The punch list

I know… I know… the first time I heard this term (very soon after I started working in the architectural field)  I had a couple of interesting mental pictures too. And of course they were based on that too-often-asked question, “Whose fault was it?”

But a punch list is nothing more than a list of things that need to be completed before the project is handed over to the client. Generally, when a building contractor tells a client that the job is “substantially complete,” he (or the architect) also provides a list of items that still need to be addressed. Maybe a piece of carpeting keeps pulling up, or a door needs to be plumbed, or an A/C diffuser needs to be moved… or someone hit a wall with a cart and the drywall needs to be repaired. Making these lists is a standard practice in the industry, and what it does is make accounting for these items a formal, expected part of the process instead of a last-minute finger-pointing exercise.

I’ve never seen this term used in theatrical companies (although I’ve tried to introduce it several times, with often limited success), but, in reality, I’ve found that the TD or shop foreman, or designer, often does make up a list before opening. The main difference I’ve noted is that this list, and the response to it, is often seen as a negative (again, “Whose fault was it?”) instead of just being part of the process of building and installing a set.

I don’t know where or how the term “punch list” originated, but an article on it in Wikipedia says that the term probably comes

“from the historical process of punching a hole in the margin of the document, next to one of the items on the list. This indicated that the work was completed for that particular construction task. Two copies of the list were punched at the same time to provide an identical record for the architect and contractor.”

(I mention this in case you want to introduce the concept in your own company but people object to the term “punch”  — which I’ve seen happen.)     🙂

I’ve written here several times that, if a set construction project is managed well and given enough time, the set can be pretty much ready to go by First Tech, which is usually the weekend before opening night. If this happens, then Tech Week, for the shop, becomes just a time to go through the punch list and take care of all those little details that’ll make the set look finished and become a valuable part of the story.

Problem solving: painting faux brick

Every now and then I hear the question (or see it asked in a forum) “What’s a good source for learning to paint a fake brick wall?”

The best answer I can provide to this is “A real brick wall.”

Bricks have been in use for thousands of years in lots of different places, and an online search for “brick” or “brick laying” or “brick coursing” or “mortar joints” will yield hundreds and hundreds of different types of bricks, colors, patterns, and other variables including the mortar lines. The trick, when creating fake brick for a theatrical production, is to be aware of what a real brick wall, in that particular situation, would look like.

For instance, we have all seen brick used on the outside of houses. Generally, it’s a shade of brownish red, and the mortar is nicely recessed in between the bricks. Here’s a sample from a contemporary house:

There are many ways of painting a faux brick surface like this, and here are three of the most common:

Paint the mortar and stamp the bricks

This was the first one we learned in college. You start by painting the entire surface (say a flat) with the mortar color, and, once it’s dry, you paint the brick shapes on top of it, using either a “rubber stamp” method or a stencil with cutouts of the brick shapes. Generally, you need to go over the individual bricks to some degree to get a nice variation in the coloration. This method is described in detail in a number of “how to” books and web sites.

Paint the brick color and line the mortar

This is a reverse of the above: you cover the surface with the brick color and, once it’s dry, paint the mortar lines with a lining brush and straight edge. This is my personal favorite, as it goes fast and still allows for variations in the brick and mortar colors. This one has also been described in detail in books and online. Here’s a sample, where the scenic artist painted the wall units flat on the floor before they were assembled:

The adjacent wall is faux stone; I’ll do a post on that technique at some point.

Paint the brick color and spray the mortar

This one works well too, although it’s a bit messier than lining the mortar with a brush. You paint the brick color, then place a number of individual brick-shaped “cutouts” to mask the brick area, and then use a sprayer to lay the mortar color in between the bricks. I described this method in detail for a trade magazine some years ago, and you can find it on my web site, at Scenic Brick in Three Steps.

All these work well, but they still leave the question: what do the bricks themselves, and the mortar lines, look like?

Again, an online search can yield lots of examples. Although brick is often used nowadays for decorative purposes, at one time it was mostly a structural material, and it was used, and laid, according to the needs of the building and the budget.

For instance, a civic building or church would more than likely have the brick carefully laid, the mortar recessed and clean, and the overall appearance would be very elegant. On the other hand, a brick wall in a storage shed, or a cellar, or a jail cell, would not look as nice because there was no need for it: in many cases the mortar was simply wiped off flush with the face of the brick (aka a “flush joint”):

Or not even that:

In the set with the fireplace above, I wanted the wall to look like a very old structural wall, not a decorative one, so I had the painter line the mortar so it looked flush with the bricks.

And this is where showing the painters exactly what you want the wall to look like is necessary. For instance, when I was discussing the wall above with the painter, he indicated that it would take a long time to do all those shadows. He was just warning me about the cost. But when I showed him a photo of a real wall with flush joints, he understood what I wanted. Apparently, he had been taught to paint “clean” brick, with nice shadow lines, and that’s how he thought all brick was painted. This was a case where a picture was definitely worth several thousand words.

A brick wall can be a nice part of a set and create some interesting images and moods, but the trick is to create just the “right” type of brick wall for the story. An online search, or a nice long walk on a Sunday, can provide lots of ideas.

My “Yorick Theory”

Imagine for a moment… you’re at the supermarket, walking through the produce section. There, in a bin, is a display of coconuts.


Now, imagine someone like the late Laurence Olivier or John Gielgud, or maybe Kenneth Branagh or Patrick Stewart, walking up to that bin, picking up a coconut, and launching into the Yorick speech from Hamlet. Just out of the blue.

Are you picturing it?

Now imagine an unskilled, untrained (but well-connected) actor, playing Hamlet, insisting that the production company spend $500.00 — or more — on a custom-made, ultra-realistic, perfectly aged skull, good enough for NCIS, Bones, or a museum.

This actor is on stage, on a beautifully designed and executed professional set, with top-notch costumes and lighting. He checks the skull on the prop table before every  performance, dusts it, makes sure it’s perfect. But his delivery comes across like he doesn’t believe a word he’s saying — he might as well be reciting the phone book (the white pages) while watching paint dry.

Which would you rather watch? Which one would make you feel something for Hamlet (and Yorick), and which one would make you remember that you have to wash the car? Which one would bring down the house?

I can take a guess.

But this blog is about set design and tech, not about acting. So let’s go there.

Sets can work exactly the same way. A very simple set can do wonders to bring the story alive for the audience. I’ve mentioned this one before: back around 1974 the Royal Shakespeare Company was doing the four Henry plays in rotating rep over the Summer. The stage was empty — literally empty — all the way to the back wall. No drops, curtains, tabs, flats, or anything else. No castles or forests, no platforms, ramps, or stairs. But when those actors came on stage and started showing us their stories, they grabbed us and shook us and left us shaken.

That staging was not a decision based on lack of funds: it was an artistic decision based on the director’s (and set designer’s) interpretation of the four stories and how best to get them across to the audience in a powerful, compelling manner. The costumes and makeup were awesome, but the real skill was in the acting: in bringing the characters alive and making us care about them.

I’ll never forget that Summer. It was the best theatrical experience I’ve ever had.

On the other hand, I’ve seen sets that upstaged the actors, that made you wonder if you were there to watch a story or admire the set. Sure we designers love to get rave reviews, but really, a set that competes with the story is not doing its job. If the set is awesome but the acting isn’t, a critic will comment on it, and that review will influence other people who may want to see the show.

Competing with the story can take another form: when the set is so poorly executed that the audience keeps finding itself looking at everything that doesn’t look right. Poor construction, poor painting, poor detailing, can all take the audience’s attention away from the actors and the story. Or, when the set is obviously not finished, you often hear people going, “Geez, what happened?”

Good or bad, it’s all part of the audience experience: it’s all part of what they will remember about the show.

Just like the actor in the supermarket with a coconut, a good designer can make a very powerful statement with a very simple set by focusing on what’s really important and avoiding stuff that just sits there for its own sake, or “because we need a set.” Creating the right environment for the story — just like creating a compelling character with a coconut — is part of the creative process that we all live with in theatre.