The idea behind the class – I think, they have never actually told us what it’s all about – is to give theatre students a view of theatre from all sides; performing, writing, design, directing, PR and all that. It’s a pretty good idea, because nobody working in any one field ever really appreciates the work that the other does. Or that could be just how actors think of everyone else.
This group project is to put that idea into practice. Every group has to put together a small-scale production of a play in two scenes. We’re doing two scenes from Angels In America. Every person on the group is assigned to work on a different part of the production. We have a director, two actors, a PR dude, a costume designer, an audio designer, and a scenic designer.
I’m the scenic designer.
Again, I appreciate the idea of getting us to understand and appreciate all the aspects of theatre, but come on. Did I not come here to major in acting? Did I not pay tuition to come to this school to act? This reminds me of a Mitch Hedburg joke.
I got into comedy to do comedy, which is weird, I know. But when you're in Hollywood and you're a comedian, everybody wants you to do other things besides comedy. They say, "Alright, you're a standup comedian. Can you act? Can you write? Write us a script." They want me to do things that's related to comedy, but not comedy. That's not fair. It's as though I was a cook, and I worked my ass off to become a really good cook, and they said, "Alright, you're a cook... Can you farm?"
But then, if I really wanted to, I could have pushed to switch places with one of the actors. I guess I was afraid of screwing up in the end. If I design terribly, I can say, “I’m not a designer, anyway,” but if I act terribly, I can’t say, “I’m not an actor, anyway.”
Not that I would normally care if I do something terribly. But that’s why I hate group projects – they instill me with guilt. Whatever shitty job I do reflects on them, as well.
Not that all failed group projects are my fault. In my developmental psychology class, I had to write a paper, with a partner – I assume it’s so the professor only has to grade half as many of them. When the time came, I emailed my partner, and he decided that we should meet in the library to get down to business.
It seemed like a great idea until I realized I had never even seen the guy in person before. We still haven’t handed that paper in.
Anyway, my director – a blonde, slightly taller Michelle Chun with a slower mouth, but just as sweet and determined – suggested that I go to the LIGHTING LAB, that some time there might help me come up with a design idea. I couldn’t imagine. Seeing as I’m not a designer, I can’t come up with ideas for design.
I went to the lighting lab anyways. I was familiar with it because we had class there while I was taking Electrics – which, if you remember, I failed. The lab has a completely different atmosphere outside of class, though.
This is how the lab works. There’s a time chart on the door. You put your name down for every half hour increment you plan on working. Then, when that time comes, you go in, close the door behind you, and it’s all yours. You can fiddle with the control panel, use the ladders in the closet to move every light as you desire, and screw around with the lighting lab dummy. It’s all yours. It’s like a technologic sanctuary. It’s so serene that you sometimes forget to do work.
For example – I’ve been in here for nearly an hour, and I haven’t done anything but write this post.
However, that’s mostly because the control panel is off. I can’t do anything without it. I looked through the guidebook, but I couldn’t figure anything out.
Wouldn’t you agree that the first step in any guidebook should be instructions for how to turn the fucking thing on?
I thought about going out and finding someone who can tell me how to turn it on, but I don’t really care to.
I finished Escaflowne today. I’ve been watching it on YouTube. I liked it a lot. But it felt like in the end, everything was solved so simply. It was just bittersweet enough for me, though.
I left for the lab afterwards, a little before six o’clock, when the sun isn’t quite setting, but sitting just above the horizon, and it looks like something that you could walk up to and get a better look. The lagoon in the Garden, which had been dried up weeks before, was fuller then I had ever seen it. I hope the swans come back soon. Parents were walking home with their kids, and there were people sitting on the grass – not reading, not eating, not talking, just sitting. When I left voice class, the sun and allergens combined to forge me a dry, scratchy breath and a gentle fatigue that gave me the feeling that, if I needed to, I could just let go of my balance, float to the ground and sleep soundly under the waning sunlight for as long as I wished. Summer is so near, but I know it will come. Things always work out.
Looks like I’ll have to sign up for more time in the lab tomorrow.
2 comments:
That's funny, I like beans.
it's robert. the kid from the pav that goes to school for lighting in new york. as a designer, some of your comments actually brought quite a wry smile to my face...it does seem like actors think that magical fairy people build sets and do lights..far more often does it seem that way than it should. design is easy though. let go. be loose. take the scene and spin your own ideas onto it. as a freshman here, i don't get to do lighting shit. all design freshmen do the same classes-uniting us in our first year and giving us a taste of ALL design so we'll have a greater idea of where our part fits into the whole when we split off into our respective fields next year. i'm doing a scene design style project right now...and it's a blast. i don't usually do it..but it's enjoyable. read the play and come up with a 'concept'- an overriding message that only you can uniquely express. then take the physical surroundings of the play and paint your concept on to them..that might help you a bit. good luck with the acting though. i wouldn't do that shit if you paid me.
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