Archive for May, 2010

Interruption Culture

Friday, May 28th, 2010

It seems that the internet is changing the internal structure of our brains making us more prone to surface skimming of information and less likely to do deep investigative reading. I remember back in college when the internet was far less exciting than it is now I would use it for email and not much more. Research and information came through books, magazines, and news papers. Now that has shifted dramatically and I have found my own powers of concentration affected.

The question of good and bad seems far less relevant to me than the question of useful or not useful. In an evolutionary feedback loop our brains are changing as the result of cultural developments and then culture in turn changes. Art that requires sustained viewing, think film, plays, musicals, dance, and so forth, have been shifting in style for decades towards a more visually active format.

It turns out that this evolution towards a fast visual style actually has a scientific name, 1/f. in jargon it is called pink noise. In the Wired article about how the internet is changing our brains, the analogy is given that we use the internet more like hunter-gatherers of information, following tracks and picking up little bits of information here and there. Pink noise, it turns out is more than just a formula for interesting visual effects, but can be found in “many features of our natural and artifactual surroundings. Track the pulsings of a quasar, the beatings of a heart, the flow of the tides, the bunchings and thinnings of traffic, or the gyrations of the stock market, and the data points will graph out as pink noise. Much recent evidence from reaction-time experiments suggests that we think, focus and refocus our minds, all at the speed of pink.”

Perhaps then the internet is not so much changing our minds away from a particular stage of evolution, but rather that technology has caught up with how our brains naturally think. Perhaps sustained concentration, while an interesting historical anomaly, is nothing more than that. We developed a technology, writing, which, until very recently, was forced to be linear. Now that it is non-linear, we are able to use our brains in a more natural state.

One thing I have noticed in myself is a lack of concern with memorization. Why expend a huge amount of effort memorizing facts when it can be recalled quickly through search?

As this relates to design, these new studies are quite interesting. Obviously there is a degree of sustained concentration that is necessary for lighting a show. We have a limited amount of tech time compressed into a few long days in which to work. If we are unable to concentrate for the duration of our ten out of twelves, we will never get the piece finished. But after that minimum ability, it looks like these effects are actually useful.

While stated within a pejorative context, the Wired article does mention that “[c]ertain cognitive skills are strengthened by our use of computers and the Net. These tend to involve more primitive mental functions, such as hand-eye coordination, reflex response, and the processing of visual cues.” The processing of visual cues is the meat of the lighting designer’s work. We are presented with a stage and have very little time until the next cue during which we must analyze the situation for any problems of composition, make the necessary changes, and record those changes. On a slow show we have a few minutes, but on a fast one like a musical, perhaps only a few seconds.

Combine this with the New York Times article on pink noise and a very interesting pattern emerges. The modulations in tempo which make for visually compelling work also have relatively short durations for any one visual, aural, or other piece of information. This ability to rapidly process visual cues has become built in to the very fabric of society from where we learn information through research (the internet) to where we go for relaxation from that work (film, plays, etc).

One need only compare the pacing of a Rodgers and Hammerstein musical to a Michael Bey film to see that there has been a fundamental shift in how we, as a culture and a people, process information. At a more basic level, look at the simple experience of navigating the streets of a 21st century city. We have many people we must avoid bumping into, traffic signs to pay attention to, cars and other vehicles to observe, signs to look out for in order to reach our destination. All of these visual things demanding our attention have sound cues associated with them as well. Then there is advertising, the random crazy person, birds and other small animals, our own chaotic thoughts, and more. In that context, the ability to rapidly process visual and other information is not some abstract effect of a new technology per se, but a necessary skill set to survive in our contemporary world.

Aesthetics and technology change in harmonious co-evolution. While the chicken or the egg discussion might be interesting to some, I find the simultaneous unfolding of human culture to be inherently interesting. I am less interested in whether one particular effect of culture is “good” or “bad” based on value structures which presuppose a culture fundamentally different than the one we live in. What I am interested in is how we relate to the culture we find ourselves in. As artists, how deeply can we tune into the cultural frequencies flying past us and manifest works of beauty which at once reflect and transcend that world.

We are by definition a product of culture. We are written by our culture. At the same time we are free agents who may act in predictable or unpredictable ways. Those actions further change culture in one or more ways. Like a kind of cultural butterfly effect we may never know until well after the fact which actions caused a profound rupture in the flow of history. So we must strive to do our best with the tools available to us and make the world into a more perfect vision.

We may become distracted and interrupted along the way, but perhaps those breaks will give us just the pause we need to make an unexpected leap from one piece of information to another. The butterfly flaps its wings and the membrane shivers.

Exit through Novelty

Monday, May 24th, 2010

Yesterday I saw the film Exit Through the Gift Shop by street artist Banksy. The film is almost a meta-documentary following the exploits of a man who documented a great deal of street art over the course of several years and then became a street artist himself in the process.

Through the film viewers are given a solid introduction to the world of street art, some of the major players, motifs, and ideas, before the film shifts gears. In the end it becomes a critique of the very notion and meaning of art itself. The absurdity of the commercial artworld, galleries, auction houses, and the like, are shown in stark relief to the gritty working of a piece of art. Appropriately set largely in Los Angeles, the film grapples with notions of originality and authenticity contrasted against celebrity.

An issue that often plagues artists is originality and authenticity. To be anything more significant than mere decoration, art must constantly push its own boundaries and discover new frontiers of aesthetic exploration. As our society becomes increasingly remixed, truly new ideas become harder and harder to find. The duration of the new is ever decreasing as the rate of recouperation into the cultural feedback loop grows faster and faster. The latest fashions hit the racks of discount clothing stores like H&M mere days after debut on runways in Paris, Milan, and New York. Music, painting, photography, performance, all become elements to be remixed upon their release into the cultural data streams due to the near instantaneous rates of communication we have developed.

This fast culture, much like fast food, might satisfy our immediate desires but is not necessarily the healthiest option. Just as the cutting edge of food has taken on slow as its moniker, perhaps culture at large would do well to consider a slower pace. Slow art.

I went to the Whitney Biennial the other day and was radically underwhelmed by the work presented. The biennial, by focusing on contemporary American art, gives a kind of snapshot look at the state of the artworld right now. While I can only assume the camera was in focus, the image it rendered was dull and uninspired. Like the work of Mister Brain Wash in Exit Through the Gift Shop it felt dull, repetitive, uninspired, and derivative. The work felt bored. Not boring, bored. As if there were no suitable subjects left to cover. Or the work had been created without bothering to truly look and find a suitable subject.

There was no sense of a point of view displayed, although there was lots of amazing technique. Don’t get me wrong, there was immense talent. But the talent resided at a craft level only. That deeper level of inspiration was lacking.

Art is first about looking. Before you can make, you must see. You must be able to see the world around you as the unique thing that it is. Then you must see it anew. When you create, you are presenting the world with a window into your particular vision of that world. Duchamp, after Nude Descending a Staircase, taught the world to see differently. He taught us to see both the world in general, and art in particular in a wholly new light. He called the very notion of art, of what can be art, into question.

We can see these kinds of aesthetic ruptures in the flow of creation throughout the history of art. Caravaggio is another game changer. As critic Robert Hughes has said, “there was art before him and art after him, and they were not the same.”

Banksy has garnered international recognition for his work through politicizing an inherently political art form. Graffiti has been around since humanity lived in caves. The first art was public art executed on walls in public space. It is as old as human consciousness itself. In its modern form it rose to prominence in New York in the 1970′s appearing on subway cars and train cars. Despite some critical acclaim it did not truly hit the mainstream until, like many American artforms, it had a white face to champion the medium. Like Elvis turning Blues to Rock and Roll or Shepard Fairey turning Grafiti into street art, the work was finally given an establishment legitimacy it previously lacked.

Banksy radicalized the form by creating deeply political works in highly charged locations like Israel’s West Bank barrier. His own work has called into question the legitimacy of art world standards as far as what qualifies as art by placing his own works inside museums like London’s National Gallery clandestinely.

Every generation of artists asks the same questions. What is art? Why is art? The questions are answered, for better or worse, through the work itself. Some years may be inspired and some dull. The task of the artist is to keep asking the questions and to answer as honestly and authentically as possible. In order to arrive at a truly authentic answer, we must slow down and take the time to look.

From the Archives: Freedom of Information, Act

Friday, May 21st, 2010

Note:This post originally appeared in March of 2008.

It has been a while since I have written anything here. Lots of posting but mostly other people’s words. The main reason for this has been a personal shift in how I spend my free time. While blogging has for several years now been my primary hobby, that has shifted in recent months. I have been relearning a skill/instrument that I gave up a number of years ago, the turntable.

Last weekend I played my first set in public. It was quite well received. A mix of ambient/minimal techno and classical. The electronic music I played was all composed to be freely distributed. Licensed under a Creative Commons non-commercial distribution license, the music was made to be free.

The idea of truly free information, in my opinion the foundation to a truly free society, is slowly gaining ground. In music and software circles, the model of the mega-corporations are seen for the inherent failure they represent. The technology has evolved beyond the capacity for an institution to control its distribution. Fighting a war against consumers is a losing battle.

There are free software alternatives for every major commercial piece of software from word processing to image manipulation to web browsing to operating systems and more.

The group I was playing for has been producing all night music and dance events for over 12 years on an open source model. Planning procedures are maintained on a wiki, the entire organization is run by volunteers and everything from food, to music, to entrance to the event is given freely. Donations are asked for but in no way required.

In the theatre an open source model is still very much in its infancy. Charles Mee is one of, if not the first playwright to truly embrace open source ethics and aesthetics in his works.

As he says

Sometimes playwrights steal stories and conversations and dreams and intimate revelations from their friends and lovers and call this original.

And sometimes some of us write about our own innermost lives, believing that, then, we have written something truly original and unique. But, of course, the culture writes us first, and then we write our stories. When we look at a painting of the virgin and child by Botticelli, we recognize at once that it is a Renaissance painting—that is it a product of its time and place. We may not know or recognize at once that it was painted by Botticelli, but we do see that it is a Renaissance painting. We see that it has been derived from, and authored by, the culture that produced it.

And yet we recognize, too, that this painting of the virgin and child is not identical to one by Raphael or Ghirlandaio or Leonardo. So, clearly, while the culture creates much of Botticelli, it is also true that Botticelli creates the culture—that he took the culture into himself and transformed it in his own unique way.

And so, whether we mean to or not, the work we do is both received and created, both an adaptation and an original, at the same time. We re-make things as we go.

Another aspect of Free Theatre appears to be opening up as well. While many companies do pay-what-you-can nights, a theater in Ohio is trying that theory out for the whole run of its current production.

Available Light is opening Sheila Callaghan’s Dead City here in Columbus in about 2 weeks. This show is a really big deal for us. Aside from being a beautiful play that we’re all really excited about, it’s also our first show to receive significant public funding, it has the largest cast we’ve put on stage, and it’s in a space that’s costing us about 3 times what we usually pay. (Frequent readers of this blog will remember that I am very ambivalent about that particular fact.)

However, instead responding by playing it safe on other fronts to compensate for the big risks we’re taking, we’ve decided to try another big experiment. We’re making all tickets to all shows for everyone all the time “Pay What You Want”. That’s right, just like Radiohead,Trent Reznor, Saul Williams, Paste Magazine, and a small crop of restaurants.

Free culture is on the rise. It is being written into the very fabric of our larger culture. Much like free(read renewable) energy will replace finite resources like oil and coal, so too will free (read open) culture replace finite and “owned” culture.

its just a matter of time.

The Headset

Monday, May 17th, 2010

One of the best investments I made as a designer was buying my headset. And when it finally broke after 5 years of faithful service, I immediately went and bought myself an identical one. While there might be better headsets out on the market this one works exceptionally well for me. It is lightweight, comfortable, compatible with standard intercom systems, and inexpensive.

I am often surprised by the number of designers who do not have their own headset. For me it seems like a non-question. Given that we are sitting at a techtable 10 hours a day for days on end it seems natural that we would want our headset, which we are wearing the majority of the time, to be something known, familiar, and comfortable.

Just like I would not try drafting on someone else’s computer I would not want to start writing light cues without my headset. A lot of this comes down to familiarity. When freelancing, so much of the day to day routine is managing new and different situations. As such I like to keep as much as possible known and knowable. Because the headset is such a basic tool I make sure to bring my own.

There are several reasons for wanting my own headset. There are the miserable situations of the theater which has some ancient headset that keeps falling off your head. Perhaps it is slick from decades of other people’s sweat caked into the ear muff. There are the less than ideal situations where the earmuff and mic can only sit on one side, and it’s not the side you want it on. There are the fine situations where the intercom system is brand new and everything fits perfectly. The trouble is, you often do not know which of these you are walking into ahead of time.

Bringing your own headset avoids any of these problems.

The hygiene issue was a major factor for me. How many people have sweated through an exceptionally hot day or coughed into the mic of the house headset? Just a few? Hundreds? Who knows? But I am less than interested in picking up last year’s flu from a headset.

While the hygiene issue is, in reality, a fairly minor concern, of practical concern to the making of art is the control of your environment and experience. If your attention is focused on keeping the headset on your head, you are not as focused on making good work. If you have to fumble with your earmuff, or take it off every time you want to hear the person next to you, you have less time and attention available for solving problems.

In the end that is what it comes down to. Time. And attention.

We are working under rather strict time constraints in a medium that is constantly shifting before us, and thus requires total attention. Anything we can do to organize our experience such that maximum attention is paid to the work at hand will pay us back many times the investment. A few extra seconds could be all it takes to have the “ah ha” moment that pulls the difficult Act 2 lighting into place.

A headset, like our drafting technology, paperwork, cheat sheets, magic sheets, and so forth is a deeply personal thing that will be different for every designer. We all have our own needs and desires and comfort levels. Knowing what those are for ourself, and solving those needs ahead of time, gives us the extra room during tech to create wonderful things rather than simply put out fires and get through it.

This is just one of the things I carry along with me when I travel to a gig. For a more detailed list look here.

Do you bring your own headset to tech? Why or why not?

Making a living – Making a life

Friday, May 14th, 2010

I had lunch recently with a friend of mine who is a lighting designer. He is probably one of the most talented designers I have come across, a powerful unique voice, meticulous, insightful dramaturgical understanding, and one of the nicest people you will ever meet. He is currently transitioning out of live entertainment and considering going the route of architectural lighting design, or possibly something else entirely. His reasons? In order to have enough time to enjoy his life, he can’t make a living. In order to make a living, he doesn’t have time to enjoy his life.

This can be a dilemma many people face but it is exacerbated in the fields of theater, opera, and dance. LORT, the bargaining organization for regional theaters, has the official position that they do not owe designers a living wage. The theaters, which are ostensibly in the business of making art, do not feel responsible for paying the artists they employ enough money to live reasonable lives. Leaving aside the issue that the upper management and staff of these organizations do typically make a good living wage, this idea is flawed to its very core. The artists, the people who actually make the art, are not expected to be able to live off the work. Something is wrong here.

The result of this brilliant financial strategy on the part of regional theaters is that not only will they save thousands of dollars each year (yes only thousands, and intended sarcastically) but they will drive talented people out of the industry. This friend of mine is no small potatoes. He is highly respected within the New York theater community, has won awards, gets flown around the world to light shows, and yet finds the economics so troubling that he can not both live well and do the work he loves. He is not alone.

Many people I know, some very talented designers, work in fields not of their choosing because the economics of the field they love are so terrible. The issue does not limit itself to designers. One of the best master electricians I have ever had the pleasure of working with left non-profit theater to go work in a more corporate setting because the administration would not consider giving him a raise. In most situations, a worker who delivered under budget and ahead of schedule, all while pleasing the clients he interfaced with would be rewarded. But then, he worked on the wrong side of the building. Art, it seems, is not valued by arts organizations. Yet the top paid administrators made easily five times his salary. And the theater community lost one of the best electricians I have known.

There comes a point when the question arises, is this worth it? Is it worth working 80+ hour weeks for months on end only to end up with barely enough money to cover rent and bills? There is a bit of mental psychology that must be done when working like this. There is a rule I once learned the hard way by breaking it myself. I fast realized if I wanted to keep going I could never do it again. Do not translate into an hourly wage. Typically the results, in our fee for hire work, are far below minimum wage. The show I calculated out for ended up somewhere around thirty cents an hour. And this is at a professional level.

At the Broadway level, the minimum rate for a lighting assistant comes out to just under twenty dollars per hour. Not terrible, but you are working 14 hour days for weeks at a time, so you can have no life while this is going on. At the low end of the scale people have no compunction asking someone with years of experience, an advanced degree, awards, and so on if they would give up two weeks of their life for a fee of a few hundred dollars. It doesn’t hurt to ask, but then if you accept, demands are made on your time that are beyond the pale of reason.

Making a living in the theater is possible. Making a life, not so much. The number of designers who wake up at 50 suddenly realizing they forgot to get married and have kids, or who send their kids off to college knowing less about them than about their assistants, or miss a major wedding anniversary for a technical rehearsal, is far far too much.

We are presented with a bit of a catch-22. The organizations which hire us have stated explicitly that they will not take care of us. It then becomes incumbent upon us to take care of ourselves. But if we do that, and allow ourselves to have a life, we are not working enough to support that life. Something has got to give. Too often, that means talent goes elsewhere.

Perhaps there was a time when the economics of it all were not so unfavorable. But looking around now at the state of the business it appears that the solution does not reside in the non-profit theater world.

On Inspiration

Monday, May 10th, 2010

The question of inspiration is one that is central to any creative person. While inspiration might not be thought of in the moment, its lack is one of the most terrifying things to be felt in a creative pursuit. Writer’s block is probably the most commonly heard version of this, but the problem can plague anyone working creatively.

While there is no surefire cure for the problem, there are numerous strategies we can employ to not only prevent it from arising in the first place, but to create a plethora of creativity such that we never approach such a situation. For those of us working on deadlines, like an opening night, we quite literally do not have time to be bogged down with writer’s block. We must simply get to work.

Inspiration can come from any direction and often can hit us by surprise when least looking for it. While we can not ensure that we will be struck by inspiration we can create situations that will increase the chances that we will. In short, we can create our own luck. We may not know what bit of stimulus will spawn a creative flurry, but we can be open to new sources of stimulus, new ideas, new images, new sounds, new people, and new art. Ninety-nine percent of all this will just be enjoyable diversion, but that one percent is invaluable. That one new painting, or new restaurant, or random conversation will spark a creative fire that could not have happened without it.

This kind of luck requires two discrete actions on our part. The first is access to novelty. We must actually experience these things. We must go to the museum, or the movie, or the concert, or the library. This is the easy part. Every day we are exposed to novelty if we are open to seeing it. And that is the second, deeper, and more difficult aspect of this. We must be open to new experiences. We must train ourselves to see things in a new light. Inspiration often comes from seeing the familiar in a new and unique manner. We must take each moment as the new, unique, and novel thing that it is.

I find exposing myself to new art, new music, new people and so forth to be mandatory as an artist. Seeing the old as new, reframing the familiar as the novel, is a powerful exercise to increase novelty in your life and thus increase your luck in discovering the right spark for that next project. Situationists like Guy Debord used techniques like the derive to give new meaning to the familiar environment of their well worn urban streets.

While the SI looks a bit old fashioned from the perspective of the early 21st century, their techniques, or variants on them, can be profoundly powerful. Breaking with routine has an amazing effect on the creative mind. That break in routine can be through something wholly new, or it can come from turning the familiar into the novel.

I find music to be a powerful source of inspiration. While I will certainly listen to a single album, score, or a general genre, one thing I love to do is put my entire music collection on shuffle and hit play. The juxtaposition of a Mozart symphony with minimal techno with gangsta rap presents me with a kind of aural derive drifting between radically different musical styles, causing my mind to reprogram connections as it finds similarities between previously disparate songs.

I remember, years ago, going to a poetry event somewhere in the East Village. There were people reading works, and poems on the walls to be read. There was music, and wine, and shifting lighting. Perhaps a bit more raucous than what many people think of when they think poetry event. But then this is New York. There was a station set up with a typewriter. Guests were encouraged to sit down and write for five minutes. It was timed. When the timer was started, in addition to the lighting and music for the general room, a boom box was played, flashlights were shined on the person, and several books were read aloud right in their ears. The effect of this was to wholly shortcircuit the thinking rational part of the brain and leave only the creative generative part able to function in the sensory barrage. Manufactured Inspiration.

One of the simplest sources of inspiration I find is in living life. Simply being open to experience and aware of one’s surroundings and interactions with others can provide a deep and rich palette upon which to draw. Unfortunately too many people sleepwalk through their interactions in life. With a focus on what could have been or what might be they fail to actually take the time to appreciate what is. Being in the present is where the creative power lives. Cultivating presence of mind is an invaluable exercise to build one’s creative muscles.

The quest for inspiration is eternal. As we move through experiences our perception of different inputs as sources for inspiration will shift and change. It is necessary to be vigilant and create opportunities for inspiration that change with our changing needs.

What inspires you?

Abstract Realism

Friday, May 7th, 2010

There is an assumed dichotomy, when discussing works of art, between abstract pieces and realistic works. Realistic might be substituted for naturalistic, but the basic dichotomy reigns. I have discussed abstract minimalism quite a lot in this space. The counterpoint to abstract minimalism is not realism or naturalism but abstract realism.

Art, by it’s very nature, demands of the creator that choices be made. An object, event, idea, image, plot, and so forth are all framed. The frame might be literal in the sense of a classical painting, or it may be metaphoric through the use of language. In all cases a human experience is reified and placed within a frame. Art is the abstraction of reality.

To understand how fundamental abstraction is to art we should look, not to those considered abstract like Mondrian or Beckett, but to those considered realists like Ibsen or Caravaggio. In understanding the abstraction inherent in naturalistic works, this will lead us to a deeper understanding of and appreciation for those works more traditionally considered abstract. Even photography, by the nature of framing an image, abstracts our experience of reality before we even get to issues of color or focus. Walker Evans, about as naturalistic a photographer as has ever shot a roll of film, is highly abstract. Not so much in what he includes exactly, but with regards to what lies outside the frame. Through his images we have a limited understanding of a particular view of reality. A deep and rich understanding of that piece of the real, but a piece nonetheless.

Ibsen is a fantastic example of linguistic framing. He takes a story and distills it into the formalism of the three act play. Life is abstracted from the glorious non-linear mess that it is into a tight and controlled sequence of events. Act 1, Introduction. We, the audience, are shown the major players, ideas, and themes that will run their course throughout the play. Act 2, Conflict. We see the characters, ideas, and themes evolve and come into conflict. Act 3, Resolution. The conflict comes to an end perhaps through some transformation of the people, ideas, and themes. This may all sound familiar.

Should we choose to abstract this structure further we would do well to look back at Hegel and his dialectic. His thesis, anti-thesis, synthesis follows the same rhythmic pattern as the three act “well made” play. Once we understand that structure we can apply our understanding to any work and see that the distinction between realist and abstract work is a surface distinction at best. Good works that exist as temporal art (music, theater, opera, dance) all share this rhythmic structure. The form may be infinitely varied but the underlying structure is the same.

In the visual realm, rhythmic structure is replaced with proportion. When I looked at minimalism earlier I used Mondrian as an example. His work throughout his career was an exploration of proportion, though the form was multi-varied. Rothko is a painter whose work is focused on proportion almost to the exclusion of anything else.

The rigor needed for minimalism points to the necessary abstraction in any work of art. It is impossible to include everything in a work of art. Reality is the only experience that is not abstract.

Mondrian, or Rothko, are wonderful examples of the formalism of proportion exercises. We can look to Caravaggio, a so called realist, to better understand the formal structure of proportion. At the time he was active, his work was derided for the realistic style he employed, especially with regards to the painting of religious figures. While his realism is indeed impressive, and arguably unparalleled in the history of painting, it is at the more abstracted level that his works take on their true power. His sense of proportion, in terms of color, composition, and contrast, are impeccable.

As close to reality as some of Caravaggio’s works get, they are the product of clear and decisive choices at every level. From general composition, to the finer details of relative value between figures, to the color palette, we are looking at an abstracted space. Foreground and background, or depth of field to return to the world of photography, play a critical role in solidifying a well proportioned image.

Working as a lighting designer for live performance, I am concerned with both the rhythmic structure of the temporal work and issues of proportion. Foreground and background play a critical role, as do relative light and darkness, color, and other issues of contrast. At the same time, I must deal with these issues over time as the stage picture constantly changes. Temporal Rhythmic Proportion is a synthesis of the structures of temporal art and static art. It is the basis of what we do as visual artists for live performance. Navigating the ever shifting compositional needs through time is the primary concern of the lighting designer.

As naturalistic as a work might be, we are moving through an abstracted space bounded by abstracted time. From Beckett to Ibsen we navigate an abstraction of reality. Fundamentally understanding abstract space allows us to do so with full efficacy and powerful results.

The Affirmative No

Monday, May 3rd, 2010

I was given two pieces of advice about how to evaluate potential projects when I was in graduate school. Both came from successful designers and with me just starting out figured I would incorporate this advice as best I could. The first piece of advice had to do with criteria for evaluating projects. There are three reasons to do a show; the art, the people, or the money. So long as any two of those three were present, the job was worth taking. The second was much more straightforward, take every job you can since you have no idea where it might lead.

Over time, the criteria I use to evaluate projects has gotten more refined, but in truth, more personal. Increasingly, I find myself drawn to projects that fully meet my creative artistic needs. If I am doing a job just for the money, the money better damn well be worth it. Otherwise the project must support my artistic needs.

In these lean economic times finding work has been much more difficult than it has in years past. As a function of this I was on the path for a while of taking a few projects for which I had no artistic connection because I felt I needed the money. The more I thought of this, the more these projects would bother me. Finally, I realized what it was.

As a freelance designer I do not have the luxury of sitting in my studio and creating wholly out my mind. I do not get to generate the project. Rather, I am asked to do a project and I can either accept it or turn it down. While I learned a lot during my years of saying “yes” to everything, I am increasingly learning the value of “No.” This is not the No of negation. Rather this No is an affirmation of the aesthetic viewpoint I want to propagate in the world.

By saying No to projects that I do not wholly believe in I am saying Yes to the projects that I truly want to work on. The more I do this the more I find it has less to do with the specific pieces themselves as it does the people involved and the final product being created. In short, I have discovered that there are only two reasons for taking a project, the People and the Art. Follow those two things and the money will take care of itself.

There are a hand full of directors who I will work with at the drop of a hat and without hesitation because I believe in the work they do. One of these, a long time friend, has a very different aesthetic than I do when it comes to lighting. The process can often be quite a struggle for me as I overcome my own ways of seeing to get behind his eyes. Nonetheless, I believe in his work and larger vision strongly enough that this has sufficient artistic merit for me to take the project.

Working for the money, all you have to fall back on when things get difficult is the thought of that paycheck. Working for the Art and for the People keeps in clear view that what you are working for is something larger than yourself. It is, in fact, bigger than everyone involved.

As Moss Hart has famously said: “I have had many successes and many failures in my life. My successes have always been for different reasons, but my failures have always been for the same reason: I said yes when I meant no.”


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