Episode 7: Paint Elevations

There are few parts of the process that delight me as much as making the paint elevations. While having accurate drafting is certainly crucial, I would argue that paint elevations are sometimes even more crucial to ensuring that the final work looks exactly the way you as the designer would wish. Paint elevations are where you detail everything from color to texture.

I will fully admit my bias; I worked as a scenic artist for years and that training has given me a very strong appreciation for how much a good paint treatment can make or break a design. It’s important for structures to be built well an correctly, but it’s the paint and other treatments applied to the structures that almost magically shift them into the realm of the world. A good scenic artist is a designer’s best friend.

Making paint elevations is my favorite part of the process. Paint elevations are where you get to finesse all the juicy details and the sparkle. If drafting is the main body of the cake, then paint elevations are all the frosting and decoration. Making the model is fun, but much of the detail is lost because of the scale. Elevations are where you get to blow everything up big and show off all the patterns and depth that is lost in the tiny surfaces of the model. It’s the part of the process where I feel most purely like an artist, adding a stroke here and there to the work to build up the flesh and features on this body we have made.

The goal of paint elevations is simple. For every piece of scenery in the show, you want to communicate the following:

• Color Specifics: This means not only showing the color in the piece itself, but also pulling out swatches of color that you used to get the final product. All treatments are comprised of layers of color, thus it’s really helpful to separate out those layers into a palette so scenic artist has to do less guesswork.

• Textures: This is a big one. When looking at a paint treatment in an elevation, you can’t always tell at first glance if there is any three dimensional texture compound or if it’s simply a two dimensional treatment that’s meant to give the appearance of texture. Both approaches are valid depending on the show, but it’s definitely up to the designer to communicate which option they want because each reads very different on stage.

• Finishes: This refers to the sheen/reflectivity of a give surface. Much like in the world of house paint, the shiny aspects of a surface are very important to note; especially for a space that is going to be flooded with very bright light. Finish is also important in determining how much maintainability a piece will have throughout the run, given how much abuse scenery and stage decks especially experience (i.e. dancing, dramatically clutching walls, etc.).

While you try and notate the broad strokes of expected paint treatments in the drafting (after all, textures and finishes definitely affect how the technical director will tech the scenery), the paint elevations are where you get granular. Combining the elevation of the piece itself with research images, swatches, and notes, you effectively communicate to the scenic artist how you want a piece to appear.

For Little Shop I chose to build the elevations of the pieces digitally, and then arrange the final full paint elevations by hand (including hand writing the notes). When creating the elevation of the pieces, you can choose to paint by hand. This has the advantage of being a representation of the piece in a medium that is directly translatable; in other words, painting by hand is often easier to transfer to painting in larger scale. However, in the case of Little Shop, I had been building the elevations digitally for the models. Thus, in the interests of time and consistency with all my material, I chose to build my large elevations digitally.

I am a fan of handpainted elevations. Usually, that’s how I tend to work. Making the digital elevations for Little Shop was in part a challenge for me. Creating textures and treatments digitally requires tools and choices that aren’t necessarily available to a scenic artist in a one-to-one relationship (ex. If I want something to fade back in Photoshop, I can toggle the opacity of that layer. Opacity in scenic painting is achieved by manipulating the opacity of the paint which obvious doesn’t always behave in the same fashion of how pixels print). The challenge for me was to create paint elevations that would clearly show the scenic artist (in this case, the fierce and indomitable Daniela Weiser) what I wanted, and that they would be treatments she could confidently translate and re-create in real life from my elevations.

When building the paint elevations for Little Shop, I would start with creating the digital elevation of the piece of scenery. Let’s use the facades that would have gone on the splay walls (Shakespeare doors) of the theatre as an example (mostly because they became my favorite elements of the show in terms of paint treatment).

Digital Elevation of the Splay Wall Covers

( Side Bar: I love these facades so much because they were the result of one of my favorite collaborative moments with Dexter (Director). In an earlier version, we had thought the coverings might look like the backs of buildings. However, moving forward in development, Dexter saw that the previous choice wasn’t quite working anymore. He wanted more of a story from those units and he asked if we could make them other storefronts instead. This set off an animated back and forth where he and I volleyed ideas and came up with these two facades. We wanted to use them to deepen the layers of our Skid Row. At the top of the show, we see the pawn shop is already foreclosed, but the beauty supply shop is thriving. By the end of the show, we would see the decline of Dee’s as Audrey 2 takes over the world with its nefarious plans. Obviously this would have been very much in the background compared to the main story, but these are the details I love. These are the elements that ground you in this world, that lend more support to the events you are about to witness. And it’s always especially fun when the elements were born out of a particularly inspiring moment of collaboration).

Anyway, back to our main thrust, after the digital building of the main piece, I’ll also digitally collect swatches and research images that can help further clarify the main piece. With that done, I will print, cut, and arrange into the final paint elevation.

Final Paint Elevation for Splay Wall Covers

In this way, I built elevations that have the consistency and accuracy of the digital components, while still including a touch of the personal in the arrangement and my handwritten notes. Little Shop was a large show, and I had a lot of fun making the elevations.

Florist Shop Facade and Signs

Florist Shop Walls and Front Door

Florist Shop Floor and Soffet

Mid Stage Urban Texture Units

Upstage Portal Unit

City Skyline

Deck Treatment

Dentist Office Screens

Oh, did I mention that we were going to have super fun mini-plant drops fall across the storefronts as part of the Finale Don’t Feed The Plants? ;)

Like I said, I’m probably just biased, but I think paint elevations are one of the best ways to see the artistry in the design. I’m proud of these and definitely feel that I improved my digital rendering skills dramatically for this show.

Squad Pod #5: Team Technical Direction

PLEASE BE AWARE: At 18:27 (Kimberly is talking about how she’s sad we weren’t going to get the chance to get through tech) there is a wild and startling sound glitch that lasts 6 seconds. It’s the only time the glitch occurs and the flow of the interview was so good that I didn’t want to try another take. So I beg your forgiveness and beg that you treat it as you would an exciting moment in live theatre where perhaps an unexpected event only served to make a live experience unique.

And this week on Squad Pod we have a most remarkable and wonderful Team Technical Direction!

I cannot really emphasize how much respect I have for these people. Technical Directors are the part of the production team that takes my designer dream castles and begins to put the real-life foundations in them. Production teams are tasked with making the esoteric into a physical reality. At UConn, the technical directors for the shows are often grad students. The technical director for Little Shop, Kimberly, has multiple other credits as technical director at CRT including Good Children and Shakespeare in Love.

Kimberly and I first worked together on Henry IV. She was one of the assistant technical directors on that production. We got a tiny taste of how good our work flow might prove on that production. Turns out, as Little Shop showed us, we make a really killer team as designer and TD. Kimberly is an incredible communicator, attentive to detail, and a rock solid ally throughout the process. I look forward to the day when we get to see a show all the way through together.

The TD rockstar herself

Did I mention that she and I (along with other shop friends including other Little Shop squad-star Ray) have a thing for overalls?

The second interview is with Kimberly’s most fantastic Assistant Technical Director, Gavin. Gavin is recently graduated with his BFA from UConn (Congrats Grad!!!), and he certainly spent a good deal of time in the scene shop at the university. He also worked as a student manager for the UConn men’s ice hockey team. I mean, this is the kind of person who makes me feel like I should be out saving the world or something because he definitely did a lot within the department and outside. He is at once gracious and fierce, and I can’t wait to run into him again as well. He and Kimberly worked beautifully as a team, could not have been in better hands on this show.

The Dash in the flesh! (I gave him that code name because he always seemed to be dashing away the second Kimberly needed something, only to return so fast I started to question if he had even left….)

I love this picture. A shot of Gavin and our TD grads (Left to Right: Joey, Aubrey, (Gavin), and Kimberly). This was taken on the set of Shakespeare in Love, on which Kimberly was the TD.

Only piece that got fully built before the hard stop was the City Skyline. Here’s the framing

Here it is faced (and with faces ;)

And we got a little bit of paint on it before we had to leave campus

The paint elevation for the City Skyline (i.e. what she was supposed to look like when all was built and painted)

A model photo from the scene by scenic I built for my MFA Project Book. This would have been a moment where the City Skyline piece would have been the most visible during the performance as we traveled from the shop to the dentist office.

Disclaimers, Clarifications, Comments: Again, apologies for the sound glitch in Kimberly’s interview. These audio pieces are recorded in one take via Zoom with no editing so they are about what you’d expect in terms of overall sound quality/capabilities. Remember that these are also informal chats among colleagues where we are sharing opinions based on our own perceptions of our experiences; these perceptions are not to be misconstrued as the “only right” way to view the situation or work.

Squad Pod: #3 Team Costume Design

My fave pic of the three of us, no competition

In this edition of Squad Pod, it is pleasure beyond describing to post audio of chats with two of my favorite people on this planet! The first chat is with costume designer for Little Shop of Horrors, Jessica Haswell. The second chat is with Brittny Mahan, who was the assistant costume designer on the show.

These two women have been instrumental peers in my time in grad school. We came in at the same time, along with our fellow colleague Toni Sterling (who’s a killer lighting designer!) three years ago. While we formed so many relationships with the rest of our peers, there is certainly something powerful about being running mates from the beginning. I think Jess and Brittny are incredible artists. I’m also blessed to know them as friends as well as colleagues, which has made working together even more of a joy.

Jess and I had actually worked together on a CRT show the previous season (Henry IV: Parts 1 and 2.) We also spent plenty of time together in our little corner of the lab, choosing to share our working space after our first year. If there is one thing that makes my chest tight when I think about the show’s cancelation, it’ the fact that we didn’t get a chance to see Jess’s costumes alive and beautiful, worn by our incredible cast. While her renderings are certainly gorgeous and definitely give you a clear idea on what her design would be, I would be lying if I didn’t also say that I’m still a little sad when thinking about how awesome they were going to be on the body. Like me, this was her MFA Project, so it did sting a little extra for us to have our last piece as grad students stopped before production. Still, chatting with Jess about her process was a joy and delight and I hope the selection of renderings shown here can give you a taste of just how talented she is. Definitely check out her website jessicahaswelldesign.com

Disclaimers, Corrections, Clarifications: As with the other episodes, we are just two artists chatting about our work and life. Anything we say is often based in opinion and our own experience and therefore nothing should be taken as a firm declarative of the “only right” or anything of that sort.

A little blurry, but I really love this picture of us!

Looks for Ya Never Know (Seymour and Do-Op Girls)

The Do-Op Girls, look for Closed for Renovation

Call Back in the Morning and Meek Shall Inherit

Super fun amazing sparkly fabric Jess was looking to use for the look in the rendering directly above

Subsequent to the Events You Just Witnessed

Look 2 for the three principles

Audrey and Orin

Act 2 Beginning Look for three principles

Sominex

Don’t Feed the Plants

Next audio we have is a chat with the indomitable Brittny Mahan, who was acting as Jess’s assistant on this show. She has also designed multiple shows at CRT (Crucible, Mystery of Edwin Drood, and Shakespeare In Love) and she is pretty much a rockstar human on every level. Definitely check out her website as well, you will never be sorry that you worked with this woman www.brittnymahan.com.

Disclaimers, Corrections, Clarifications: Again, we are just chatting about our work and our field. At one point, we do get a little into it about payment and monetary compensation for work in the professional world, and we did make a point to say we don’t get paid hourly. To be clear, assistants are often paid by the hour, we were mostly referencing designer compensation in that moment. Further to that point, we are not necessarily advocating that everything shift to hourly measures for compensation; rather that the level of work and skill that designers bring to the production should be appropriately compensated financially. This is particularly poignant for costume designers especially who have, anecdotally and historically speaking, often received the lowest pay on the creative team.

On this Episode of KP Gaffes: At one point in the recording, I say that a certain amount of time Brittny mentions is “less than a month,” when in fact the time frame she relates is a little over a month. Time is really screwy in grad school, warps the mind I swear.

Fab pic of us at the Prague Quadrennial last year

Since work stopped before we could get pictures of how Brittny’s assistance contributed to build for Little Shop, I wanted to include a couple pictures from another CRT show. This is Mystery of Edwin Drood, for which she was the costume designer

Another shot from CRT’s Mystery of Edwin Drood

Okay, now just standby for the love fest. I’m going to miss seeing these ladies all the time as I have become accustomed. Our industry is very small, so we shall certainly cross paths again. Still, I’m going to miss this loves, you were huge part of a very involved three years. We did it!!

Costume designers abroad!

I had to include this one, the drama is just perfect!

We decided that if for some reason we ever release an album, this is def the cover

My heart to you both, you made these three years amazing!!

Episode 5: The White Model

Actual picture of me in my natural model making state without assistants

So we start getting into the rock stars of the scenic design world: the model. Models are obviously not only limited to the realm of scenic design, but they are an essential tool for communicating and (in a way) proving a design. They are the closest you can get to actually test driving how everything is going to look in real time. As has been told to me many times, “We work in a three dimensional art form and so we should be showing our designs through a three dimensional medium.”

There are many advantages to a physical model. You are creating a tool that can accurately inform you down to the inch if what you are thinking is even going to fit, let alone look good in the space. To put something “in scale” means simply that we can shrink the whole world down by logical proportions to a size that we can put in a box and carry around (although admittedly some scale sized models are still enormous relatively speaking). You take increments of measurement (in the case of America increments of the inch while the rest of the world calmly goes about using metric increments) and simply make it equal to 1 foot in real life. For show models, I tend to work in 1/4”=1’-0” scale. While still tiny (think about it, a person measuring 6’ in real life is only an inch and a half tall in scale), you can get enough detail to communicate the idea while still keeping the whole model relatively manageable in size.

The model is an excellent communication tool, especially for the director. While a ground plan drafted out can be helpful, the model really conveys the whole meaning and consequences of each piece in in the actual space, in all the planes that matter to the performance (i.e. three dimensions). It’s all about the idea of “show don’t tell.” Words are very easy to confuse or misinterpret, but if you can pick up a piece and move it around in the actual space in this tiny world, that gets everyone a lot closer to being on the same page about what the design is shaping into.

White models are a kind of first draft of the space, some designers will even refer to them as “sketch models.” The process is similar to a sketch in the sense that you are trying to rough out ideas and just get something down on the page; only with the model it’s inside a scale replica of the theatre. Despite this designation, white models can be as simple or complicated as desired. They are called white models because they are often made out of white paper materials and don’t have color applied. Some are truly just the simplest shapes while others are works of art showing off all the architectural buildups and detail. However, the usual point of a white model is to get the basic gesture of the set, possibly starting to play with texture and smaller details.

My process isn’t terribly unique for a number of designers working in the industry at present. For models, I tend to draft the pieces in a computer program that I can then print out to cut and install. I happen to work out of Vectorworks, but that’s more a matter of comfort for me personally than any specific advantage the program offers. Drafting things in the computer is a marvelous modern wonder that I’m not embarrassed to admit still amazes me. I can make the piece with absolute accuracy and then reproduce it swiftly and, again, accurately, as many times as I wish. And trust me, for a model, that is crucial.

I make what’s called a model kit. This simply means that I draft the pieces so that they are a flat version of the object that can be built up during the install. Think about a four legged table; now, pretend you smashed that table flat and then fly directly overhead and look down. You would see the table top, and then the four legs sticking directly out from each side. That is what you are trying to draft for each piece, a smashed flat, or disassembled version that can be printed on a flat piece of card stock and then folded or built back into its 3 dimensional form.

Example of White Model Kit for Little Shop

Example 2 of White Model Kit for Little Shop

From these kits, my assistants and I build up the pieces for the model and then install them in the box. Little Shop was a show that saw many incarnations of the white model from the most basic, to the inclusion of buildups and textures. I started exploring this show initially under the idea that the shop could turn a full 360 degrees, stopping on the front view or the back depending on the scene. The white models were mostly built exploring this version of the shop in the space.

The only surviving picture of the very first fully assembled white model made for this show. Truly a “sketch” model.

First model version pieces

Tape for scale

That rectangle on the floor is totally an accurate representation for Audrey 2 (definitely not true, we will get there in a later post).

Next Version, White Model 2.0

Interior of Shop 2.0

Up close and Personal with Shop 2.0

White Model 3.0, getting in a little texture and detail to start seeing how that reads

White Model 3.0 shop interior

Oh yeah, and we have a dentist!!

Some 3.0 Pieces

Shop 3.0

Upstage surrounding pieces for model 3.0

Splay wall pieces for model 3.0

Exhibit of White Model pieces….or at least what made it through the great sudden studio clean out and move out of COVID19

While lacking in some of the more fleshed out details, white models are an awesome way to start communicating the broad ideas of the world before investing too deeply in details. Again, I’m always in collaboration with my director, and I find that if I can start with showing broad strokes, then my conversations about those structures with the director will really start to clarify the details. I like to try and develop models that make clear my thoughts and ideas, but still provide a lot of flexibility for us to tease and tweak, moving forward together with ideas that will serve the aesthetic and the performance. White models are just another tool for successful collaboration, a way to shift forward towards a more detailed color model as the process continues.

Episode 4: The Sketch

How I feel when I’m sketching….reality often looks a lot more like a hunched Gollem creature muttering to itself with hands covered in graphite and eraser shavings falling out of the hair. Oh well, this is how I feel on the inside.

There is something that feels almost secret and wonderful about the joy of a sketch. The digital world has opened up an incredible wealth of tools that has allowed for so much accessibility for people to express themselves artistically. Digital mediums are a wonder and I delight in having such things at my disposal to use in my own work. All that being said, the secret delight (although I know that it’s not so very secret really) of the sketch is that it is simply accomplished with very mundane tools; pencil and paper. There is something inherently thrilling about looking at the strokes of someone’s pencil, seeing the way they capture things in their scratches and eraser marks. Truly, a sketch is a wonderful thing.

Now that I’m done waxing rhapsodic on this particular subject, let me get real; the sketch is a useful tool in some respects, but it definitely is a fluid and interpretive piece of information. In the case of a scenic design, a sketch can lie in certain ways. It’s often capturing only a very rudimentary view of the scenery (everyone is always sitting in perfect sight lines right?) , and scale is relative at best. A sketch allows a vast degree of squeezing and scraping and tweaking of perspective that isn’t always in compliance with the laws that govern reality. Compared with the granular accuracy that can be achieved with an in scale live model, or even a 3D rendering in a computer program, it’s a wonder that a sketch is still utilized at all.

Despite all this, I know that for me personally a physical pencil sketch will always be useful. I’ve had some kind of drawing thing in my hand since I was little. Too many things inside, had to get them out and fixed in stillness somehow. It’s still very much like that. After the research, I have to order the vast ecosystem of ideas into some semblance of stillness that will even stand a chance of making sense to a director, and even to myself. Before I can move into a ground plan or model, I have to order objects loosely, investigating if they even make basic sense in a sketch.

Think of the process like steps in the recipe; you don’t just take the raw ingredients, throw them in the oven and expect to get a cake. You need to go through the procedure. Every recipe makes a different treat, but all treats require similar steps of somehow combining raw ingredients together to create something different than the original. The sketch for me is the combining of the raw ingredients of the research and mixing them into the base batter/dough of my design. I can take a quick taste from that batter (you all do it, smile in solidarity and don’t judge) and tell if I need another dash of this or that before putting it in the oven. The sketch is the first taste test to show the director. Sometimes, you make multiple and you pick the one you like best. In this case, I drafted one set of sketches because I knew that we had to shift pretty quickly into the model.

Sometimes, the sketch can be pretty loose to start, only a rough gesture vaguely larger than thumbnail. I may occasionally show this type of sketch to a director depending on the situation, but often this type is reserved FDEO (For Designer Eyes Only)

Example of a loose sketch that I did for Act 4 of The Seagull

In the case of Little Shop, we went with a slightly more formalized process.

My sketch process is actually a hybrid of analog and digital. I start with a picture of the model box of the theatre with a scale figure and usually a piece of model furniture. This will help me establish a scale relative to the human figure (usually made at 6ft. tall because, you know, basically most humans are that height…..sure) and the model piece will help me establish my horizon line so I can keep my perspective (fairly, mostly, it’s chill) accurate.

I do a main sketch on trace paper by hand over this picture of the box; keeps everything within relative proportions. I then create multiple trace paper sketch layers of different set pieces that move in and out of that main sketch.

Base picture of my model box for the Jorgensen Theatre that I will trace over to establish fairly accurate proportions for the sketch.

Main Base Sketch for Little Shop, Skid Row envelope (pre-final Photoshop)

Shop Exterior sketch layer (pre-final Photoshop)

Shop Interior Sketch Layer (pre-final Photoshop)

At this point, I scan all the pieces into the computer and then begins the Photoshop magic. I won’t pretend I’m a marvelous expert in the world of all things Photoshop. However, I use the ten tools I do know to excellent advantage. I’m a mixed media girl at heart. I always say that you should use the best medium for the thing you’re trying to communicate. The basic forms and shading of my scenery is best communicated through analog materials of pencils and marker and then digital tools are remarkably good at emphasizing what is important about those forms in a format that reads beautifully across multiple platforms. I am often sending this information to my director and team digitally, so it is imperative that I do everything possible to ensure that my work is clear and effective when being seen that way.

In this, the sketch is wonderful because I can place the viewer exactly where I want. Sometimes photographing a model can get tricky because I can’t always get the camera exactly where is most ideal. In a sketch, I have full control over the viewpoint and that is a huge advantage, especially at the early stage.

For Little Shop, I built three sketches; the base envelop of Skid Row, the shop front, and the shop interior.

Final Sketch for Skid Row

Final Sketch Exterior

Final Sketch Shop Interior

I had a lot of fun building these. The sketch is one of my favorite parts in the process because it gets at all my favorite things about the way I make art; pencil to paper, mixed media, and then building composite collages of the pieces to make something new. The sketch does have its limits, but it’s crucial and dear to me in both my professional and personal artwork. I mean, come on, who doesn’t love a sweet little drawing?

Episode 3 (Part 2): My Own Research for Little Shop

My personal research process in 2020 (obviously I started this project in 2019, but semantics) usually starts with a Pinterest dive. Please don’t cringe! (that’s mostly for my mentor if he ever reads this, please give me a chance). Pinterest is a deep abyss of image overload and I find it useful for the initial “falling” as I like to call it. I just wind my way down, through, around, and I don’t sensor my impulses for a couple hours. I use it to generate hundreds of “sparks” or potential “paths.” I am not looking for a particular “door” at present, I am just running through as many as I can to see which will offer a working world.

After that first dive, I select things that sing together, that all appear to cohesively look like they belong together. Then, I try and source those images; is this from a certain artist? Can I search more of their work specifically? Did this one come from a book? Can I find that book in one of the many libraries I’m apart of? etc.

On the hunt for images, books are worth their weight in opals. Books are already collections of related things gathered together in a single place so you don’t have to go to the trouble of building from scratch (and funnily enough, a lot easier to make a citation for later in an MFA Project). Still, it can sometimes be tricky to find that perfect book. Even spending hours perusing our art section in the school library isn’t always fruitful; hence why something like the internet or Pinterest, which will sometimes list that book title or artist name to start can be magical.

But, I don’t just use images. I really love to understand the worlds we are trying to build. What is it about the 80’s in American cities that’s special? What actually is Skid Row? What did life look like for people like Audrey and Seymour in a city in that time? For myself, I read a number of articles, but I also respond to audio research. Specifically for this production, I listened to the podcast 99% Invisible’s episode titled Containment Plan. This episode was about the original Skid Row out in LA, and how the city and a group of activists came to an agreement that the Skid Row area (its residents and services) would be kept to a certain few blocks and not spill into the surrounding neighborhoods. This particular piece fascinated me because, while we were definitely going with a more East Coast NYC styled place, the whole idea of people being “contained” within this small piece of the city informed so much of how I wanted our Skid Row to feel.

I wandered the highways and byways of the internet, paged through articles about hostile architecture, listened to podcasts and ultimately, pictures began to emerge. If I were to show you the whole lot of images I initially flagged….well I’m not so no worries. Below, I have curated some of the best and the brightest, the ones that I kept coming back to over and over as the design progressed. They are divided into categories of Skid Row, the Shop, and the Dentist’s office.

Skid Row Research Collage 1

Skid Row Research Collage 2

Shop Research Collage

Dentist Office Collage

I think it fair to disclose that I made these collages recently. They are compiled from images that I found initially in the first research pass, as well as those I collected along the way as various adjustments were made through collaboration. In case it didn’t read clearly throughout these posts, I love this phase. It’s a joy to go on the hunt for the exact visuals that give you the information you need to build the show. Especially in this present time where I am blessed beyond all measure with a wealth of information and resources that I have the privilege to access and utilize to further my art. Truly, what a wild time to be alive.

Episode 3 (Part 1): Research

When you hear the word “research” it might bring to mind flipping through pages and pages of books and articles, grabbing paragraphs and sentences that you can appropriately cite in your bibliography of a very organized paper. Or perhaps you consider it more scientifically; running trials and experiments, gathering data to support your hypothesis.

For a designer, research is somewhat like that. Books are often involved and there is definitely a lot of reading. We are also on the hunt to gather data to prove a hypothesis; in this case, that a design thesis can work. However, we aren’t building a bibliography, but a planet. For the scenic designer, we are mostly looking for images that resonate with what we are thinking about for our “vision” of the play.

Think of each script kind of like that moment in the movie Monster’s Inc. where Sully, Mike, and Boo come through the conveyor belt and see thousands upon thousands of doors before them. Each script holds a multiverse of options, or doors, that the team can open and explore in order to communicate the story. Researching for the designer is the moment where we can gleefully open a whole bunch of doors and explore their possibilities, finding the paths that will ultimately serve our needs best for this project.

Image from the movie Monster’s Inc. (Disney and Pixar)

Now, it’s very important to understand that in American theatre the vision is very heavily influenced by one individual; the director. The relationship between director and designer is absolutely crucial for creating a cohesive design. For me, my focus is making sure that I am an ally to the director, that I am doing everything I can to listen to their wants and needs and then translate that into a design that will satisfy aesthetic and function.

In the case of Little Shop, Dexter was very clear about two things from the beginning:

-He wanted the show to be set in the 80’s

- He was very strongly inspired by B-Movies, particularly horror movies from that era. He also said he really liked the aesthetic and feel of the Netflix series Stranger Things.

80’s Horror Movie Poster Collage (not original to this post’s author)

Stranger Things Poster used for Universal’s Halloween Horror Nights (not original to this post’s author)

So, now I toddle off my merry way to research. Not only is researching necessary for me to start moving my own thoughts on how things should look and feel, but this is the way I can start sharing language of the world with my director. It’s always an interesting dance because as a designer, I can see the world in so many potential pictures moving at a thousand miles an hour for every moment; endless possibilities and doors. For the director, they need a way to see what I’m seeing so they can decide if what I have to offer can work with how they want to move bodies in that space. We have to find a door into a world that works for all; so I look for images that accurately portray the paths I think might work, and then the director picks which one we will walk.

Episode 1: The Script

“…a picture is worth a thousand words, make sure they’re the playwrights.”

Wendall Harrington

First page of text from my script of Little Shop

Words on a page, the first parameters for building a world.

Now, there are some fundamental tools of script analysis that most theatre artists are equipped to use regardless of focus. I’m not going to go through those here because this is a design-centric theatre tale. Suffice it to say, if you are interested in such things, do look up David Balls book Backwards and Forwards.

How do I personally go about script analysis specifically for design? Well, I go in with a foundational question: what do we need to tell the story? Some concrete things that I look for in every script to start helping flesh that answer are:

• Stage Directions (***Please note, the stage directions are a little like the pirate’s code in that they are more like “guidelines.” Sometimes an estate or still living playwright will rigidly dictate that stage directions can’t be altered in any production. More often, however, one is allowed to treat them with a degree of discretion. I tend to look at them to get an idea of how the progenitor originally conceptualized a moment, and because they sometimes subsequently incite what I discuss in the next bullet…)

• What is said by the characters (This is a little less elastic then stage directions, but still can be interpreted with some discretion. Ex: a character may say, “Would you look at the time‽” which could mean there is a clock in view…or maybe it’s through a doorway to a room leading offstage, or a wristwatch…again, definitely more pressing then the stage directions, but still some room to wiggle depending on what the director is looking for in the moment.)

I usually go by a rule of three reads at least when I get a script. The first read: try and just read the piece for what it is (don’t turn on the design brain, just react to the piece as is). Second time: I start notating any words I don’t know, putting in questions (does the director see this as inside or outside? Clarify how we want to make this work etc.). The third time is where I’ll start sketching little thumbnails in the margins and getting a little more designer-y (ex. how can we show the contrast of how this character is processing their inner darkness in this moment of death as opposed to their complete jubilation later when they return from the depths of despair….yeah, my teenage anxt self can come back in my notes, don’t judge).

Soooo, Little Shop of Horrors is a wild show with a wild script to match. Musicals, to start, already present their own special challenges. They often have:

• Multiple locations

• You have to shift through to those locations very quickly and seamlessly because, tempo people!

• You have to style the world so that it’s a place where people believably express themselves through song on a regular basis.

• Often there is a large-ish cast (**Little Shop is somewhat an exception here. We were going to have 12 people in our production, but that was because we fleshed out a small ensemble. I have seen the show done with just 8 people).

• Practically, you have make sure the scenery supports the action and the choreography.

Little Shop has all these fun things plus one teeny tiny extra thing; A VERY LARGE AND VERY ACTIVE PUPPET.

To be specific (in our show) four puppets. Three out of those four need to very strongly interact with the set. Especially the final puppet, the largest one that has to successfully eat three people live onstage (one of whom is running at full speed into it with a machete, but, meh, details) safely and effectively. This isn’t even getting into the practicality of how we seamlessly move these various puppets on and offstage without audience seeing the moves…nope we aren’t even close to thinking about that yet.

At the point where I got through my three readings of the script, I found myself of two minds.

The first:

UMMMMMMMMM………..

And the second:

EEEEEEEE!!!!!

This is an iconic musical. This is one that holds a warm place in the hearts of many, including my own. The music is just good!! I mean, it has so few reprisals, the whole show is full of new songs that span the gamut in style and yet all work beautifully. The plot is macabre and utterly ridiculous, but it does beg the questions that are close and uncomfortable; how far would you go to gain financial security? To never have to worry about anything ever again? To be adored and held in esteem for no other reason than you own something unique? How far would you go to escape poverty, abuse, and danger to achieve the promise of love, prosperity, and a bright future? The show is whimsical, but it’s not fluffy.

This is where I got to in my analysis of the script. I had some ideas about what we were going to need. But, before I could clarify and move on I obviously had very important people I needed to start being in close concert with from here on out; the director and the rest of the creative team.

Lost and Found (A "thesis" story)

OFFICIAL DESIGN ASSIGNMENT OFFER

This was the email I’d been waiting for.

To briefly to introduce you to the circumstances I’m an MFA candidate in Scenic Design at the University of Connecticut. Part of the deal is that I’m technically a designer in residence for the Connecticut Repertory Theatre for the academic year. Myself and my fellow grad students, and sometimes undergraduate, are often the ones designing the various aspects of the shows that are produced by CRT outside of the Nutmeg summer shows. In our third year of grad school, one of our show assignments also acts as our MFA Project (which we refer to as our “thesis” show even though technically it’s a Master’s Project). In addition to fully designing a realized production in the season, we produce a “book” that catalogs our whole process and all the pertinent materials necessary to our design. We then have to present that documentation and discuss our work with a committee that then formally determines if we have successfully accomplished our Project.

Little Shop of Horrors presented at the Harriet S. Jorgensen Theatre by the Connecticut Repertory Theatre, is my MFA Project. The email above was the official confirmation of that assignment. I smiled wide when I got it. Little Shop holds a warm place in my heart, and I knew it would be a “thesis” worthy challenge. Plus, there was some fun history with the director that I will reveal in later posts. I knew it was a beast of a show. I was already anxious about whether I could actually meet the demands it required. Still, I’d wanted it badly. It was mine, and I was going to do my utmost to make it amazing.

Obviously….some things are different now. I find myself in the place of many of my fellow theatre artists. Our show is canceled as a complication of COVID19 prevention measures. This is painful. The creative team has been working actively together on this production since November 15th of 2019; some of us had been working on it since April of that same year. We had just gotten to the point where we had first rehearsals and we were just beginning production of the scenery and other elements. It was going to be a really good show. The cast was excellent, the production facilities new and ready to handle the scale of the show, and the designs…..they were all quite stellar. Another casualty among the myriad of consequences that I’m sure we will still be navigating years from now.

I have mourned for that unrealized piece of my work. I was deeply excited to see it in motion; more excited than I’ve really admitted even to those closest to me because I cry ugly and I prefer to to do that in private. Now, though, what’s left? Actually, quite a lot.

See, I’m really lucky. I’ve done a huge amount of work, all the creative team has. We’ve been living with this show since November (design process at CRT is quite long), and for me that means I’ve produced 3/4 of the materials that I would have ultimately needed for my show in full. I have pages of research images, sketches, a veritable graveyard of model pieces, a fully colored (and darn good looking) color model, a completed drafting package, detailed paint elevations, and miles of photographic proof that this design was real. I’m sad that I won’t be able to include pictures of the pieces coming to life full size. I won’t be able to gasp in delight as the actors interact with the world we made, but, all is not sadness.

My Project is safe (i.e. I can still present and graduate on time) because thankfully it’s set up to be flexible. So long as I did the work (and oh I most definitely did!), I can’t be penalized for something as unprecedented as a pandemic. “In fact,” my mentor told me in a phone conversation not long after the school moved to online and the show was canceled, “documenting and responding to this event will make your thesis probably more interesting and unique than what anyone would have imagined previously.” I heard the subtle message intertwined in his already blatant encouragement; this is a rough situation that could prove a unique opportunity, use it.

And so, I am. I’m taking this space to open up my process. I’m going to walk through the wild places of how the scenic design for this show came into being and show you, to the best of my abilities, what that design would have looked like had you had the opportunity to see the production. Obviously, no paltry model photos or orderly drafting will ever equal seeing a production. However, I would pose these questions to you; how often do you really get to see the design process showcased? How often does a designer stop to really show all the pieces that went into the model box in the display case at the end? Also, how often do we find ourselves with a little more time to actually explore that process in such detail?

This journey is not just about me. It’s also about my collaborators. Sure I want to show you the process of my design, but more than half that process is inextricably tied to the relationships that I share with my collaborators. We have our specialties, but we are an ecosystem where every design decision profoundly affects everyone else’s choices. How we make those choices together and as individuals is what makes our art form unique. This team was amazing and I want to use this showcase to give you a glimpse of how the way we work together is really the thing that makes our work something worth seeing.

I will be showing and telling in detail. I hope you can see how hard we worked to bring you something wonderful. Even though this is a shadow of a thing deferred, this is the way I want you to see my work. This is my MFA Project, a culmination of three years of grueling labor to become better at my craft. I am proud of this. And so, from here, the posts will showcase parts of the process and the people in that process. Welcome to the Shop!