War and Peace

Some days, I love my job....

Like so much wet paint

My meeting Sunday morning was relatively productive. At least I am now somewhat on the same page as the director. And our discussions sparked my interest in the show again. Pity...the show was supposed to be small...I was getting so bogged down in the logistics of tracking, listing and budgeting that the process it self was no longer fun.

Still not thrilled to be doing the show. But it is what it is. I'm chalking it up to a learning experience and moving on.

To buckets of paint.

The last of our battle gear for the Scottish play was spattered today. Good thing too, as tech starts tomorrow at noon. That leaves my helper and I four whole hours before the actors arrive to finish off the last of the notes. Though, after putting in a full day on Saturday we are in much better shape than I anticipated. Teching the opening scene may take all day tomorrow, which really buys us quite a bit of time.

The next week and a half brings the notes. Followed by a few days of serious cleaning. And after all the paint we've flung for this show...my floors desperately need some attention.

Bloody, Bold and Resolute

Fourty-eight hour work week this week...topped off with the ridiculousness of the children's show. Arg. I have never so badly wanted to tell off a director for a lack of communication.

Long story short...Monday: measurements, Tuesday: shop for publicity photo, Wednesday: Ross came home and I 'missed' my production meeting. Thursday: publicity photo. A bit rushed of a schedule isn't it? Consider I work until five on weekdays and all of above said events started at 6ish.

But the end of the story...the director, who was late to the publicity photos saw the kids in costume for the shoot and immediately asked "what are they wearing? Are those the costumes? I mean the real costumes?" No. I pulled something out of my ass...

I could never acutally say that.

He then sad something about the play being set in 1950, followed by asking if I even read the play.

Never in any of our discussions was the 1950s even mentioned. I was ready to walk out, I was so pissed. But didn't. My job is to create the show he envisions withing the limited resources and time that I have. But I sure as hell am never working with this particular director, nor this theatre ever again.

I'm meeting with him in the morning to salvage what we can of the design the entire production team thought he had approved weeks ago. Assumptions, mis-communications and that frickin Minnesota nice are wearing my last nerve.

But enough venting. I had 48 marvelous hours at work letting out my frustrations on brand new looking costumes. Twenty five ensembles to distress for the Scottish play in a week. Even with the extra hands I was falling behind. And notes kept coming my way, three and four pages at a time. But after a full day of overtime (I probably made close to Ross' weekly salary in eight hours of overtime...unions do certainly have their perks) I do believe we have caught up. One more full day of work before the show goes into tech.

I wonder how many notes will come of it...

White Noise

The silence of an absence can be deafen when you're used to someone else occupying the same space as you.

At work I encounter this almost on a daily basis. Until recently I was the only person in the dye and craft rooms. Very little ambient noise penitrated. The dryer tumbling. The sewing machines humming in the main shop. The occasional burst of laughter or conversation. Time seems to drag in the silence.

The last week and a half the power's that be provided me with an extra set of hands. The we've worked in the same room together time pratically flew by. Conversation filled the time as our hands scurried over the growing pile of notes. (Honestly the sudden appearance of work after a whirlwind of fittings may have helped speed up the time as well). Days when we split into the separate rooms to work on different notes time slowed a bit, but the ambient noise drifting in from the dye shop as I worked on my notes and she worked on hers was comforting.

The quiet that used to be at work has infiltrated the apartment. Ross flew out to New York on Friday to be with family for his grandmother's funeral. It's hard not to be there to support him and his family, though I hardly knew the woman they are honoring. It's even harder sitting here in the ridiculous quiet. Just the presence of another person in the apartment, even when they aren't talking, fills the space from wall to wall. In his absence a dead silence fill the few rooms.

My i-tunes has been on almost none stop when I am at home, just to fill the space. Had we a TV, I'm sure that would be on for the background noise. In the quiet I have expected to be able to hear the roars from the stadium as the Vikings trounced the Cowboys. Apparently this stadium has better sound proofing than Rutger's stadium did. When I live in Jersey, even though I was farther from the stadium than I am now to the Viking's home turf, I could hear the cheering as clear as a bell.

And even with the music in the background the day drags on. I filled the time with some productivity. Yesterday I ran errands for the show I really wish I could just cut free from. Today I finished the renderings for this same show. Tomorrow, back to work. And the evenings filled with more tasks for above said show. The time will pass more quickly with more to occupy my hands and mind.

But alone in the apartment, it drags on.

Quietly.

Birthdays and Blessings

I couldn't have asked for a more loving and supportive group of people to spend the weekend with. My siblings are amazing. My mother incredibly generous. And it helped so much to be surrounded by so much love when Ross got word of his grandmother's passing. In spite of the sorrowful news, we had a great post-holiday family gathering. With plenty of food, fun, games and gifts.

I am so grateful to be near enough to family again to enjoy such a short, yet rejuvenating weekend.

Thank you.

How hard could it be to say "no"

Amazing how quickly something sours. Or how one mis-step or mis-cue causes a snowball turned avalanche. Or how quickly all the seemingly little things you wouldn't notice on their own wind up to be one big, daunting problem.

Somehow I found myself in a situation very much like that.

I probably should have said no from the start.

But way back then, everything seemed doable. The script was new, yes, but it seemed like a small production. And it was over three months out. I had a month for priliminary designs. A month for final designs. About seven and a half weeks to execute the design...okay, six after Ross and I took a little vacation. A short tech that started during my second layoff period. And I had an assistant.

So what happened?

Well, first the design got off to a slow start, between my lack of motivation and the director's lack of direction. Okay, fine...I was still leaps and bounds ahead of the scenic designer. And the sound and lighting designers had yet to make an appearance.

Final designs plunked along too...but via email the director seemed overall thrilled with the sketches, less a few concerns...which there often are.

In the meantime the script was tweaked...for the better. The costume count looked the same, but transitions looked smoother...more doable.

And then casting happened...the first little domino of the cascade to follow. The expected cast was about 16. The cast we ended up with was 23. All chorus. At first I thought okay...this is still manageable. The chorus really only has one look, with the addition of a hat here or coat there. The number of characters hadn't changed. Or so I thought.

After a few emails to the director I discovered a few of those doubled as well...three card playing ladies became six. Two gamblers became five. One horse became two. Across the board these seemingly small additions were adding up very quickly.

Again, at this point I wasn't too terribly worried. Budget more than anything clouded my vision. I put off painting the renderings for the next production meeting as I still had seen nothing from the scenic designer and the rest of the team seemed overall content. The show was to be largely pulled and purchased anyway. I didn't want to inadvertently lock the director into something...and thus corner myself into a color commitment I couldn't fulfill. We both needed the flexibility word final didn't quite offer.

Several smaller roles had yet to be cast, but I cast that worry from my mind as once I had a chance to measure everyone I'd know approximately what sizes to hunt for, even if I didn't know exactly what would go to whom.

And there in lay the next little domino that really got the rest tumbling. Monday was the third production meeting at which final (ish for the scenic designer, apparently) designs were due. But prior to the staff meeting was a parent/cast meeting to go over paperwork, expectations and, from what both myself and my assistant thought we had confirmed on TWO previous occasions, get the cast's measurements.

It never happened. No time was given. Or no one was paying attention. The person I thought would stop the discussion to direct them to me had slipped out during the director's talk and parent's questions...and the questions went on. And on. And 8:30 came and went.

The next time the entire cast gathers for us to take measurements is two weeks away. Two weeks of potential costume tracking and building time. And if they weren't kids...if they didn't span from ages 8 to 18 with all the sizes in between...I might have been able to start something. Anything. But no...they vary too much.

Two weeks shot. An anticipated six weeks for fifty six costumes suddenly became four weeks for seventy five.

That, now coupled with an odd development at work...parallel almost. One person held off on making a decision, and as a result I've squandered almost three weeks cleaning, organizing and wasting time waiting for the green light. Only for all of us to find out today the green light was on the entire time...the person we were waiting on just hadn't informed us. So, from bored to behind. And the work will only continue to pile on...the shop is tense. The load will only get more stressful. And the last thing I'll want to do is come home from that and dive into another equally as frustrating situation.

Certainly a 0 to 60 moment in what? A day?

Could I possibly extricate myself from the show already mostly designed? The thought of pulling out tore me apart...but ultimately staying on looked like nothing but misery and threatened to make what was to be a belated honeymoon nothing to be enjoyed...me likely spending the time stressing over what I wasn't accomplishing...or were everything lined up prior to my departure...the soothing effects of a vacation vanishing as soon as I stepped foot in to the tech situation.

I hated calling the artistic director. I needed a way out. Preferably without burning bridges. And we spoke.

So why does it feel like I'm still in?

Tomorrow we'll meet in person, to see what can be salvaged. Hopefully my balls will drop enough for me to stand by my "no" this time.

Clusters of Clutter of the Holidays

Motivation and creativity comes in chaotic little clusters recently. Usually forced by deadlines. And in between lie lulls of inactivity, procrastiantions and sometimes just the need to be. House hold work follows through on much the same vein. Either it's completely ignored or pushed aside during a bout of creative motivation or during the even rarer shared day off when Ross and I head out to do something. And suddenly in a whirlwind of enthusiasm the dishes are done, all recyeables gone, laundry clean, linens changed, floors vaccumed...

Maybe I've always functioned this way...hyper-active bursts of accomplishment followed by long lulls of just being.

Lately I've more of a mind toward cooking and baking than to drawing and painting. I have final designs due tomorrow for Grandmother's Tschotski's. I didn't finish the final sketches until Friday. Emailed them to the director, from whom I've heard nary a peep lest I ask a question first. I had every intention of spending the full day painting them. Getting started is always the hard part, but once I begin, the creative task consumes me and calms me. I could paint for hours. But the lull set in early.

As well as the unusual, nay absurd thought...of lowering my standards.

The director seems content with what I've shown so far. In fact he and the artistic director are probably already surprised I bothered to sketch nearly every different look within the play, when most are either small and self-explanitory (a nun or a postman with in a 20 second scene); or well, really not that important in the gradn scheme of this little 60 minute show. I'm already stressing out about the show. And as a result, and for a change, I find myself holding back. Not creatively. But do they really need to see the sketches in color? Why? To impress those already impressed? I expend my energy elsewhere...like getting the actual costumes done.

The holidays provided another outlet for the bursts of clutter and, well cooking. Thanksgiving was just the two of us with enough food for at least 6. Turkey, mashed potatoes, green bean cassorle, dressing, cranberry sauce. So many more sides begged to be made, but they would have gone largely to waste on a small party of two. We gorged. We watched movies. We gorged again. A few calls from family. It was a good first Thanksgiving. And the last day I was to really see Ross...Black Friday loomed and threatened to eat my husband, soul and all, only to be spat back worn but content, after Christmas.

Work started up again. The designer's designs still absent despite her deadline coming and going three weeks earlier. With nothing to do I cleaned. Cleaned and sorted boxes that hadn't been touched in years. Clutter everywhere. Clusters of who knows what from shows long ago paraded across the stage. Dust, grim, dirt. A week and a half of getting intimate with my stock.

Then into 2 compressed work weeks to compensate for Christmas and New Years being on a weekday. 40 hours crammed into 4 days, still with little to do. The odd ball task trickled in. I tried to drag them out as long as possible. Not long enough. I left when the sun barely hinted in the sky. And heading home long after it dipped below in the west.

Christmas came and went. A guest over to share our modest feast and play games. Then another lull followed by another burst.

A bit more to do at work, followed by thumb twiddling as I finished it. Still no designs...which quite honestly is fueling my lack of color on the renderings as much as anything. At least my designs are there, on paper. And I have only myself to complete the show...not a full shop of union-ized labor twiddling thumbs and waiting...

Ah well. Today is truly a day off. I will enjoy it. Work aside. Book in hand. Coffee nearby.