Oak Park Festival Interview

One of the board members at Oak Park Festival Theatre sent me an email the other day asking me if I could answer some questions so that she could write a bit about me for their company newsletter.
Here's the article she wrote with my answers-
http://oakparkfestival.com/she-gets-serious-props/

This is my job- fake crack pipes

We all know that Google keeps track of our searches in order to try to create a detailed profile of who we are, and what are preferences are. I often wonder what they must think of me (I also wonder if I am on any government watch lists based on some of the things I have researched). 

For this show, I needed crack pipes. A fairly easy search sent me to several websites detailing how they could be made. One sent me to ask for a "straight shooter" at a liquor store. It is apparently a narrow glass tube, that I guess is used to mix up some types of cocktails, the liquor store had no idea what I was talking about, and I felt very awkward trying to explain why I needed this thing even though I didn't know what it was used for. 

 Next I went to a smoke shop/head shop. I explained that I wanted a narrow glass tube that would be the type that crack smokers would use to turn into a crack pipe. 

The conversation involved lots of verbal gymnastics as the clerk at the store tried to help me while still saying over and over that he didn't know what I was talking about. "I would hope that no one would use anything I sell for such a thing. We only sell items intended for smoking LEGAL tobacco products. These small glass tubes over here look a bit like what you are describing, but see how they are meant to fit into this PERFECTLY LEGAL hookah?"

I filled the glass tubes with steel wool (the website I found suggested copper brillo pads that would turn a silver-grey color when heated) and used a lighter to burn the end of the tube. 

 It turned out pretty well (maybe a bit too much steel wool after looking for more 

research images). But totally believable in the moment. 

To All The Small Theatre Companies

I had a wonderful meeting with a woman the other morning. She is planning to produce her first storefront show here in Chicago, with the hopes of continuing to produce with the same group as a new theatre company. We talked a bit about resources here in Chicago, the way tech tends to be scheduled, things that are typically written into designer contracts, and payment schedules.
She also asked me a very interesting question- What makes me want to work with a company that can't pay me what I'm worth? What can a small company offer to me as an artist, besides money, to make me want to work with them.
I gave her a long list, and I figured, why not share it with anyone else who could use it.
In no particular order:

• Be up front with me from the first email. "We don't have a lot of money" is what I usually hear, which is honest, but if I don't know exact dollar amounts, it is impossible to have a productive conversation. This is partially because I need to look at my personal budget and see if I can afford to do this show, but more because I need to know if it is possible to do the show, at the level of quality I hold myself to, for the amount in the budget. 
• On a similar point, it is really helpful to have a conversation with the director about what is possible and what is not possible for me to do on this show with this budget. If the director and I start out on the same page, the budget can be any size, but if the director has aspirations bigger than her budget, it doesn't matter what size the budget is, we will both end up unhappy with the end product. 
• Treat the things I provide you with respect. I will not get frustrated if something breaks, especially in rehearsal when you are trying new ideas, that is part of the process. I will get frustrated if pieces are lost, or not stored safely, or if I give you specific instructions for the use or care of something and those instructions are ignored. 
• Get me involved in the production process as soon as possible. I love working on shows where production meetings start months before the first rehearsal, even if we only have one or two. I love to be in a room full of artists talking about the meaning of the play, what we would like to communicate to the audience, what sort of language we all want to work with in terms of color, and shape and texture that could apply to all design elements? I love conversations about why we are doing this show in this time and this place, who our audience is, how we want them to interact with the characters etc. Productions that start this way always seem to lead to more collaborative production teams, which helps produce work that we can all take pride in. 
• Continue that type of artistic collaboration throughout. I distinctly remember sitting in a production meeting after a first preview; the lighting designer mentioned that he had been distracted during the performance by the squeaking stool in the stage manager's booth behind him, he figured that she may not have been aware that the sound was carrying. The ASM indignantly turned to the room and asked "Did the lighting designer just give stage management a note?" The room went silent, and after that no designer felt very comfortable giving a suggestion or even asking a question to another department, and an atmosphere like that can only hurt a show. An open conversation between all departments about what is working and what isn't from sound cues to script choices allows everyone in the room to take advantage of the collective knowledge of so many theatre practitioners  Collaborative environments with open conversations make me feel like I am growing as an artist, and that makes me want to come back to work with you. 
• Feed me. I know it's little and I know it's silly, but something to eat that I don't have to think about goes a long way to making tech more pleasant and making me feel appreciated.  Also if I am running around like that, I often forget to eat, and I get pretty cranky before I realize I'm probably just hungry, this is not a time when I am doing my best work. 
• Do something about parking if possible. If you can make an arrangement with a local lot, or reimburse me for some of my meter receipts, or even have an ASM ready to run out and grab something from me when I pull up so that I don't have to circle for an hour to find a space close enough that I can carry all the everything from my car, that would be awesome. While many theatres in town are easily accessible by public transportation, that doesn't help me when I have a car full of props (costume designers have this issue too, help them out if you can).
• I worked with a theatre that did a talkback with each person involved after each show. I met two company members (who had not been directly involved in this production) for coffee and talked for an hour about what went well, what didn't, what I would do differently if I could do it again, and then about what my career goals and aspirations were in general. It was awesome. It made me feel appreciated, respected, and I got some great feedback and career advice.  
• Get me keys to the space, if you can (if you are renting I know this is much less doable). If I can drop off big pieces at any time of day regardless of who else is around and available it makes my job so much easier. It is hard to keep shopping for furniture if there is a dining table taking up the entire bed of my pickup truck.  
• Pay attention from the beginning to where the trouble spots are going to be. One of my favorite  theatre companies does this particularly well. Time, labor, and budget resources are directed to the department who will need them most. I know if I am doing a big props show with them I will have a bigger budget, a bigger fee, a few more one-on-one meetings with the director and/or the set designer and I'll have the production manager offering to help me track down big pieces. I see the same support being thrown behind other designers when it is a heavy costume or lights show. If I know I will be taken care of when I need help, I will keep coming back regardless of whether the support was directed to my department this time. 
• Do interesting shows with a clear mission. The more targeted you are about what you do and what makes you different from everyone else, the more intriguing you are. The more passionate you are about WHY you choose to do what you do, the more likely I will becoming interested and involved in your mission and invested in your success. The rule of thumb I tell people is, that I should be able to give you ten amazing plays that you would love to see, and you should be able to eliminate seven of them immediately because they aren't a good fit for your company. If you can't do that, you need a more focused vision. 
• Prop Freeze! This is my favorite new thing. The idea is that we set a date during the rehearsal process when the director is supposed to stop adding new props (with a couple of companies this has been first tech). After the freeze date the director can still ask for new things and for changes, and I will do them to the best of my ability, but I also have the ability to tell them without any guilt that there is no longer enough time or money to make that change. With some directors, this would hardly ever come up, but with others, it's really good to know I have a safety net in case they make a last minute outlandish request. 
• Get me help. I have lots of ways I can use untrained labor. There is always a repetitive project that could use another set of hands, and I love to teach. Even one or two hours on one day can be awesome and make me feel supported.
• Understand that I will likely leave when I'm done. Especially on smaller shows, if I have completed all of my notes and haven't been getting notes from other people, I'm probably going to stop coming to previews and I may not make it to opening. This is not because I don't like the show or hanging out with you, this is probably because I need to start working on my next show. If you are understanding and respectful of this, I am much more likely to want to work with you again. 
• Remember, I need to keep working with these vendors. A few years ago, I performed a props miracle and was able to get a high-end furniture store to loan me several expensive modern furniture pieces for a production. At the time I was driving a small car, but the company manager assured me that they had someone with a pickup who would help to return the pieces to the store after strike. I  learned about a year later that they never returned the pieces. I could never bring myself to show my face in that store again (it recently closed).
• Hire cool people. A lot of this will be contingent on doing some of these other things so that the cool people want to keep coming back. Nothing will make me sign on for a low paying show quicker than a list of people involved that I like working with. 

Working with Actors

In the four shows that I have done with a certain theatre company, I have always found myself having trouble with the actors. They don't seem to know how to handle their props, they don't speak to technicians with any respect, and there are more than the usual number of divas.

On the most recent production with this company I found what I believe to be the source of this problem.

We were looking for a space for a crossover for the actors backstage. There was plenty of space behind the large cyc, but none of it was ideal. We were using large cyc lights to back-light the drop; if the actors passed in front of the lights they would cast shadows, but if they passed behind they had to deal with a large number of cables as trip hazards. After seeing some spare sheets of masonite/hardboard backstage, I suggested that we lay the sheets end to end behind the lights, Gaff tape them together and gaff tape them to the floor, to create a bridge over all of the cables. 

"No," The production manager responded, "what if the actors kicked the lights while passing behind them."

I stared at the 4'-0" wide pathway I was proposing and was confused, it seemed plenty wide enough to me, " We could lay down a white tape line on the front 1'-0" of the masonite and tell the actors to stay behind the line," I offered, "that would keep the actors well away from the lights."

"No," I was told again, "actors are stupid, they will find a way to break things." The assistant stage manager, stage manager, and production manager were all in agreement. 

I was shocked, but suddenly I understood why I had all of the problems that I did with the actors at this company; they didn't behave intelligently or respectfully because they were not treated with respect and were assumed to be unintelligent. They didn't know how to handle their props, because the stage manager assumed they were stupid, and didn't bother to explain things to them. I discovered later that day that while I had taken the stage manager aside to carefully explain all the changes that had been made going into first tech, she had never bothered to pass any of that information on to the actors who were using the props.

So for the record, and for all those theatre artists who may be holding ignorant opinions, actors are not stupid. I have encountered this type of attitude among high-schoolers sometimes, and once in a while with a frustrated college student, but I was shocked to discover this attitude among seasoned professionals. I would have thought that someone who held this type of opinions would have gone onto an alternate career pretty quickly. 

I will say it again, actors are NOT stupid. Actors have a lot to focus on during a performance. They need to be thinking about their next scene, their next costume change, their choreography and their lines. Props, costumes, sets and special effects need to be straightforward, and predictable. They need to work the same way every time. If there might be complications, or if the piece might fail in some way, they need to be informed, and they need to be told what they should do if the piece does fail. Actors are not stupid, but with the dozens of things they need to be remembering at any given moment, in addition to our expectation that they be tuned into their emotions and making the character come to life, they can sometimes have trouble focusing on the complexities of a technical element that needs to be incorporated. 

"Don't get too close to the lights" might be a bit subjective and vague, they might need to know more about how the lights are wired and bolted down in order to understand how close is too close. "Stay behind the white line" is more clear; it can be quickly, visually processed and allow the actor to move on to focusing on the performance. 

Actors are not stupid, but they do need clear communication and instruction. If you can't explain what you need them to do with a prop, costume, or special effect in three easy steps, it's too complicated. The actors will never know as much about props as a props master, or as much about clothing as a costumer, and they should not be expected to, that is your job. Calling actors stupid because you are having difficulty creating an effect that works simply and consistently is an easy excuse. Push yourself to find new solutions or to more effectively troubleshoot the ones you have. Remember a piece might be easy for you to operate, not because it is easy, but because in creating it, you became intimately familiar with it's construction.

And if you are still convinced actors are stupid, at the very least keep your opinion to yourself. You never know when you are making a bad impression on someone like me. 

Light-up Cake

This is one of the two birthday cakes created for "Night over Erzinga" at Silk Road Rising. This was the easier of the two, but was still tricky in that it needed to have candles that were blown out onstage. Chicago has very strict rules forbidding almost all instances of live flame onstage, so real candles weren't an option. 

My solution started with a very simple circular form made of two layered circles of foam. 

In individually wired seven small yellow LED bulbs , wrapped them in tape and placed them vertically around the cake, 

then ran all the wires back to a battery and switch positioned on the back of the plate. For this part I had to be very careful to be consistent about which sides of the LED I wired to which color wire. LEDs are directional, which means that, unlike incandescent bulbs, they only work if the positive and negative sides of the battery are connected in the correct way, switch the polarity and the light will not light. When wiring one LED individually this can be an easy mistake to fix, by simply flipping the battery, when wiring many bulbs together, a mistake on one bulb would be significantly trickier to track down and correct. 

Once everything was wired I made sure everything was securely taped down to the base, and then iced over the entire thing with light weight joint compound to hide my work. 

I left the battery and the switch exposed , on the back of the cake. I later covered all but the actual button on the switch with white gaff tape so that both were accessible to troubleshooting, but less visible from a distance. 

Here it is all lit up.

To hide my ugly black tape candles I purchased a box of cheap drinking straws. I slit each straw down the side, and then wrapped it around the base of the candles.

 Each straw was cut to be a bit longer than the tape segment so that the bulb was hidden a bit inside the plastic. This helped to hide the hardware of the bulbs a bit, so that the audience saw a more believable glow instead of a bare exposed bulb.

A level playing field

I had a meeting this summer with a reader of this blog who was interested in talking to me about going into tech theatre as a profession.
During our discussion she spoke of her nervousness in taking on one of her first large jobs on a show. She was worried that her inexperience would be obvious, and that she wouldn't know how to solve some of the challenging problems that the show's design was calling for.
I was able to give her some ideas about how the effects the director was imagining could be accomplished based on a similar effect I had previously needed in another show. The thing is, knowing how to solve her problem was mostly luck. The similar project I had done was on one show three years prior. I hadn't used anything like that effect before or since. If I hadn't been able to do that production, or a different director or designer had worked on that production with me, I would have had no idea of how to answer this student's question.
Experience in this line of work isn't nearly so linear as it is in other professions. I may have been in the business for years longer than someone else on the production team, and another person may have done three times the number of shows that I have, but in the first production meeting, we're on a bit of an even playing field because no one on the team has ever done THIS show before. It's not that experience doesn't matter, the more shows that I work on, the more likely it is that on the next show I will come across challenges I've worked with before. As I have worked on more productions in the city, it has become more and more likely that when I need something, I know of a theatre who has it in stock, or a vendor who might be able to sell it to me. There is, however, no guarantee. There will still be something on most shows that is new and challenging. It can be frustrating to never be able to truly master this profession, but it can also be incredibly freeing. Because every show is new, I am able to ask for help without embarrassment. It is totally okay for me to walk into a production meeting and say, I've never encountered quite this challenge before, does anyone have any ideas? And more often than not, someone does. Through the collective experience of everyone in the room, there is usually at least one person who can say "I did a production once where we did something similar, and here's how we did it."
Becoming a better theatre professional has something to do with building up a large arsenal of tips and tricks, sources and knowledge. Some of this can be acquired through research, reading and seeing other theatrical productions, but some can only be acquired through time and experience. The other key ingredient to success in this business has very little to do with experience, and everything to do with collaboration, being unashamed to ask for help, being able to articulate your needs and being willing to listen and understand the ideas of others.

A New National Theatre

A few months ago I was having a conversation with my friend Nolan about the state of theatre in this country. We got on the subject of the Federal Theatre Project (a program that was part of the New Deal, the initiative funded theatrical performances and arts development all over the country). What, we asked, would such a program look like today, and how could it work? As fair warning, when this conversation was fresh in our minds, I suggested Nolan help me write a blog post on the subject, and then we both got busy and then we forgot. So my apologies if things are a little disjointed now or if references are a little vague.

Theatre is an art that I have always believed needs to focus on the local. When you try to say something universal, you often fall into the trap of being so generic you don't say anything at all. On the flip side of that, being so local is leaving theatre out of the national conversation. We live in a world where distance is often becoming less and less of a challenge. I can go on twitter or facebook, countless blogs, email, skype or (if I'm old fashioned) my cell phone, and discuss ideas, music, movies, television, books and countless other topics, with people around the country and around the world. We can't however, talk about theatre, at least about a specific production.

At the Time of Nolan's and my conversation there was an article in Newsweek that included a list of challenging intellectual things happening "right now." One of those things was a production of Arcadia. I remember reading the article and thinking, "That's nice, but how many people who are reading this magazine will actually have access to that production."

Wouldn't it be great, Nolan and I discussed, if there were a national theatre? It wouldn't achieve the goals we have in mind if we used the model of the National Theatre in London; no matter where we placed the venue, it would be out of reach for the majority of the country. The model of the old Federal Theatre Project wouldn't work either. Funding random programs around the country is nice, but doesn't do much that the regional theatres don't already do, and sending around touring productions is nice, but doesn't facillitate a national conversation when it may be months and months between different regions seeing the show.

Our idea for a new national theatre would involve an initiative where the NEA (or another national organization) would choose a show and then offer it, royalty free, to theatres around the country, with the catch that the production must open around a uniform date. Ideally theatres all over the country would pick up the show, and allow audiences from hundreds of cities to join a conversation together about themes, ideas and different artistic takes on the same script. Each theatre company would naturally bring their own aesthetic and local spirit to their production but the single script would allow them to express local perspective as part of a larger national conversation.

Logistically, I believe this could be done incredibly cheaply, or even at no cost at all. Playwrights and publishers, I imagine, would be happy to participate with very little upfront compensation. The sale of scripts, and the national promotion of both the writer and the play, and likely appearance fees would provide enough compensation to make up for a small royalty.

As a side benefit, I imagine a project like this could also facilitate the communication, and collaboration of  formerly separated theatres and arts organizations. Giving a theatre in DC a reason to start a discussion with a theatre in Seattle might foster further communication, collaboration and artistic innovation.

Making bodies ride the sled

A few weeks ago I posted about wrapping dummy bodies in sheets for Hunger at Lifeline Theatre. Once we tried to bring the bodies onstage we had a problem. 

The characters are supposed to be dragging the dummies around on a toboggan, but there wasn't enough room backstage for the sled to sit flat on the floor before dragging it on.  We had to be able to store the sled with the dummy vertically, and then lay them both down as the actor was entering. The dummy couldn't be strapped permanently to the sled, because the actors needed to dump the body onstage.

I used half a piece of PVC screwed to a small length of 1x4 to make a shallow hook. 

I then used gaff tape to solidly tape the hook to the frame of the dummy.

Even once the dummy was wrapped in the sheet, the hook was easy to locate and use. 

I added an extra piece of 1x4 to one of the slats on the sled to give my hook something to hold onto. 

And here is an image of how the hook and the 1x4 fit together.

With the hook in place, the dummy could store vertically backstage until needed, and could be easily lowered and dragged out by one person. 

The highest compliment

A couple weeks ago a friend of mine asked if he could borrow some of my fake ice cubes for a show he was working on. I told him he could, but finding a time to meet up with him to hand them off proved to be a challenge. Eventually we decided that I would leave the ice for him wedged in the door outside the office for his church, where he would be later in the day for choir rehearsal.
When I dropped off the ice I sent him a quick text double checking that I had left them in the correct place.
A couple hours later we had this exchange of text messages:

Tim- Hey. Sorry I didn't see this. Rest assured I have it in my possession. Thank you!

Me- That's okay. Glad you found it.

Tim- Karie thought it was real ice and put it in the freezer. lol

Me-That's awesome. My work can receive no higher compliment.

Tim- Certainly not!

That someone could see a sandwich bag full of fake ice cubes I made, pick it up and carry it to the freezer and continue to believe the ice is real, made my day. Though I have to wonder what this woman must have been thinking was the purpose of someone leaving a sandwich bag full of ice, with a pink sticky note with Tim's name on it inside the door to the church.

This is my job...accepting morbid situations

Lesson from tonight- 

It doesn't matter if they are actors in the show (or the writer for that matter) and know exactly what you are doing and why you are doing it; when you are sitting on the floor in the lobby of the theatre, sewing dummies up in sheets, everyone will look at you funny.

...and then it gets cut...

Since I started working props, I have been told over and over again that props masters have a very high burnout rate, and there are days when I totally understand why.

Much of the job is based on luck, sometimes it's all in the timing (bones and brains around halloween= easy, the same bones and brains in June= frusterating, the same goes for other holiday decorations, outdoor toys, fake seasonal flowers and any other number of things you might never have realized stores only carry seasonally). 

There is an unending number of skills you'll be asked to have; carpentry, sewing, upholstery, sculpting, painting, graphic design, puppetry, rigging and many others. It can get discouraging when you are expected to be a master of all these things, and are continually being confronting with another skill you need to learn. 

By far the worst things though, and the one that leads to the most frustration and burn-out, is cuts and changes. Unlike scenery, which can be difficult to change once it is built, props are pretty easy to change, so they will get changed. Often. They will also get cut. Often. Remember this beautiful rug that took Katy almost three full days of work to braid, coil and glue. They were worried about one of the rolling set pieces getting caught on it, so they decided it should be painted instead. The choice makes sense, and I agree. 

This situation was sort of best scenario. Katy doesn't care too much as long as she gets paid, and I don't feel like my time was wasted. I am a little frustrated because I have plenty of other things I could have used Katy's help on, and would have been in a much better position going into tech if she hadn't spent her time on the rug, but overall I was able to pretty easily brush it all off and move on.

And to add an even happier ending, I pulled the artistic director backstage during previews, unrolled the rug and asked her if there was any way to use it. They are currently using it under all the little tables and chairs they have set up in the lobby with coloring books for the kids prior to the show, so at least someone is enjoying it (even if it is being quickly destroyed by being trampled by dozens of muddly little shoes each weekend).

Think before you speak...

Last year when I was working on Menorca at 16th Street Theatre, we needed to have a table full of ancient skeletal remains for the archaeologist to be examining. I bought two Bags of Bones from the local party store (hooray doing this show right around Halloween!), and touched them with a light paint wash to make them look older. After the show the director took the bones home to add to her Halloween decorations.

In January I was working on another show that needed bones, so I called up the director and asked if I could have them; she was happy to help. After the second show, the bones ended up in one of the crates in my basement where I store prop pieces that I think I am going to keep using.

Several months after that I was working on a show doing puppets (not props) and this conversation occured after one of our tech runs.

Set Designer- I'm a little confused by the line the actor has after the first dance number about it being a perfect transition to talking about the skeletal system. 

Director- We were originally thinking of those dancers as being skeletons, but with the masks and the costumes, they ended up being just strangely creepy monsters.

Costume Designer- I think it would be a little late to change the costumes, and other than that line afterwards that doesn't fit, I really like the look of them. 

Director- I do too. I don't want to change the costumes, maybe we need to change or cut the line. 

Set Designer- What if, when the monsters popped out of the boxes and crates, they had bones that popped out with them. Then, after the dance is over, there will be bones scattered around the stage , and the actor can pick up one of the bones and use the transitional line. 

Director- That works for me.

Production Manger- I'll let the Props master (who had a conflict and wasn't at that meeting) know, and see if she can find us some bones. 

Me- I have some bones we could use.

-Silent stares-

Me- In a crate in my basement.

-More silent stares-

Me- That sounds weirder now that I say it out loud...

Production Manger- Yeah...

Me- They are props leftover from another show...I bet my neighbors (who also store things in the same basement room) think I'm pretty weird... hadn't really thought of that before...

Production Manger- Moving on...

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my own world, I forget that the things I do are weird to outsiders. I now keep the bag of bones in a closed box instead of in an open crate to avoid creeping out the other people in my building.

This week's rediculousness

I am currently working on "Goodnight Moon" at Chicago Children's Theatre (going to be a great production by the way, and I'm looking forward to some exciting posts here about some super-fun props I get to build).

The set and props from the play are pulled right out of the book, and I am attempting to be as accurate as possible. Because of this, I am bring my little board-book copy of Goodnight Moon with me where ever I go so I can reference it. "What color was the bowl of mush?", "Do these slippers match the ones next to the bed?",  "how close is this lamp to the shape of the lamp in the picture?" etc. I thought nothing of it, until I saw a woman staring at me in Target and realized how strange it was to be intently studying Goodnight Moon in the middle of a store. Thinking back on it, I sure it looked even more out of place when I was at Home Depot.

:)

This is my job...beating up vehicles

I currently drive a Oldsmobile Bravada. Her name is Daisy and she is the most wonderful SUV/rolling prop shop I could ask for. I've had her for a little over a year and half, and if I don't beat her up too badly (she gets a lot of abuse) I plan on keeping her for a good long while.
Before I got Daisy though, I was driving a 1994 Chrysler Lebaron convertible. I loved that car, it was super cute, and it was fun to drive around in the summer with the top down. It was the perfect car for me when I needed it to just be my car. When I was working in Pennsylvania and there was a company pickup available to me when I needed it, everything was fine.
When I moved to Chicago things changed. The little storefront theatres in the city rarely have even a drill or a chop saw of their own, a company truck or van was out of the question. I rolled with the punches though and decided I would do what I had to do to get the job done. More and more I started using my convertible as if it was a pickup truck. I would put the top down and tie things into the back seat as best I could. I discovered that if I slid a ten foot board down between the front seats to the floorboard on the passenger's side, it only hung out the back of the car a few inches. I loved the looks on the faces of the old men in the home depot parking lot as they watched me walk towards my car with a stack of lumber. I loved watching the smile of realization on their face as I turned the car on, unhooked the roof and lowered the top to load everything into the back seat.
It wasn't always ideal though. Multiple times I got caught driving to the theatre with a full load right as it started to rain. As it got colder I would bundle up with hat and gloves and scarf as I would drive through the city with a desk hanging out the back and the heat blasting on my toes to try to keep warm.
One night, in early February I was moving some benches and a bookshelf I had purchased to drop them off at rehearsal. The top went down, I wedged the pieces in, and I headed downtown. I moved the pieces into the theatre and everything was fine until I went back to my car to put the top up. Apparently the heavy benches had bent or twisted or wedged some part of the mechanism the moves the convertible top up and down. The roof would start to go up, but then would stop at totally vertical and wouldn't go any further. I was standing on the front seat of the car, pushing the roof motor button with my toe and yanking on the part of the top I could reach to try to pull it down, with no luck. On top of all of this, I was already running late to pick up a friend from St Louis at the train station.
The look on her face, a perfect combination of pity, confusion, and amusement, when I pulled up in below freezing weather still makes me smile. She stood there on the curb with her bags and stared at me. All I could say was "It won't go up." She laughed at me, we got into the car and decided to head home to figure out what to do next. On the way home, because we both needed food, and because we had reached our limitations for cold, we pulled off into a Wendy's. Before going inside to order food, we decided to try again. We had been working on the top for about five minutes, me standing on the front seat pulling and Megan crouched on the trunk of the car throwing her weight against it, when two sixty-year-old women walked up and asked us if we might need some help. We told them we did. With the extra two sets of hands standing on the sides of the car pulling down, the twisted or wedged piece finally popped loose and the top closed. We thanked the women, went into Wendy's and got some much deserved dinner.
I can only imagine what those women (and those people who passed the two of us on the highway between the train station and Wendy's) must have thought of us.

This is my job...prop porn

I was talking to an acquaintance the other day about how strange my job can be at times, and told her this story. Her response was, "That's hysterical, you should write a blog about all of your props adventures." I thought it was kind of funny. I do write a blog about props, but I never think to include day to day adventures, just interesting projects and step-by-step how-to's. I don't know if it's going to stick, but I'd like to experiment with changing that.
So to start out my posts about the mischief I get myself into daily, shopping for prop porn.

I rarely turn down help when I am out shopping unless I know exactly what I am looking for and where to find it in the store (like when I go to buy hot glue at Michaels or screws at Home Depot). Employees beware, you may be asking "Can I help you?" just to be polite, but I am going to take advantage of that and ask you, not only where I might find something, but also how to use it, or what it's traditional purpose is, or what it reminds you of. Some stores are especially fun to ask for help in, because almost no one asks for any help. To illustrate my point...my adventures porn shopping.


(door bell rings as I enter)


Friendly Adult Bookstore Cashier- Hi


Me- Hello (looking him straight in the eyes and staying at the counter) 


Cashier- Can I help you?


Me- Actually yes, I have a sort of strange question for you. I am a props master working on a play and I need to find a piece of fairly specific porn that they describe in the script. 


Cashier- Okay, what does it need to be?


Me- In the script two teenage brothers are sitting on the stoop of their house and the one is explaining sex to the other. he pulls out a page from a magazine and says something to the effect of, "that's what it looks like down there, except not that big, they call her the Texas Tunnel, most girls don't look like the Texas Tunnel." 


Cashier- (interrupting) They're not really teenage boys are they, because otherwise I can't sell this to you. 


Me- No, they are adult actors playing teenage boys, no worries. If you could let me know which of these magazines might have an image that could pass for the Texas Tunnel that would be great, I really don't feel like looking through stacks of magazines to find something appropriate. 


Cashier- (Leading me over to a rack of magazines) This one might have a few pictures like that, or maybe that one)


The Cashier and I start flipping nonchalantly through porn magazines and showing each other images. 


Me- (settling on one that had three or four decent images for the director to choose from) I think this one will work, thanks! 


Cashier- (as he is ringing me up)- So where's this play going to be? What's it about? Do you have any fliers or post cards?


Me- It's going to be at X theatre and it opens next weekend. 


I tell him a little more about the plot and curse myself for not having grabbed a few more postcards the last time I was at the theatre. 


Me- By the way, this will be tax exempt. 


Cashier- (blank stare) I don't have any idea how to do that...we don't usually have people do that in this store.


And the moral of the story is...you 'll be surprised where you might find friendly, helpful, employees who are theatre fans, and you'll probably just have to eat the tax when buying props from an adult book store. 

Side note- I go into adult stores frequently when I need prop handcuffs. Almost any adult toy store will have a good pair of handcuffs, with an easy safety release, for a decent price, and they will hold up way better than any you will find in a costume store (like party city) or a toy store.

Connecting the Community

I've been trying for a while to find ways to connect the Chicago props community. I think we're probably a fairly small group (though it's hard to know) and that we could all be a lot more efficient and a lot saner if we had ways of helping each other out. It's tricky to get to know each other though, most shows I work on have only one props master...me, so chances to interact with other artists who do the same thing are incredibly limited.
Recently I went out to have drinks with another Chicago props master, Doug Kupferman, who shares the same goals. We talked through some of our wishes and some of the ways we were going to try to get things off the ground.

First, a random list of things that we hope our group could accomplish and questions it could address-

-We could share sources. It's a big city and there are lots of hidden gems. When I do get to talk to other prop masters I find they often have never heard of some of my favorite stores, and I haven't heard of theirs.

-I would like to have an efficient way of messaging other props masters when I am looking for a piece. We are all familiar with different stocks from different theatres around the city. It would be nice to find out if someone has that perfect Victorian couch before I resign to spending half my budget on one.

-I would also like to be able to share online resources, tips and tricks. While we were at the bar the other night, Doug showed me an app he uses on his smartphone that takes pictures of and then catalogues receipts for you, I was amazed! (as soon as I break down and buy a smart phone it is going to change my life!)

-I would like to have a forum for seeking advice (and warnings) about different theatre companies, ideally with a more positive tone ("These are some things that I learned along the way that will help you to know from the start with this company/director/designer" as opposed to "These are the horrible things that person X did and you should never work with them ever and no one else should either"). I would also like to be able to offer recommendations ("This company didn't pay much, but here are the awesome things they were able to offer me/things I learned from the experience")

-I often get emails about open positions that I can't take. It would be nice to be able to email a list of designers to a company looking for one, or to be able to email a job opening to a list of designers and see if anyone is free or interested.

Our initial solutions-

-First we started a google.doc spreadsheet of local Chicago suppliers. It's still pretty rough, right now it is divided into three lists: Antique and Thrift Stores; Fabric, Lumber and Craft Supplies; and Rentals. If you would like, you can check it out here, Chicago Props Resources. If you would like to help us expand the list and edit it, please send me an email and I will add your name to the list of approved editors. I would especially love to add more theatres interested in renting out stock to our Rentals list.

-Second we are starting a google group. chicago-props-forum@googlegroups.com. Essentially it's a list-serve. Once you are added to the group, I can send an email just to the one address, and it gets forwarded out to everyone who has signed up. This should be a great place to start in terms of finding items, and sending out job referrals. Once it gets up and running hopefully we can find a way to expand it into forums, lists or catalogues where we could keep a list of helpful hints on working with the designers, directors and theatre companies in the city. If you're interested in being a part of the list, you can email Doug at douglas.kupferman@gmail.com.

Finding your motivation

Once upon a time I was working at a theatre that was in a super time crunch. We had three giant musicals (All Shook Up, Joseph...Dreamcoat and Thoroughly Modern Millie) back to back to back. Everyone was stressed and overworked, but the schedule was particularly hitting the costume shop hard.

One day discussion in the costume shop turned to motivation. "I am motivated by fear" the costume designer said, "the more scared I am, the faster and harder I work."
"I am motivated by praise," the shop manager replied, "I like feeling like my hard work is recognized and appreciated, it keeps me moving forward."
"I am motivated by rewards" said the sticher, "I like the trade off of 'do this and you will get that.'"

The next day I walked into the costume shop and, after days of seeing these three women tired and cranky and hopeless, they were having a great time. And more importantly for all of them, they were all three working at a ridiculous speed. As they were working they were motivating each other.

To the designer they would call out, "Hurry, this show is never going to get done. The actors and the director will hate the costumes and you will never be hired back again."
"You're doing a great job," they would tell the shop manager, "I can't believe you finished those fitting notes so quickly, we are so lucky to have someone like you."
And for the stitcher, "Did you finish those hems? Good job. Here's a piece of candy."

The whole scene was hysterical, the costume shop took it all in a very joking manner, but I think that in the middle of their stress-induced joking, they hit on something very important. It is very useful to know what motivates you and take advantage of that.

Over time I have discovered that I am motivated by progress. I like to be able to see exactly how much I have accomplished. One way I have found to use this motivation is by making lists, and making them very detailed. I find it very satisfying to cross something off my list, so I have started to break tasks down into small manageable chunks.

There is nothing worse than working all day on something and still not being able to cross something off my list. I get discouraged and tend to feel as if "I got nothing done today." If I break down the job though, I can cross off, "buy supplies," and "measure and mark lumber" even if I don't get to cross "build table" from my list. The visible progress helps me feel motivated to keep pressing forward.

(blog post, check)