July 15th, 2006

I have been looking at Art from the Holocost for a play I am doing next month set in Terezin.

Looking at these images is very difficult. I can really only look at a few at a time before I start feeling physically ill, they are so powerful. I remember in 1999 I went to Eastern Europe and visited the Jewish/Holocost Museum in Prauge. It is housed inside five synagogs, only one of which is still in operation. The sad irony is that this museum was marked by Hitler to be the site for a museum containing artifacts of an eradicated race. But here was his dream, a museum dedicated to the people he murdered. And one room in particular was especially chilling. It had hundreds of drawings by children, most of whom died in the Holocaust. I was only able to be in there for a few minutes before I had to leave, sick to my stomach.

While it is of a very different kind, all I can think of reading and looking at these images is the U.S. prison in Guantanamo. The fact that anything even remotely close to the kind of inhumane treatment perpetrated by the Germans could be even considered in light of what we know about the Holocaust is fundamentally revolting. The images in these books are incredibly powerful, and they certainly speak to the idea of truth in shadow.

On a wholly different note, here is another image from my procrastination series.

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Copyleft 2002, Vision 1

Is Stanley McCandless German? OR The Rediscovery of Shadow in Contemporary Culture

Friday, July 14th, 2006

Theoretically the whole acting area might be lighted with one powerful instrument directing its beams to the stage from a distance, at an angle which would light up the face of the actor somewhat as the rays from the sun make objects visible on a sunny day.
Stanley McCandless, A method for Lighting the Stage

During his time a single light that could cover an entire stage was nothing but theory, but now such technology is commonplace. The film industry has found a need to brightly illuminate large areas in a color identical to daylight, such that the camera does not pick up the difference between the sun and the artificial lighting in the photography. Because of that need, the HMI Fresnel was born. HMI is a kind of lamp that operates much like a fluorescent or neon in that there is a glass container with chemicals in it that gets flooded with electricity and lets off (very bright) light. Although originally designed for film, these lights have found their way into theaters, primarily through European opera houses and increasingly in the US as well.

The difference between an HMI and a traditional incandescent lamp is like comparing watercolor to oil paint. One can achieve the same range of colors, perhaps, but the actual quality of the medium is quite different. By using these large lighting instruments one can achieve effects that are quite simply impossible with ‘area lighting.’ One of the biggest issue is shadows. Often in American theatre productions one sees a stage floor covered in lots and lots of tiny shadows. These are the result of lots and lots of tiny little lights focused into lots of little areas. This is very common in so called ‘naturalism’ and yet it is about as unnatural as one can get. When we walk out into the sun at 4:30 in the afternoon, we see a single shadow cast from a single source of light. Perhaps two if we are near a building with a reflective glass wall. But nowhere, unless we are in an artificial environment, do we have the twenty-three shadows one sees on a typical American stage floor.

Now, I am not arguing for an aesthetic that knows only shadows. If everything were like that, it would get as boring as anything else. But, a deeper appreciation for shadow could greatly enhance the beauty and dynamism of the American stage. In some ways this is a political stance. I never watch TV unless I am on an airplane, but when I have the chance my favorite thing to watch is Fox News(or Faux News, in the patriotic dialect). Their lighting designer must be one of the most brilliant propagandists alive. Watch one of their cable news shows some time, it is fascinating. All the anchors are lit so evenly that there is not a single shadow to be found. After all they represent the ‘truth’ they are ‘fair and balanced.’ So then they have their Conservative guests on camera who have slight shadows. Nothing big, but just enough to differentiate them from the hosts. Finally you have anyone other than a conservative wingnut. They always, ALWAYS, have a shadow underneath their chin. Minor issue right? Who cares? Indeed. No one cared in 1962 when Nixon and Kennedy debated on television. Appearance in front of a camera means nothing. Nothing at all.

Shadows mean secrets. Subconsciously we know this somewhere. It is an accepted part of our culture. Shadow = untruth. Or at least half truth. We can not believe the shadowed figure as much as our fair and balanced hosts. They have nothing to hide, so we must trust them. I do not believe this was always the case. For shadow means something else entirely. It means Mystery. One need only look at the paintings of Rembrandt or Caravaggio or El Greco to see a strong Western tradition that appreciates the beauty of the shadow.

It is time to reclaim the beauty of shadows. Like Tanizaki did for Japanese culture with In Praise of Shadows, we must relearn the beauty and truth of shadows. They need not be things to fear, so long as we know how to approach them. Batman after all, one of the greatest dark hero’s of modern mythology, hides in the shadows. We are afraid, as a culture to look inside ourselves and stare at the void. We are much more content to turn on the television and be told about our fair and balanced world. But it is time for our art to show us that void. If we can not go there unaided, then our art, our cultural subconscious, must be brought to the surface of our attention. We must learn to stare out at the dark expanse of human consciousness and see possibility and potential. We must learn to live in praise of shadows.

Methodical Thinking

Thursday, July 13th, 2006

A method for Lighting the Stage by Stanley McCandless was first printed in 1932. My personal copy is a 1984 reprint of the 1963 correction to the Fourth Edition that was first printed in 1958. I mention this only because this book was, and by many people still is considered a primary text for lighting design. Rather than being “a” method during all those years, it was considered by many to be “the” method.

The specifics of the book are uninteresting to anyone but a specialist, so I will glaze over them for the moment. The basic idea is this. Light, in any setting is motivated by some source, i.e. a lamp, the sun, a fire, etc. Thus, any object that is hit by that source has essentially two sides, a light side and a shadow side. McCandless then divided up the stage space into a grid of acting ‘areas’ and into each area would focus two lights, each coming from the front on a 45 degree angle. One would be warm, perhaps a pale amber, and one would be cool, a blue. Which was which depended upon where the lamp or window or whatever was placed. This is a very efficient means of lighting a stage space. You cover the entire stage and you can control the relative brightness or dimness of different locations on stage. If you have six areas, you need twelve lights. Clean, simple, done.

Much of what was going on in McCandless’ thinking had to do with problem solving for a much less advanced technology than we now have available. Power and control were two of his main concerns. In those days there simply was not enough electricity to power more than a few dozen lights. And controlling them was an insane job taking several electricians operating large panels of levers. Then and now is like comparing a mid-century computer and the latest laptop. One is large, bulky and slow, the other small, fast and efficient. For his time it was an amazing and progressive way of dealing with a very real situation. And this is a situation many people still find themselves in in the ‘indie-theatre’ world, where power and control are the first concern and art the second. The Method is a great way to turn minimalism by circumstance into minimalism by design.

The real tragedy of McCandless’ legacy is that too often his writing is taken literally, that one must light a show from the box booms with amber from one side and blue from another. If you want an old fashioned look, then this is certainly the source to begin with, but I would hope that our aesthetic sensibilities have evolved past the 1930′s. What I find interesting about going back to texts like this is to try and extract the essence of the idea, the motivation behind the specifics and then attempt to apply it to a contemporary setting. This is what I was getting at yesterday,

Both McCandless and Carson’s work is concerned with a kind of economy of volume. That is how to fill a stage both efficiently and beautifully. While the final product could not be more different, in many ways they stem from the same origin.

While we were working on Norma at the San Francisco Opera, Heather turned to me and said with a wry smile, “See, that’s how you light an opera for less than $12,000.” Both of these designers are interested in an economy of volume. They want to fill the space elegantly and beautifully, minimizing waste and maximizing the dramatic story telling. Their motivation is the same, where they differ, truly, is a matter of aesthetics. McCandless is looking for some replication of reality, while Carson’s concern is the idea. Her work tends to be very intellectually engaging and cerebral. It is very abstract, but the light follows very clearly defined rules of movement and transformation.

The conventional American style of lighting a play is in many ways an evolution of the McCandless idea. However, rather than a reworking of the initial impulse, an economy of volume, it has been a modification of the ‘area lighting.’ The stage is broken up into many little areas and a lot of little spotlights are pointed at those areas from various directions and in several colors. Virtually every theatre in the U.S. is equipped to light a show based on some variation of this idea. It is a very effective means of lighting a stage, but in many ways it feels like its aesthetic usefulness is coming to a close. I certainly do not envision seeing a broadway show radically diverge from this model any time soon, but something about it feels increasingly out of place in the modern world.

My fundamental problem is that it looks at the performer as an object. As little more than a moving prop that talks. The actor moves, the light moves, simple and easy. Yet, there is so much more available to light than mere illumination. Film understands this. The great cinematographers use light as a dynamic storytelling device in ways that are almost unthinkable in the theatre. There is a fallacy among a lot of people in the theatre that ‘if I can’t see their eyes I can’t hear them.’ Yet, Marlon Brando was heard throughout The Godfather while cloaked in shadow for most of his screen time. A cursory look at the Noir genre shows the almost limitless potential of light as storytelling device.

Revealing the actor to the audience is the primary goal of lighting. Yet how that revelation occurs is something that must be answered uniquely at every moment. A character is not simply illuminated. They are revealed. They are revealed existing within a given psychological and physical context. The are revealed through someone’s perception. They are revealed in relationship to some one or some thing. The performer does more, much more, than simply stand here, then there. They live. They exist as a complex matrix of thoughts and feelings and action. It is that whole that must be revealed, not just the deed of crossing the stage.

un/conventional

Wednesday, July 12th, 2006

So far for next season I have been hired for two shows because of a reputation I have for “unconventional” lighting. I understand the intent behind this categorization, but I find it curious that my work is seen as unconventional. Perhaps this comes from the fact that I do not think, initially about theatricalizing the text, but approach my work at a more formal visual level. When I am lighting a show I do not think first about lekos and fresnels and gobos and gels. Rather I think visually in terms of what quality of light do I wish to create. Are we interested in directional lighting or soft diffuse lighting? Do we want a compressed grey scale or something very chromatic. Should the light be solid or dappled? This is why I love using images to discuss lighting a show. It keeps the conversation focused on what the lighting should look like rather than technical execution. That part comes later, much later. At the beginning of a process it is about looking and reacting.

Because of this approach I get sold on the look rather than the technique. As a result I use a mixture of traditional theatrical lights and other types of lighting instruments. Heather Carson taught at NYU my first year of graduate school and I had the pleasure of assisting her at San Francisco Opera this past season on a production of Norma. Heather is a designer known for her “unconventional” lighting. How she came about it is quite interesting. Working on a lot of European opera with Paul Steinberg, who creates large architectural sets, she began exploring architectural lighting. This search has led her to embrace an aesthetic composed almost exclusively sodium and mercury flood lights as well as fluorescent lighting. For those of you who are unfamiliar, sodium lights are the yellow street lamps and mercury, the white/green parking lot lights. Her work is quite stunning and very powerful.

Working and studying with her gave me a strong appreciation of the power and beauty of a much wider array of lighting instruments than I had previously explored. Let’s think of a lamp post at night. Most of us have probably seen some scene in a play that takes place outside where the characters are supposed to be standing under a street lamp. The lighting designer took a spot light, made the edges very soft and colored it some shade of yellow or amber. The effect feels little to nothing like a streetlight. An actual street lamp has a very beautiful quality to it. The light is very intense when you are close to it. Harsh and almost disorienting. As you move away the light thins out and dissipates rapidly. Far away there is a thin breath of light, barely visible. Certainly there is something here to be said for dramatic effect, but if what one wants is a streetlight, nothing can do that better than the real thing.

In Cupid and Psyche I was expressly interested in the quality of light. I was exploring the relationship between the formal quality of light and the creation of psychological space. We had quite a number of locations to deal with on a single set, so delineating the location came down to lighting. Two of the most important locations in the play were Cupid’s cloud where he laments his lovelstruck woe and the Apolo’s palace where Cupid takes Psyche to woo her. These two physical locations simultaneously represented psychological spaces as well. The palace was lit with 23 large tear shaped incandescent bulbs. They gave off a warm glow and reflected the other lights in their glass. This gave a kind of jewel like sparkle to the palace. The cloud on the other hand was a space of lovesick anguish. It was lit in a diffuse, soft, cold, grey light. Fluorescent tubes hidden behind the fabric walls of the set were the primary lighting for this location.

Had I limited myself to the conventional palette used by a theatrical lighting designer for Cupid and Psyche, the show would have been just that, conventional. In Suspendida we lit the entire piece in bare lightbulbs laying on the ground. Here the lights on the ground pulsed like breath, slow and deliberate, It was actually a very complex random sequence of programming, such that every time we performed the piece, the lighting was different. Looking beyond the conventional means of working a scene or an entire piece can be very difficult. A lot of the tradition has come about precisely because it works. But the sad reality is that a lot of work ends up looking very similar.

What I have found interesting is that as a result of doing a lot of “unconventional” lighting, I am able to take a conventional piece and give it a kind of unique quality. This is why I love working in a variety of mediums as well as in both traditional entertainment and more avant garde work. The different works talk to each other through me and inform one another in often surprising ways.

I was once working on a piece that wanted to be very “old-fashioned” in style, so I went back to the work of Stanley McCandless. What I ended up with was a modern interpretation of his ideas. And that research led me down some very interesting and exciting avenues of thought specifically in the realm of color theory that I might not have otherwise explored. The old and the new are often surprisingly close to one another. Both McCandless and Carson’s work is concerned with a kind of economy of volume. That is how to fill a stage both efficiently and beautifully. While the final product could not be more different, in many ways they stem from the same origin.

It is because of this that I find labels like ‘unconventional’ to be rather strange. In fact the whole idea of an Avant Garde sounds hopelessly mid-century to me. If for no other reason than the rate at which information is disseminated and absorbed into culture, the idea of an advanced rank of artists or producers of culture is just plain silly. Any work that has reached completion is already old and dead. The revolution is not a single event. It is not a deed or an act. Rather it is like the Aristotilian notion of Praxis, it is an underlying motivation that must and will continue until it has reached its final goal. If that final goal is a product then the revolution will die. If, rather it is a way of Being, a mode of existence, then it will continue on forever, always finding new sources of fuel and new means of expression.

If it ain’t broke don’t fix it

Wednesday, July 12th, 2006

So there is a lot of talk in the theatre world about the system being broken, or theatre being dead. I find it curious that so much talk goes on about it that there is little time left to actually do anything to fix it. But some people are. George started his own company, John is working to transform the Equity Showcase Code, and thirteen playwrights get their work produced.

What are you doing to fix the break? What actions are you taking to see the reality you want manifest in the world? Because I for one see these and many other examples as very encouraging signs of a healthy working system. I want to know what else is going on.

My internet access is very limited these days. I hope to return to more lengthy posting soon.


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