re: design

1 pt. feline curiosity
1 pt. time constraint

result - incidental new page design

I will be back soon for more pseudo-consequential wording.

I hate smartphones and the smorgasbord of idiots who use them, but I am a tad curious about the layout options that have availed themselves due to that whole mess.

yin. yang.

The first weekend of the show simply flew past.

The opening night left me in a bit of daze. Going out for drinks, appetizers, and inadvertantly the twentieth anniversary of Nirvana's Nevermind record capped off the show's coming out soiree. I leaned between blissful enjoyment and deer in headlights shock that the presentation as a whole didn't fully meet my desire. The second night was brilliant. The audience was on fire, the difficulties only I saw on the first night were ironed out, and I finally got a glimpse of damn near the show I soldiered to put on in the first place.

And yesterday was our matinee. Few involved with this dark, twisted, adult show felt the theatre should have scheduled us for a post-church hour matinee, but there three of them sat on the schedule of our mere nine show run. The house was miniscule. For a bit I was beginning to worry we would have no one show, because the rain would keep them away, all of the other conflicting events would pull them elsewhere, or that the thought of mid-afternoon erotism amidst all of the Blue Laws would have them running for the hills. Though the audience was quiet, they were mostly pleased with the show. I saw plenty of soft bits of laughter, smiles, and pleasurable tittering. Everyone put on one hell of a good show, despite the turn-out.

There was even one old, crotchetty man who stuck it out. He moved seats after intermission and sat pouty and full of grimace. Most people dealing with his level of discomfort, displeasure, or disappointment - whatever it was - would have left during the intermission. The rough shows I have done are well-known to lose people during intermission. Assessing the room at the start of show offers plenty of chance to figure out who it might be. I can't for the life figure out why he hung out. I take it as a badge of honor that he took the opportunity to tell one of my show's personnel that it was 'the worst play' he'd ever seen. Extreme response demands emotional impact. I am not in the least offended. I just know I did my job. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I arrived home to discover an on-line review that offered overall glowing, albeit brief, observations about the show, including one that referred to me as 'amazing'.

Now I have the chance to bring life back to a sense of normalcy, slowly declutter the apartment, and pull all focus away from the art of the thing and instead take some of this freetime to promote the hell out of it. What's the point of putting on such a divisive play if only four handfuls of people are going to get a glimpse?

human behaviour.

Summer has come and gone. The boys of summer have packed up their gear and shuffled back to reality. Yesterday was the first day of fall, as well as the opening evening of my play. The appropriately titled Hell Week did not fail to meet its inherent demands. My last minute set doctor, if you will, came down with what was thought to initially be strep throat. My sound designer continued to miss the mark, offering half-hearted cues, leaving me to assemble everything show worthy by myself. And my lackadaisical stage manager decided to finally bring her 65% to the party as well as loads of very unattractive personality hues. Every tech night of the week felt like a marionette show of a sort, as getting people to communicate with one another without my urging or to notice obvious problems without my shining a light on them became all too common.

For this whole show I have been spread thin holding my faith in others, but then spread even thinner as their investments were shown to be fleeting. If I knew I would need to do nearly everything from the beginning, including in some cases doing actual basic thinking for people, I would have prepared many things prior to the point of being nearly too late. I gave my cast a black-out night on the evening before the show. I was not fully satisfied with the results of our full dress rehearsal, but since only one of the actors had become privy to all of the odds I have been working against this whole time, the last thing I wanted to do was keep my cast around while final touches were being put to the set and the tech department. Overworking my actors or letting their morale or energy levels waiver too much works against the success of performance and the show in my mind.

Our first night's house was medium-sized and reasonably responsive during the performance. We got a slew of exceedingly positive critiques. The cast nailed their performances, and as expected pulled out punches I knew they were saving for a paying audience.

The basic structure of things as they ran were the weakest points to me. My stage manager could not find it in her heart to put the board president hat away for the evening. Her concerns were not related to being a stage manager, who would warm up the theatre before everyone arrives or stay to ensure everything is wrapped up properly, but one who sees the few things she does as a piece of cake. She quite often leaves remnants of said cake behind for others to sweep up. I feel she wears figurehead titles, and for some reason people can't see through her weaknesses with power, control, and leadership. We opened house late since she forgot the tickets, although the way the bookkeeping is done here chit marks work just as well.

And then she wanted to curtail my pre-show playlist to get rolling with show, even it was her fault we got the late start. I have very definitive ways I set tone and mood in my shows, and for those arriving early it plays through the set and music, which specifically had its own share of problems besides. I like to take an audience on a voyage of sound, color, emotion, meaning, and full of dramatic umami. Our first audience experienced it with an immediate hiccup and dead air, equivalent to when an actor clearly forgets a line and stands looking awkward and out of character, or when wonderful comedy occurs and everyone bites their lower lip in an effort to keep from laughing and embarrassment ensues.

I don't know if it was that the show wasn't ready for an audience or if I just wasn't ready to let it go. In ways I felt my baby was being tended by some incompetent teenager. I have been working so tirelessly that the point of exhaustion has been left behind many miles ago. Instead of attending opening night, I should have been wrapped up in blankets, getting more than my of late allotment of six hours of shut eye.

I have high standards. I have invested blood, sweat, tears, cash, time, and effort on this production, and since it reeks so well of my soul I have equally high expectations for it. I think I look forward to night two far more. I have never had a show that was not completely ready for show on opening night. This puts my cast and my art in a very vulnerable position. This has been the most challenging production I have undertaken to date, but in so many ways my most satisfying and certainly the one with the greatest learning curve. Leave it to putting on a show about human nature to truly discover endless variations on the foibles programmed deep within us all.

my tribe

This play has been my most harrowing undertaking yet. In some ways I attribute this to the material, and how the core themes and meaning of a show bleeds heavily onto the flow of production. Things are far beyond gloves merely coming out. This one has tested ideals such as loyalty and conviction, and pitted us against them in an all out battle of wills. I have seen Darwinian truths as illness, innate inadequacies, and other intrusions have left an inordinately small collective of villagers building the camp. I have found myself harshly protective of my family and quick to question the motives of outsiders. In three days this season long gruesome trek of a show will hit the oasis, lap up laughter, applause, and cringes from what we can hope will be a welcoming band of foreign villagers.

anima cruelty

pol·i·tic (adj.)
1. Using or marked by prudence, expedience, and shrewdness; artful.
2. Using, displaying, or proceeding from policy; judicious.
3. Crafty; cunning.

Undertaking this new play certainly looked like a much more pleasurable journey four months ago when I waited with bated breath to know whether or not my show had been selected. I was never told directly, which was contrary from expectation. I found out when the theatre's website was updated, thus beginning the first of many communication failures.

The theatre continues to refer to this as a transitional year. From my stance, it has been one that has left my show out in the cold time and again. So much energy, time, and personnel were expended on the season opener, leaving mine to feel like the second child who wished there were more old pictures of them in the photo albums and that the collection of clothes weren't all hand-me-downs.

I knew that there would be challenges in having the Board President on my team as stage manager, but since I had considered her amongst my friends and since she seemed to enjoy the show so well, I went forward with it. I have now found myself working with a person who is quick to switch hats from stage manager to condescending President with aplomb. I can handle it. It's my actors have taken the most abuse. I know it's one of many things that have driven them to have difficulty putting faith in her and her abilities.

The Vice President was present following my first evening of auditions, and against all of my creative and professional judgment suggested I highly consider casting the actress who auditioned that evening. They were wrong for the role in so many ways, whether it be age, appearance, or the noticeable resume-fanning inability to actually be directed. He said it would be a politically strong move. It would inspire members of our main community theatre competition to come out.

How could I have known at the time that this would merely be a taste of things to come? The Board members meet once a month and I have it on good authority that my show was brought into question during at least one of those. In fact the minutes from those meetings are still not posted on their website, as per the requirement. I know that there were plenty of behind-the-scenes attempts to intrude on the progress of my show.

They were propelled forward by the theatre's Promotions Director. His squeaky clean family show opened the season. I suspect that he offered himself to that title to have the reins over his own production. He hasn't seen fit to contribute to the promotion of my show. I have worked myself ragged trying to inspire a promotions team to get the word out about my upcoming production. I can only do so much, and even without the assistance of the above individual, I have still had to jump through hoops to get where I have.

His second in command on that play is the theatre's nit-picky, but seemingly experienced Technical Director. He flashes his resume and credentials faster than you can ask the time of day. He's young and full of young dispositions. I have loathed his presence and had difficulty navigating all of the hurdles he has swung my way. I hashed it out with him last weekend. We are both cooks who realize there are not enough sous chefs to go around.

Since my set designer went (still) MIA, I decided to move ahead without her and to commit to my own design with a good friend of mine who is handy with construction-related matters. I have slowly but surely been adding touches after touches to my set, and it is really coming together. I am out quite a bit of cash and some of my house looks a tad rifled through. All of this is the cost of doing local theatre, and a particularly fun aspect.

He decided to add a piece of input about the set - a decent one. Basically the equivalent procedure of someone telling Wyclef Jean that Lauryn's lyrics needed one time. Whoever that was had better have gotten full credit for songwriting, because that's where I am. Immediately I get this unrequested sketch of my set, word for word from my own set-up plus this guy's slight additions, an opportunistic email checking on what sort of playbill credit can be expecting, as well as a call from the VP of the Board wanting to make sure I am doling out credit appropriately.

It looks like no one can understand that I might actually have a perfect handle on everything. I am over-extended, but my boat is not sinking. The few people I have working with me have given their all, and things are going remarkably well. Last minute ride jumpers are really rubbing me the wrong way. I am caught between having a dishonest credit scroll or missing out on one small touch that would add another bit of oomph to the proceedings.

The politics that have sponsored all of this is pushing me more and more away from continued involvement. Not everything needs to be put to a committee and I don't think it's right that someone who has been out of the loop should be able to hop in and start pushing people around.

Only eleven more days until this play limps across the finish line to opening night, back strong, head up high, and wearing its bruises proudly.

get fierce.

It could be said that I choose physically and emotionally draining productions to present to an audience. None of the plays I have directed nor any of the scripts I have written or developed have been walks in the proverbial park. Much like the material I find myself drawn to, I am challenging. I realize this. I present others with challenges and hurdles whether through allowing others the chance to find a canvas to stretch their own art or by my often esoteric, dry wit that has been known to bypass some folks altogether. I hold expectations high but attainable above myself and others. I question the authority of others and I attempt to lead by strong example. As opening night on the new show draws near, I find again the recognizable motif of every production I have ever managed: I have around me a very different cast of characters than I had at the start. As the echoing dramas continue to bounce across my show, I can reasonably attest to those who might want to join up in the future, if you're looking for an easy ride, you'll need to look elsewhere.

final countdown.

As I sent out the emails requesting information from my cast and crew for their playbill bios, it really hit me just how few people are really involved in this production. The unprofessional disappearance of my former set designer left a gaping hole that I have been working tirelessly to fill over the past several days. The Labor Day holiday weekend has conflicted with not only my rehearsal schedule, but also my efforts to have my street team hitting the pavement with posters. The town is not painted heavily enough with our striking posters for my liking. I am ridiculously over-extended with my hands far too deep into nearly every aspect as opposed to overseeing the work of others, allowing me to then focus my attention on the right things.

Last week I looked to a few of the board members at the theatre for support, only to be knocked back with attitude and defensiveness. I loathe the feeling that I am more alone with more people in the proverbial room than I have on past productions. There are more rules and regulations, but with that comes more egos and ever more drama. The regime that have taken over the theatre, though leaking good intentions, are wrong to make such knee-jerk judgments of me just because of their bad experience with a now banned director. I come armed with my own bag of tricks, and a decent reputation. I am glad to know just who I can depend on, but I am sad to see that it's not this recently assembled board. If this is the way of it then I am not sure that I wish to bring my talents to another production there.

wrinkled tenacity

te·na·cious
adj.
1. Holding or tending to hold persistently to something, such as a point of view.
2. Holding together firmly; cohesive: a tenacious material.
3. Clinging to another object or surface; adhesive: tenacious lint.
4. Tending to retain; retentive: a tenacious memory.

I have been dubbed tenacious on multiple occasions during my lifetime. Sometimes I find it to be a hex and a weighty hindrance. The production of my current play is certainly no exception.

Let's re-cap:

My efforts to find a stage manager who was not also a convicted rapist brought me to a first-timer whose main qualifications were that she is the President of the Board for the Theatre, so therefore full of vigor, love for our theatre, and dependable. Having to train someone to do something that Google really does go on and on about is one thing, but then to have them commit themselves to a supporting cast member role in the current play whose schedule and run was sure to conflict aplenty. I convinced her to drop-out, but it wasn't the last time I heard of her attempting to divert attention from the show. On the days she's there, though she is in her late-forties, she can often come off as a teenager with ADD. The cast doesn't much like having her around. Maybe they can tell she was vying for one of their parts for which she is exceedingly over-aged.

The casting process took not only three sessions of miserable auditions, but a forthright smattering of hunting behind the woodwork with just the right tone of begging to assemble the first four for the ensemble. The fact that one of them dropped out early in the process was only compounded by the fact that the first half of the month of August took skill, tact, and extra special ideas for what the word rehearsal could mean with half of my cast on some semblance of vacation. Fortunately my efforts to re-cast were greeted with a strong replacement, for was a hard sell, but a workable choice.

As if this wasn't enough, the newly crowned Promotions Director of the Theatre was making underhanded efforts to have my show pulled from the season. My stage manager via President of the Board decided it appropriate to announce these shadow dealings in the presence of my cast and sexy understudy at the second ever rehearsal. It tainted and toned many of the subsequent ones, and has been one of the hardest things to unfetter ourselves from, as pot-shots from the sidelines do not always bring confidence from the populace. Just when I thought that this whole matter was done, I got the first direct e-mail from the guy a few days back with rambling, generic promotional ideas that I am privy to given my previous experience. He also thought it necessary to make extensive jabs at my production, my poster, my uphill battle, and put our shows in direct competition with one another - numbers-wise.

Then there's the new transitional Board of the Theatre, who were once four or five people who wore what seemed to be fancy titles but did very little. Now they have fancy titles and (in some cases) the egos to match. None of the key members have ever actually directed a show at this small, underfunded theatre, yet they have come up with rules and by-laws, and who-ha to abide by that in a few cases is a welcome change but primarily comes at a cost - quite literally. For one, they would prefer we assemble backdrops instead of painting the walls and assemble flooring instead of painting the floor. There has been a long history of painting the damn space. It's cheap enough to keep it in budget and to ensure we non-professionals can actually get the job done. It doesn't end there, but that one segues all pretty to my next part.

I had a brilliant set designer on my last show, who I was able to have commit to working on this one. Her excitement and interest level were high a month and a half ago, and then even a month ago. I had no idea at the time that this would be the last time I would hear back from her. I sent periodic update emails as the rehearsal process evolved our conversations about the set, and I shared suggestions as to when we could meet to chat these things up on a more one-on-one level. I got zero response. I tried multiple e-mails, Facebook, texting, and even phone calling to a full voice mailbox. I know she's alive. Facebook assures me she's actively in town. My poster artist used her as the model on the poster for my play for God's sake! This is what we call dropping the ball and then kicking it in my face.

We are twenty-two days out from show. I have no set designer. I have a slight construction team at the ready, but no captain. Producing and directing the show are quite enough without having to take the reins on this duty as well. If it ended there, we might be able to wrap up this pretty package, but at present we will have naked actors on the stage. I had a talented clothing designer on-board for a short while, but since she backed out I have only had one other person issue interest - albeit with the caveat they have someone else as partner. Whatever it was before, at this point it can't be the most challenging position on the team. Nothing can be. When things get to this point it's more about pragmatism than ideal vision, which is one of many concessions I make since the reliability on others is mostly unavailable and my expectation to have many beyond myself pre-plan has been thwarted.

The counterbalance to all of this is a brilliant play on the page and an even better one with our execution, a cast who have begun to find some cohesion and connection, a perfect promotional poster and a core team of folks willing to walk the streets, an energized and dependable F/X make-up guru, and my girlfriend who has understudied, filled in for, and otherwise contributed to so many facets I can't even come up with an official playbill title for her.

Cheers to not being driven to drink heavily throughout all of this!

[clink]