Lessons I Forget I Know

Right now I am working on a production of Hamlet at Notre Dame's Summer Shakespeare Festival. I have an amazing assistant who is very eager to learn, and in working with her, and explaining my work to her, I've remembered some tips and tricks that I use on a regular basis and sometimes forget I know.

First, when antique and thrift shopping I take pictures, lots of them. It is obvious to take pictures of the things I think might be useful,

 but I also take a picture of the price tag on the item,

and, when I need to establish the scale of an item, I also take a picture that includes my purse. I use the purse because it is a neutral item that I am guaranteed to have with me in a production meeting when we are discussing options.

Another trick I have learned to use is to label pictures and options that I send to directors and designers. It could be just numbers or letters, but it helps clarify email and phone conversations when you can't be in the same room with the rest of the team members. 

This trick was actually reinforced when I neglected to use it recently. I sent a document of photos to the director and designer. There were six pictures on each page, two images of furniture piece. The director replied to the email that he loved the second table on the page, we had a few more exchanges about the size of the piece he had chosen and how it might function, and I made plans to purchase the piece when I returned to Chicago the next day. 

Because there had been a lot of back and forth about several pieces, many of which would be serving multiple purposes in the show, I sent one final document with photos of all the pieces I planned to purchase with captions indicating which scenes we would be using them for. It was only upon receiving that final email that the director and I realized we had been speaking of different pieces. He did not realize that the first two photos on the page were of the same desk. His note said he liked the second table on the page, but he was actually referring to the second photo of the first table. We were able to clarify the discussion and I was able to purchase the correct piece of furniture. 

The experience served as a reminder to me that there are reasons I take the time and energy to do a little bit extra. When I make an assumption that everyone is on the same page, I run the risk of making a very expensive mistake (I would have paid $250 for an non-returnable desk had I not realized the confusion).

Why the details matter

First off, my apologies, there won't be many process posts from this show. The rule of three came into effect hardcore on this show, though not in the way it usually does. This time I had a month from contract offer to opening night to put together a giant show set in an accurate, detailed home on the south side of Chicago. We did not have time, and with a picky (and famous) director, could not sacrifice quality. We did, however, have money. So I just shopped (and shopped and shopped and shopped).
Over the course of this show, while speaking to my mom, she was constantly surprised to learn how much money I was spending on little details. The characters would be speaking on I-phones, the I-phones should have protective cases. The books on the bookshelf should have titles that we would believe would be in this home, at least on the lowest few shelves where audience members would be able to read them from the front rows. All of the cabinets in the kitchen have glass fronts, which means they all need to be filled with dishes. The refrigerator needs to be full of food, including salad dressings and condiments in the door. Every time I tell my mom about details like this, especially the frustrating, difficult to find, or expensive, she sighs and asks me if anyone will really notice. "No one will leave the theatre thinking, 'it would have been a good show, except that the photographer character would never have been using that camera.'" she tells me, and I sigh, because while that is true, it's not the point.
I am well aware that if I get one or two details wrong, most people won't notice, and it won't ruin the play for the people who do notice. But, if a missing detail is obvious enough, it will take certain members of the audience out of the experience of the play for a few seconds. If you stop being lost in the play long enough to think "If she just flew in from Belgium, why are there no checked bag stickers on her suitcases, they can't have all been carry-ons" it may take you 30 seconds more to get sucked back into the story. If that moment of distraction happens during a touching moment or an important line, or the punchline of a joke, then you're missing even more. I know that the details, when they are right, don't always make the show. Often when the details are right you don't notice them at all; but I also know that when the details are wrong, you do notice. My goal is for you, as an audience member to be lost on the show, to add the details that make the world feel real without anyone noticing, to provide pieces that facilitate the action of the actors effortlessly, so that the actors are free to tell you the story that the playwright and director wanted to share.

Props Designer vs Props Master

I've been recently working on a very big, very high budget show. The set designer on this project is kind of a big deal, he has Broadway credits and TV credits and movie credits and has been working at the top end of the industry for over 30 years.

I recently had a very interesting discussion with him about the titles of props master vs props designer. Over the last few years working in Chicago I have started more and more to call myself a props designer, so I was a little taken aback when John (the set designer) told me that he found the term incredibly annoying and insulting. He feels that calling the props person a designer as well takes away from the credit he should be receiving, or in some way demeans his position as set designer. I understand his point, and while I don't completely disagree with him, I think that the situation always needs to be taken into account.

So to clarify, in my opinion there is a difference between being a props master and a props designer. When I am a props master, I expect to be working very closely with the set designer. I expect to be given research and input on what the furniture, set dressing and key props should look like. The set designer is someone who will look at photos of the 6 desks I have located, and make the final choice of which one to buy. If I am the props master, then I have a collaborative partner who will be taking more responsibility for the final look of the show (whether that credit is receiving positive praise or accepting negative criticism). I will, of course, be making many decisions about details, budget, and small hand props on my own (or else why bother hiring me), but the overall look of the production is mine to support, not to decide.

I call myself a props designer so often in Chicago, because in so many of the small storefront theatres where I work, I am not the same level of support from set designers. In so many cases, furniture, set decoration and the overall look and feel of the props are left completely to me to discuss and work through with the director. I usually make an attempt first to achieve collaboration with the set designer, sending photos and emails, and asking for research; it is only when I do not get the information I need that I start to make decisions without input from the set designer. I am perfectly happy to assume full responsibility for the final look of the show in those cases (at many theatres this has nothing to do with the quality of the designer, it is just the way labor has traditionally been divided), but with that responsibility should come the credit and title of designer.

My conversation with John helped me to clarify and articulate to myself these differences. When the conversation initially started (and for a few days after), I worried that I was being self-important and pretentious by calling myself a props designer. I worried that I should stop using the term for fear of annoying potentially important people. With a lot of thought I have come to the conclusion that the term has it's place. I need to be more careful about how I use it, and after articulating for myself where the line is between master and designer, need to apply the terms appropriately, but abandoning the term completely would be just as wrong as using it in all cases.

Desk and Pianoforte

For Pride and Prejudice at Lifeline Theatre, the scenes move very quickly. We had absolutely no time to be moving furniture on and off stage. Because of this fact, we needed one pieces to serve two different purposes, we needed this piece to be a desk in multiple scenes, and a piano forte in two others. I needed to cut out a section of the lid of the desk.

 Once open the hinged piece could serve as the music stand and a rough keyboard would be revealed underneath.
On a side note, one of the most tragic parts of my job is that I regularly purchase beautiful, antique, solid wood furniture, and then I destroy it. That first cut makes my wince every time.

The trickiest part of the process was finding a way to hinge the panel invisibly. I knew even if I used the smallest piano hinges I could find, and chiseled out the joint to inset the hinges, they would still be visible. Luckily I stumbled across an old set of invisible hinges at the hardware store.
The edges of each hinge are made to be inset into the side of the board to leave the gap totally seamless when the hinge is shut. Here you can see images of the hinge in it's open and closed positions.

And here is the sides of the joint, chiseled out and ready to screw in the hinges.

And here is the hinge set into place.

After making sure the hinges worked correctly, I installed a pieces of 1/4" plywood underneath the flipping panel for the keyboard.

I painted the plywood white, added stripes for the white keys, and strips of gaff tape for the black ones. I have to admit, close up, the keyboard looks like it belongs more in "You're a Good Man Charlie Brown" than "Pride and Prejudice" but from a distance it looks great, and is almost always facing completely upstage so the audience can only catch brief glances of it.

All I needed from there was a small pieces of string to hold the panel at the correct angle when it was open, so that actresses could easily place their music.

Check it out. Final product open

and almost completely invisible when closed.

upholstering a cane-back chair

For Pride and Prejudice at Lifeline Theatre, the designer, director and I pulled three upholstered chairs from stock that we liked. They were covered in a dark burgundy fabric with upholstery tacks all along the edges. I knew I needed to recover them to make them fit much more with the pastel, delicate world of the show. I was having a fairly easy time of it on the seat,

 and on the front side of the back. 

When I got around to the back side of the back I encountered a problem. These had at one point been cane-back chairs.

Whoever had upholstered them previously had just stapled in fabric as best as they could, but the fabric was loose and wrinkled and the staples were visible in places. That would never work for this show.
I decided what I needed to do was to create a new, semi-rigid panel that would fit into the back of the chair to cover the cane.
I started by using printer paper, folding, creasing and taping it in place to create a pattern of the space that I needed to cover.

 I traced this pattern onto a piece of illustration board and cut it out,

 then I used spray adhesive to attach my fabric to the front side of my cut-out.

I slit the extra fabric all along the edge of the board so that I could smoothly fold the fabric over onto the back (where it was again attached with spray adhesive).

Finally I slowly worked the board into the back of the chair. In many places I was able to wedge the illustration board between the wood frame and the old cane so that, in the end, the back panel stays securely wedged in places without any glue or staples of any kind.

 Which also means that someone can easily remove the panel and repeat the process the next time the chairs are recovered.

In Loving Memory

I usually refrain from going into my personal life very much on this blog, but this will have to be an exception.
My younger brother Adam died last week at the age of 25. Please indulge me while I take some space and time to tell you about how he lived, the lives he touched and the people who loved him.

There are no lessons to take from the death of my brother. No health warnings to go on a crusade about (he probably should have stopped smoking and drinking so much beer, but neither of those things killed him), no drunk or distracted driver to get angry at, no causes to raise money or awareness for, no colored ribbon to wear (except the one for organ donation; which you should do some research on, and then sign up online). He had an unexplained ulcer in his colon that perforated, and then, three days after the surgery to fix his colon, unexplained internal bleeding. We've had plenty of family and friends send us to different websites about different disorders, with descriptions of similar things that have happened to other people, but we can't test any of these theories so I am not very interested in reading about them and raising any more what-ifs.

There is no reason that a happy, healthy, awesome 25 year old should die so suddenly, and I have no lessons to learn from his death, but, after seeing the overwhelming response of so many people at his wake (where we drank the bar out of beer), his visitation (where the line extended around the building of the funeral home and out the back door and lasted for 7 hours), and his funeral service (where the church was packed), I know there must be lessons to learn from the way he lived. So, in the spirit of celebrating his life, here is a list of awesome things about my brother Adam.

He was generous. He didn't have a lot of savings, but would never let me buy my own drinks when I came home for a visit, and was just as likely to buy a drink for a friend or coworker. When my nephew was born, he had the idea that he and I should open up a savings account for him so that Aunt Jesse and Uncle Adam could pay for college when the time came, and ever since he put me to shame. I would show up on Christmas with a check for $50 to make a deposit, and he'd have a $250 check. His apartment, his truck, his money and his time were all available to his friends at a moments notice if he could help them in any way.

He was independent. As much as he loved his friends, he had the confidence to go out to eat, or go to a bar, or  even go out exploring an unfamiliar city on his own. As long as he had a book, and could find a cup of coffee or a beer, he was happy. Whenever we would go out together, I would discover that all the waitresses, and bartenders and diner regulars knew him, and liked him, and were delighted to meet Adam's sister and let me know what a cool guy he was. He didn't need the safety net of a friend to join him on his adventures. If he wanted to go somewhere, he went, with a confidence that he would find friends along the way, or if not, have an awesome time people-watching and reading his book.

Speaking of books, he was a reader in a way few people I know could match. When we were going through his apartment last week, I found multiple lists of books. If it was someone else I would assume the lists were "books I should read..." but with Adam, a list of 10-15 books could just as easily have been "books I read this month." He devoured fiction and non fiction, classic literature and newer best sellers. And as much as he loved reading, he loved sharing the books he loved. One Christmas he asked me for a copy of his favorite book (one I knew he already owned) because he had given away his copy to someone who needed to read it. A year later, he purchased another copy at a used book store we were in, because he had given away the other one too. He loved to own the books he loved, not to build a collection, but so that he could share that love with people he met.

Adam loved to debate, which drove me crazy at times, but was also awesome. Debates with Adam were great, because while he had very strong opinions, all the arguments were based in logic and facts and reason. Of course Adam wanted to win the debate, but he wanted to win it fairly, by having the best points, and the most information. He listened to the person he was talking to, took in their ideas and (most impressively) gladly acknowledged when they made a good point. He liked to be right, but I think he enjoyed debates most when they made him question and reevaluate his own beliefs. His opinions were flexible, always changing, growing and incorporating new information and experiences. More than anyone I know, he could have a long heated debate with someone who believed the exact opposite as he did, and maintain a sense of friendship and mutual respect the entire way through.

He was incredibly passionate. Either it was the greatest thing in the whole world ever, or he didn't care. he enthusiasm and excitement was contagious. He could go on for days about a delicious steak or seafood dinner. He would eagerly ask you to listen to his new favorite band. He would talk about the football draft for weeks before and after. He would call me in the middle of a baseball game to ask "did you see that catch?" It was hard to be around him, and not get excited about whatever he was excited about. He was not one to sit around and watch TV or play video games, or surf around online lazily. Adam wanted to be doing something, to be engaged, to be active, to be experiencing, and exploring and talking and sharing. If he was going to do something, it would not be mediocre or halfway. In no way did Adam drift through life; he experienced it, he took in the sites and sounds. He talked to the people, he enjoyed every bite of his food, he watched every play of the game, he never skimmed a page of a book. Playing softball, he never zoned out in the outfield; instead he stood every pitch in the ready position, waiting for the chance to make the play if the ball came his way.

Adam was a hard worker. Hard work is something that my parents taught us to value very highly and while we all took that lesson to heart, I think Adam lived it more than Brian or I ever could. His coworkers told us about how, when he would go out to the parking lot to take a cigarette break at work, he would always take a huge bag of trash out with him because he was heading to the dumpsters anyway. He would also keep the phone and his pad of paper with him, and often came in from break "break" with a few to-go orders to hand off to the kitchen. He didn't cut corners, and went above and beyond whenever he got the chance.

One of the most admirable things Adam ever did, was get through college. His first year of college he was taking classes with the aim of becoming a vet. Over the course of that year, he decided he didn't want to be a vet, he hated his classes, and he all but failed out. He took a year off from there to figure out what he wanted to do, took some classes at the local commuter school, came up with plans to move to Atlanta, or Phoenix, or Jamaica, to be a carpenter or a postman. As he was making all these plans he was also discovering his love of reading. One day he called me out of the blue to tell me he had decided to go back to college to get an English degree. He re-applied to Mizzou and was turned down. Instead of accepting that news he called the school to ask what he could do to change the "no" to a "yes" and was told that he would need to get special permission from the dean of the English department. "Okay," Adam answered, "how do I get a meeting with him." On the day of the meeting he work up bright and early, put on a suit, and drove to Columbia to convince the dean of the English department that they should look past his poor grades that first year at the school and give him a chance to prove himself now that he had discovered this passion for books. They agreed to give him the chance and he got to work. He took extra classes every semester and every summer, worked his way up to a good GPA (which was hard since his GPA included his grades from the classes he had failed his first year), and graduated only one semester behind his classmates who hadn't taken a year off.

I am so proud of the life that my brother lived, and wish I had taken more time to tell him while I had the chance. This, I suppose, is the next best thing. I don't have any lessons to offer you from his death. But I wanted as many people as possible to know how amazing he was while he was here. Debate with humor and goodwill, work hard, allow yourself to get excited about the things you love, read, give generously and never be afraid to be yourself.

The Rule of Three

The rule of three is this, you cannot have something fast, cheap, and high quality. In most cases you will have to pick two of the three, and in some cases, only one.

To provide some examples of how this works, lets talk about this couch.

Option 1- Sacrifice Fast

If you decided that you were absolutely inflexible on quality and budget, this couch could be attained by searching and waiting for something similar to show up on craigslist or at a thrift store for a good price and then reupholstering and generally rehabbing it until it looked like you wanted. For this to happen, you would have to allow a significant length of time to complete the task. It could take weeks or months for a couch that was close enough to what you wanted to show up at a price you can afford. In order to allow this option to work, the best thing a director, designer or theatre company can do for me is to start meetings early. Meetings don't have to happen often, but if you can tell me 5-6 months out that you know you are going to want a large wooden canopy bed, it is much more likely I will be able to find it, than if you tell me 6 weeks out.

Option 2- Sacrifice Cheap

If time is not an option, and you are still inflexible on quality, this couch could be attained by doing a wide and extensive search (remember man hours=money because you have to pay workers). Once the piece was found you would be stuck paying whatever the seller or renter wanted to charge. Even if you don't have a large budget, this can sometimes mean that you set a certain prop as a priority and commit to spending what you need to achieve it, including being willing to sacrifice perfection in other places. For example you may decide that the perfect period stage sword is a priority and be willing to spend what you need to get it, then to make the budget work, be willing to use the table and dishes that were already in stock from another show even if they aren't absolutely perfect.

Option 3- Sacrifice High Quality

If you did not have very much time, and also have a limited budget, then it is time to sacrifice quality. This does not have to mean that you will end up with a trashy or cheap looking show, but it does mean flexibility. It means that you have to forget about the perfect couch, and start expanding your mindset so that when one of these couches shows up, you are ready to jump on a deal. 

     

Sacrificing quality, at least in my world does not mean it will look bad, it just means flexibility, willingness to compromise and realistic expectations. It means that I might have had to borrow or rent the prop we are using so we can't change it or hurt it. It might mean that I can make the puppet's mouth or his arm move, but not both. It might mean that instead of buying something new, we find a way to alter something already in stock

As I have said before (quoting a friend, Sarah Miecielica) "theatre is art, on a schedule and with a budget." We would all like to have more money, more time, and more resources, but that is not the business that we are in. It is immensely helpful for the entire production team to come in with realistic expectations and, together, to develop a sense of which design elements are priorities and which are less important. That is not to say that miracles can't happen. I have experienced more than my share of theatre magic. Sometimes things that you need show up in alleys, sometimes a kind store owner or stranger lets you rent or borrow or buy something for far less than its actual value, sometimes a random friend comes out of the wood work to reveal that "oh, my dad has one of those in his garage he's being trying to get rid of," but those magical moments should be appreciated as the lucky gifts that they are. Plan-A should never be luck.  It is always best to know, as early as possible in the process, what we will do if nothing lucky comes our way, and if we end up having to pay current market price for everything we need.

Becoming a Wedding Assistant

Ever since I started planning my wedding, I've been thinking about how lucky I am to already have all of these organization, shopping, budgeting, planning and crafting skills. More recently, after reading about a woman in New York who offers "craft concierge" services along side her wedding planning, and after talking to two Chicago stage managers who have translated their skills into wedding coordination, I started to think maybe I could make a business out of this. Then, when my fiance told me "this is what you should be doing" after a day working on wedding stuff, without me ever having mentioned the idea to him, I decided that I should go for it.
So here it is on my blog, an official announcement that over the next year or so I am going to be launching a wedding and event assistant business.

Some of the ideas I have about what I want my business to be (in illogical free writing, brainstorming order):

• I am not a wedding planner, I am calling myself a wedding assistant, because this is not my wedding. It is the wedding of the two people getting married and I am there to help them.
• There was a comment recently, on one of the blogs I read, from a bride who had the idea that she would do her own bouquets, from flowers she would buy at a grocery store or wholesaler. Unfortunately she had an aunt who was sure it would be a disaster, told her that it would be too difficult and that she would regret it. The bride was convinced and hired a professional florist, now she was wishing she had stuck to her guns. It dawned on me that I would be the perfect person to bridge that gap for people. I am not a professional florist, and will not charge you florist rates, but I have done DIY wedding flowers before, I know what I'm doing, we'll do them together. Having that extra set of experienced hands could give you the confidence to shoot down the nay-sayers and stick to your guns (and not just on flowers, that goes for DJing your wedding with an I-Pod, writing your own ceremony, making your own dress or veil or jewelry, baking the cake, or any number of other projects).
•  One of my life philosophies, that I think I could bring into the wedding world well is, "You can have anything you want, you just can't have everything you want." Everyone is going to have something special that they want to splurge on for their wedding, whether it is the cake, the food, the dress, the band, the venue or any other number of things. My mission will be to find you enough savings in other places through some creative sourcing and DIY craft projects, that you will be able to afford that one special thing. 
• I'm an awesome mediator (I'm pretty sure that comes out of growing up the middle girl between two brothers). I am a rock star when it comes to dealing with difficult family and friends and finding compromises. I am great at helping people see one another's side of a problem, and I will be great at heading off any and all possible disasters on a wedding day or leading up to it.
• Included in my prop designer skills, I am a carpenter and can build special tables, card boxes, alters, centerpieces etc. 
• I can sew. Not enough to create your wedding dress, but certainly enough to repair last minute rips and tears, make a veil, help you create custom table linens or any number of other projects you might dream up. 
• I know all the antique and thrift stores in the Chicago area and I visit them regularly. If you're looking for something (vintage jewelry, vases for centerpieces, mismatched china for the place settings etc) I can be on the lookout for you, buying what you need for reimbursement later. 
• I am great at making spreadsheets, lists, budgets and such, and will be excited to help you make yours. 
• In addition to all of this, what I could offer to brides would be a listening ear, a brainstorming partner, a voice of reason and calm, someone who will never get tired of hearing about your wedding, and someone who will more than likely show up with ice cream on a really stressful day, because ice cream always helps. 

What I need now is a bit of confidence and some references, so that I can convince people I don't know to hire me. If you know of anyone who might be interested in some wedding or event help (from small projects up to entire events), pass along my information. Right now I would be offering my services at VERY reduced rates in an attempt to build a bit of a portfolio. 

Hopefully, with a lot of hard work and a little luck, I'll have to start another blog soon. This time with wedding projects.