Posts Tagged ‘work’

Professional(ism)

Monday, February 21st, 2011

This past summer I was visiting my sister and her family. My niece and nephew were in a community theater production of The Wizard of Oz. I got to see the final performance of their run. There was much excitement from the kids as they were each payed $150 for the run of the show and could not wait to variously save it for a future big purchase or buy some toys right away. My brother-in-law turned to me at one point in this monetary feeding frenzy and asked, with a wry smile, “Does this make them professional actors?”

“Absolutely,” I replied.

But what does that word professional mean? Certainly getting paid for work is one commonly used definition of professional. But I have a hunch most people would see a slight difference between my niece and Idina Menzel. What does it mean to be a professional?

I know a lot of so called professionals, with memberships to their respective unions, working in the theater and making most of their money from other sources. Some are fortunate enough to teach, or assist more advanced professionals, but others wait tables, drive cabs, build websites, or assemble electronics. Clearly then making money can not be the only limiting factor when determining whether one is a professional.

Perhaps then we should look to something more ephemeral. Dedication could be one way of looking at a professional. Many professionals have dedicated all their time and energy to perfecting their craft and pursuing a career.

This line of reasoning only goes so far. We are left with the issue of those untalented yet dedicated folks who never get work but persist nonetheless and have more tenacity than many working professionals. At the same time, dedication becomes complicated by those who have the right connections to regularly get work despite a lack of interest or talent.

So dedication then, and even talent, are not enough to make one a professional.

Perhaps this question is being asked in the wrong fashion. Perhaps the issue is not about defining whether one is a professional or not. Perhaps a more interesting question is “What is professionalism?”

Perhaps being a professional is one of attitude and approach. Are you one time? Do you complete your work to the best of your ability and resources? Are you polite and courteous? Do you work towards the common goal of creating strong work? Do you make agreements and stick with them? Do you follow accepted industry practices? Do you set standards for your work and seek to exceed them? Are you constantly striving to improve your craft?

In the end, being a professional is something one self identifies as. It is not an absolute. It is a way of being. A state of mind.

Many people in the theater, especially outside major theater towns like New York, are talented amateurs. They might have one or two companies they work with regularly and they may do good work, but they are not professionals. This does not mean they are better or worse than anyone else. It simply means the center of gravity for their life is somewhere else. The work is community theater. I do not mean this in a pejorative or diminutive sense. I mean it is theater for the community of which these actors, directors, and designers are a part. That is a very valuable thing, but I am not certain it is professional.

Companies which refuse standard contract clauses like right of first refusal for a designer on a world premier are not playing hardball. They are demonstrating a lack of professionalism. A designer who imposes their “ideas” on a reluctant director and creative team who do not understand the design is not clever or innovative, they are displaying a lack of professionalism.

A professional, in a collaborative art form, must play well with others, deliver their work on time and be complete. They must be creative, if not innovative, and never stop trying to improve. Perhaps defining a professional is like defining pornography. I can’t give you a list of adjectives, but I know it when I see it.

Freelance Scheduling and Recession Economics

Monday, November 22nd, 2010

One of the most complicated aspects to freelancing is managing one’s calendar. A full year can include 20-30 projects easily, averaging around two projects a month. In a world of Platonic ideals this breaks down very simply and easily. The real world of freelancing is never so simple. In the real world shows pile up back to back, there are awkward gaps between projects, shows fall through randomly, and new projects pop up at the last minute.

A few month ago I got an email from the producer of a show I lit three years ago. The production is going to be remounted in Connecticut next summer. This is fantastic news. I truly enjoyed the project and my collaborators, it is a strong piece that deserves a wider audience. This also means I have at least one show definitely scheduled more than 8 months out. I have soft offers going well into 2012, but uncontracted and thus not yet firmly placed in my calendar.

When dates are uncertain and contracts are unsigned it is important to keep an awareness of projects without letting them be firm limiters on one’s calendar. This is an almost constant dance of finding out which soft offers and potential contracts (if only we can get the funding!) become real and what new concrete projects will come in the meantime.

This December was mostly free for me as few days ago. My last show of the year opens December 3rd. The following few weeks would mean a nice bit of downtime from production to get my bookkeeping and paperwork in shape, start preproduction work on 2011 projects, and generally get a bit of rest. Then the phone rang two days ago. A play. In Dallas. Focuses on December 6th. That’s three days after my last contracted show opens and eliminates much of that downtime I had previously thought I would have in December.

This is the way of things. It can be a roller coaster at times. Sometimes nerve wracking. Sometimes thrilling. Never boring.

I remember November of 2007. I had almost my whole year penciled in in my calendar. It was going to be awesome, filled with a wide array of regional and Off-Broadway projects, a season with a dance company, and several experimental pieces. Then the bubble burst. One by one I got calls from producers that they were unable to secure funding for such and such a project and it would be postponed indefinitely. By January 1st 2008 over 80% of the projects I had lined up were gone.

Over the course of that year new projects slowly filled gaps in my schedule. I made it through the year, scraping at times, but pulling through. Freelancing is never easy, but the Great Recession sure makes it that much more challenging.

Even during good economic times the schedule of a freelancer is never easy. You sign a contract for a project because you have a hole in your schedule to fill, it’s not the best, but its work. Then, two days later, your dream project falls in your lap and the dates are identical. Managing the overlap is an art unto itself.

Many designers hire assistants to carry them through the overlaps. Fees being what they are, one must calculate if the overhead of hiring an assistant is worth the value of the contract.

Managing multiple projects artistically is the easy part. We learn tricks for finding inspiration so we can keep moving ahead with our design work. Managing multiple projects logistically is a whole different beast. As a freelancer I can manage my preproduction work largely on my own schedule. But the one thing I can not manage is when the show opens.

Being a freelancer you share many of the same skills with a project manager. You are in charge of making and maintaining multiple projects on numerous timelines for a variety of clients. It is very different than simply running a small business. You have, at times, the administrative workload of managing a large business and maintaining a full time creative life.

No one ever said freelancing was easy. But as a student, and before I freelanced full time, I tended to think of the difficulty coming from an artistic direction. Relative to the administrative and scheduling aspects of the work, the art is the easy part. Add the increased volatility of our current economy and the roller coaster gets a lot steeper, faster, and jolts your around harder.

The Headset

Monday, May 17th, 2010

One of the best investments I made as a designer was buying my headset. And when it finally broke after 5 years of faithful service, I immediately went and bought myself an identical one. While there might be better headsets out on the market this one works exceptionally well for me. It is lightweight, comfortable, compatible with standard intercom systems, and inexpensive.

I am often surprised by the number of designers who do not have their own headset. For me it seems like a non-question. Given that we are sitting at a techtable 10 hours a day for days on end it seems natural that we would want our headset, which we are wearing the majority of the time, to be something known, familiar, and comfortable.

Just like I would not try drafting on someone else’s computer I would not want to start writing light cues without my headset. A lot of this comes down to familiarity. When freelancing, so much of the day to day routine is managing new and different situations. As such I like to keep as much as possible known and knowable. Because the headset is such a basic tool I make sure to bring my own.

There are several reasons for wanting my own headset. There are the miserable situations of the theater which has some ancient headset that keeps falling off your head. Perhaps it is slick from decades of other people’s sweat caked into the ear muff. There are the less than ideal situations where the earmuff and mic can only sit on one side, and it’s not the side you want it on. There are the fine situations where the intercom system is brand new and everything fits perfectly. The trouble is, you often do not know which of these you are walking into ahead of time.

Bringing your own headset avoids any of these problems.

The hygiene issue was a major factor for me. How many people have sweated through an exceptionally hot day or coughed into the mic of the house headset? Just a few? Hundreds? Who knows? But I am less than interested in picking up last year’s flu from a headset.

While the hygiene issue is, in reality, a fairly minor concern, of practical concern to the making of art is the control of your environment and experience. If your attention is focused on keeping the headset on your head, you are not as focused on making good work. If you have to fumble with your earmuff, or take it off every time you want to hear the person next to you, you have less time and attention available for solving problems.

In the end that is what it comes down to. Time. And attention.

We are working under rather strict time constraints in a medium that is constantly shifting before us, and thus requires total attention. Anything we can do to organize our experience such that maximum attention is paid to the work at hand will pay us back many times the investment. A few extra seconds could be all it takes to have the “ah ha” moment that pulls the difficult Act 2 lighting into place.

A headset, like our drafting technology, paperwork, cheat sheets, magic sheets, and so forth is a deeply personal thing that will be different for every designer. We all have our own needs and desires and comfort levels. Knowing what those are for ourself, and solving those needs ahead of time, gives us the extra room during tech to create wonderful things rather than simply put out fires and get through it.

This is just one of the things I carry along with me when I travel to a gig. For a more detailed list look here.

Do you bring your own headset to tech? Why or why not?

Calling the Focus

Monday, March 8th, 2010

I have been involved in a lot of focus calls and pointed countless thousands of lights. From when I worked as an electrician up in the catwalks manipulating the lights themselves, to assisting other designers, to focusing lights for my own shows, I have seen a lot of different systems for focusing lights. Sadly I have seen more poorly called focus sessions than I have good ones. Hopefully this post will help outline some good ideas for a fast and efficient focus call. This is geared towards Master Electricians and Assistants who will be directing the focus session. It is by no means complete and I would welcome suggestions and improvements in comments.

I have focused lights everywhere from 60 seat off-off-B’way houses in New York, to Broadway national tours And everything in between. Over the years I have developed some best practices for making the process go smoothly and quickly. Remember, the designer probably wants to get through the focus as fast as (or faster than) you. Focus is not exactly fun, but it is a necessary part of the process to get on to the interesting work. The focus session helps to set the tone for the production. Having a quick and efficient focus allows the designer to enter the technical rehearsals in a state of calm, ready to create.

Any designer who has properly done their homework, with regards to working out the angles of their lighting system, will be able to start anywhere on stage and is not dependent on “Oh we need to begin with channel 1.” Rather than asking “where do you want to start,” because the honest answer is probably something akin to “With a beer at the bar down the street,” figure out the best place to start in your theater and ask the designer “Can we begin at such and such a position?” Chances are the designer will say yes. The designer is busy enough thinking about how a particular light will be used, “and should it be cut off the Act 1 or the Act 2 legs,” that they don’t need to worry about what light they are going to next. That is your job. You should direct the focus call such that the session moves at an average of about a minute and a half per light(this includes breaks, moving scenery, fixing broken units, etc.). Faster is nice, but much slower gets very tedious.

I like to start with something easy like catwalks or balcony rails to get everyone into a rhythm. Once a good working rhythm has been established, mixing up more difficult positions into the focus (like climbable torms) can balance the pace with something easy light PARcan backlight systems. The person calling focus needs to think systemically to make the process go fast. Systemically in terms of how the designer laid out their lighting systems as well as the systems of the lighting positions. Act like an electrician, think like a designer.

Once you have determined the optimal starting positions, you need to break your crew up and send them to those positions. For the purposes of this post I will be assuming a 4+ electrician/1 ME crew for a standard three position focus. This means that three electricians are pointing lights and one (or more) is acting as a runner/lift mover, while the ME turns lights on and off at the console. How you divide your crew up can be critical to the speed of the focus. If you don’t know the skill level of your crew, putting everyone front of house to focus can be a good way to find the fast/skilled electricians and the less proficient ones. Once you know that, you can move on to more complicated positions.

Here is a basic rundown of the tools you will need to call the focus:

  • A console with the completed patch
  • Full size copy of the plot (1/2″ or 1/4″ as needed)
  • Printed Channel Hookup
  • Printed Instrument Schedule
  • Laptop with the current Lightwright (or other lighting database) file
  • Note paper
  • Two different colored highlighters
  • Writing Pen

If you are an assistant you will also need:

  • Blank Focus Charts
  • Tape Measure
  • Sharpie
  • Painter’s Tape

A quick note on plots. I have seen, on smaller shows (typically 100 units or less), a tendency to print the plot on standard office paper. While this is faster (at first) the end result can be a nightmare. Units often get hung in the wrong place and have to be moved at focus, numbers can not easily be read, and sometimes the wrong fixture entirely gets hung at a position. Taking the half hour to go make a large format print of the plot will save you hours of work down the road. Trust me. It’s worth it.

When you send your electricians to their positions it is a good idea to glow the units they will be going to. This allows them to get in place and start working faster. Once you glow a unit, put a dot of highlighter 1 on the channel on the plot. This is an easily visible way to note a channel you will soon be going to, and with the plot in front of you, allow you to strategize the best path through the plot. Also, when you stop for breaks, this will be a quick reference to get right back to where you were. When a light is turned on to full for focus, you fill in the channel circle with highlighter 1 completely. If you need to skip a light, or it is broken or has otherwise been touched but not completed, put a dot from highlighter 2 over the Unit Number. Write down any worknotes that can not immediately be solved on your pad of paper. When the light is focused, you fill in the whole instrument symbol with highlighter 2. This is a clear graphic way to determine what you have done and where you have to go.

When you turn a light on to full, call out to the designer the channel number and its purpose. For example, “This is channel 2 Front Warm DLC.” This allows the designer to get to focusing the light without fumbling over their own channel hookup or cheatsheet. This will save you about 10-20 seconds per light. When you move on to the next light turn the new light on FIRST, call out its number and purpose, THEN turn off the previous light. This will save you about 10 seconds per light. This total of 30 seconds may not seem like much, but in a 250+ unit plot that means almost an hour and a half that could be spent fixing troubled gear or getting to the bar sooner. The bigger the plot, the more the time savings.

In terms of assigning electricians I find the following system works very well. If your crew is widely varied in terms of skill, pair your best and worst electrician on symmetrical systems(Box Booms, High Sides, etc.). When you turn the lights on, turn the light for the worst electrician FIRST. At the same time you glow the light that will focus in a mirror location for the second electrician (If electrician one is Focusing “BB Frm Lt FAR” you glow “BB Frm Rt FAR” for electrician two) . The first electrician will take however long they take. Because you are glowing the mirror image for the fast electrician, they are probably paying attention to the designer and focusing that light while it is glowing. So while it may take the first electrician two minutes to point the light, when you turn on the next unit it is all focused except for shuttercuts and color. It takes 12 seconds to focus that one and thus you have an average of 1:06/per light. Not too shabby.

Keeping a steady pace is critical. If you are always one step ahead of your designer and thinking with them in terms of systems you can get your plot focused quickly and efficiently. The faster the plot is focused, the sooner we can all get to the bar. Or in the unfortunate case that there are serious problems, or the set moved and thus half the lights need to move, you have the time built in to the focus session to deal with those scenarios. The technical rehearsal will start at the same time no matter how long (or how complete) the focus is. We don’t want to be rushed. We do want to move quickly.

How do you call focus? This is only one person’s system and there are infinite details which can not be put in a single blog post. I would love to hear your thoughts in comments.

Tools of the Trade – What’s in your bag?

Monday, March 1st, 2010

I recently sent off design drawings for a project and was told by the Master Electrician that they did not have a copy of Lightwright and would I please send the paperwork in a different file format. I converted everything to PDFs of the Channel Hookup and Instrument Schedule and sent them along. This is not the first time such a situation has happened to me.

I am often amazed at the number of people who work as freelance Master Electricians who do not own their own copy of Lightwright. While the program is a bit pricey it has become a necessary tool for the job. The simple creation of an Instrument Schedule or Channel Hookup could be done with any spreadsheet or database program, the specific calculations made by LW allow the job of the ME to be infinitely easier. And given that nearly all lighting designers use it, having one’s own copy is necessary for working with your primary collaborator, the designer.

An electrician would not consider coming to a call without a wrench. It is seen as a necessary part of the job. Lightwirght, like email and a phone, should be considered necessary for anyone directly interfacing with designers. This includes MEs, assistants, and so forth.

The intent of this post is not to rag on a few individuals but to make a larger point. When working as a freelancer there are certain tools that are necessary to have for your job. What those are will vary depending upon what your position is, but none the less you must have the basic minimum necessary tools. Back when I worked as an electrician it was a wrench, a multi-tool, and a pair of gloves. Minimum. Many electricians carry around far more tools. You don’t want to be the electrician who borrows the designer’s wrench. It just looks bad.

I know designers who carry around a huge bag full of tools. I am not that extensive and prefer to keep my carried items as lightweight as possible. Here’s a quick list of what I consider the necessary minimum tools as a lighting designer.

  • Laptop

    • Lightwright

    • Vectorworks
    • All show files for currently active projects
    • An Office Suite that can open and save as XLS and DOC files (I prefer OpenOffice)
    • Photoshop (or equivalent)
    • Illustrator (or equivalent)
    • Desktop email client (the theater may not have wifi, so it’s best to carry your info with you)
    • Calendar
  • Multiple pads of paper for notes
  • Pens
  • Floppy disks and USB drives to back up show files
  • Scale rule
  • Tape measure
  • Pens
  • A light for your tech table
  • A Headset
  • Cell phone
  • A Water bottle
  • Wrench
  • Pens
  • Snacks (focus and tech can get exhausting and breaks are not always timed to your body’s rhythms. I prefer Clif bars and fruit)
  • A Book (sometimes you are just sitting around waiting for scenery to arrive, might as well learn something)

Like I said this is a small list and many designers carry quite a lot more than this but for me I find it to be about the minimum that I can not assume will be provided in adequate quantity or repair by the theater.

A quick note on disks and drives. I recently pulled floppy disks out of my necessary list to lower the weight I carry on my back. Poor choice. I just ran into a situation where the theater had misplaced their disks in a cleaning frenzy and the schedule was so tight no one was free to pick any up until three days of programming had gone by. And this was a complicated show to program. Not the best situation for the nerves.

I almost never have a need for tools like Photoshop or Illustrator, so I use open source alternatives GiMP and Inkscape, but I have the option should the need arise (I also keep a full set of audio manipulation programs on my computer for similar reasons).

You will not need all these tools every day. My tiny designer wrench that is small enough to go in my carryon for airplanes would hardly serve a professional electrician. But when I need to run up and adjust a boom, because the crew of one or two are on lunch, I can do the note.

The wrench I learned the hard way. Getting all high and mighty thinking that as designer boy I would never need to touch a light again in my life, I was left high and dry during one lunch break and the few simple notes did not get done until AFTER the run through. After that, I started carrying a wrench as part of my necessary tool kit. I am sure my list will continue to evolve over time but for now this is more or less what it looks like.

Everyone’s needs are different. What do you consider a necessary tool for your work?

Electrical Stereotypes

Friday, February 5th, 2010

My work crosses a lot of different terrain within the world of live performance. I work on everything from small independently produced experimental pieces to high level assisting on Opera, and recently the Broadway tour of South Pacific, and everything in between. It seems to me that many people I work with, specifically the technicians, tend to stay within their own part of this world without much exposure to the other sides. Without exposure or familiarity one tends to create meaning and understanding through conjecture and rumor. The result are stereotypes.

Many freelance electricians I have worked with have a rather consistent view of union electricians. They see IA guys as lazy and disinterested. It seems that whenever the topic comes up there is someone on the crew who will talk about how lazy they are and how the “real” electricians are outside the union and so on and so forth. Upon a little bit of probing it often turns out that these people, who moments ago were so passionate in their truth, have never worked with union electricians or are thinking of a singular episode or a single person.

Union electricians have a curious view of the freelancers as well. While in my experience they tend to be more politic, that view boils down to freelancers being unskilled or not “real” electricians. Again, upon further investigation these observations often come down to “that one guy at an open call” or “back when I was in college.”

The truth, as is so often the case, lies somewhere outside the stereotype itself. It is true that I have worked with union electricians who had to be coaxed and prodded to just move a simple ladder. I have also worked with freelance “electricians” who could barely plug a light in. At the same time some of the most dedicated, proactive, and fastest, electricians I have worked with have been union. I am thinking here, specifically, of my time as lighting assistant for the San Francisco Opera, but experience has shown this same level of dedication and craft around the country. I have also worked with freelance electricians whose knowledge of electrical systems was so complete, whose skills were so developed, and whose programming knowledge so in depth, that I was in awe.

In my experience most people working in the entertainment industry are doing so out of love for the work. While this is most apparent in performers and other creatives, I find that it extends to everyone working on the show including technicians, admin, box office, and even maintenance. The work is never easy and the pay is never enough. At any level.

While I understand where these stereotypes come from, I am skeptical that they provide us with any benefit other than topics of chit chat over coffee. Sure I have worked with union guys who seem to do nothing but stand around. But I have met those same guys in independent freelance situations as well. The lazy electrician can exploit union rules to great affect. At the same time, the ignorant and untalented can exploit the freelance situation’s need to simply get people in the door to an easy, almost undeserved, paycheck.

In the interest of creating better quality work, and a more positive environment, it seems of greater import to focus on the quality of the work itself. The talent pool we have on any given project is what it is. And that is often quite varied. Unless something drastic happens, it will remain that way. What is important for us to do is take an honest stock of who we have, and what their skill set is, and make the best use of it.

The next time we find ourselves making assumptions abut the skill level or dedication of our fellow workers in the entertainment industry we might want to ask ourselves where those feelings originate from. Is the freelancer calling union guys lazy because she is tired from all the hustling? Is the IA guy calling the freelancer incompetent because he is exhausted from all those extra training sessions he has attended every weekend for the last month?

Often when we find ourselves criticizing or blaming others it is an inversion of what is going on inside of us. Recognizing the origins of these stereotypes and moving on from there can allow us to focus back on the work and make the best show possible.

The Uncertainty of the Freelance Career and a Love of the Game

Friday, November 20th, 2009

One of the hardest things to come to terms with in freelancing is the fundamental lack of job security. These days it seems like no one has much job security and while it is certainly true that the position of the American worker has become far more tenuous in general the impacts on the freelancer are even greater. As a general rule workers tend to keep their jobs so long as the company is doing well and they do their work. Not so with the freelancer. Organizations they have worked with for years might be doing even better and choose not to rehire them. While it might come down to money, it could just as easily be a matter of aesthetics, or simply the desire to try someone new. In short, contracts might disappear with no discernible cause.

This can be hard. Some version of this scenario often prevents people from taking on freelancing as a career path. They see the tumultuous nature of the work as an insurmountable psychological barrier. That barrier is real. It takes a certain strength to have faith that work will materialize as it is needed. Because, while sometimes one might find their calendar filled with projects a year or more out from the present, it is just as common to have vast stretches of no work ahead. Projects may come along to fill those gaps or they may not. There is no way of knowing, although one can get good at guessing after a while.

I have a certain envy for people with regular jobs. They know months from now, if not years, where they will be working and more importantly if they will be working. While it is always possible that the company will go under, or cut massive amounts of workers, the underlying assumption is that there will be work. Not so with freelancing. While one must take as an act of faith that things will work out, there can be no realistic assumptions about what work there will be, where it will come from, and how much there is.

I have had years where I knew, more or less, what the whole year would look like as early as January. At the same time I have had years that looked solid in January and yet by the end of the year 80% of my projects had fallen through to be replaced by other ones. There is no way to predict the trajectory of one’s work in a freelance environment.

Living with, and learning how to operate under, that level of uncertainty can be like a spiritual practice at times. One is compelled to find deep reserves of patience. Meditation is often a useful technique to allay the fears and uncertainties inherent in the work. It is not easy to live with but becomes easier over time.

By limiting the impact of the uncertainty freelancers can stop using their energy to diffuse stress and can put it towards the work. Many people who freelance do not do so exclusively. Balancing freelance work with some other regular income can minimize the emotional turbulence caused by freelance contract work. Some people marry money. It may sound silly, but having a spouse or partner who will support one’s foray into the world of contract employment can make it a much safer venture. Others are independently wealthy. Many successful freelancers I know come from money and as such the concern over how to pay rent or where the next meal will come from is not present.

There is a common problem which transcends money and that is the work itself. As a freelance artist you are not just providing a product or a service you are providing a piece of yourself. The financial concerns are only one aspect of the impacts of this kind of uncertainty. I know plenty of freelance artists who are independently wealthy, for whom the money is no concern, who still fret at the lack of work. For them, as for most of us, they do it out of a love for the work. One does not become a freelance designer out of a desire for wealth or fame. You become a freelance designer because you love the work.

In the end it is that love of the work which makes possible a career as a freelance designer. It is a love of the work which makes it possible to endure the psychological complexities of managing one’s career as an artist. It is a love of the work which makes it possible to put yourself out there, in front of total strangers, to be critiqued and criticized.

It is a love of the work which allows you to pass through the uncertainty and continue on the path.

Why do you have your job?

What we have here is a failure to communicate – Part 2

Friday, October 30th, 2009

In any interpersonal relationship the ability to clearly and accurately communicate is a necessary skill. When one gets into collaborative projects like theater the need for those skills increases exponentially. There is a degree to which everyone in a theatrical production must rely on and lean on everyone else in order for the whole to work. When any one individual does not live up to their end of the communicative deal the whole process can unravel.

I recently assisted a designer whose communication skills were insufficient at best. She would ask, for example, if something was possible, “Is it possible to print out the lighting cues?” and would get a response to her question, “Yes it is possible.” This is a different question than “Please print out the cues.” One day she threw a temper tantrum about how “nothing I ask for gets done. I have been asking for a cue printout for WEEKS.” Upon checking with with the electrician it was confirmed that in fact not once had the actual words “Print the Cue list” been said.

While this might sound like a minor issue it points to a much larger complex of issues. No one is a mind reader. As such it is only possible to know what is actually said. Working in theater, and lighting specifically, it becomes necessary to be precise with language when any given note may well cost hundreds to thousands of dollars in labor, parts, and so forth. Those carrying out the note need to be certain with regards to what exactly is wanted. Ambiguous requests, or requests for something other than what one wants, will only create conflict and confusion down the line.

Systems have been developed over years to allow for the precise giving of notes from a designer to an electrician such that exactly what is desired gets achieved. The precise type, placement, color, method of control, and so forth can all be described in exact detail so as to avoid any confusion. Part of why this system works is that it leaves nothing ambiguous. Because there is no ambiguity there is no room for misinterpretation.

Ambiguity and miscommunication do happen. But having a system that keeps information flowing without recourse to interpretive wizardry, or decoding efforts worthy of the greatest CIA Kremlinologists, allows for a minimum of miscommunication. One need not resort to temper tantrums over things never asked because everyone is speaking the same language and the same dialect of that language.

Asking for what one wants is the bedrock of good communication and, sadly, something far too many people lack. The equation is simple: use words to accurately describe what it is you would like to communicate. In far too many situations people are unable, or unwilling, to do this.

One factor I have found that contributes to poor communication are feelings of insecurity. Especially in the arts it seems that those who are unclear are also those who are uncertain in their ability or place. As such they use unclear communication as a way of shirking responsibility. If something goes wrong it is not their fault, but the fault of the person who misunderstood them.

While all this may explain why such things occur it does not get at the root problem. Poor communication and smokescreen tactics like tantrums will never compensate for hard work, diligence and competency. WIllful ignorance of how things are done does not absolve one of being unable to work in their chosen field.

Contrasting my recent disaster of a communicator with a designer I assisted a while ago is the difference between night and day. Working for Don Holder and Karen Spahn was a smooth and fluid experience. Notes and ideas were communicated effortlessly because they would follow the one rule of communication: say what you mean. Leaving aside their generally calm and easy going manner, the process was easy because there were no linguistic hurdles, there were only lighting problems.

By communicating clearly and directly they kept the focus on the lighting. Their energy could be fully devoted to the work in front of them on stage since they were not needlessly expending it in frustrated wonder at why no one could read their mind. There was no need for the Kremlinologist. They simply and clearly expressed what was needed and saw the notes carried out to the best of the ability of their crew.

Such a simple thing really. But then it is often the simple things that can trip you up if you are not aware.

New Beginnings

Friday, October 16th, 2009

I had dinner with a friend the other day, a lighting designer, whose work freelancing in theater is nearing an end. Having garnered for himself some national and international success, regularly working off-Broadway, and regionally, he has decided that the lifestyle of the freelance lighting designer is not for him. While he has projects through next fall he has been turning down work steadily to give an end date of October 2010.

I find it fascinating to see the choices that people make in life. By many external standards my friend has achieved great success. At the very least he has achieved what he set out to achieve. Being now at the place he set out to reach ten years ago his targets are shifting. We all do this to greater or lesser degrees. In my experience it takes great strength of character and a strong inner compass to be able to shift course in such radical ways mid voyage.

There are interesting parallels between my dinner companion and the show I am currently working on. Richard Foreman, a true master of the American stage, is directing his last ever theater piece. His interest now is on experimental film. He has given up his theater space of several decades and will transition full time to film. It is one thing for someone approaching 40 and considering starting a family to shift careers into something more stable and sustainable. It is something else, albeit related, for a man of 72, considered a leader in his field, to decide that he has reached the end of what he can do aesthetically and needs to find new mediums of expression.

Both of these decisions necessitate clear thinking to come from a proactive place rather than a reactive place. Too often we hold on to old ideas of identity long past their relevance to our actual daily lives. At some point we find ourselves scrambling to make up for lost time as we attempt to reorient our consciousness to this newly realized, but long existing, reality.

Too often it takes some crisis point for one to wake up to the reality of their existence. Rather than taking the time to look around and recalibrate our lives we wait until we are up against a wall and then are forced to choose between a now limited range of options.

Successfully navigating one’s life and career does not mean simply doing the job in front of you well. It is not just playing the cards you are dealt. It is knowing when to trade in your cards for a new hand or folding entirely and taking your winnings from the table.

Being proactive is what makes life vibrant and full. Seeing a challenge or a goal or having a desire and putting your full effort and intention towards achieving that goal makes for an exciting life. Grabbing life by the reins and taking opportunities as they arise or even making your own opportunities creates an adventure out of life.

Often I find people focus on endings. We see the end of some phase of life or a project or a relationship. But each of those endings are also beginnings. Having the courage and foresight to see those beginnings and transforms them into powerful opportunities for growth and transformation is necessary for inner peace and true success.

In many ways success is easy. Outward success that is. One can craft a life that looks to external observers like they have “made it.” However, just because the life looks good to an external observer does not mean the one holding the cards is enjoying the game. The appearance of success is not true success. Being true to one’s self and one’s inner vision of the life one wants to lead takes courage and continual vigilance.

This is a tough path for anyone to walk.

Good luck!

Of Writing and Lighting – Rule Number 12

Monday, October 5th, 2009


A basic structural design underlies every kind of writing. The writer will in part follow this design, in part deviate from it, according to his skill, his needs, and the unexpected events that accompany the act of composition. Writing, to be effective, must closely follow the thoughts of the writer, but not necessarily in the order in which those thoughts occur. This calls for a scheme of procedure. In some cases the best design is no design, as with a love letter, which is simply an outpouring, or with a casual essay, which is a ramble. But in most cases planning must be a prelude to writing. The first principal of composition, therefore, is to foresee or determine the shape of what is to come and pursue that shape.

~Strunk and White, The Elements of Style

When Strunk and White set down their elementary principals of composition I wonder if they grasped how far reaching those rules might be applied. Good composition is good composition be the medium language, paint, music, or light. So too with good design.

There is a “basic structural design” which underlies every work for the stage and lighting that work requires discovering a visual expression of that structure. Sometimes the structure may follow the rhythm of a day: dusk, night, and dawn. Other times that rhythmic structure may be more psychologically driven like the transition from confinement to freedom or from apprentice to master. Still other times the structure follows an emotional journey from triumph to despair or love to grief.

While each work is unique, in every case the designer will “follow this design, in part deviate from it, according to his skill, his needs, and the unexpected events that accompany the act of composition.” In design, as in writing, “planning must be a deliberate prelude” to making the work. It is not enough to put lights everywhere with little thought towards the work and just figure it out in tech. Rather one must closely read the text, be it a text of words, music, or movement, to deduce the structure and essence of the work. One must have a plan going in as to how the work will be approached. The plan may change, it often does. But far from invalidating the need for a plan, those changes reinforce it. If you know where you are going, and you get lost, you have some sense of how to correct your course. If you don’t know where you are going in the first place you will simply become mired in confusion.

Knowing the rhythm and structure of a work allows the designer to approach it with a clear plan. Thus she achieves the first rule of composition: to determine the shape of what is to come and pursue that shape. The many detours, far from obstacles, are the exciting parts of design. The structure one creates and pursues is the map. The process of discovery in tech is the terrain. One is beautiful in its purity and ideal form. The other is beautiful in its complexity and challenge. The shape of the design is made of both the predetermined structure and the many deviations from it.

In the tech process the designer does not have the luxury to move in the order they would like. Typically one starts at the beginning of the work and moves through it methodically, clearly and slowly. Once the end has been reached we begin again at the top and repeat the process, refining what we had previously made.

While we go in with a plan, sometimes a work will not truly reveal itself to us until we are seeing it live on stage. As such the key to the piece may not be discovered until midway through the work in tech. In such an instance we go forwards with that new key in mind hoping to return and begin again with this new knowledge to guide us from the top.

So too with writing. The full shape of a work may appear in the first draft. More often the piece goes through numerous revisions and changes before its true structure is revealed.

From my own experience the act of writing is an act of design. I have a thought or idea I wish to communicate so I sit down to set it to words. From the first that process mirrors the act of creating with light for performance. In this way I have also found that leaps in my writing foreshadow leaps in my lighting. As my writing improves so too does my design work.

To some it is drawing. To others photography. For me, writing is a hobby complimentary to and symbiotic with my design work. I can work out ideas and concerns with projects specifically as well as generally improve my powers of composition. For anyone whose work is as central to their life as design is to me it is important and necessary to have a hobby that gets one away from that work and gives it space. At the same time, that activity should be one that in some way reinforces the basic skills necessary for the work such that they operate in concert rather than opposition.

Perhaps I could focus a bit more on Rule 17: Omit Needless Words. Perhaps I already do. I have explored minimalism quite deeply in the past and my essay last week dealt with omitting needless colors. Design is everywhere if you know where to look.


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