Part 3 - Snow Long, Farewell

On the third day of Christmas [at the Conservatoire], Reece gave to me…

And then – there was nothing. This is the kind of show that requires a large fit up crew and then perhaps two – maybe three – people to run it. As it turned out, we had an entire first year crew to find jobs for; a task we tried so hard to be good at. Every job we found was given to a crew member, however small it was, and I resorted to teaching knots classes out of a necessity to kill time. To be in a Deputy or Acting HOD position and see your crew get bored in front of you is quite a disheartening experience – not least because you feel they’re not achieving the learning experience you know you should be helping to provide them. I don’t know what the solution to this is yet – though if a similar thing were to happen in future, I feel my approach of constantly offering my time to teach and answer any question I can would be a useful one, as it would allow those with an interest to attain any extra knowledge I could give them, and make some better use of otherwise lengthy down time.

Testing How Fire Retardent our Blacks Were

Our one moment of excitement in the process came in the form of a broken chain motor. Between one pyro reset and the next, Chain Motor four on the back truss jammed, meaning we could not lower or raise the truss at all. This, at first, did not seem that urgent an issue, as the TSM was happy to dead the truss till the strike and rig an extra bar for pyro to be rigged onto, which could be flown in and out between performances. However, the lighting designer was unhappy with this fix, as he pointed out that the units on that truss were known to fail, and – should this happen – we had no safe way of switching them out. Whilst I held down fort in the venue, Reece, Steve, and Kev set about trying to locate another of the same type and speed of motor which we could replace out in order to solve our issue. Eventually, one was found, and with Malki’s help, was switched with the broken one, thereby meaning that the truss was fully operational once again. This demonstrated two things to me. One – that the Scottish theatre industry is small enough that Steve and Kev could both end up contacting the same person with the same request within half an hour of each other. And two – that no matter how well you think a project is going, there will always be something that throws you off balance. In the sessions that followed, I chatted with Reece about other ways we could have fixed the problem. My suggestion was that we stagger the truss in between the three remaining 1/4Ts and a 1/2T from stock, and then re-rig in such a way that the two outside points hung from 1/4Ts and we created a centre point, bridled from the beams, and hanging on a 1/2T. This idea clearly had issues – it didn’t solve the problem of different motor speeds at all, and the additional calculations would mean it wouldn’t have been a fast fix – but it was nice to be able to work through my ideas with someone, as it challenged me to  justify and find issues with my own ideas, rather than assuming them to be flawless.

Blacks Go Up (and Down and Up and Down)

After five performances – and a shortened performance rehearsal session which saw one of the MDs question why the show was being cut to suit ‘the tech people’ – we started the strike. As this followed the final performance, it had an energy about it often missing from RCS strikes; the crew well aware that the sooner we finished, the sooner we got to leave. The back black was the first thing to come in, as we were stowing it on the ground for Grant and Blacklight crew to re-rig the following Monday. Because of this, we de-rigged the steels and sent only the lines back up with sand bags on them, as it would be easier to just raise the bar on hemp and not worry about the harnessing required to dead hang it as before. The side tabs came down next and were completely struck, followed by all hard masking, and finally the deck at the back. After the catwalks were hoovered and the stage swept, all equipment was returned to the dock and the venue left as ‘spotless’ as it was when we found it. We left the Stevenson Hall at six o’clock – two hours after the performance had come down.

Raising it to the Ground

In conclusion, this year’s Christmas at the Conservatoire taught me two major things. It taught me the importance of planning – not just before a project begins, but at every stage, and the necessity to always formulate solutions to problems which haven’t occurred yet; because at one point they will. The second thing it taught me, was how to manage a crew. Reece deliberately took a hands-off approach to his role on this show, allowing me the chance to coordinate the crew and what they were doing. This was a great environment to learn these skills in, as I felt like I was actively learning how to be an HOD and how to put those skills into practice, whilst not having the fear of being on my own without someone there to support me – something I am very grateful to him for. Overall, this allocation is always a good one to round out the year with, and made me look forward even more to a Christmas and New Year’s rest.

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Part 2 - Snow Laughing Matter

On the second day of Christmas [at the Conservatoire] Malki gave to me…

Having assisted as much as I felt I could on ‘London Road’, I turned my attention and time to the Christmas at the Conservatoire, and the role which would form the majority of my assessment in this allocation. Unlike a normal production process, this show is always jammed on at the end of the year leaving very little time for prep and planning. As such, my lack of prior involvement was not a massive hurdle in my ability to find things to do, taking the initiative to draw up plans and a basic rig design, taking inspiration from my experience on the same show last year. With Reece incapacitated by his work on London Road, I took the lead in preparation of the show and after Grant had decided what he wanted in the air – and that we should endeavour to work from stock as much as possible – I set about drafting up a Vectorworks plan for TSM and LX to use. This tested my basic knowledge of Vectorworks and forced me to learn more detailed aspects of the programme – from using pre-drawn components like deck and drapes, to rendering three dimensionally within a pre-existing venue plan. That venue plan proved to be an issue for the project, however. As part of a negotiated project for the previous year, a now graduated student had drawn the Stevenson Hall in great detail, and we made the decision to use this detailed plan over the basic PDF one already in existence. We reasoned that, for a show like Christmas at the Conservatoire, beam and bar positions would be integral, as these would be where we ended up rigging pulley points for our blacks, and motor points for our truss. However, upon Steve pointing out a minor discrepancy in the back wall dimension, and through the venue reccie which followed, it became clear that the plan was quite inaccurate. The upstage line of acoustic panelling was shown to be 1.5m into the space when it actually lay against the back wall, the orchestra risers were rendered around a third of their actual size, and the width of the room itself was about a meter out. This was infuriating – not least because of the fact we had already marked out the rehearsal room for the cast and Director. However, upon reflection, I am glad that we found the mistakes when we did, as had we gone any further with the planning process or into the rig with the inaccuracies still present, it would have slowed us down considerably, or forced us to rethink our entire rig plan. In future, I will make sure to check the accuracy of any pre-existing plan before I use it.

Malki Dead Hangs the US Black in a Harness

With venue planned and rig finalised, Reece and I spent a slow prep-week cutting legs for deck, pulling masking and drifts, and ensuring that we had everything looked out and marked up in a way so as to quicken the fit-up on the Sunday. Remarkably – this worked. Once we got started the fit up went relatively smoothly. I took our crew to transport all the equipment from the dock to the venue with Reece staying behind to help swing the front of house motors to the upstage beams in preparation for the new truss. Once this was complete, my team progressed to rigging the upstage and side stage blacks, the former of which was dead hung by Malki onto 1.5m drifts. This gave us a trim height that we could level all masking to, ensuring we didn’t have to eyeball the back black straight. Once we had tied on the side blacks we realised that our pole was around a meter shorter than we thought – mainly because the venue differed from the plan’s sizing. To rectify this, we added a 1m scaff section and coupler to the upstage end, attaching a new barrel clamp to this extension. From the catwalks, Malki then described the knots he wanted me to tie – running the line through the shackle on one clamp, up to an alpine butterfly, and then down to a bowline on the other clamp. This created a bridle in the line which meant we didn’t have to run another down, or lift the upstage side of the bar just from the extension bar. After the blacks had been hung, we flew the back truss which we had hung on the four venue 1/4T motors. And whilst LX rigged their lamps, we fitted braces to the 1.4 x 6m hard masker that would form the DS side of the SL wing, so as no audience could accidentally enter the backstage are. It was at this point that we realised that we could still see some of the red tabs upstage, as the cast entrances were wider than initially thought. Reece suggested using two extra hard maskers, which were promptly brought into the venue and erected – solving the issue quickly. It was this ability to look at a problem, settle on an solution, and set to fixing it that I feel Reece and I achieved quite well, and I certainly respected him for his ability to deal with any issues without making a big deal of their existence. We just got the job done.

‘Tying on the Y’ to Support the Extensions

The risers slid downstage with a lot of pushing and the deck was slotted in behind it, bolted together for stability, and the kickrail screwed in. Due to the nature of the Stevenson Hall and our inability to screw into the floor, we ratchet strapped both sets of treads to the legs of the deck on either side. This ended up being a great test of my communication skills, as the crew member who had volunteered to be under the deck and tighten the strap didn’t actually know how to use a ratchet. I explained to them how the straps worked and how I wanted it done, and they were able to carry out the task.

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Part 1 - No Business Like Snow Business

On the first day of Christmas [at the Conservatoire], Lynfryn gave to me…..

Christmas at the Conservatoire is an annual collaboration between the School of Music and the MA Musical Theatre Programme. It is a Swing Band concert performed in the Stevenson Hall on the last week of term. This year, my role would be Deputy Technical Stage Manager, taking on the planning and pre-prep process of the production whilst my HOD was still allocated to another show, and assisting with the rig, performance, and strike of the final concert.

Though at first it appears quite simple, there were many technical challenges present in this show. This year, our designer had requested that the stage be surrounded by blacks, as he didn’t want to use the red tabs usually present at the back of the Stevenson Hall. We accomplished this by hanging a full black on a 10m length of scaff to cover the majority of the back wall, two 6m scaff lengths with half blacks on them for SR and SL of the orchestra riser – in the style of last year – and three 6m x 1.4m hard maskers to fully hide what remained of the red tabs on the back wall and to create a barrier between the DS edge of the SL black and the wall – thus creating a wing. The SR black was tied on in such a way as to lie flush with the edge of the organ, so as to show both the Christmas tree and the ‘Christmas at the Conservatoire’ gobo which the LD wanted to shine on the organ’s DS edge. The side blacks were hung on hemp and tied off to the catwalks and gantries, with the back black being hauled up on hemp and dead hung on 1.5m drifts attached to strops and turnbuckles hung from the roof beams. This back bar was also covered in fairy lights on the DS side, provided and rigged by the electrics department.

The US truss was switched out for a 10m span of H30V (comprised of two 3m and two 2m sections) which we hung on four 1/4T Lodestar motors – two of which were already in situ with the other two being swung from the FOH truss and hung on two additional beam clamps. The FOH truss was then flown on two Lodestar 1/2T motors. As in previous years, we extended the orchestra risers to the rear – this time with four 2’ x 8’ and one 2’ x 4’ deck sections on 585mm deck legs, so as to reach the – awkward – 610mm height of the back riser. Due to the narrowness of the new deck, and the fact that we were unable to screw into the Stevenson Hall floor, we were pressed to find ways to secure treads to either side for cast access, settling on ratchet strapping them around the legs of the deck to keep them secure and in place. A kick rail was fitted along the back for safety.

Snow formed a big part of the concert this year, with Grant purchasing bales of wadding to use over the stage, forming ‘snow drifts’ in front of the risers, along the kick rail, and over the band wedges and subs. This effect was achieved by teasing the fibres of the wadding at the edges to make it look less like it had been cut off a roll, and taping and securing it to look like it had naturally been ruffled and had been blown about by the wind. This task was repeated a lot, as the cast kept stumbling into the snow and kicking it out of place during almost every performance. There was also a snow drop during the last song. This involved six crew members on Catwalk One sprinkling snow from buckets onto the stage – the buckets secured to the railings with climbing strops and carabiners to safety them against falling.

'London Road' or How to Rig the Chandler

Everyone is very, very, nervous … um … and very unsure of everything. Basically.

As a result of my allocation reshuffle in mid-October, it was agreed that I would Swing Stage Tech between the Studio and Main House show during their fit up periods, before moving on to prep for Christmas at the Conservatoire when those shows moved into tech. Following a rather curt conversation with the TSM of the Ath, however, it became clear that all of this additional time would be spent in the Chandler on ‘London Road’.

As this is not usually a job which exists in the allocations process, I found my role was able to develop into whatever it needed to be on any specific day, in order to deal with the needs of any department who required some extra help or who weren’t progressing as quickly as the others. This was incredibly rewarding, as – like Die Fledermaus last year – I got to spend time helping many different departments and using many different sets of skills in a way that was helpful, not just to my learning, but to the advancement of the production.

Predominantly, I spent my time with the Stage Department, assisting Reece, Dylan, Alan, and crew during their fit up. Having worked in the Chandler excessively last year I knew the quirks of the venue really well, and this came in useful when issues like rigging bars onto the I beams behind the pillars presented themselves. Here, I suggested using ring bolts to flange clamps as we had done on the CPP shows, as these would tighten onto the beam and leave a fixing point big enough for a 1T shackle to fit through, which could then lead on to a clamp and the bar. Once these LX ladders were in position we could focus on the tree, which arrived into the venue attached to dollys, with a center section already hollowed out. Raising the tree onto the post proved to be a much harder task than it first appeared, however, as every point we could see to strop around or attach to would also prevent us slipping it around the structural pole as we required it to be. Eventually, flying irons were attached to the front of the trunk with coach screws, and a chain block used to lift the front of the tree until it could be swung back and sheath the pole. Once this was in position, these fixings could be removed, a ratchet strap attached around the top for stability, and a tension line comprised of a drift, turnbuckle, and stitch sling attached to the bottom, as further resistance to any possible toppling.

The Tree Rises

The next technical element to be rigged was the kabuki sniffer. Though originally intended to just sniff into a PVC tube, it was commented that the small opening and the sharp edge posed the danger that the material would rip – something which could not be allowed to happen. The suggestion was then given that we attach a cone to the front of the tube. Steve and I went scavenging in the dock to see what we could construct this out of, eventually settling on cutting the top and tail off a traffic cone, and securing this to the tube with gaffer tape. This worked surprisingly well and, after being blacked over, collected the cloth without any snags. The next issue was how to make the line retract into the sniffer when tension from the kabuki was released. The original idea was to have weights on the other end of the line which would drop, pulling the material up – however, in practice, this didn’t travel a far enough distance to collect all of the material in with enough speed. In unison, Steve and I suggested making it double purchased, and this looked like it had a greater chance of working. However, on further testing, this still didn’t provide enough travel, and the solution was dropped in favour of a crew member running with the line down the upstairs corridor, collecting the material in the sniffer as they went. This was another example of the importance of planning a backup for risky ideas, as the odds of the first concept succeeding are quite small in comparison to its chances of failure.

As London Road progressed into the tech period, I was in the venue less and less, attending when called by Reece as a spare pair of hands for some of the more technically demanding or challenging fix jobs where he didn’t want to call his entire first-year crew. Through these small tasks, I found ways of deploying my knowledge of things like knot and rope work, along with bridle building, and it also gave me more opportunities to actively think up solutions on the spot, and then go and rig them as I devised. Overall, I’d say my experience assisting with London Road was a positive one, as it gave me a chance to work with a new set of people on a new project and further develop on some existing skills. Working with the first years let me develop my communication through teaching knots or explaining how I’d suggest they go about completing a task, and working with Reece has challenged my problem-solving abilities and my ability to devise multiple solutions to combat any one issue.

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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.