Tag: TSM

Now, where were we? Splitting a journal into two distinct sections like this is certainly different. Writing Part 2 now comes with the notable benefit of hindsight, and the wisdom of looking at the process of the show as a whole, rather than in the midst of the stress and sweat of tech. I’m not saying that any of my previous feelings regarding this allocation were incorrect – on the contrary, reading them now I’m reminded of exactly how raw and accurate my characterisation of those situations were. It’s simply that I now get the opportunity to meditate on what remained of the show with the calm composure that comes with time. That calm composure, as it happened, was something that was definitely not present where Part 1 left off – tech.

Sometimes Rigging Gets Creative

We teched out of order, for reasons I still do not fully understand. Yes, the choreographers were keen to cluster their pieces together to maximise their own time in the venue, but with a show as complex as this, with dancers navigating unrehearsed quick changes, I feel it would have been more kind to them – and the technical team – to tech as the show would actually run. Nevertheless, it was a remarkably smooth process. The fact that we had experienced such productive pre-plotting sessions, and Stephen knew exactly what he wanted each piece to look like helped greatly, and the fact that I had compiled a detailed cloth tracking sheet as we plotted ensured that we could jump from number to number accurately and speedily. The day and a half in which we teched the full show passed in a blur, with only one cloth landing on a performer’s shoulder – through no fault of my own. I would deem that a success.

On the fly floor with me for this show would be Jess – our ATSM – and Greig – borrowed lovingly from the Stage Management department. They served double duty on flys, not only keeping me sane during the 90 minutes from show up to show down, but ensuring that we could fly enough things at the same time that I wasn’t sprinting up and down the fly floor – something the audience would almost certainly hear due to the rather echo-y metal grate it’s built on. I have no reflection on their performance here other than to say that they were both great to work with. They were evidently keen to make the most of this allocation, learn, ask questions, and test my knowledge to the point where I felt like they’d pushed me as a tutor as much as I’d pushed them as crew. Looking forward to the next year, I can only hope every crew member I have on my teams is as proactive as these two – and as astutely keen to tell me to stop talking when I’m boring them with hemp theory.

At Least Plot was Relaxed

And just like that, my last show of Second Year was open. The entire running time of the piece ended up being shorter than Act One of ‘Street Scene’, and a lot more active for the fly crew; nineteen cues and eight live flying pieces keeping us all on our toes. Be it a longing for a Summer break or simply the fact that the sunshine was let in to the venue at every possible occasion, everyone was happy and willing to work with each other, with no petty squabbles or inter-departmental tension to sour the atmosphere. It was an incredibly positive and supportive work environment, and one where we trusted everyone else’s ability to do their job right; something that we all benefited from. Four performances later, and after striking only four movers from the overhead rig, we donned our party wear and headed for the Raddison Blu and the Grad Ball, laving Ballet – and Second Year of RCS – behind. 

I have reached no more conclusions after writing this than were noted in my Reflective Summary. Ballet, as an allocation, will always be a good show for any TSM student to finish their second year of study with, especially if it comes on the back of the Opera. In my case, it demonstrated the importance of preparedness, and how knowing your show going into tech makes everyone’s experience dramatically better. It showed that I know how to fly a show and manage a fly crew, and that trusting people to take on cues on your behalf doesn’t make you weak; it shows that you’re efficient. Most of all, it’s shown that – though it may seem challenging at times – biting your tongue and powering through are beneficial skills to have, and that trust in everyone to do their own job will often be rewarded in you being trusted to do yours. I feel confident, now, as a flyman and as a theatre rigger, but it’s the skills I’ve learned regarding managing a team that – I feel – will be most important as I progress into my next allocation. Now… to the Fringe. 

Ballet is one of these rare allocations that you don’t really register you’re on until half-way through fit up; such is the way with me on this year’s Showcase. Unlike all of my other journals, I’m writing this at the half-way point in the process, so I’m unable to give an account of my full thoughts and feelings from beginning to close. But, what I have experienced so far has taught me a couple of things. One, being in the same venue doing the same job for two shows in a row has both perks and pitfalls. And two, even though your allocation title may have the word ‘Deputy’ in it, you’d better be ready at any time to run a venue like an HOD. 

In terms of prep-work, Ballet has taken roughly the same route as any other production. That is to say, there have been production meetings – some of which I was invited to attend – where discussions around bar spacings and cloth requirements were often hot topics, endless email chains discussing – amongst other things – our designer’s request for a large structural ‘web’ for one of the pieces and the practicalities behind building that on a shoestring budget, and there were the communication failings and misunderstandings that so frequently put a dampener on everyone’s ability to just do their job right. 

Through the production meetings I did attend, a couple of things started to become clear. One, this wasn’t like other showcases. Having watched the show the previous year, I felt I knew roughly what I was going to get into, and I wasn’t far off. There would be lots of cloths – gauzes, blacks, our ugly as sin house drapes, and a star cloth – and not much else. Everything would be clean lines and perfect technique, as the eye would draw itself to any imperfection in such a bare stage. 

Our costume designer – Hazel – had also devised a concept for a large flat piece that could be flown in for the ‘Light and Shadow’ dance. This would consist of a steel frame measuring 12m x 6m with elastic webbing strewn around it to create a web pattern. Through lighting, she hoped, it would cast shadows and patterns on the BP screen and the floor and add a point of interest to the piece, other than the dancers. Upon looking into the practicalities of this concept, however, we began to notice some glaring issues. The first was the fact that there was no money to build it. The stage department’s budget was cramped as it was and a steel frame as designed would cost hundreds. The second issue was that it didn’t actually have any structural elements to it. The 12m span would be likely to smile as it flew which would be very unattractive, and the ribbons would be put under so much tension that they would be likely to snap. Between Malki and myself, we devised a way to make something similar that had a hope of working on the stage. Two 12m scaff poles would be made, with an assortment of drifts running from one to the other of around 6m in length and following the path of the ribbon. These would act as the structural support of the piece and keep it vaguely straight. The top pole would then be double barrel clamped onto the bar and the piece flown. Though this would have cost us nothing in terms of budget, and only a small amount of our ample rig time, ‘The Web’ as it came to be known was eventually scrapped in favour of yet another gauze. An unfortunate outcome, though not a wholly unforeseen one.

So. Much. Hemp.

One of the perks of flying two shows in a row becomes very apparent when it comes to the second fitting-up. In our case, 80% of our softs were already in the air, their bar positioning just needing swung round a little bit to suit our needs. I’d written my swing list prior to Opera coming down, so our team made light work of hanging the somewhat large amount of cloths in their new home. The house tabs were as much of a pain as usual, though having read the Paperclip article on how to hang them properly I made sure that we wouldn’t have to do it more than once. What did prove an issue – however – is that no one had seemed to note in any previous flyplot just how thick they were. There was around a 400mm depth to these brown monstrosities, and once they were floating we quickly realised there was no way the Bar 2 gauze was getting past it easily. However, some rattle guns and loft block shuffling later our issue had been resolved. Likely I’d have less of a negative reaction to the time spent on this if the cloth we were saving was attractive in any way. Alas, we’ll never know.

Next to go in were our hemp points. We had spent the Monday evening with Jess – our ATSM –  marking out our pickup positions, so my Tuesday afternoon was spent on the grid with Greig. Each onstage point of the hard legs ran to a single loft block, with the offstage points going through triples to allow both lines to run off through them. After all of our masking points and our six LX ladders were in we’d dropped around 28 hemp points – making sure our flyrail layouts were neat and tidy as we went. I can’t speak for what Greig took from this session, but it was nice to work with a first year on some basic hemp rigging – allowing me to take all of the seemingly pointless theory I had read about during classes and put it to use in a practical environment. It also forced me to work on one of the notes Steve had given me during our rotating flat exercise; spelling out exactly what I needed done, why we were doing it, and how we would accomplish it, and not assuming Greig would have the faintest idea what I was talking about if I just went ‘we’re doing the hemp points now’. I could feel my communication skills improve the more we worked, something that developed further in my later sessions with Jess – especially during the tutorial I gave her on the flying system, long as it may have been. Understanding the importance of communication within a team, and the challenges that occur when it’s not maintained, this is something I would seek to continue to improve upon into my shows as an HOD.

One Beautifully Lit Tallescope

The rest of the rig coughed itself together in the two days that followed. We were a lot less delicate with the floor than I thought we would be, but it went down without great hassle – Malki’s eyes sparkling with joy upon its completion. The BP was tensioned off to two lines on either side which helped alleviate its crinkling somewhat – the light leak below the conduit being solved by a leg laid out on the floor behind. And that was pretty much it. On day two of plot, Malki took me into the stalls and challenged me to look at the stage and note everything I didn’t like about it. The persistent issues were obvious – the fly floor was very visible, the shackles on the hard masking shining in the light, and the gauzes flopping about like sails in the wind. I gave him my ideas of solutions and we came to a consensus of how to proceed – and then we fixed them. No big quarrels, no huffing, just fixing blatant oversights. It was refreshing, and the stage continues to look so much better as a result.

Lighting’s plot sessions were never going to be amazingly engaging for the Stage Department, so much so that I requested Jess not be called after the first day of them – a day which saw her sit and journal in the stalls for the lack of any other interesting jobs to do. I sat through the majority of them, with Daryl arriving near lunch for an update on the day’s fixes and to complete any outstanding jobs. Truth be told, I was content with this. There was no opportunity for anyone to step on anyone else’s toes if we weren’t in the venue at the same time, and as choreographer’s filed in and out of their sessions I began to come to grips with what was flying when and how busy a floor I would be running. As it would turn out – a very very busy one. The last session, Jazz, I unfortunately missed due to the Batboy Final Design Meeting, though I’ve been assured it’s as hectic as I was promised. Armed with my plot information, I drafted a preliminary cue list and braced for tech. Well – it couldn’t be that bad, could it?