“Theater” can lead to a lot of careers, part 2

As many other posts here, this one was inspired by a teacher in the EdTA Open Forum, who asked for ideas on how to re-think his Theater 1 class. My response is below.

From what I’ve read here (in the Open Forum) over the past few years, it seems that most high-school theatre classes are primarily focused on acting. Of course some schools also have tech programs, but, for the most part, it seems tech mostly comes up when it’s time to do a show. We didn’t have a theatre program in high school, although we mounted two huge shows each year. However, in college, theatre majors all had to take classes in everything; even “we techies” had to take acting, directing, mime, and similar subjects. Most of “us techies” had no interest in these (and in some cases it was torture), but we had to maintain our GPAs, so we trudged along. A couple of one-semester classes, stage management and theatre management, even opened a few of my classmates’ eyes to directions they never considered.  

If I were to do a Theatre 1 class, I would start with an introduction to all facets of theatre, presenting them as possible careers in the entertainment industry, including a discussion of Broadway, regional theatre, touring shows, Vegas, Cirque du Soleil, and similar venues. I would also point out the similarities between live theatre, TV, and the movies: all three need writers, actors, directors, designers, builders, painters, producers, marketing and finance people, lawyers, and so on and on and on. In fact, many actors have been, and still are, active in all three: live theatre, TV, and the movies.

More recently, computers and technology are used more and more in theatre. We need people who can program and run automated lighting and sound equipment, projections, robotics, and similar items, In my case, I used SketchUp, a 3D modeling program, in my design work for fifteen years and it made my workflow far more efficient. In fact, my first job out of grad school wasn’t even in theatre: it was in the architectural department of a major computer company, and I got the job because I could draft – a skill I honed as an assistant set designer or set designer in school.

So, yeah, after forty-odd years doing this, I would approach the class as an intro to all of theatre as possible future career directions in entertainment. Of course I would not attempt to teach each subject in any depth, but I would have the students understand at least how each one fits into the overall picture. The kids can certainly do quizzes or projects as they go, and a final project might be to prepare something in their individual area of interest.

A few years ago I wrote a blog post on this topic: https://setdesignandtech.wordpress.com/2018/03/06/theater-can-lead-to-a-lot-of-careers/

Get inspired, but don’t copy

This post was inspired by a comment made in the Educational Theatre Association’s Open Forum by a member who mentioned his set design for a show was used by other groups without permission or attribution. He indicated it burned him — and I have to agree with him — so I wanted to offer some thoughts on the subject.

Although I’m not aware of anyone copying one of my set designs, I had a related experience a couple of years ago. For many years, I’ve been involved in stage magic, first as a professional performer, later as a hobbyist, and more recently as a columnist for an online magicians’ forum. At the suggestion of a friend, I also started designing and building props for professional magicians and collectors, which have sold through a highly-respected dealer.

During a magic builder’s conference in 2018, one of the guys mentioned he had seen one of my designs (with working drawings) published in a magician’s journal. It turned out that the writer had visited a collector a year or so previously and had shown interest in my piece. However, when I read his article, it was obvious that he was presenting my design as his original creation. After a slow burn, I wrote a couple of letters, and the writer published a sort-of-retraction in the next issue of the journal, admitting that he had seen my piece, thought it was an antique, and was “inspired” by it.

“Inspired” was hardly the correct term: he copied it outright. But at least we set the record straight.

The reason I’m mentioning this is that copying has been a problem in the world of magic for years, and it’s had a serious effect that also relates to theatre. People will create a new “trick” (anything from a card trick to a vanishing steam locomotive and then some), and someone else will come along — often in a foreign country — make inexpensive copies, and offer them for sale at a lower price. Then people will buy the cheaper version and often later complain that it’s not as good as the original. History just keeps repeating itself. But, as a result, some of the best creators have stopped publishing or marketing their pieces to avoid having them ripped off. They have shut the door on their skill and imagination.

Okay, I know what some of you are thinking: sue them. Unfortunately, given the relatively small amount of money at stake and the expenses involved, the only people who might gain anything here would be the lawyers. It’s just not worth it.

The same is true in theatre. What it comes down to is that copying someone else’s design without compensation, or at least securing permission, is basically stealing the time they put into that design. Although the notion that “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery”  has been around for a long time and makes sense in some ways, it is also unfortunately often used as an excuse for laziness.

In fact, some years ago, a production in Cincinnati was cancelled because of a plagiarized set design. In professional theatre, the set designer’s union (the United Scenic Artists Association) stipulates, in their contract with the producing company, that the set designer owns the rights to the design. The Association’s Standard Designer’s Agreement states, in Section IX. A.: “All rights in and to the design as conceived by the Designer in the course of his/her services hereunder shall be, upon its creation, and will remain, the sole and exclusive property of the Designer.”

But — on the other hand — there’s nothing wrong with being inspired by someone else’s work to crate your own original work.. Artists, designers, engineers, writers, and many others have been doing it for centuries, and it’s an accepted practice: studying other people’s work is a great way to learn and to develop your own creativity. In fact, in school, we were expected to study other set designers’ work and understand why they did what they did.

But there was a line we were not allowed to cross.

So sure, by all means, look at other designers’ work and use ideas from it to create your own original designs. But don’t copy it. In the vast majority of cases, it won’t work for you as well as it did for the original production. Tailor your design to your own production.

The scene shop, part 3: rules

A set of rules for using the scene shop, prominently posted and easy to read, can help avoid misunderstandings and arguments, and ensure that everyone is using the scene shop properly and safely. This is especially important in the case of new hires, or if your organization uses a lot of volunteers who may not have worked in a scene shop before. The list can also be issued to scene shop users, and some shops even issue two copies and ask that a signed one be returned for the shop’s files.

Since the whole point of a set of rules is to get people to understand and adhere to them, the list “should” be short, clear, and easy to read. The most effective ones I’ve seen over the years have been printed on one sheet of 8 1/2 x 11 paper using a large font (14 pt or 16 pt), and the individual items have been either bullet points or very short paragraphs.

Below are some sample rules to include in your list. Rather than just copying them, however, you’ll want to see them in the perspective of your own organization and adjust as needed. I’m using the title Technical Director here, but you can certainly use a different label.

Sample Scene Shop Rules

The following rules apply any time the shop is open or in use.
No exceptions will be made for any reason.

• The shop may only be used when the Technical Director (TD), or a designated representative, is in attendance.
• Do not use any tools or equipment for which you have not been trained.
• Wear comfortable clothing but keep in mind that you may get glue or paint on it. Old clothes are best.
• Tools love to grab loose hair, jewelry, sleeves, and similar items. Tie hair back, remove jewelry, and avoid loose clothing.
• Footwear must be fully enclosed: no open-toed shoes or sandals.
• Food, drinks, or gum are not allowed. Water in a spill-proof container is OK.
• Use eye and/or hearing protection on tools that are marked as requiring them, or as directed by the TD.
• Use dust masks or respirators as required or as directed by the TD.
• Keep your work area clean. Scraps and cutoffs belong in trash or recycle containers, not on the floor. The TD will instruct you on what to keep and what to throw away.
• Never leave an unattended machine running. Turn it off.
• Do not force or attempt to fix broken or malfunctioning equipment. Report it to the TD immediately.
• Report any injuries (no matter how minor) immediately to the TD.
• Keeping the shop clean and safe is everyone’s responsibility. Put your tools and equipment away at the end of a work session or as directed by the TD. He or she will tell you when to stop working and start cleaning up.

No horseplay will be tolerated at any time.

The tone of the list can take various forms: autocratic, informational, or even humorous,  or any combination of these. For instance, a YouTube video prepared by a model shop has taken their list of shop rules to new heights by presenting it in a humorous manner while at the same time using it to define the company culture to new hires. You can watch it at Ten Bullets.

To keep things simple, you may want to prepare a separate list for the paint area, noting things like washing brushes and rollers, covering paint cans, and so forth. That will also give the paint area its own identity.

Two great books on set design

A few months ago, a local film school asked me if I’d be interested in teaching a production design class for them. I told them I had never designed for the movies, but, the more we talked, the more I realized that  production design is very similar to set design, so I agreed to do the class. Then I immediately went looking for books on production design to pick up on anything I didn’t know.

That’s when I found two books that can not only also apply to theatrical set design, but that cover a number of topics I haven’t seen in set design books, which, for the most part, tend to cover design itself briefly and then move right into how to build scenery. There are other books on the subject, but these were the two I was able to get through my public library, and both are available through Amazon.

The first is The Filmmaker’s Guide to Production Design by Vincent LoBrutto, and you can view the table of contents online at https://www.amazon.com/Filmmakers-Guide-Production-Design/dp/1581152248#reader_1581152248. The book covers topics such as how to visualize a screenplay (the same thing we do with a script) and how to interpret the characters visually (ditto). It also has a good section on research, and chapters on design drawings, color, texture, architecture, and genres (a chapter that I found especially appropriate to live theatre). It even includes a list of one hundred films to study for production design. 

The second book is Production Design for Screen: Visual Storytelling in Film and Television, by Jane Barnwell. This one covers the design process, the visual concept, how to use space, light, color, set decoration, and other topics, and, like the other book, focuses everything on how to use visual design to help tell the story. You can view the table of contents at https://www.amazon.com/Production-Design-Screen-Storytelling-Television/dp/1472580672/ref=pd_lpo_sbs_14_img_0?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=X9MGQ1P7Z7S2MMA6GHFV#reader_1472580672.

I’ve been saying for years that I think it’s sad that theatre people tend to focus mostly on books and magazines on live theatre, and that more cross-pollination would would be a huge help. These two books definitely fit into that thinking process. Please check them out.

 

A paint mixing cart on wheels

A recent post in the Educational Theatre Association (EdTA) Open Forum about a mobile costume shop workstation was so cool that I decided to do a post here on a paint cart I designed years ago for a local theater.

The shop already had a dedicated space for storing paint stock and accessories, so this cart was intended to provide a place to mix and store all the paint for the current show under construction. It was built from scrap materials, mostly 3/4″ plywood, and had shelves on both sides for various-size paint cans, as well as plastic bins for tape, gloves, masks, chalk, and other small items. It also had a rack at one end for extension poles, straightedges, and similar tools. Because it was on casters, it could be easily moved around the shop, or out onto the stage, as needed. The overall dimensions were about four feet by two feet, by thirty inches high.

The paint-can opener, which always tends to disappear, was tied to a string secured to the cart handle, and it never disappeared after that.

Sometime after the cart was built and in use, I added a new feature to it.

A lot of scenic artists use music stands to hold their painters’ elevations while they work on a set. It keeps the documents safe, off the floor or work surfaces, and makes them easy to refer to while painting. So adding one to the cart seemed like a natural.

Rather than cannibalizing a perfectly good music stand, however, I made a simple one out of closet pole and some scrap plywood. It had a simple tilting device on the back, held together by a bolt and a wingnut, and rode in one of the holes on the rack at the end of the cart.

Visiting scenic artists were delighted with this, as it gave them a safe and convenient place to keep their painters’ elevations and other reference materials.

In future posts I’ll be describing similar shop-made accessories that can make life much simpler and more productive. Stay tuned.

 

 

How to read a script like a set designer

This post was inspired by some recent projects, which in turn made me think about older ones and the people I worked with, and how they approached the process of designing and building a set.

One of the things that has really stood out for me over the years is how so many designer/TDs in non-professional theatre seem to look at a script in terms of “okay, so we need to build a such-and-such.” A few years ago, one of them didn’t seem interested at all in how the scenery units helped tell the story or how they worked in context with other units: he was just focused on the construction of individual pieces. And I found it surprising because he was also a good director and actor who paid close attention to the actors and their characters and motivations in the context of the story.

So how do we look at a script from the viewpoint of a set designer?

Start by understanding the story itself. Stories are about people, three-dimensional people who want something but can’t get it because there are obstacles in the way, so they have to figure out how to get past the obstacles. Whether it’s a play, a musical, an opera, a movie, a sitcom, a “reality show,” an election, or a sporting event, it’s all the same: somebody wants something and has to figure out what to do about it.

A set is nothing more than a physical environment in which the characters in the story show us how they approach getting past those obstacles. So the set not only has to make it physically possible for the story to take place, but hopefully also wants to give us a sense of the overall mood of the story and present us with a logical place for it. Watch your favorite TV show or movie and notice how characters’ homes and workplaces “fit” the characters and the nature of the story. Some years back there were snide comments about the lifeguards on Baywatch all having homes that nobody could afford on a lifeguard’s income. It was probably done to enhance the “glamorous” nature of the characters portrayed, but, still, it was distracting.

Here is where good set designers read the script two or three times before starting to draw anything. The first time is for the story itself and the other times are to understand what the story really requires in terms of the physical space and how it all works together. I covered some of this here in several previous posts.

The danger, as I’ve pointed out elsewhere, is that by thinking about scenery units (or props and furniture) out of context, they just become generic pieces. I’ve heard it many times: “We don’t have to build a staircase – we have one from last year. It’s about the right size and has a nice railing.” What can be (and often is) missed here is that last year’s staircase was from Willy Loman’s house and this year it’ll be in Daddy Warbucks’ mansion.

While reading the script, we also look for things like genre and mood. Is it a comedy, a drama, a mystery, a horror story, or something else? Is the mood happy, sad, tense, poignant, scary? These, and the nature of the story itself, are what clue us in as to whether the story wants a “realistic” set or a “non-realistic” set, a.k.a. a representational set or a presentational one.

These are some of the things I discuss at my first meeting with the director because I want to find out how he or she is approaching the story, and why. Too often I’ve seen a new director want a realistic set for something like a musical or a Shakespeare play, where realistic sets can come across as static and unimaginative. On the other hand, plays like Neil Simon comedies or Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, can “feel” better in a “realistic” space.

For instance, here’s part of a set I did years ago for David Lindsay-Abaire‘s play Rabbit Hole, which is about a young couple who lost their four-year-old son to a car accident. The director and I decided that we wanted the audience to focus on the sadness of the story, so we would avoid any theatricalism and create a fairly realistic space. The show was done in a black box.

On the other hand, here’s my set (under work lights) for J.B. Priestley’s An Inspector Calls, which is about an investigation into the suicide of a young factory worker and takes place in England during the Edwardian period. Here we wanted to show the wealth of the family who lived in the house and their isolation from the common people, and also pick up on the story’s sense of things being out of balance.

In both cases the research led to authentic period detailing, but the sets themselves had totally different feelings to jive with their stories and their characters.  You can read more about these sets on my web site, at www.georgefledo.net. And, for a good short intro to how we approach research for a set design, you can read my post here, at Research is an investment, not a luxury.

Once I have a good sense of how we want to approach the story, I can go back to the script to start defining the physical space. Many scripts include detailed stage directions or even floor plans, and there is an ongoing debate as to how much of this was included by the playwright and how much is just a record of the original production. A couple of years ago I contacted a few publishers to get their take on this, and the consensus was that, unless the contract specifically states otherwise, there is no requirement to follow any of it. You can read about this at The script, the set, and stage directions.

So, basically, that’s how we read scripts: start with the story, make sure we understand it and the director’s intent, and then delve into the details that we need to create a compelling physical space. As I mentioned above, several readings are usually necessary to get a really good mental picture of what kind of space will best serve the story. And I often keep referring to the script as I make design choices, looking for hints about the characters’ intentions.

Many times the characters themselves (not the actors, although that’s a separate conversation) will tell us what they need, but we have to be open to listening to them. For instance, in the set above for An Inspector Calls, the head of the household, Arthur Birling, loves to tell people that he used to be Lord Mayor of his town; he considers it just one more symbol of his status and importance. So I decided we would have a formal portrait of him, in full mayoral regalia, hanging over the fireplace. That way, when he tells the Inspector about his former title, he can point to the portrait. The director loved the idea, as it would help show Arthur’s pompous personality.

If you’d like a little more on the design process itself, please check out one of my original posts here, A set design from start to finish.

 

The scene shop, part 1: general layout

Now and then I see a post in the Educational Theatre Association (EdTA) open forum regarding ideas for a new scene shop, or tools, or something related, so I decided to do a few pieces here. This first one is about scene shops in general and subsequent ones will be about work areas, storage areas, and related subjects.

First off, a scene shop is nothing more than a dedicated place to build custom items which may be made of wood, plastic, metal, or other materials. The process, the tools, the ideal layout, and everything else are pretty much the same as in any other custom shop that specializes in these materials, the main difference being that the scene shop is used to build scenery instead of cabinetry, furniture, or other products. So we’ll look at a scene shop with that perspective in mind.

Workflow and layout

Like in other shops, the workflow in a scene shop is very straightforward: the raw materials come in “at one end” and the finished products go out “at the other end.” In between, the materials get stored temporarily, get cut to size and otherwise worked, get assembled, and get stored temporarily again until they get painted. Then they get painted, and, finally, they move onto the stage to get installed. Later, after the show closes, the pieces may come back and get disassembled.

And there are usually two or more projects (individual pieces of scenery) going on at once.

So, ideally, the shop layout should reflect the workflow: the raw material comes in at the loading dock end and the finished pieces go out the other end onto the stage. This suggests a long skinny room, but of course most scene shops aren’t built this way (most of the ones I’ve seen are either square or close to it). The idea, however, can still work with a little planning and/or rearranging of the existing equipment.

If you already have a shop, a good way to see if it is laid out with workflow in mind is to observe the construction crew during a typical show. How often do they have to move materials and piece parts from one place to another and back again? Some movement is of course inevitable, but (for instance) if you have to bring new plywood sheets to the back of the shop for storage and then bring them to the front again because that’s where the table saw is, you may want to consider a little re-arranging. Or if the paint area is at the back of the shop and the stage door is at the front, or if you have to run an obstacle course to get to the panel saw or radial arm, or if the best place for assembly is taken up by a large stationary power tool. But you get the idea. And don’t laugh: I’ve seen all these instances and many more.

One thing to avoid whenever possible is storing scenery, props, or other items in the shop. Unless the room was deliberately planned large enough to have dedicated areas for storage, what often happens is that it becomes a warehouse and leaves very little space for work. I’ve seen a few (large) shops that were so full of stored stuff that there was hardly any place to work; even the work tables were piled with props and other items, so layouts had to be done on the floor — and there was very little of that.

Flexibility

A major factor to consider when planning a shop is flexibility. Some pieces of scenery are fairly small and others may be huge, and sometimes you get some of one and some of the other, plus everything in between. The best way to deal with this is to dedicate a large open space strictly for assembly, and then to put as many of the power tools as possible on casters so they can be moved out of the way if necessary. I’ve seen a few shops where the table saw and other large tools are in the worst possible places, but they can’t be easily moved due to the placement of electrical outlets and dust collection systems. Their placement also cuts down on open space for assembling large pieces.

I’ll go more into this in the next two posts.

Resources

There are lots of resources available on how to set up a wood shop: books, magazines, online articles, and videos, and they are great for generating ideas; some even show actual or suggested floor plans and designs for storage cabinets. I have a workshop in my garage (I don’t build scenery or props at home, but woodworking has been a hobby since high school), and I consistently find great tips and ideas in these resources. Some of my favorite ones are listed in the Resources page of this blog, and there are lots more.  I’ve seen a few pieces on how to set up a scene shop too, mostly in the older books, but unfortunately they were either very specific or are totally outdated.

Revolves don’t have to be round

My first year in junior college we built a revolve for a show. It was a huge affair with three different scenes, one of which had folding panels to change the setting quickly. In the center of this revolve was what we called the “delta unit,” which was a triangular space that led to each of the three scenes. I kid you not: it was easy (and known) for people to get lost in the thing.

That was my first revolve, and of course it was round. And, of course, going by the textbooks, we built up the floor around it so the whole surface would be at one level and the turntable wouldn’t be visible. It worked beautifully, but, being the first revolve most of us worked on, it also gave us the impression that revolves have to be round.

Not so.

Your typical revolve, out of a textbook, is a round turntable in the middle of a built-up area. The backs and sides of the set, and the structure on it — and of course the dimensions — can be anything, but the basic idea is the same:

Now and then we see a revolve without the built-up area around it, which looks like a round platform:

Nothing wrong with this, as long as it fits visually into the overall design.

But it doesn’t have to be round. Years ago I designed a small, non-round revolve for Equus, which was about six feet on a side:

But it wasn’t square: the edges were ragged, so it looked like a rough wooden platform:

We can also take this idea a bit further and stack several levels on it, creating a sort of revolving hill or rock formation:

And here’s another way to look at a revolve, from a set I did for Shrek:

For this one, we used half of an existing 12′-diameter round revolve and built a square piece on the other side to create a tilted stand for a huge book:

So the revolve had the fairy-tale book on one side and Fiona’s bedroom on the other. You can see more on this on my web site, at Shrek.

Then, of course, there are those pieces that we think need a revolve, but really don’t. The barricade I designed for Les Miz, for instance, was a free-standing structure that turned all the way around but didn’t sit on a “typical” revolve. This photo shows half of it, from the “rebel” side. The complete unit was twenty feet across:

You can read more about this unit at Problem solving: the barricade in Les Miz.

Revolves can be wonderful tools to help tell a story, but the real trick is to think in terms of what the story needs to say, instead of what the physical piece of scenery “should” be.

Theater and sports: an editorial

The other night Donna and I were having dinner at our local sports bar. The place has sixteen or eighteen large flat-screen TVs arranged around the room, and I caught myself watching the Temple-Navy game on the nearest screen.

That’s when a revelation hit me.

Granted both schools have very strong athletic programs and lots of money and so forth, but it really struck me how much support goes into one of these teams: the coaching staffs, the support staffs, the logistics, the public relations — and the business end, since tickets to the games are not free. Then, you have the salaries paid to some of these coaches: http://sports.usatoday.com/ncaa/salaries/

Amazing. So I thought I would write an editorial this time.

Why do so many theatre programs in high schools and colleges have such a hard time getting support to do their jobs? I’m not involved in academic theater, but, from hanging out in the Educational Theatre Association (EdTA) open forum for the past couple of years, talking with some of the teachers, and designing four productions for a local college, I’ve noticed a few things. Mostly, what I think I’m seeing is one or more perceptions among school administrators: ideas that keep perpetuating themselves because no one seems to be challenging them adequately.

In no particular order:

The perception that theater is not a “real” career path.

“The school play” so often seems to be viewed as just a rite of passage.

Theater is very much a real career path: professional theater is part of the entertainment industry. I can totally understand that some administrators, especially in the smaller cities and towns, may not get much of a chance to see professional live theater, and therefore may not appreciate it for what it is. However, they do see actors on TV and the movies, and, if they care to watch the credits, they also see a large number of technical staff listed. Kids who study acting, directing, design, tech, or any other theater specialty in school can very well go on to a career in entertainment if they choose to do so.

Here’s where I can’t understand people having no problem watching professional sports and realizing that their kids are doing basically the same thing in school, and those same people watching a movie or TV show and not realizing that their kids are doing basically the same thing in “the school play.”

The perception that there’s no money in theater.

This is related to the above. We hear of sports figures making millions and movie starts making millions. Yet the majority of — if not all — sports figures started out playing in grammar or high school, just like many top TV or movie stars began acting in high school or college.

Also, of the many thousands of kids who play sports in school, only a small percentage end up playing professionally, yet the schools often provide huge support to the programs anyway. This is no different than the thousands of kids who are involved in theater in school yet go on to other fields, yet so many schools seem to provide little support.

The perception that theater is not a legitimate academic field.

Theater is a legitimate academic field. Many four-year colleges offer bachelors’ degrees in theater, with a concentration in acting, directing, design, tech, and several other areas. You can also earn an MA or an MFA (a terminal degree) in several theater specialties, or go on to earn a PhD in the subject. In fact, most professional designers have at least a BA or BFA, and more and more have MAs or MFAs.

The perception that theater is “just the arts.”

I always get a chuckle out of this one. What’s the difference between doing, say, Hamlet in a school or community theatre and calling it “the arts,” and doing the same play on Broadway and calling it “the entertainment industry?”

Well, for one thing, tickets to the local production can run maybe $10 to $35 or so, while tickets to the Broadway play, with a top star playing Hamlet, can run well over $100. No different than tickets to a high-school game can run $10 to $25, while tickets to a professional game can run well over $100.

Of course (yeah, no kiddin’, Sherlock) the Broadway performance has professionals working it, and costs more, and so on and on. But let’s face it: in this country the arts are always begging for money, while the entertainment industry is making money hand over fist. So why label theater education as “the arts” (with the usual low-rung-on-the-ladder connotation) instead of as “preparation for the entertainment industry?”

The perception that it costs too much money.

This one is easy: compare the amount of money spent on sports versus the amount of money spent on theater (on all the arts, actually). Sure it’ll vary by school, but it may be an eyebrow-raiser overall. Why is one so important, while the other one isn’t?

The perception that one person can do it all.

I see this all the time in the EdTA open forum, where so many teachers indicate they are a one-person department, teaching several classes in addition to directing the shows and designing the sets, lights, costumes, sound, props, advertising, and so on and on. Yet, again from the forum (and from conversations with some of the teachers), it appears that most of them were trained mainly in how to teach acting or directing, with only minimal exposure to the technical areas. From the viewpoint of a fly on the wall, I feel this is totally unfair to the kids, not to mention the teachers. One person cannot possibly be an expert in all those areas, let alone have the time to do it all properly.

As I mentioned to a college faculty member recently, the problem here appears to be that administrators “see” one person doing it all, and therefore think it’s possible to do so. Yet the idea that the kids may be getting short-changed doesn’t seem to come up.

The perception that “that’s just the way it is.”

A couple of years ago, I was hired by a local high school to design the set for one of their musicals. During conversations with the staff before production started, I learned that their previous set designers had been (and I’m quoting here) “kids right out of school who didn’t know what they were doing.” I also learned that a couple of parents had been very instrumental in previous productions, to the point of pretty much dictating what the set was and how it was built.

This being only the second high school I’ve ever worked for, I figured, okay, we’ll get to know each other and go from there. However, from the first production meeting, it was clear that they, and one parent in particular (a retired engineer), were under the impression that all set designers were the same: clueless. The director and I were very much on the same page, so she was very supportive, but, being a regular director at that school, there was only so far she could go.

I could totally understand the possibility that this one parent may have felt threatened, but I could not understand that he just would not let go the idea that I was clueless, even after the set was up and running on schedule. That behavior was so pronounced that it was very hard to not take it personally, but somehow I managed not to. It was not a pleasant experience for me.

I mention this story only because it’s so easy to fall back on “it’s always been this way” and “we don’t need to do anything about it” — what I call “defending the problem.” If administrators don’t notice, or don’t pay attention to, how things are done, and no one takes an active role in changing their perceptions, nothing will change. And here, again, is where I feel the kids are the ones who are being short-changed.

I don’t know what the answer is (heck, I’m not even sure I know what the question is), but I’ve been reading about, and hearing, the same concerns over the past couple of years. Hopefully, this post will raise a few questions that may lead to some positive solutions at some point.

Okay, enough for editorials. The next post will be back to my subject matter.

 

Drawing Ideas

Donna and I were at one our favorite weekend breakfast places in Berkeley this morning, and, as usual, afterwards walked a few doors down to Builders Booksource, a small bookstore specializing in architectural and design books, as well as building codes and other construction resources. Every time we go there, I find something interesting, and this morning was no exception.

So often I hear set designers or TDs in non-professional theatre start discussing a set in terms of scenery: “What are going to build?” “Can we use stock?” “Can we re-use part of the last set?” and similar questions. I’ve written several posts here about design, inspiration, research, and similar subjects, so this time I’m going to mention a book I found at the store this morning — one of many on a similar subject — that many of us find very useful when designing… well… just about anything. It’s titled Drawing Ideas: A Hand-Drawn Approach for Better Design, by Mark Baskinger and William Bardel. The blurb on the book describes its purpose very well:

A primer for design professionals across all disciplines that helps them create compelling and original concept designs by hand–as opposed to on the computer–in order to foster collaboration and win clients. In today’s design world, technology for expressing ideas is pervasive; CAD models and renderings created with computer software provide an easy option for creating highly rendered pieces. However, the accessibility of this technology means that fewer designers know how to draw by hand, express their ideas spontaneously, and brainstorm effectively.

This book has nothing to do with stage design, but delves into drawing itself as a design technique, which is why I’m writing about it. As the blurb above indicates, computer software nowadays makes it easy to create very detailed designs quickly,  and I’ve written about my use of SketchUp repeatedly. However, the problem is that it’s so easy to draw, say, a flat or a platform, that we can get caught up in drawing a set that consists only of flats and platforms. The creative process of thinking about the space itself, looking at options, sketching spontaneously, and developing an idea into something more interesting, can too easily drop between the cracks. I’ve been using SketchUp for years, and I still can’t use it for initial concepts: I have to figure out where I’m going with a design before I ever turn to the software — and believe me, I’ve tried.  🙂

As I mentioned above, Drawing Ideas is one of many books on basically the same subject: developing a creative design in terms of form and function and space before we start worrying about the materials. They are all very useful in learning how to develop compelling sets that will not only support the story but also greatly enhance the audience experience. It’s definitely worth the price.

BTW, I can hear some of you here in the Bay Area asking, okay, so what’s the place you went to for breakfast?   🙂   It’s Bette’s Ocean View Diner.