Posts Tagged ‘rehearsal’

Like a Blind Date

Wednesday, January 21st, 2009

I had my first design meeting this morning for The Floating Lightbulb that I will be designing in San Francisco this spring. The director and entire design team are all new to me. I find this to be a curious experience as the vast majority of shows I have designed over the last several years have come to me through personal connection. Either some or all of the team are people I have worked with before, or I meet a director or producer at some social function. Sometimes a designer I have worked with previously recommends my work to a director or producer, but even then there is the personal connection. In this case, it was none of those situations. Rather I sent an email to the producer and they liked my work enough to ask me in for a meeting and then hired me for the job.

These situations always feel a little odd to me. Most of the time is spent getting a sense of where your collaborators are coming from. This is not necessarily even artistic in nature, Rather, you are simply trying to get a hold on the personalities of the folk you are working with. Some art does get discussed, of course, but it is almost incidental at these first meetings to developing a shorthand with your collaborators.

The shorthand is not something you can force. Rather it derives from working together and learning what “moody” or “bright” or “shadowy” or “blue” means to different people. Even common cultural referents must be learned and understood. “Noir” to one director may be all about lighting, while to another costuming and another acting style. The more you work with a similar group of collaborators the more you learn what each person means with their language and the work delves deeper into the play earlier in the process.

In New York, I worked with similar groups of people all the time. Because of this, there was a common short hand and ease of expression with regards to design ideas. I now find myself working on my fourth show in the Bay Area and with my fourth wholly new creative team. While I know that it is only a matter of time before I begin working in overlapping circles of directors and designers, for the moment it appears to be something like dating. You get out of a relationship and suddenly find yourself meeting and interacting with all these new people, trying to understand them, who they are, where they came from and where they are going, to see if you are a good fit.

Unlike this first meeting for Lightbulb, Dracul was like the kind of working situation I am used to. I had done a show with The Crucible a few years ago and was familiar with the basic aesthetic they were coming from. The director and I both knew each other from our time at San Francisco Opera and had a very similar working vocabulary from which to begin. Despite having never actually worked together on a show we were able to quickly devise a shorthand that allowed us to communicate ideas quickly and efficiently. Ultimately this made the process very smooth and a total joy to be a part of.

Next week I fly down to Virginia to begin work on Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. I have worked on a half-dozen shows down there to date, two of them by the director of Joseph. The shorthand is already there. We each have a basic understanding of the aesthetic place the other is coming from. Thus far our phone and internet conversations have been relatively smooth.

Obviously there can be and often are misunderstandings and disagreements. But more often than not they tend to be around the details rather than the fundamental aesthetics of the piece. Developing a shorthand also helps bypass a lot of those misunderstandings as well as shortening the length of the disagreement.

Collaboration, as found in the theatre, only works when it is a win/win situation. If any person or aesthetic viewpoint “loses,” the piece suffers. Finding a means of integrating varying and disparate aesthetic perspectives is what creates the synergistic magic that is theatre and opera and dance.

Sacred Space

Friday, April 6th, 2007

What is it that makes sacred space? It seems to me that sacred space is bounded on the one hand physically by some symbolic entrance, a gate of some kind. It is further bounded temporally by some ritual that bookends the time spent in the space, a prayer perhaps.

I attended my first Seder last night. It was quite an interesting time for me. As I am not currently drinking alcohol, due to a dietary fast I am undertaking for an upcoming meditation workshop, I could not imbibe the four glasses of wine. I did substitute these for grape juice, and figured that would be fine within the symbolic construct of the evening. It seemed to work out alright.

I had a wonderful time. What fascinated me most was how something so common as a meal, a dinner, something we all do every day, could be transformed into something wholly other. The room became transformed as we descended from mundane time to sacred time. Perhaps it was just a contact high from all the alcohol, but it sure felt as if the energy in the room shifted as we delved into and then out of Mitzrayim.

Sacred space exists as a potential all around us in our everyday lives. It is a way of looking, a way of being in the world. It is a conscious, and sometimes not conscious choice, of being in a deeper more significant place than we inhabit when going through life blindly and without reflection.

A very common space I find myself in that I would designate as sacred space is the rehearsal room. There is not worship per se and quite often people in the theatre tend towards atheism. None the less the space created is a sacred space, or rather can be.

At its best and brightest the rehearsal room exists as a place where one’s very mode of being in the world must change. The demands exacted upon one are of a fundamentally different character than the mundane interactions of buying a cup of coffee or reading the news that make up much of our regular daily lives. The rehearsal room is a place, safe from the demands and concerns of the outside world, where deep and profound truths can be discovered amidst the piles of text and ideas that infuse a play with its foundation.

Rehearsal rooms have their own set of rules and laws that govern them. In the best cases they are places of free creativity where an unspoken rule is in effect that what occurs in the rehearsal room stays in the rehearsal room. Without adherence to this rule no true work can be done. With the constant threat of the outside world at the doors of the rehearsal hall, how can one truly fall into the mindset needed for total exploration?

It is a delicate thing, the creation of sacred space. Safe space. Building trust with a group of people such that the real and difficult work can begin is no easy task. The seder, quite early on, asks everyone present to wash their hands and through washing the hands, wash away that which they desire to leave behind. The speaking of these words and the letting go of these shackles brings the group together in a common endeavor. We are not simply eating a meal(or waiting to eat a meal) we are now all striving for the liberation of not only ourselves but of everyone at the table. We become collective seekers of the nourishment of wisdom and liberation.

Everyone born into this planet must walk a solitary path. We each are presented with various roads and must choose which, if any to take. And while these journeys and decisions must be made and undertaken alone, while the path must be walked with our own feet, it can not be accomplished without the aid of the community. Be that community a group of dinner guests, a sangha or a rehearsal hall filled with willing collaborators, the goal is the same; to assist everyone present to discover the truth and find the path of liberation. The liberation of truth from its many bonds.

Evolutionary Aesthetics

Wednesday, October 18th, 2006

The process for Windows has been quite interesting. Two and a half weeks in the theatre from load-in to opening(tonight). Twice as much time as I have ever had to work on a show. As a result there has been a lot of time to evolve the visual storytelling. The basic idea that we had from the start is there, utilize color transformations as a primary source of visual storytelling. When working in a situation as limited as the one we are in(only 44 dimmers) I have found that color can be a very useful means of differentiating time, space and psychology while still being able to clearly and cleanly light the performers.

The play is very complex from a lighting perspective. As the text utilizes dance and movement along with language to move through its ever shifting symbolic dreamscape there is a need for rather sophisticated cueing. Transitions from one image to the next occur in many parts with different lights moving at different rates. The light board we are using is not designed to do “Part Cues.” It can do them, but the programming for it is difficult and convoluted as that functionality was added on after the initial release of the software.

We have two main color ideas, a set of lightboxes as the back wall and an overhead system of color scrollers and then all the various conventional lights. All of these elements need to move and transform at different rates. I made a distinct choice with this show to use only colors I had never(or rarely) used before. A few of the colors I had used once, but most were wholly new to me. It made for some interesting surprises. The entire palette was composed of very soft colors, colors that recede from the eye, that try desperately to mix with other colors. The general effect of that was a very colorful palette that is perceived like clear light. Exactly the effect I wanted. The trouble came with the inherent difficulty then of giving a kind of sharpness and crispness to the images. I really had to work the color balance to make it possible. The colors all wanted to fall in a pile of mush, so it was quite some effort to make them stand up solidly.

Since the colors on the lightboxes were new, it took me a few days to really get the precise control over them I needed to mix the necessary colors for each moment. Once this happened I was able to start working out the crispness and softness needed in the various compositions. Since light, and color in particular, is inherently relative, if one aspect of the color is not under total control the whole stage picture begins to fall apart. But having so much time in the theatre I knew I could afford the risk of these difficult and troublesome colors.

Wrestling with the color palette was trouble enough, but we were also evolving the style of visual storytelling and making substantial rewrites to the script. There are lots of live color transformations, but we also had to find the moments of clarity. We had to find the light as well as the moments of darkness. While the initial color idea has held throughout, the final compositions are nothing like what I had expected. This is one of the wonderful things about the rehearsal process. You come to the table with a clear idea, but also with the flexibility to transform that idea into something else. Then you turn off the head, turn on the eyes, and flow with the play.

I always love the unexpected moments. Often I will include things in a plot that I have no idea when or how they will be used, but that I know will be useful. These hunches can turn into some of the most exciting parts of the technical rehearsal, as they become integral to the visual language of the play.

The production changes every time it is worked. Working one scene changes its relationship to all the other scenes and calls their composition into question. So those scenes change and again the whole is transformed. It is an amazing and fascinating negotiation. A play is such a fragile thing. Every single aspect of a production intimately tied to every other. It can be like herding cats to pull all the various elements together. Sometimes a single element can throw the whole thing off. Sometimes the evolutionary process never quite makes it to a new and complete species. In this case it is a workshop production and the script was only set a few days ago. As a result none of us have fully processed what this thing is. It is a wholly conditional situation. It has been difficult, but a lot of fun to work on.

you can’t do that on television

Friday, August 11th, 2006

Ajax falls into a chair weeping as Athena leaves him with Odysseus looking on in fear and awe. A silence filled with the dim cold flicker of a television set tuned to nothing. A campfire in hell. Athena reenters transformed. The other two begin to morph and change. Another television fades in giving a dull glow to these three now circling an unknown center. Orbiting a mystery. They transform, now become chorus speaking fluidly from one to the next; birth, growth and decay in fast forward, they try to understand the horror they see before them. Unable to believe it is true.

Scandal.
Odysseus whispers it,
drops poison in every ear.
Oh, they believe him, easy, easy,
they pass along your shame, and laugh to hear it.
Who slanders little men?
Only the great are envied,
heroes, princes,
our bastions in battle.
Even there, in the clatter and roar of war,
spite yaps at their heels.

Damn I love rehearsal! It is always amazing to me to see these words come alive in the bodies and voices of the actors. To see the movement of the piece burst forth from the mind of a director. To see a hunch on my part turn out to be an incredibly strong choice.

Ajax presents a first for me. I have used a lot of “alternative lighting” sources in my work. It is something I have a little reputation for. But, until now I had never lit a show with televisions. That thin and pale blue light. The cold flicker like the flames of hell or madness, unsettling in its dance. Working in a rehearsal with lighting is a wonderful luxury. Even if only for a day or two, having the time to play along with the actors and director finding the shape of the work is a wonderful opportunity to have.

I have always loved the look of television light on people’s faces, or flickering on a window. It is one of the few truly random lights we ever get in our otherwise highly organized world. The flicker can mesmerize us. Millions sit transfixed by this dull flickering light for hours on end every day of the week. I have never been a big fan of watching television, with the sole exception of The Simpsons. While not a fan of the programming, I do truly love the light. It is very exciting for me to light a play with televisions.

We are not lighting the whole show exclusively with televisions mind you, but they are a primary mode of illumination. Enough to keep my reputation for “alternative lighting“. But truly they operate as a strict and necessary storytelling element. This tale of madness and despair can not be told without them. They are as necessary as a gun in Romeo + Juliet.

What is truly exciting to me is that Thursday evening, one of the actors mentioned how they were interested in exploring the televisions interrupting the action, an idea supported by the director and of course one that I find very engaging. Ajax is a perfect text to explore interruptions. Structurally the play is a series of interruptions and near interruptions. The psychological way in which the text is being staged calls even more specifically for such moments. What all will be possible in the workshop setting remains to be seen. But there is a lot of potential.

For the “open rehearsal” on Sunday we are only presenting a fragment of the piece. The intent of the event on Sunday is to find producers for an eventual full production in New York. We are also taping the run through to be sent to Sibiu Rumania for a production next summer. The rehearsal is open only to guests and at specific times. If readers here would be interested in attending please contact me and I can arrange for you to view the event.


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