Month: April 2017

I.C.P. - 20th February 2017

Following on from the previous week’s introductory session, I was excited to get to work developing our group’s creative response to the United Nations Declaration of Human Rights…

Following on from the previous week’s introductory session, I was excited to get to work developing our group’s creative response to the United Nations Declaration of Human Rights. As a group, we began the first half of the session recapping our names and courses – this time going a little deeper into how we felt our areas of study could impact on, and contribute to, the group and performance. From the outset, I made clear that – though I would be unavailable to participate in the final performance – I would do everything I could to make it easier to facilitate a good final outcome.

After we had circled our expertise, our focus once again turned to the Declaration and our attempt to select an article to focus our work on. This proved futile, however, as we simply ended up reading and re-reading passages without reaching a point of clarity on the meanings behind each of the articles were. To overcome this, we decided to read the Declaration together, with myself re-writing each article in bullet-pointed plain English to make it more approachable for us to work from. It was a challenge for me to rewrite these complex ideas in such a short period of time, but one which I successfully navigated – with only a few articles dropped along the way. From this new document we started to be able to see some general themes occurring – like unity and brotherhood; ideas that, we concluded, should be reflected in our piece. We also used this opportunity to question why we needed to rewrite the document, noting the somewhat outdated language and sentiments. Some in the group even questioned what the purpose of the Declaration could even be in the modern era. I joined the side, however, of voicing support for the Declaration as a living document, and starting point for peoples liberation, rather than an un-evolving historical relic.

After tea break we continued this conversation, though it became apparent that particular voices among us had remained silent throughout. To combat this, we suggested playing a couple of warmup games to loosen everyone up. These proved somewhat effective as, when the conversation resumed, more people were willing to contribute to the discussion of our what our immediate responses to the Declaration were. As we neared the end of the session it seemed that some had similar, yet slightly different, ideas of what we were hoping to achieve by the following week. I took it upon myself to clarify an objective of selecting two or three articles for ourselves and finding our own responses to them, with the rest of the group agreeing that this was a good aim. Continuing on from this, I feel it would be useful to end every session with an ‘aim to achieve’ statement, as this could help keep the process rolling throughout the week as opposed to stopping completely between our limited time together as a group on a Monday afternoon.

Chapter Seven - 'Who I Want to Be / Where I Want to Be'

This is what Chess has taught me…

This is what Chess has taught me. I am not a perfect person. This may sound painfully obvious but beginning this process on a high of successive successful shows from Innerspace and Bridge Week I needed something to bring me back to earth. This experience taught me three things; to talk, to shut up and to think. The first became obvious as the allocation went on. I’d find that it would sometimes get to a point where the team, and myself, would isolate ourselves into our own projects, wanting so desperately to take ownership of something for themselves at the exclusion of others. I understand now the value and necessity of communication and collaboration, as it will always lead to a better end product.

The second was harder to realise, as it is something you never notice until someone points it out to you. Though it is an idea I know I struggle with, I have to force myself not to jump in at times, even when I know I have the answer. I’m a prime example of the school of thought of ‘I know I’m right, so why shouldn’t I be the one to show it’. But this time has shown this often to be more incorrect than true. I don’t have all the answers and it’s not my place to. Sometimes it’s ok to acknowledge you don’t know rather than fabricating something to make you look knowledgeable. It’s cocky and it’ll lead to a misstep when you realise it’s wrong. Though it was a hard idea to grasp, and though it sounds overly self-focused to believe it, sometimes others need to be left to succeed at your expense. Not knowing isn’t a weakness. Asking for help isn’t the same as showing you have failed.

This leads on to point three. I’ve never been someone to hyper-analyse their decisions before or after enacting them. That’s why my reflective writing would often seem self-praising or waffly. I’ve also never had the ability to fully grasp my emotional input to a project – for reasons I shall not delve into – often resulting in me becoming far too attached to my own ideas and drive at the expense of collaboration with others. But by watching how my peers work, by watching how they succeed, I can’t help but see the value in not throwing myself into something without so much as a semblance of what I should hope to achieve. Too much overplanning can result in inaction, though I am never going to get to that stage I’m sure, but a reasoned approach to work can only result in a better result at the other end.

Has this allocation resulted in me addressing all of these shortcomings? No. Truth be told they were pointed out to me too late on for me to make any great bounds in addressing them. But what it has done is shown my flaws in a way which directly impacts the way I work and, by doing so, puts them at odds with me improving as a practitioner. This results in me having no option but to address them should I wish to succeed and gives me the perfect starting point from which to develop.

Chapter Six - 'Chess Two'

After arriving in Edinburgh, and following a nights sleep in a very comfortable guest house bed, we arrived at the Festival Theatre, which was to be our home for the next week…

After arriving in Edinburgh, and following a nights sleep in a very comfortable guest house bed, we arrived at the Festival Theatre, which was to be our home for the next week. Having had the time between Glasgow and Edinburgh split up by the rig for the Introduction to Collaborative Practice module, it was nice to reestablish myself with the show, something which did not take long after stepping onto the identically reassembled set. Babette set us an orienteering task upon our arrival to see if the signs she had erected were easy enough to understand and navigate the building with and, following this, we set about repairing loose or broken safety tape on handrails and stairs and marking out a cast walkway so as to ensure they didn’t walk onto – and break – Sound’s fibre optic cable. What became apparent, through this, was that – though the stage was a lot bigger – it didn’t feel as such, just feeling like an extension of void space onto the show we had produced in Glasgow. Maybe that was why I felt settled in so quickly – and felt a little underwhelmed.  Apart from a few minor re-blocking points, the two Sound-focused runs went smoothly, our only issues resulting from a broken wine glass which was dealt with quickly and safely. The show then opened in Edinburgh, and ran, just as it had in the Ath, with few issues. Except one.

We all knew the table was going to break – it was just a question of when. During the Glasgow run it had become apparent that a coffee table which a performer throws their entire weight onto during a scene was not meant to handle such force  – IKEA furniture made of 1mm box steel rarely is. Following the Saturday matinee performance which had rendered the table at a forty-five-degree angle, I tried to reinforce the item as best I could, putting in more screws and ties in an attempt to strengthen any assembly join that could come loose. This proved effective, as it was the welded joints, in fact, that buckled during the evening’s performance, resulting in the table collapsing on stage during Act One. Though this was then dealt with, I proceeded to analyse what had gone wrong with the table and whether the actor in question was hurt, alongside Babette, whilst Rosie and Rachel began devising ideas of how to best deal with having one less furniture item in Act Two. This is something I really respected them for as, whilst I was immediately focused on what had gone wrong, they chose to focus on how to continue the show – an arguably more important decision. The show continued without further incident.

The Edinburgh strike ended up being a lot more slick than the Glasgow one, with cage and case packed and locked within forty-five minutes of curtain call. Following a debrief, of sorts, in the Stage Management room, I proceeded to execute the responsibilities I had undertaken in Glasgow, first stripping AV and camera cables, then moving onto flooring with the extra members of the TSM crew who had been brought in to help. As a result of everyone’s determination – and a sheer need to get to bed – the show was down and packed by 3am. This was an incredibly rewarding experience, as to do a strike like this to industry standards get you into a work ethic which a twelve-hour strike doesn’t – something I found very beneficial. It also let me learn from the EFT venues crew, drawing on their experience to teach me better ways of doing things like hauling in bars or lifting flats from irons and strops.

So, covered in steel dust and with some of the worse hard hat hair of my life, I left EFT and Chess, after a show which had taught me so much – not only about practice and technique, but also about myself and what kind of practitioner I should aspire to be.

Chapter Five - 'Chess One'

Tech week hit harder than it should have and left scars that will last a while…

Tech week hit harder than it should have and left scars that will last a while. Prior to the first session, Babette once again outlined her expectations for us, introducing us into a process that I personally had had no experience of at this scale. These calming words proved to have little reflection on what actually happened, however, as the scale of the production, and the snail’s pace at which we were piecing it through, led to tensions running abnormally high and people becoming more stressed than they likely should have been for the environment they were in. For crew who have watched a show once and are still in the process of writing and learning their own track, I felt very stressed and out my comfort zone as, those who I had looked to for answers previously, became unavailable, leaving me without a point of reference for tasks like resets – about which I had no clue as I had never seen parts of the performance. It also proved infuriating to be scorned for not executing tasks or actions which I thought I had been doing, such as making myself visible during holds and assisting the cast with changes. Reflecting on these now, I understand my shortfallings on these but, in the new situation as it was, I felt some responses – from other team members particularly – should have been more restrained in their tone.

But tech went as fast as it had arrived and I could feel myself beginning to feel more comfortable with the running of the show and executing the cues on my running list. Though a note for the future: BNC cable was invented by Satan. Do not use if it could be avoided.

As we actually got into performances, the team settled into a rhythm – setting aside the need to complete all of our jobs as soon as possible by running about the stage frantically – to learning to work over and around one another, realising the importance of one another, and anticipating how you could assist someone else without doing their cues for them. By building the show into muscle memory it becomes easier and more pleasurable to run, and took the stress out of the experience.

The Glasgow strike went as well as it could have done. I had dry-packed all of our props into the cage and flight case when we first loaded into the Ath, compiling packing lists and images which we could then utilise for the transfer. With these as a basis, our pack was completed within two hours of the show coming down, allowing us the opportunity to jump on to and assist other departments with their strike on the Sunday. I ended up assisting AV programmer Fraser with his strike, which I found to be an invaluable experience, as he spent time explaining how everything was rigged and connected in a way I could understand. This gave me an insight into a side of electrics I had no prior knowledge or experience of and, by examining things like that in a production context, it gave me the opportunity to further my understanding. Twelve hours and four cups of coffee later, the show was in two Arctic lorries, prepped to meet the Stage Techs, Lighting and Sound teams at the Festival Theatre on Monday. Thought this allocation was a Stage Management one, I will hold out that the strikes – both in Glasgow and Edinburgh – were some of the high points of this show allocation.

Chapter Four - 'A Model of Decorum and Tranquility'

Communication is important – especially within a team…

Communication is important – especially within a team. No example proves this statement better than the breakdown in communication between the team in the office sourcing with ever approaching shipping dates and the member of the team in rehearsals putting off the question of how many of each item we had to order off for as long as he could. I wasn’t in the room, I can’t pass judgement over why the communication wasn’t there. But coupled with rehearsal notes that left more questions than they answered in regards to ever more extravagant new props, this has taught me, more clearly than anything else, that any talk is better than no talk at all – and that even saying ‘I don’t know yet’ is preferable to feeling like your questions are being ignored. Also, vowels are important. Spending an hour on Amazon and almost £30 of your budged on a spelling error – buying capes instead of caps – is just embarrassing. Although this did manage to crack our stony, stressed exteriors into exhausted tears of laughter.

So, as the props list kept getting bigger and the budget shrank – on an Excel spreadsheet that I am very proud to have formatted – I turned my attention to paper props, using graphics from Kenneth to create a stack of Visa documents, cue cards and newspapers. The last of these was a labour of love as the newsprint we had ordered would jam the printer in every way that we put it in, resulting in me having to split the graphics in photoshop, run them through onto four individual printable sheets then glue and seal them together with sticky backed plastic. In the end, however, I don’t think I have ever been as proud of any prop I have ever made. And, I can honestly say, the appreciation this allocation has given me for the power of a hot glue gun is amazing.

Three props proved to be of notable difficulty to source for this show. Andrew was set on having a turntable-like device for one of the chess boards so it could rotate by itself during Anatoly’s first song. Our first instinct was to search for a lazy-susan-like product so the performer could easily rotate the board. Once it came out that the product was to be mechanised this proved infeasible as battery operated models ran into the hundreds of pounds. Then, by a stroke of genius from one of the other ASMs, we found a battery powered jewellery display stand which rotated. This proved enough to achieve the desired effect, resulting in a very happy director. This was also the first example of how there will always be a solution to a problem, and you cannot afford to disappoint your director by not finding it.

The second of these issues presented themselves in the forms of confetti cannons. Andrew had previously used them on Legally Blonde and swore blind they wold be somewhere within the building. However, despite lots of searching and even more emailing, they could not be found. Following this realisation, I called Blacklight and JustFX in order to get a quote to buy new, reloadable cannons and capsules to last us the run. Seeing as JustFX’s quote ended up totalling 60p shy of our entire Stage Management budget, this option also proved a no-go. Eventually, Babette managed to negotiate Andrew down to only one cannon, shot onto the stage, thus eliminating half of the overall cost of supplying two units and any clean up charge resulting from them being fired by cast in the aisles. This taught me that, occasionally, compromise is your best – and only – way out of a situation. Though you may not wholly like or agree with the result you end up with, it’s better to have two contented artistic parties than someone who feels angered by not being able to get what they want.

This was also nearly the case with pompoms – an item I didn’t expect to be as expensive as they turned out to be. To fit Kenneth’s design brief we needed full poms – not a couple of streamers dangling from a handle – in bright neon colours. The only issue with this was they’d blow our budget to try and buy. A solid day was spent trying to find an affordable option, but none arose that would ship in time. Just as we were reaching break-down stage, however, costume decided that they would be happy to spend some of their surplus on buying them for us, meaning money was less of an issue. This resulted in us getting exactly the poms we wanted without a dent in our budget sheet.