This could be bad…

In a fit of procrastination yesterday, I cleaned off my drafting table.

the art desk

Now I have a space to which I can turn—literally, since it’s right behind me as I’m facing the computer—in order to waste art supplies.  Again, procrastination is key.

I decided to waste no time procrastinating, so I whacked out a small set of Artist Trading Cards, which we’ve explored previously around here.

They are of course rubbish, since I was forcing myself to waste art supplies.  But I began to conceive of them as a series, in which I vomit out something vomitous onto the little cards, and then I “destroy” it by concealing it or trashing it or adding something destructively random to it.

They work better after I’ve destroyed them.  Still rubbish, mind you, but it’s a start, procrastination-speaking-wise.

artist trading cards


I don’t know, gang, everybody may need to get off my lawn

So the books for Into the Woods came in and I signed for my copy.  As I took it over to my pile of stuff, this slipped out:

A blessing for community theatres everywhere, I suppose.  One buys them in batches of six and everyone gets to show off/advertise their production of whatever and add to their ever-burgeoning collection of t-shirts.

Music Theatre International was my go-to source for musicals back in the day, since they had shows that were at the time not the huge, overblown, everyone-knows-this-one shows like the Rodgers & Hammerstein Library’s offerings.  We did A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, The Fantasticks, Into the Woods, Lucky Stiff, and She Loves Me while I was in charge, and since then NTC has done a lot more from the collection.

Two things struck me about this flyer, though.  One is the relentless march of commodification of theatre. Yes, I know the purpose of theatre is to separate the customer from his money, but Broadway musicals in particular are now more product than production.  Not only can you buy these t-shirts, but if you go to the touring productions you can buy hats and cups and wine glasses and CDs and posters and trinkets and all kinds of be-logo’d crap, just so you can identify with this product.  You’re not there to enjoy the creative work of a team of artists, you’re there to sign on to Team Phantom or Team Poppins.

The other thing that struck me was the listing of shows on the back of the flyer.  In a little side box, we are offered t-shirts for the School Editions of the following shows:

  • Aida
  • Avenue Q
  • Les Miserables
  • Miss Saigon
  • Ragtime
  • Rent
  • Sweeney Todd

School editions.  For schools.  For students to perform.

I will be the first to admit that I have done shows with teens that pushed their sensibilities and their understanding of the world around them.

However.  Whenever I selected a show it was the thing itself, not some bastardized version of it—nor did I bastardize it.  That is the problem I have with the “school editions”; I don’t care if the kids do shows with sex, violence, and cannibalistic critiques of capitalism in them, but I do care that those things are watered down. Because: MTI is not doing this watering down (with full permission and often cooperation of the artists) so that more children can explore the beauties of first-rate musical theatre, but because they want to make the sale.  Cha-ching!  More t-shirts!

And of course, they’re making the sale to schools/communities who cannot handle their little darlings saying damn or fuck or explaining how the internet is for porn.  To those communities, I’d say stick to Rodgers & Hammerstein.  Although naturally they probably will want to avoid South Pacific with all its miscegenation and stuff.

(I’m still trying to wrap my head around how you make any of those shows tame enough for sad little communities.  Miserables, Saigon, and Rent still are about prostitututes; Ragtime is still about black people and blowing stuff up; Sweeney Todd still involves meat pies.  All of them are condemnations of the power structure and of rigid, self-righteous moral codes, which alone would get them cancelled by many communities.  Eh.  Who cares? Get off my lawn.)

O Christmas Tree

I was unDecoratoring™ on Friday, and my main task was to take down and store the back tree.  (Yes, we have multiple trees—it’s the Decoratoring™ Way!)  I had successfully removed the top tier when I was struck with the image before me:

tree stump

(Pro tip: leave the tree plugged in and turned on as you disassemble it; as you unplug each section, the extinguished lights tell you exactly where the joint is between sections.)

There was something about this that was kind of creepy, even surreal: a Christmas tree, fully lit, that just stops two-thirds of the way up.  So I took a photo, and then I played with it in Pixelmator, which everyone says you should own instead of PhotoShop if you’re just a dilettante, and I agree.

tree stump


tree stump


tree stump



An interesting development

Here’s an interesting twist to the story of my life: after years of not doing theatre—Spamalot notwithstanding—it seems I’m turning into an actor.

I’ve been cast as the Narrator/Mysterious Man and the Wolf in Newnan Theatre Company’s production of Into the Woods, which should be very interesting indeed.

The Wolf is usually played by the same actor as Cinderella’s Prince.  Indeed, the two share the same set of rhymes in “Hello, Little Girl” and “Any Moment,” i.e., exploring/boring/ignoring (at least in the original cast album; the printed score omits those lines from the Prince’s song in Act II).  The concept for this production, as far as I understand it, is that the Wolf will be a puppet manipulated by me.

I like that, actually, puppets being a longtime interest of mine.  I’m curious to see the design—I do hope it’s a full-size bunraku-style puppet.  I’m also curious whether I’ll be singing the role as the Narrator, or somehow as a different persona.  I’ll find out soon enough: first readthrough is Monday night.

I directed Into the Woods and played the Baker more than 20 years ago, in 1992, and it was a great show to work on.  We had a talented cast, and audiences enjoyed it even if they were taken aback by Act II.

Random memories from that show:

  • After auditions for that production, I was sitting in the breakfast nook trying to nail down the cast.  I seemed to be missing key pieces to the casting puzzle, and The Child, who would have been four years old at the time, asked what I was doing.  I told him, and he replied, “You should play the Baker.”  Click.  It still weirds me out that my four-year-old even understood what “casting” meant.
  • Losing my Jack to health issues and going to school in a quandary—young Ryan Vila was a member of the magazine staff there in the media center, and I asked him if he could sing.  Don’t know, he said, so I took him into the server room where I had a keyboard set up and tested him—he was a natural tenor!  Unfortunately, he had no sense of rhythm, so “Giants in the Sky” was always a bit of a muddle.  I would have conducted him, but I was asleep on the stage in front of him during that number alas.
  • One night, we had a celebrity in the audience (whose name escapes me—Braves player, etc., somebody help me out here…) and that was the night that during the final number, during all those infinitives—“To mind, To heed, To find, To think, To teach, To join”—every single cast member forgot the words.  All of us.  “To… buh buh buh buh… Into the woods!  Into the woods!”
  • Sitting atop a rolling tower, inches from the Fresnel lighting instrument (our ceiling was only 12 feet tall), singing “You Are Not Alone” with Ryan.
  • Cradling the Baker’s infant wrapped in The Child’s security blanket.  It smelled like him, and my tears were real.

Our Milky White was a cardboard cutout, but I don’t think it was as bad as any of these.  Warning: clicking on that link will confirm your status as an awful, awful person.

Into the Woods is a brilliant show, like almost everything Sondheim has ever done, but the thing I like most about it is the multiple layers of mythos: the Hero’s Journey (into the woods, and home before dark!); Bruno Bettleheim’s The Uses of Enchantment and its analysis of fairy tales as deep structures for empowering children; the reverse of that idea, that “happy ever after” is 1) contingent upon how you got there; and 2) not going to happen anyway; and the interconnectedness of all things.  Truly a beautiful show!

I’ll keep you posted.

dingbat

But wait—there’s more!

Into the Woods closes on March 29, just in time for spring break, during which we hope to travel maybe, and then, on April 14, I will decamp to Columbus where I will play the lawyer Ed Devery in the Springer Opera House production of Born Yesterday from April 30-May 16.

That’s right: at the age of 60 I am becoming a semi-professional actor.  When the opportunity was offered—you’ll forgive me if I spare you the details—I thought, “Well, this is interesting.  Sure, why not?”

It’s not really a paying gig—a room and a per diem, basically—but how exciting to be asked to join the State Theatre of Georgia!  Again, I have tons of questions about how this all works, but there’s time enough to ask, right?  At the moment, I’m just waiting for the contract/employment paperwork to arrive.

So that takes care of the first six months of 2015…

Technology: Bah.

So one of my major projects for this week is to dig into InDesign CS 5.5 and relearn it from the ground up so that I can design/layout Marc Honea’s omnibus opus Another Farewell to the Theatre.  It’s a massive collection of essays, fictive works, aphorisms, and haiku, and I want it to look spiffy.  (That is a technical term.)

It must be understood that although I have used InDesign in the past with some success, my glory days with the program are all back when it was still PageMaker.  In fact, I have used PageMaker since version 1 and it was made by Aldus Corp and you had to switch out the disks on the Macintosh Classic to load the program into memory.

Mac classic
Yes, that’s how old I am.

 

As the years went by and I had less and less call to lay out multi-page documents—and those that I did have to do were easily handled by the page layout capabilities of Pages—I lost my grip on InDesign.  I kept it updated because that’s what I do, but all the changes in interface and attitude slipped right under my radar.

Therefore, when Pages proved unequal to the task of making AFT3 look spiffy, I decided to retrain myself in InDesign so that I would not pull out my hair before I got past the Introduction. I started yesterday, and all seemed to be going well.  I retrained my brain to understand the “frames” concept instead of the old flow technique, and I thought I was getting somewhere fast.

But then things started going widdershins.

(Argle bargle alert: skip this next paragraph)

At first I thought it was just my not having read every single word of Adobe InDesign CS5 Bible, because I’m a skimmer at heart, but the more I worked with the file this morning, the worse it got.  The text frame on the master page wouldn’t accept text on the layout itself, and then it started telling me it couldn’t communicate with some “Rule Book” and therefore was not going to apply whatever I had told it to do—only it did.  And then I clicked to flow the text of the Introduction and it automatically started adding pages to the individual spread rather than going to the next page, maxing out at ten pages after which it stopped and complained—and it didn’t actually flow the text into those new pages.

(/argle bargle)

So something is corrupt somewhere.  I’m running tests on the computer itself, and when those are done I’m deleting InDesign and reinstalling it.

Argh.  And also Bah.

A reflection

During the month of November, I was doing mostly nothing for one reason or the other [spoiler alert: it was the elections], but one thing I did do was go back and re-read this blog from the very beginning.

You know what, guys?  I’m a good writer, and entertaining, and often very funny.  So I’ve decided that I will be pulling nuggets of pure gold from my posts in the coming year and redisplaying them.  Not often, but enough to make you appreciate my wit.

For example:

Snark: in which I look askance at a public official who is caught doing the ridiculous and invents an excuse that is entertaining if not plausible in the least.

What, you were expecting some year-end meditation?  Pfft.  And also tut tut.

Cocktails: the next level

With the gift of an Amazon gift card, I was able to purchase two books I had on my wish list:

New cocktail books

Both are studies in cocktail construction/deconstruction, and just with a cursory glance I can see how I am going to have to convert most of the rest of the house into a cocktail research palace.

After all, I don’t really have a place to store my liquid nitrogen now, do I?  Or vats for macerating liqueurs, or fermenting bitters, or any of the other cool stuff promised by these books.

I may have to start slow, like using boiling water to make crystal clear ice cubes.  More work is required.

Lichtenbergian goals, 2015

Seven Dreams

Definitely tops on the list: The challenge of writing an opera has been both invigorating and frustrating, but I think the results so far are worth continuing.  It would be nice to think that I will have this finished by the end of the year.  Nice, but not probable.

3 Old Men

Another success from this year that I want to continue to work on.  My experience at Alchemy with the 3 Old Men gang was profound, and I want to find ways to enhance/expand our theme camp.  [Hint: it involves a deer stand and a megaphone.]

Five Easier Pieces

Maybe.

Christmas Carol

I spent the first half of this year rebuilding the original piano score for A Christmas Carol so that it could be played by a small, live ensemble.  That proved to be an un-possible task for Newnan Theatre Company, and the results were not pretty.

So I will spend this year a) finding an affordable software music sequencer that works like the old EZ•Vision sequencer did; b) learning to use it; and c) completely rescoring Christmas Carol again with a full orchestral accompaniment.  And d) directing the show next year.

SUN TRUE FIRE

Definitely a back burner project, since I have rather enough to be going on with.  But I’m determined to develop better work habits, so that if I don’t have anything else on my plate on any given day, I can just pull this project out and spend an hour or two on it.  (vid. sub.)

design & construction of labyrinths

I began a notebook earlier this fall wherein I began a serious study of the topology/design of labyrinths.  It is oddly harder than it looks, but I’m beginning to crack the code.  I want to keep digging into the process so that I can easily respond to any landscape or user need with a design that fits the bill.

general work habits

My usual process is to focus very hard on a single project, with just enough Lichtenbergian distractions to avoid being placed on the far end of the autism scale.  I’d like to change that.  I’d like to be able to turn my attentions to several projects in rotation, or even at random, without grinding my mental gears.  I’d also like to be able to say that I have kept working instead of sitting around twiddling my thumbs when one project is at a standstill.

In other words, when Seven Dreams bogged down, why didn’t I simply write an Easier Piece?

Astute readers will have noticed that I did not include the symphony on my goals.  Maybe I forgot about it, maybe I didn’t.

Lichtenbergian goals, 2014

Each year the members of the Lichtenbergian Society have their Annual Meeting around the fire in the Labyrinth, and part of our ritual—which involves much toasting to all the things—is setting our creative goals for the coming year and evaluating the goals we set for this past year.

All in all, I didn’t do too badly with 2014’s goals.  Of course, with my permanent retirement, there’s no reason I shouldn’t have done more, but hey, it’s Lichtenbergianism.

Five Easier Pieces

Didn’t get to them.  I don’t think I even took a stab at them.  I certainly don’t have them.

song for John Tibbetts

This one I did.  It’s entitled “Your Beauty,” and can be found here.  I don’t know whether it actually works; the key to its effectiveness (if any) is in the live interpretation, and the computer doesn’t come close to being able to do that.   But I think it’s solid enough.

SUN TRUE FIRE

See, here’s the thing with SUN TRUE FIRE.  I was going to spend all of 2014 noodling with the text and experimenting with snippets by taking bits of other people’s music and seeing if I could replicate the effects that I admired: orchestration or harmony or counterpoint, etc.  I kind of started, but then Seven Dreams of Falling came my way.  As a Lichtenbergian, I was honor bound to postpone one work by creating another.  SUN TRUE FIRE isn’t dead; it is sleeping.

Waste books

Another success story.  I have used the Field Notes notebooks for every project, including morning pages (at which I have not been assiduous) and actual waste books (at which I have been slightly better).  Some, like the notebooks on Christmas Carol or “Your Beauty,” have only a few pages in them.  But I filled three notebooks with thoughts and designs and instructions and references for Burning Man, and as we keep 3 Old Men moving forward I expect to fill  more.  I love my notebooks.

Burning Man

Here’s the thing about Burning Man.  I planned for it, I got tickets for it, my application to be a theme camp was accepted, it was golden—and then we couldn’t go.  Undeterred, we pushed on to Alchemy and it was amazing.  Because we were so successful there, and because we intend to keep the band together for future regional burns, I’m counting this one as my most successful goal of the year.

Christmas Carol

The goal was to reconstruct the music for A Christmas Carol for Newnan Theatre Company’s revival of the show, the first in eleven years.  I did that.  I delivered a complete set of scores and parts, plus the script, back in August.  Due to the exigencies of community theatre, the production didn’t quite get the music back on its feet, but I got the job done.  We’ll see about next year.

Next up: 2015 goals!