Another year is coming to a close.
I will say, I feel like this year was a turning point in my craft. I have started practicing and refining skills through a lot of trial and error. I'm getting better at fitting, it no longer takes me an hour to put in a zipper and I'm feeling up to tackling my abysmally messy hand sewing. It's getting neater, slowly, but surely.
In the midst of all the costuming, I did something crazy I swore I would never do:
Thursday, October 29, 2015
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Hard Theatre Truths
Working in theatre is really hard.
Being on stage is certainly a challenge, but working behind the scenes to make sure there is a theatre to perform in is at best a Herculean feat, and at worst, a Sisyphean one.
There is never enough of any of the following items:
- Money
- Time
- Whatever item is absolutely essential to you completing the task at hand.
But, as a producer/artistic director/designer/technician/stagehand/actor it is your job to make sure that the production is as good as it can possibly be - in spite of the very obvious limitations you might possess.
So you skimp where you can. You hire one less stagehand, you make dresses out of bed sheets and curtains, you cut a set piece or 12 and claim there's more room for dancing now, you dance in shoes that might hurt your feet a bit.
You make the show go on.
And sometimes, that takes a toll. It makes you feel like everyone is criticizing you, makes you want to control every little thing you see, even when you might know that letting the show be on its' own is usually a better tactic.
It makes you tired.
It makes you cranky.
But taking that out on other people who are trying to make the show go on, never ends well for anyone. It makes people forget that the show is bigger than all of its parts, and it makes them start focusing on the minutiae of the run, not the big picture of the freaking MAGIC that is making a live show happen.
There is no reason all these people should be in that room, transporting an audience to another place and time and doing so for very little (if any) money. It's for the joy. For the feeling of being part of something MAGICAL that should never work, but somehow (it's a mystery) all most always manages to happen.
I'm working on a show that is having all of these problems. For a change, the one snapping isn't me. But, since I've been there, I can see how that behavior won't help the show. And therein lies a new motto:
Being on stage is certainly a challenge, but working behind the scenes to make sure there is a theatre to perform in is at best a Herculean feat, and at worst, a Sisyphean one.
There is never enough of any of the following items:
- Money
- Time
- Whatever item is absolutely essential to you completing the task at hand.
But, as a producer/artistic director/designer/technician/stagehand/actor it is your job to make sure that the production is as good as it can possibly be - in spite of the very obvious limitations you might possess.
So you skimp where you can. You hire one less stagehand, you make dresses out of bed sheets and curtains, you cut a set piece or 12 and claim there's more room for dancing now, you dance in shoes that might hurt your feet a bit.
You make the show go on.
And sometimes, that takes a toll. It makes you feel like everyone is criticizing you, makes you want to control every little thing you see, even when you might know that letting the show be on its' own is usually a better tactic.
It makes you tired.
It makes you cranky.
But taking that out on other people who are trying to make the show go on, never ends well for anyone. It makes people forget that the show is bigger than all of its parts, and it makes them start focusing on the minutiae of the run, not the big picture of the freaking MAGIC that is making a live show happen.
There is no reason all these people should be in that room, transporting an audience to another place and time and doing so for very little (if any) money. It's for the joy. For the feeling of being part of something MAGICAL that should never work, but somehow (it's a mystery) all most always manages to happen.
I'm working on a show that is having all of these problems. For a change, the one snapping isn't me. But, since I've been there, I can see how that behavior won't help the show. And therein lies a new motto:
Your ego is never more important
than the show as a whole.
If you are lucky enough to be a part of a show, it is your duty to make it happen, barring pain or danger to your personage. And sometimes those become negotiable too.
It's ain't pretty, but the fact that so many people still want to be a part of making the magic means something far more important is happening when that curtain goes up and the story begins.
Enjoy the ride.
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