Archive for the ‘theory’ Category

Template Basics – Clouds and Skies

Monday, June 28th, 2010

Continuing our series on templates we will stay outside for the time being and, after having looked at leaves and trees, we will move on to clouds and skies. Clouds can be some of the trickiest templates to work with. At the same time they can, with very simple and subtle gestures, provide immediate depth and nuance to a stage picture. A simple two tone cyc will, with the addition of a few soft clouds, gain a depth of naturalism that you can never achieve with color alone.

Clouds must be thought of in relation to the sky you are lighting. Time of day becomes critical to our template choice. A streaky cloud is more likely to read as dawn or dusk. A large puffy cloud will read like something we see in the middle of the day. Color is very important when designing with clouds. As we observe in the natural world, a cloud often takes on the quality of light and then amplifies it. During a sunset the sky might do a simple ombre from amber to congo blue while the clouds appear on fire catching the colors everywhere in myriad shades of purple and red and yellow. During the day the sky might be a clear blue and filled with little fluffy clouds shimmering a brilliant white. After a rainstorm the skies might be almost wholly obscured by a million shades of grey in the dark and heavy clouds.

Cloud templates come in several varieties and each have their benefits and drawbacks. Standard steel, like with leaves, provide a cookie cutter cut out of a shape that, with the proper attention to angle and sharpness can be either cartoonish or subtle. Even a template as silly as R78169 can, with the proper focus, turn into a very powerful effect when designing a sky.

Years ago I was calling focus for a designer on a production of Cloud 9. We were doing quite well working our way through the rig getting things pointed when I brought up the first of his template system and a pair of feet appeared on a wall. Curious, we brought up the next channel and there was another pair of feet. Noting a trend we turned on the whole system of 20 or 30 lights. All feet. A simple typo in the paperwork had caused the master electrician to order 30 pairs of feet rather than 30 clouds. Fortunately clouds are soft and mushy things. By taking the barrels all the way out past sharp the feet were transformed into clouds and the focus continued.

The softness of clouds is one of their most important attributes. Varying that softness is how we achieve real three dimensional effects. Layering two instances of of the same template, one on top of the other, with differing focus and varied intensity can create a photorealistic cloud effect. Layering is a critical component to designing a dynamic sky. A single cloud template will do little to convey the depth of a sky but when we layer in multiple templates in differing colors and focus, with varied intensity, we can create truly dynamic looks on our cyc or wall.

Cloud templates come in many shapes and sizes. Even when looking at the options for little fluffy clouds we have the clouds themselves, we have the underside of clouds, and we have their tops outlined. We can choose between tradition steel templates, or mesh patterns, or glass. We can use any or all of these template options to design dramatic skies.

Color plays a huge role when designing a sky. Perhaps a scene takes place in the morning as dawn shifts to day. You might cover a sky in various saturated streaks of salmon, amber, and yellow light which crossfade into softer, fluffier, pale lavender clouds over the course of the scene.

The movement of clouds is slow and subtle and beautiful. Capturing that on stage is a wonderful thing. One way to gain a sense of movement is to have many layers of clouds in various colors which shift and change intensity throughout a scene or production. However, using something like the Gam Film FX can be a wonderful way to, very simply and elegantly, give movement to an otherwise static sky. The Film FX, like any device that uses more than one pattern in the pattern slot, requires a very close attention during focus. Trouble can arise when getting the proper softness for one side of the film loop makes the other side appear too sharp edged. The extra time and care that it takes to focus these devices is well worth it for the end result.

The options for cloud templates are as varied as the sky is day to day. Building a sky is a wonderful combination of color and texture. The best way to understand how to design a sky is observation. Getting out and really looking up at the sky and watching the clouds move for minutes and hours on end will help to build an understanding of their subtle nuance and dramatic possibility.

What did you think of this post? Please share your thoughts in comments.

Template Basics – Leaves and Trees

Friday, June 25th, 2010

One of the greatest things about templates is their ability to define location. The dappled light coming through the leaves and branches of trees is a wonderfully beautiful natural phenomenon. In the introduction to this series I mentioned that one of the key issues surrounding the use of templates is focus. Finding the proper degree of sharpness and softness in a pattern is a key determinate to making the composition work best for the specific production. But there is a lot more to it than focus.

Naturalistic patterns like leaves have a few specific concerns that we must be aware of. While you might find yourself designing a more cartoonish style production where you want a cookie cutout look for your leaf patterns, I will be assuming for the purposes of this essay that you want to recreate a naturalistic effect. To do so requires a few very careful considerations; shape of gobo, density of breakup, degree of softness, and color. Each of these must be considered in careful detail to determine the best solution to your particular design problem.

The first concern is the shape of the gobo. Sadly, this is something that is too often overlooked when considering a template for use in a production. When I say shape of template I do not mean the exact shape of the leaves themselves, but the overall shape of the pattern. As you can see from the example of R77732 the pattern has a round shape overall. No matter how you point the light, no matter how much softness, this template will always look round. While this might not be a concern in certain styles of production, or when you have a full stage wash on, it does become a concern for more naturalistic compositions. If you want to vary the intensity of the individual lights to pull focus to a certain area of the stage you will end up with little circles of leaves of varying intensity. Worse still, if you just want to turn on a single light, you end up with a circle of leaves which looks hokey at best.

When using a template like R77774 there is no concern that the template will look round. In fact it is impossible to focus the light in such a way that a single instance of the template appears round. The potential pitfall with these style templates is that you often need more physical instruments creating a tighter beam overlap in order to get a clean full stage look. The benefits of not having a round dot of leaves, however, far outweighs the need for greater precision in drafting, hang, and focus. There are plenty of examples of non-round templates but they are definitely the minority when it comes to leaf patterns.

Once the shape consideration has been resolved you need to consider density. Our example above of R77774 is great for more open sun filled compositions. The template lets a lot of light through while still maintaining the character of light through trees. But perhaps you want your templates to be more of an accent. Perhaps all that light, and the varied size of the spaces between steel, is not the right look. A template like R77733 gives a more uniform, dense, feel the the light. Similar in density to the R77732 noted above, this template shares with R77774 the characteristic of not being round. What density of template is wanted will be determined by the dramatic needs of the scene in question.

Once the template has been selected we move on to focus. Focused sharp, the templates look like cartoon drawings rather than beautiful light. To get a realistic feel for the light we need to soften the edge of the template. Obviously going too far will just make a big mushy mess, but if we leave the pattern too hard edged we end up with a cartoon style. Beginning with the pattern sharp, with a nice blue edge, we have two options to soften each with their own benefits. Pushing the barrel in past sharp begins to create chromatic aberrations along the pattern edges. This can be a particularly nice way to get a feeling of color into a “white light” palette. The chromatic aberration can work very harmoniously with saturated color palettes as well. Pushing the barrel out past sharp gives a very soft and feathered edge to the template which not only makes the image softer, but also can lend a more dreamlike quality to the light. The edges become less defined and the overall effect is lighter.

The last concern with templates is color. Remember, what is interesting is light through trees not projections of green leaves on a stage. Sunlight in the natural world is around 5600 degrees Kelvin or in colloquial terms, pale blue. On stage we obviously shift this depending on the exact style we are looking for. However, the basic range of natural light should be considered a starting point. Lighting a rock concert or a dance club we might have sharp edged patterns in a bright magenta and yellow. When lighting an exterior scene in an opera we will be far more successful with clear incandescent light or a CTB like L202. The style of production will always drive the color choices, just as it will effect the focus and pattern choice.

Putting all these elements together will give you a dynamic system for evaluating templates and their use for your compositions. Finding a template of the proper shape and density is a good first start. Completing that line of thought with a proper focus and color selection can truly transform your compositions into works of beauty. Adapting your choices to the needs of the production will keep your work fresh and unique.

What did you think of this post? Please share your thoughts in comments.

Template Basics – Introduction

Monday, June 21st, 2010

One of the least discussed elements of lighting design is the use of templates (also known as gobos or patterns). When it comes to colors or angles or instrumentation, there are extensive resources to go to but not so for these things. As such I find there is more misuse of templates, more poorly focused gobos, more waste of patterns, than there need be.

Over the next few weeks I will be writing a series on template basics, similar in scope to my series on color theory. I hope you will find this informative and useful. Please join in the discussion in comments as better lighting can only come about through dialogue and the exchange of ideas.

The main way in which templates are misused has to do with focus. Unlike video or slide projections, templates, particularly steel templates, are, with very few exceptions, not designed to be used in a sharp focus. One of my favorite leaf patterns, R77774, looks terrible when used in sharp focus. However, when pointed at a proper angle, with an appropriate degree of softness, the template becomes a powerful and versatile tool in my palette when designing a show.

Over the next few weeks I will look at specific uses and approaches to templates. However, before we can get into specifics, we need to look at what templates there are and what they can do.

At a basic level there are two kinds of templates, steel and glass. Steel templates provide, through the use of shadow, an image cut out of a single piece of steel to project shapes and shadows on scenery, people, architecture and so on. Glass gobos on the other hand provide colorized shapes and textures and, with the exception of some recent developments, tend to be more on the abstract end of the spectrum.

Both glass and steel templates can be used for naturalistic effects like clouds or leaves. The options range from cartoonish to the very naturalistic, particularly with cloud options. Mesh and grey tone glass cloud templates can render amazingly realistic cloud effects. At the same time, a proper focus of traditional steel templates can bring about amazing three dimensional effects almost indistinguishable from video and slide projection. The key, once again, is in the focus. Focus and layering.

In addition to naturalistic effects, templates can be used to provide abstract patterns on floors or in atmospherically treated air. Used on floors, a standard paint job, or even colored floor, can be given a high dynamic range throughout a production thus allowing for many different visual landscapes upon which performers might traverse. In large musicals with minimal scenery, for example, the use of patterns and textures can be a powerful tool to lend a dynamic quality to an otherwise static space.

Combining the ideas of geometric textures with naturalistic uses, we see that time, space, and location can be defined through the use of templates. Perhaps geometry reigns in one scene while nature prevails in the other. A large musical like Wizard of Oz might have different styles of leaf and tree templates depending upon which part of the forest the characters are in. And Oz may well be filled with deco inspired abstract geometry thus providing a counterpoint to the nature we see along the yellow brick road.

We use templates to provide texture to scenery and bodies. This can be used to enhance a scenic designer’s idea by drawing out the mottled paint through variation of light and shadow. But it can also be used to cover up flaws, making poorly constructed seams disappear to the audience’s eye. Dappled light on a performer, aside from being inherently beautiful, can make their movement through space draw the eye in a way that solid, unbroken light does not.

Templates provide movement which further enhances the dynamism of a scene. Be they rotating patterns, scrolling film loops, or moving lights dancing the can-can, a pattern moving through the air gives shape and texture to a scene in a way that static lights can not. By using atmospheric haze and fog, the effects of these beams of light are enhanced and brought to further prominence.

Using templates as backlights, either from above or from below, the effects are magnified. The beam of a light is noticed by a viewer more strongly the more that beam comes from the opposite angle of viewing. By using templates as backlight, the viewer is made well aware of the architectural quality of the lights and thus any movement, color, or changes of intensity are magnified accordingly. Combined with the atmospherics mentioned above, the effects can be very powerful indeed.

The risk of templates is that they can read as cheesy and gratuitous when used improperly. While a musical like Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat may well call for spinning stars of David which dance along with the performers, an opera like The Tender Land demands very soft focused realistic patterns which provide texture to the air but do not call attention to themselves.

The power and efficacy of templates comes not from what they are, but from how they are used. While many designers look down on templates as cheesy little cheap tricks, the truth is that they are powerful tools when used correctly. The real trick is using them in an appropriate manner.

Post-Narrative Storytelling and Rugged Individualism

Friday, June 11th, 2010

One thing I often take issue with in terms of American style theater is the narrowly defined focus on storytelling. Often the story is reduced to the events surrounding a lead character and their actions upon other characters. The focus is on the egoic structures centered around a very American notion of individualism and identity. I understand why it exists as this focus permeates American culture to the exclusion of most else. It is also the aspect of American culture that I least resonate with.

Bloodshed, slavery, and genocide aside, the idea this country was founded on was not the individual against everything but a more collectivist community. As the preamble to the U.S. Constitution states: We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

This is the intent of the Constitution. A collective act to create a better world for those who acted and future generations. The idea of the rugged individualist is more a historical accident born from the Western expansion of the American Empire. But as this country evolved, and moved towards practical concerns and away from its idealistic origins, the focus and intent of the culture was changed along with it. Thus we arrive at the present moment where the legacy of that rugged individualism is infused into every nook and cranny of the American experience.

It manifests in the work we see on stages as well as more pop-culture. Not only do these ideas present themselves in the literal narrative of written text, but also in the visual storytelling; scenic design, clothing, lighting, sound, and so forth. Too often the focus, as a function of the typical American disposition, gets placed on the actions of the character to the exclusion of everything else. Much like “Secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves” gets extracted from the rest of the constitution in a vain act of ego inflation.

While this can be fine entertainment, and certainly is a reflection of one aspect of American culture, it fails to express the fullness of that culture and, like much of American politics, ignores the founding dream upon which this nation came into being. We have lost our core belief as a country. As a result, our nation, our culture, and the world suffers.

To focus only on the egoic actions of the lead character(s) ignores the social context in which these characters exist. Social relationships are ignored or mitigated in terms of significance. Forget about social context. A set is nothing more than a representation of a place in which a person acts. Even when abstracted. The very thought of scenography as, perhaps, a resonant chamber against which actions might echo and reverberate is all but ignored.

There are two American theater artists I can think of whose entire process breaks down these problematics and builds a new potential vision of culture. Anne Bogart with her viewpoints method gives us a vector to reclaim collectivist social space within a theatrical context. The other is Richard Foreman. Probably my favorite theater maker in this country, he understands how the entire design, from scenery, to costumes, to lighting, to sound, must all work to provide a context in which action occurs. The action on its own is of no significance if it is not placed within a context.

Foreman’s notions of design as the construction of a resonant chamber could be linked to the Heideggarian notion of Thrownness. That is, an individual is born, or thrown, into a particular socio-historic context prescribed with various rules of behavior, social norms, expectations, customs, and ethics. From out of this thownness the individual must find their authentic Self. Their true way of being. Returning to a theatrical setting, the actions of a character, be they actor, singer or dancer, make no sense unless they exist within some context against which they act.

To simply “tell the story” of the lead character is to fall prey to the trap which ensnares American culture and politics. It is to see the individual as more important than the group. The now as more important than the future.

To fully embody the self we must transcend our culture. To transcend does not mean to leave behind. It means to fully incorporate it and build beyond its capacity. Foreman has done this through writing which I would characterize as falling firmly in the American romantic tradition. Yet he has taken those ideas, particularly the notion of the individual self, to such a far degree that it has moved beyond its origins and into a whole new mode of theatrical experience. His staging and scenography is a transcendent act.

In discussing theater so extensively here I do not mean to imply it is the only mode of performance which suffers from this problem. Opera and dance too are firmly entrenched in this egoic mode of storytelling. The trend in contemporary dance to tell rather pedestrian stories about the choreographer’s mundane experience is another manifestation of this. Long gone are the days of Martha Graham’s focus on myth or Steps in the Street which firmly places the individual within a social context.

American Opera is typically one of the worst in this regard. The excessive use of followspots to “tell the story” of the lead singer is a failure on the part of the creators to move beyond textual narrative and embrace a fuller notion of storytelling. Although in that world there are some escape vectors. The design work of John Conklin provides us with an American designer whose work transcends typical American storytelling.

With the traditional American mode of storytelling we miss out on some great theatrical opportunities. Real people doing real things are not interesting on stage. Realism and naturalism are far better handled by film. American performance, by and large, has forgotten the essence of true theatricality. Spectacle is certainly present, but theatricality, that magic of liveness, where things happen which are only compelling because they are live, is rare.

Perhaps we need a return to origins. Just as this country could stand to read through the constitution again and truly soak in what was actually said, so too could we, as creators, rediscover what makes live performance unique and compelling and return there. From that more solid foundation we become better able to move forwards and create strong and powerful works which engage our audiences and transcend their beliefs as to what is possible.

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.

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.

Open Source Values

Friday, April 30th, 2010

I am a firm believer in the open source movement and specifically Creative Commons licensing for creative works. I have been publishing this blog under a creative commons license for years giving away content, as most blogs do, without concern for making money. Credit yes. Money, no. The benefits I have received far outweigh what money could have been made had I tried to monetize this. The purpose for me writing this blog is fun and enjoyment.

Because I work as a professional artist I have found it important to have a creative outlet that is not tied to income. While I would certainly welcome a book deal, I am not about to go seek one out. I enjoy having a space wherein I can create without the pressure that money brings to a situation.

In my theater work I have provisions in my contracts to protect my work on a show. They state that if the show gets picked up by a larger producing organization I get the first right of refusal to be hired as the lighting designer for the next incarnation of the show. They also state that the lighting design, drawings, etc belong solely to me.

From an ethical standpoint I find myself posed with a bit of a dilemma. On the one hand I need to eat and ensure that I can continue to do so. On the other hand I want to remain true to the values of open source thinking. Because my theatre work is contract work for hire, rather than solely generative art, I am able to make a mental distinction that allows me to go on with my life in a state of ease. But it makes me wonder, what would open source performance look like? Is it possible in a collaborative art form or is the collaborative nature of theatre and opera inherently open source?

At a certain level theater does have an inherent open source component to it. Plays, opera scores, and ballets whose copyright has expired are ripe for remixing and reconceiving by contemporary artists. This happens all the time. While one could point to an obvious example like the Wooster Group’s Hamlet, every remount of a play or opera is a remix of the original.

Works in repertory, like opera or ballet, have an element of the open source ethos in them every time they are remounted. The lighting supervisor, who may well have not been born when the original lighting designer created the work, must reconstruct the thing using new lighting instruments colored with gels by companies which were not around at the time of creation. There is always a degree of interpretation in these moments, sometimes quite severe transformation, yet the by line will always read “Lighting by Original Designer” no matter how much the work has changed over the 10, 20, 80 year lifespan of the piece.

Repertory lightplots carry this same quality of a remixed open source code. Jean Rosenthal’s plot for New York City Ballet was updated by Tom Skelton and has been updated since. Many of the same ideas and structures are still in place now as were then. While the plot may not be attributed to anyone but the current lighting supervisor, the source code, as it were, could be traced back to the work of Jean Rosenthal.

While these are all elements of performance which have an open component to the code or structure, it does not get to the idea of the whole process as open source. The financial aspect of making work complicates a truly open source approach. It would be hard to relinquish one’s rights to a design for a show and then be the only one not to travel with the new production uptown. Or if the drawings and documentation were released with a production it could be difficult to see your work applied poorly and then be given credit for it.

But these concerns are egoic and have nothing to do with the efficacy of the potential project or the artistic validity of such an endeavor. For something like this to work it would require the full compliance, if not enthusiastic support, of a rather large number of individuals. Merely gathering such a group together would pose quite a challenge. But the novelty of the exercise could well be worth it.

Honesty, Trust, and Art

Friday, April 23rd, 2010

There is a lot of confusion over the difference between a healthy ego and a big ego. A healthy ego is one that is sure and confident of its ability and efficacy. It knows itself and its limitations. It is based in and on reality and facts. It knows its worth implicitly. A large ego is often very boisterous. It needs to be heard and to be seen. It must prove its worth to the outside world because it does not have its own sense of worth internally and must be constantly validated by the external world either through actions or through outright demands for visible signs of validation, “love”, and support.

The arts are filled with big egos. We find countless examples of people whose self worth is based wholly on their ability to create works and receive credit for it. When praise and attention is lavished upon them they are filled with smiles, appear gracious, and look confident. When praise and adoration is not forthcoming they wilt, or lash out in anger, or throw tantrums. Sadly, we have all seen this.

While it is unfortunate, it is a regular part of the artistic landscape. There are large egos that are merely big inflated things and there are large egos that are robust and healthy. Too often, because of the former, it can be quite difficult to get honest feedback from friends and collaborators. Too often we have seen a friend or collaborator visibly wilt at the slightest hint of negative criticism. Certainly there is a time and a place for decorum. You don’t mention the late entrance at the opening night reception. But there must be room for honest critique or we fail to grow as artists. If we don’t grow the work suffers.

Different artistic communities treat critique in different ways. I have been involved in collaborations where we would call one another out as soon as something felt false. These were very honest and direct collaborations. Sometimes we would get into serious arguments. Rather then being an inflated unhealthy ego lashing out, this was the impassioned discourse of artists striving for the best work we could make. In the end, the work was vibrant and strong.

I have also worked in situations, quite a few recently, where the criticism and concern was so timid and understated that I did not often recognize it as such. It would be as if my collaborators were so scared of puncturing that inflated ego they would dance around a concern or just let it slide entirely. This baffles me, “Well if you didn’t like the light cue, why didn’t you say something?”

If a director or fellow designer has a concern about the viability of the work it is deeply important to raise that concern as early as it arrives and in as direct a manner as possible. One member of the collaboration holding back their critique weakens the collaborative bond between the artists.

Collaborative art requires trust. We must trust that every one of our collaborators has, as their intent and focus, the best interest of the piece at heart. If we lose that trust we can never make a work of true and lasting beauty. As Picasso said, “Art is not truth.  Art is a lie that makes us realize truth.” But to construct that lie so that it may point us to the truth, to make art, we must be honest. We must be honest with one another. Honesty, after all, is the foundation of trust.

When one of our collaborators is not forthright in their concerns, reservations, or praise, our trust lessens. If we do something that we know does not look good and hear from them “that’s great” then our trust in their taste is diminished. We know it did not look good. We can only assume that any praise they might have is qualified by a desire to not ruffle any feathers or threaten any inflated egos.

Unjustified praise can be more damaging than unjustified criticism. Praise without justification can stunt growth or push it in less than useful directions. We are always limited by time and must fix all the broken parts before time runs out. If we are told something is fixed when it is not then we stop looking at it in order to focus on the many other pressing concerns. We work to fix the other parts. Those parts then do not truly come together because of the loose end we left with the first unfinished part.

To create truly powerful work we must be unflinching in our honesty. We must give, and be able to receive, honest feedback about the work. To do this our egos may or may not be large, but they must be healthy. When we can honestly accept and receive feedback we can truly trust one another as collaborative artists. When we trust each other, then art can begin.


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