Making Bad Lighting Work

Every so often, in my technical career, I'm asked to deal with shitty lights. It happens. It just so happens that this week, it's track lighting. I can't describe the emotional issues I have with track lighting, but they begin with the fact that you can't put each light on a separate channel. That, and most track lights are expensive and look like hell. The hot spot is up at the top, the units themselves get unbearably hot after about 30 seconds, and they break when you sneeze. To work with track lighting for a day is to feel pain. At some point, the part of you that wanted to make the whole thing look nice succumbs to the part of you that has a raging, aneurysm-style headache.

And then you can design comfortably. So, in closing, if you can just skip that whole "I want this to look great" phase, you'll have an all-right day.

Hatred #4,852:

Witnessing subway conversations about acting, theatre or both.

Just read your stupid newspaper and avoid eye contact like all the other good riders.



Thanks.

Nightmarish People

In the day-to-day life of a NYC techie, he or she will encounter many new people, mostly artists and their friends, but also the occasional lighting designer or touring audio tech, what-have-you. It is great meeting most of these people, whose names will leave your memory shortly after they themselves leave your theatre. However, there is a special breed of folks that will burn an everlasting impression into your psyche, such that the mention of their name will bring up in your trachea the aromatic essence of your last meal (wasabi peas? really?).

I was talking with a couple of friends/co-workers about one of these special people last night. She is mentioned in another post of mine, albeit not by name. That's the tricky part of this blog. Anywho, we were talking about this woman, a lighting designer, who is easily the most horrifying designer I've ever worked with. And the conversation then turned to another jerk we'd worked for, who was much more bearable, but a jerk nonetheless. My friend said in these cases it is best to adopt an "okay, whatever" policy and basically turn your brain off, so that nothing this person says will affect you emotionally- you remain stoic, leave work later, and drink yourself to sleep or something. Sometimes that's not possible (such as when the designer has a nails-on-chalkboard kinda voice), but sometimes it really works.

Sometimes you'll work with a little-known artist who demands rock-star treatment, and hey, I guess you can't blame him/her, because starving for art sucks, so why not get a little respect and free booze before you go home to your shitty roach-infested Bushwick half-closet?

Regardless, I guess it's important to remember that you will most likely work with this person again, since NYC theatre is a small world after all. That's the sad part. There are some wonderful people that I have worked with only once; the horrible people are the ones who seem to keep coming back for more. Maybe the good ones all move onward and upward? Don't know.

It's also good to remember that as awful as some people may be, they may give you jobs in the future. If you miss out on some awesome touring gig in Asia because you mouthed off to a director, you will be sad. And here's where the arts get really fake, which I hate. But it's a balance of integrity versus income, and in the world of struggling twenty- and thirty-somethings, I think income mostly has to win that battle.

NYTimes Lighting Design Article

It's a bit late, as this was published in May, but check out this article.

Joe Levasseur, a great NYC designer, Bessie winner and all-around good guy, is quoted at the end.

Another Blog

While searching interwebbily for a picture of an old Strand lighting console I came across at the Kitchen the other day, I stumbled upon this blog, by lighting designer Clifton Taylor. It's very informative and full of lighting design nerdery, like how to create a REM DIM macro.

Enjoy.

Skills not taught in school

I blogged about this a while back on MySpace, but the list has grown since then. These are things that every theatre technician should know before setting out into the world of the performing arts:

1. How to clean up fake and/or real blood, human or non, from a variety of surfaces, including but not limited to marley, RP screens, costumes, and masonite.

2. How, tactfully, to ask whether or not your wireless mics will be rubbed against a naked vagina.

3. How to mediate a physical fight between actors, two of whom are wearing girdles, one of whom has his balls hanging out of said girdle.

4. How to zip a sweaty naked dancer into a broken fried chicken costume.

5. What the laws are regarding dripping, raw meat on stage.

6. The tenacity of Pepto Bismol.

7. How to use prosthetic adhesive to stop boob slippage.

8. How old is that Genie, and how many times has it tipped over, and/or killed/maimed someone? Use the Genie accordingly.

9. How to clean up horse shit, month-old beer spills, and smushed candy from a stage floor.

10. How to keep sane while hanging a light next to a blaring speaker.

11. How to keep a straight face while someone uses a wireless mic that was once rubbed against a naked vagina.

12. How best to hold onto the grid while your Genie is tipping over.

13. How good is your ventilation system? Use hazers/foggers accordingly.

14. How to keep your cool when the fire marshal shows up with four fully-geared firemen for a simple routine inspection.

15. How to explain to drunken non-English speakers where the bathroom is.

Exhaustion and Shoes

At the ripe old age of 26, this blogger has had tendonitis for five years, and is beginning to develop aches and pains associated with the ladder-climbing and heavy lifting that is inherent to most production work. What's a girl to do?

I should probably invest in a pair of these:


And always wear these:


And one of these:


While I'm at it, why not throw in one of those sexy hard-hats in case of falling Altmans:


Now, while I do what some might consider to be a more masculine job, and while I am totally down with feminism, I am perhaps (deep down), one of the girliest girls I know. I love the color pink. I like to get my nails painted and my hair did. I enjoy dressing up, and shaving my legs. In short, I like to look like a girl. And it doesn't help me that all of the above items have the sex appeal of Richard Simmons.

For you female technicians out there, here are some items that will reward you with the scorn and contempt of your co-workers, and my deep admiration (however, don't wear all these together, so as to avoid looking like a bottle of Pepto):













Now, as to that all-important back-support: