There is blood in my show. Fake blood. There is blood painted on costumes and blood on people’s hands and blood on props. Blood always causes lots of consternation when you try to put it in a show. It’s super messy, to start – to really look good onstage it has to be quite thick and sticky. Also stage blood gets on everything. Which is usually the point – it’s supposed to have a big visual impact. But it gets on the costumes, it gets all over the set, it drip drip drips onto the floor. And then you have to clean it up. From the stage, from the props, and from the costumes. For our show we use special stage blood that is supposed to wash out of costumes – it has soap as one of the ingredients. But the costume department always does a test first. Just because something says it will wash out, doesn’t always means it will wash out of all fabrics.
Also the other tricky thing about blood – which department deals with it? Sometimes it’s the make-up department. Sometimes it’s the prop department. Let’s be honest, no one wants to be responsible for it, but also no one wants other departments to be responsible for getting their things bloody.
And then, what is the best way to get blood on a person? The super simple way is to paint it on a costume, and have a rip away patch that is surreptitiously removed at the right moment. Sometimes we hide a bloody sponge on the stage somewhere so that the performer can swipe the sponge and then swipe the blood on themselves. Another method we make small blood pouches out of Ziploc bags and the performer carries it hidden on their persons and then pops the bag at the right moment.
For my current show, the blood is actually applied offstage and they performers come back onstage with blood dripping from their hands. The director did indeed want the hands dripping with blood. But we didn’t want to much blood that it would drip all over the floor for people to walk in and track all over. We needed predictable bloodiness. So at one point we were trying to figure out how to get the singers’ hands sufficiently bloody in the thirty seconds that they are offstage.
“Let’s do a blood test,” I suggested to the prop coordinator.
“Sure,” she said. “The tricky thing is figuring out where we can do it.”
Turns out that if we do it backstage, we have to have the prop department involved and they were about to go on dinner break. If we do it down in the dressing rooms, we have to have a wardrobe person involved and they weren’t on the call that day.
“Let’s just do it in the parking garage,” I said in half-joking exasperation.
“Actually….” she said.
Which is how I ended up kneeling on an old sheet in the bottom level of the parking garage at work with my hands in a basin of blood.
It was messy and sticky. But it did wash off rather well.
Sometimes I love how ridiculous my job is.
I mean not suspicious at all to be found in a parking garage with blood dripping form my hands…
I’m writing this post as part of NaBloPoMo – click on the icon below to see who else if participating. You can also leave me questions for an upcoming “Ask me Anything” post via this link. Happy reading and writing everyone!
Another full week, but not as packed as the week before, thank goodness- On Monday we started rehearsals for a my next show, and that evening I had my last titles gig of the season. I worked 5 evening during the week, so I’m feeling really behind on the home front. Laundry, general house picking up, spaces that need to be organized, the living room still needs curtains. I also still need to register the two older kids for summer camp and I’m starting to have a little bit of anxiety about that. And we still have to renew our pool membership for the summer.
And all of it is big ticket items. I think in my mind we got through the expensive part of the year with our spring break trip and I’m waiting for a less expensive month, but really it doesn’t come.
Some highlights of my week: – Slowly getting back into running. I did one pre-rehearsal run and one dinner break run, both less than 1.5 miles, but it’s something. I attempted another run on Saturday on the dinner break. The weather looked iffy, but I thought I could beat the rain. I was wrong. About 3/4 of a mile out it started to sprinkle. Then it turned into a deluge. Like one of those “I stood under a restaurant awning for 10 minutes hoping it would pass but eventually gave up and ran the four blocks back to work” kind of deluge. I was quite the sad soddened mess. And the dumb thing is I didn’t check the weather before hand that day; the morning was gorgeous so I didn’t even bring a raincoat. wump wump.
– Balloons in rehearsal. There are balloons in rehearsal. Bright colourful balloons. I got to use the helium tank and blow them up. It made me happy. One of my co-workers offered to take them down to the rehearsal hall for me, and I was like, “No way! I blew them up, I want to carry them down the hallway!” Of course they were sad and droopy by the next day, but that’s okay.
– The voice recital that I did supertitles for. Most of the songs were new to me, but there were two I absolutely loved. The first is called A Soft Day. It’s by a English composer C.V. Stanford, based on a poem by Winifred Letts. The poem describes a day that is damp and quiet and full of nature.
A soft day, thank God! A wind from the south With a honeyed mouth; A scent of drenching leaves, Briar and beech and lime, White elder-flower and thyme And the soaking grass smells sweet, Crushed by my two bare feet, While the rain drips, Drips, drips, drips from the eaves.
A soft day, thank God! The hills wear a shroud Of silver cloud; The web the spider weaves Is a glittering net; The woodland path is wet, And the soaking earth smells sweet Under my two bare feet, And the rain drips, Drips, drips, drips from the leaves.
I love poems that are able to capture a moment so precisely in words that I can almost feel the misty air around me. The song setting of this poem has that same relaxed and pensive feeling to it. And the way the notes “drip” like the rain…
British contralto Kathleen Ferrier. Pianist Frederick Stone. Such elegant singing.
My second favorite song in the recital was a beautifully sweet lullaby by Puccini. Puccini wrote lots of operas, big, grand affairs. I guess he also wrote lots of songs too, and I thought this one, Sogno d’or (Golden Dreams) was lovely. In it a parents sings to a child about how the angels will come to them as they sleep. You can listen to it here.
Soprano Krassimira Stoyanova. I worked with her years ago – she was a lovely person. We managed to communicate despite her not speaking English and me not speaking Italian.
Sunday was my day off, and even though there is not skating lessons this week since it is between sessions, I still took the kids skating. Actually the whole family went, though the Husband only sat and watched. It’s been so fun to see the kids get more and more confident on their skates. The three year old can skate by herself now, even though she insists on holding my hand while we skate.
In the afternoon we went downtown to meet my cousin who was in town for work. One thing I like about living near D.C. is that people often come to town for work, so we get to see them. We met my cousin at the National Postal Museum, which is one of my favorite of all the Smithsonian Museums. They have lots of informative and interactive exhibits which I find appeals to both me and the kids. Kids can learn how to sort mail, and design their own stamps and collect stamps too.
After the Postal Museum we walked down to Chinatown and had dinner at Jaleo, a tapas restaurant that is quite well known here. We decided to order the shrimp and squid paella in addition to a variety of tapas. I’ve been to Jaleo several times, but never ordered the paella; I think in my mind, a dish that’s mostly rice sounds unexciting. Well. I was proven wrong. The paella was heavenly. We also ordered dessert and there was a rice pudding with a lemon cream. Rice pudding, also something that is a very pedestrian desert in my mind, but which was divine in this iteration. I might have to reconsider my prejudice against rice.
Something that makes me smile: my pen holder from Muji and my red pencil. Years ago a colleague introduced me to 0.9 lead and it’s been my lead thickness of choice ever since. Of course everyone at work now used 0.9 lead pencils and we were constantly mixing up pencils since the barbells were all the same color. Eventually I stuck a piece of tape on mine so I knew which one was mine. When I found that Amazon sells my favorite pencils in my favorite color red, and not only that, in packs of 12, I immediately got a box and now I always know which 0.9 lead pencil is mine.
The pen holder, I found of the Japanese houseware store Muji. I was always putting my pencil down and forgetting where it was. Now, I have this clip on my binder and my pencil – and the green Frixion pen that I use to mark entrances – live there and I always know where it is. That adage “A place for everything” – I feel like this pen clip embraces that for me, at least in this small area of life. It’s not just about my writing utensils’ location but about containment and security. It makes me happy and feels so satisfying knowing where to put my pencil after I jot a notes, and to be able to find it when I need it.
A link I loved: I always enjoy the New York Times “By the Book” column where they interview noted people about their favorite books, not so favorite books, reading habits, etc. This week’s column features Judy Blume, and it is excellent. I put a lot of the books she mentioned in my TBR list, and have already started Sherman Alexie’s The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian and two chapters in it is already by turns hilarious and hesrtbreaking. I think of Judy Blume mostly as the author of “Superfudge”. I do remember reading “Are You There, God? It’s Me Margaret” but not really relating to it as much as I thought I would. Maybe it’s time for a re-read?
Grateful for: – a morning walk with a friend. Several days I had afternoon and evening rehearsals, so I had the morning off. One morning, my friend from the bus stop asked if I wanted to go for a walk, so we did. The weather was nice, sunny, spring time weather. Afterwards we made plans to meet up at the park on Friday when the kids’ were off school. This friend is moving at the end of the summer – her husband is in the foreign service – and it makes me a sad that they are moving because I feel like I don’t make friends’ easily. I’m really glad she started talking to me at the bus stop one morning. They’ll be back in a couple years, though – I’ll just have to keep in touch. – Having a car and being able to drive the kids to school. Another school bus related thing. One day, the morning school bus did not come at all. After half an hour of waiting, the parents who were at the stop took all the kids that were still waiting for the bus to school – whomever had a free seat in their car took a kid. I’m grateful that this is a community where this generosity is not weird and people are just willing to give another kid a ride to school without a second thought. – Getting to listen to really talented people make music. For this show, I’m running the stage left side of stage. In rehearsal it means that from where I sit I get a prime view of the rehearsal pianist. I am in awe of how their hands dance over the keyboards, up and down, fast and slow. Sometimes they even sing the parts of the chorus or other characters who aren’t in rehearsal while their hands sprint across the notes. I try to find moments to savor every day and last week, many of those moments were watching the rehearsal pianists.
Looking forward to: – Finalizing summer camp plans. As in looking forward to it being done, much the same way I was looking forward to our taxes being done.
– Happy Hour with moms from my mom’s group.
– reading this book. I love a good Jane Austen retelling and this one is proving pretty fun and thoughtful.
What we ate: (a lot more eating out than normal this week. I feel like we’re kind of in a meal planning slump)
Monday- I had my titles gig so I got take out from Beefsteak – tofu kimchi bowl. I am not sure what everyone else ate.
Tuesday- Pasta salad with the leftover grilled veggies from the Sunday before. vegan. I was working, so I made this in the morning before I went to work.
Wednesday – The Family had take out wings to celebrate a good report card. I was at work and brought leftover pasta salad.
Thursday – vegetarian tortilla soup in the Instant Pot. From this recipe from Two Sleevers website (aka the Butter Chicken Lady). Made in the morning before I went to work.
Friday – The Husband took the kids out to eat because they were off school and the 11 year old had a basketball game upcountry. I probably lay had leftovers.
Saturday- Pizza and movie night. The family watched Might Ducks. I went out for a drink with colleagues after work and missed the movie.
Usually I’m the one who puts the 3 year old to bed and the Husband puts both the baby and the eight year old to bed. Last night we decided to switch and I put the baby to bed. I haven’t done this in a while because it doesn’t go well for me. My method of putting her down involves nursing her to sleep and then being stuck underneath a sweaty sleeping baby because a) she is super sensitive and wakes whenever I move, b) I am too short to reach over the crib railing for a smooth baby touchdown to the mattress, and c) she has my nipple firmly clenched in between her teeth.
The Husband, however, has some crazy daddy magic technique that gets her to go down with minimal amount of crying. Except in the cases where I let her nap too late into the afternoon or she falls asleep during her post dinner nursing session. Then all bets are off and the baby gets to hang out and watch 30 Rock with mom and dad. These incidences are very rare. Dad is that good.
Anyhow, last night, after the Husband explained his flip and settle technique of getting the baby into the crib, as well as his very precise 10 minute walk, 10 minute rock routine, he left me with the baby.
So I got to do something I haven’t done since last October. I got to walk aimlessly around in the dark, trying to keep a little tyrant happy as I watch the minutes of my life tick by. Also known as lightwalking. Okay, so I wasn’t really lightwalking. But it sure felt like it.
Lightwalking, for those of you unfamiliar with the phrase, is when, during the technical period of a show, people stand onstage so that the lighting designer and the director can have bodies to look at as they create the lighting looks. Now who these bodies are vary by company. Sometimes they are volunteers who come and do it for cookies, coffee, and dress rehearsal passes. Sometimes it’s an intern or two or three. Sometime it’s a stack of chairs. At my home company, it’s the assistant stage managers.
Now, I love my job. But there is one part of it I don’t love to do. Okay there are two: 1) I hate having to tell the chorus to be quiet, and 2) I really don’t love light walking. It is physically tiring to have to stand still for minutes (or hours) on end (though a lot of stage managers are good at letting the light walkers know when they can relax and sit down for a second). Also, while often I bring a book or something, a lot of times I can’t really do much while light walking because someone is looking at you – or rather what the light is doing around you – so if you move, a voice from the darkness of the theatre will say, “Can you please look up?” Mentally you have to keep yourself engaged because once in a while the stage manager will send you on an errand to find the crew, or make some photo copies, or some such. So you stand there, a human mannequin, and just let the thoughts run through your head. It’s usually some monologue like, “Do I need to update the paperwork for this evening’s rehearsal? I should follow up on that note. Did I move that Post-It in my book? What’s for lunch in the Canteen? I forgot to tell the Husband that there are diapers in the wash. I have to pay the bills. Hmmm … what is this spike mark here and do we still need it?” and so on.
Faust groundcloth. Look at all those spike marks! Yes, we need all of them.
So over the years I have learned to embrace the special part of my job that is lightwalking. I’ve learned to enjoy my book one page at a time. Sometimes I’ll bring a crossword puzzle, or my fellow ASM will bring trivia cards which we can read to each other over the special ASM channel on our headsets. That latter is actually a fun bonding experience. I’ve learned how fun it is to get to be on parts of the set and recreate stage pictures (Tosca jump, anyone?), even to pretend to be a chorus of sixty with just two other ASMs. I’ve come to love the quiet of lighting session – this loud quiet of work being done, punctuated by the tapping of buttons as the electrician programs the light board, the gentle murmur of voices as the artistic staff contemplates the visual details, the quiet conversations of the crew as they wait in the wings for one of us to ask them to move a chair, or a wall, the soft scratchy brush strokes of the painter as they do touch up on the set, with their softly apologetic reminders of where not to step . I’ve learned to delight in looking up close at our sets – marveling at how the peeling painted foam looks like beautiful medieval rocks from the audience. I’ve learned to brace myself when someone calls, “Going dark!”, ready to have the lights all go out and be enveloped in velvety faux night. And I’ve learn to be really Zen about standing in the dark, to savor being onstage and looking out and appreciate how fleeting the work we do is. The gentle knowledge that standing on this green spike mark, this is where I am meant to be now, and this is what I am doing now, and there is nothing more important I can be doing for the show right now than standing right there, looking into that blinding light.
And last night, as I was trying to get the baby to sleep, I had this realization that this was my COVID version of lightwalking. This walking back and forth in the dark, the quiet murmurs of night time, this holding something ephemeral yet full of life in my arms, this protective possessiveness, this opportunity to be in the moment, in a walking mediation, even this living in fear of failure and tears while being slightly bored… this was where I was, and this was where I needed to be at that moment.
