Chapter 5: Sparkling Personality

I’ve never had a fan before. At least none that were so willing to reveal themselves. For the last recital of the season, Amy Peel’s Dance Company, I again was designated as the flyman. So for the load-in, of which was very extensive, I took over the ropes and did what I could to improve upon my knot tying skills. Felix was on stage calling the orders to me, Amy supervising as the director of a dance company would, and I was pulling ropes and hauling scenery that weighed upwards of a few hundreds of pounds. All the while, Felix was talking to someone else on stage who, by all accounts, sounded very curious.

          Whomever it was, seemed completely fascinated by the entire goings on of the theater. Then Felix pointed out that the voice was asking questions of me. I leaned over the pin rail to shout downward that I couldn’t hear whoever was speaking. The voice repeated, and Felix encouraged said voice to truly speak up.

          The most curious voice turned out to be none other than the daughter of Amy. Teddie. Granted, the first question she was bold enough to ask me was my name. I responded in kind and invited her to the fly loft. Felix pointed the way and the next thing I knew, my first ‘fan’ had joined me high above the stage.

          She asked all sorts of things. She inquired about the weight of the drops, the style of knots I use, and how fast I can move the drops. Full of questions, she persisted tirelessly to interview me of how I came to be a stagehand and about how I came to be at HSP. I wasn’t used to such questions. Not from a youth with genuine intrigue, anyway.

          Having a fan/ new found friend made the technical details of this particular recital easier to bare. What I mean to say is that Amy, while with the best artistic intentions, kept changing her mind as to where certain drops were hung from. But that aside, everyone kept smooth and calm. And true to my form, I did my best to avoid any and all of the glitter. There was plenty on the drops, and the dancers, and in the streamer cannon. … Yes. I said streamer cannon. If you hadn’t guessed yet, this was a huge production.

          And to top it all off, there was going to be a huge Michael Jackson tribute at

the end of the show. The last fifteen or so minutes were devoted to one drop right 

after the other. Then right as the last number ended, I had to fire the streamer

cannon. No pressure. 

           I will say though that it went, as far as I was concerned, well. Everything

 worked and impressed the audience. It was fun, but once again, after climbing

down from the flyrail, I was covered from head to toe in glitter. Somehow, I didn't 

think this is a battle I would win. Having had my fill from Michael Jackson, and

conceding to the glitter for now, I assisted Felix in the strike of the last show for

HSP that season. 

           Amy Peel’s Dance Studio offered me several rare moments that I believe I

will take with me for a long time. I learned just how quickly I can move any given

series of drops and just how heavy they’d have to be to be too heavy for me to lift

(Unbalanced weight: about 350 pounds). I walked away from this experience

proud of what I can do. I was done listening to Michael Jackson for a good long 

while to come, I was genuinely tired,  and I had an even stronger aversion to glitter

than before. I also had a strange thing for me. I had a fan.

          So there I was, glowing. Whether it was the glitter that had won the battle or

the fact that I had a fan, I was glowing. A good way for me to end my time at HSP,

I think.           

     Now, it’s off to Denver, Colorado for my new internship with the Denver Center

of Performing Arts, the Denver Center Theater Company, to be more specific. It’s

upwards and onwards. 

     Best of luck, for now, Faithful Readers. And may Glitter be

warned: You have won the battle, but the war is far from over.

     I’ll be reporting from Denver soon enough. Until then, Cheers.

                                                                                                          -ACS

Chapter 4: Dance A-Cross the Way!

Most of the company was genuinely gracious to me and very kind and welcoming. I was attached to this particular project specifically as Felix’s right-hand-man and the only flyman. Which I was completely stoked about. Not to mention the fact that there wasn’t that much in the flyloft and my jobs were limited to opening and closing the main curtain, and flying in and out the three drops, a disco ball, the “Dance A-Cross” sign, and the strings of Christmas lights that we’ve dubbed “Cher lights”. Easy as pie. …Ish.

          I was taken by how this particular dance company interacted and worked with others, including myself. I wasn’t used to anyone genuinely appreciating the help of others, let alone me as a stagehand. Perhaps the kindness came from the ideas behind the company itself.

          Dance A-Cross was founded, or so Felix has told me, by a dance instructor who wanted to start up an extra curricular activity at her church. She opened up a dance school based on and out of said church and it boomed. When she started she had maybe 50 students, or so Felix suggested, and when she came to HSP this year, she had about 400.

          The two shows (to accommodate everyone) again went off without a hitch, at least on my end. I was very surprised though. None of the set, nor any of the drops, nor any of the costumes had glitter. The dancers’ make-up had glitter, but I wasn’t planning on rubbing their make-up all over me. And yet, again in my stagehanding blacks, I found at the end of the show, I was covered in glitter. It’s out to get me, I swear it.

Despite my ongoing (apparently) war with glitter, I walked away from that show like I had never walked away from any show before. Like I said, everyone of them, save two, were completely gracious and kind and welcoming and genuinely appreciative. Never mind that the only two were the owners’ daughters, but everyone else was kind, including the owner.

Rarely do I feel appreciated in the work that I do, and I’m not in it for that. When I am appreciated, though, it feels great. And I have to say that I walked away from my brief experience with Dance A-Cross refreshed and renewed in my goals in the theatrical arts. I also walked away having learned a ridiculous game called “Ninja”, and I think I walked away with one of the best things this world has to offer…

But that is another story.

Until next time, my faithful readers, please, save yourselves. The glitter will find you too. …It’s relentless.

                             -ACS

Chapter 3: Charlee and the Dance Studio Factory

Felix warned me about this. He said, “You’ll have to get used to various different and strange things being a Technical Director.” I believe I had plenty of both working at Hoyt Sherman Place for this year’s dance recital season.

          This season began with Charlee’s Dance Studio, if memory serves correctly. I worked with Rob, Felix’s usual flyman, for this particular show. I didn’t join Felix and Rob at HSP until the dress rehearsal time, so I didn’t get the joy of hanging all of the drops that were used. And there were plenty. Apparently there were so many drops, that were coming in and going out at often the same time, that Charlee required two flymen. Luckily, the drops were all balanced and weighted by the time I got there.

          Basically when I showed up, Felix had me tighten up the marley, tidy up the back room/ now dressing room, and meet Charlee and her stage crew, and meet and work with Rob.

          Rob worked with me on tying the ropes and securing them so that the very heavy drops or props don’t come crashing down on some dancers’ head. I wasn’t very proficient at the rope tying or securing as of yet, but I was improving. After being um… shown the ropes… (sorry) I caught up with Felix to find out what to do next. He pointed out that Charlee has taken over the rehearsal and now if she calls for something, that’s when we bring it in. Then he pointed out that he has a computer game to distract him until he’s called upon. I remembered that I had a book in my car and I go to get it. And so begins a waiting portion of this adventure.

It wasn’t until the late evening that she actually called for something to be dropped in…

Nothing much was ultimately dropped in or flown out, in point of fact. That dress rehearsal night was not very active to say the least.

The next day was the day of performances, both of them. Nothing like a very early morning to get into the stage handing mood. Which went off without a hitch, now that I mention it. At least on my end. In between the two performances that day, the light board shorted out and made it an interesting second performance. Interesting in that Felix and Sarah were running the shows’ lights for the second show, live. A scary notion for any lighting designer.

Now, while my own involvement went off without a hitch, it is here that I should mention my aversion to glitter. I’ll use it, mind, but when I do, I do so knowingly, at my own risk. I hate glitter. Only because it finds its way everywhere. And I do mean everywhere.

For Charlee’s Dance Studio, there was no glitter on any of the drops. There was no glitter in the fly loft. I thought I was safe. I was wrong. I was as far as I could be from any dancer and anything shining over abundantly with glitter. And yet, at the end of the shows, I, in my stagehanding blacks, was covered in glitter. Take it from me, Faithful Readers, glitter is not a force to be trifled with. It will find you.

Until next time, Friends. Beware the shiny.

                                 -ACS

Chapter 2: The Tale of Serkon and The Des Moines Ballet

My first impression of Serkan was that he was an extremely tightly wound gay Frenchmen. Well, he wasn’t French, he was Arabic. And he wasn’t gay. His wife was one of the more graceful dancers in the Ballet Des Moines company. However, she was more tightly wound than he was, which is saying a lot. (sigh).

Observing this, I thusly begin The Tale of Serkan and the Des Moines Ballet. (Insert cheesy throwing of the dust into the campfire moment)

Preparations were already going on in the HSP Theater throughout the week. I had joined Felix earlier that week to collect some equipment from another venue and to aide him in setting up for the Des Moines Women’s club event going on that Wednesday. All in all, a pretty relaxed atmosphere. Then the remainder of the days that week took an interesting turn.

I returned to HSP to continue to help Felix set up for the performances of the Ballet Des Moines. On my way into the theater, I met a lady sitting on one of the many door stoops, smoking and not really looking like she wanted to be there. Being me, I waved and said, “Good morning.” She didn’t really return the sentiment, but rather did a quick head nod and looked away, clearly not wanting to be disturbed by someone so cheery. I made note of her icy nature and planned to avoid her during the next couple of days. Easier said than done, but I did have to adjust to being glared at strongly for the next few days.

I walked into the theater to find Felix working furiously on the light board. “Good morning, Felix. Where would you like me today?” I asked. He directed me to continue putting imitation street lamps together and plugging them in and making sure they worked. Upon completion of that, I rolled out marley, the specialized rubber floor that dancers use, and various tasks to get the stage of HSP ready for Ballet Des Moines. As the day progressed, different Ballet Des Moines classes were being taught on the stage, which made moving things across the stage increasingly difficult. There were no collisions, luckily for me. It didn’t spare me from being randomly glared at, though. The way I figure it, I was being glared at, because I was working on and crossing their stage.

My interactions with Serkan, the artistic director of Ballet Des Moines, in particular, were unique in that he never once addressed me by name, or by my position, or even at all. I would have settled for a, “Hey You!”, but nothing. He would just come up to me and adjust his own body position so that he was in the center of my vision and start dumping his own worries, anxieties, and questions to me. It’s at this point that I realize that Felix is nowhere to be found and it’s on my shoulders to calm this uptight man. And calm him I did.

I had no reason to doubt what we were doing, so I convinced Serkan that if I wasn’t worried, he shouldn’t be. “Yes, Serkan. It will be done by the time you need it. Yes, Serkan it will look good. Yes, Serkan the lights will be fabulous.” I made the mistake of snickering once in my interactions with him. He turned from slowly-relaxing guy back to everything-is-going-wrong guy before I could speak. He then demanded what was so funny. Was he funny? I quickly told him I remembered a joke from earlier that day and repeated it to him. He calmed down, but he didn’t laugh. He left me to bother another techie about why there were cables and plugs laying around in one particular spot. Like I said, slightly uptight.

 The rest of the day went as planned, or at least as someone had planned it. Felix found me and told me that my stagehanding position would be in the fly loft. No problem for me, I thought. I’m used to such.

And it really was no problem. Except for my lack of knot tying/ rope tying skills.

Remember how I said that Hoyt Sherman Place was an antiquated theater? Part of that is very much reflected in the fly loft rigging. Apart from the motorized (a specialized power wrench attached to the drive gear) winch, the fly rail is the exact same system as the theaters of old and even older used. Though, instead of hemp, the rope found in HSP is nylon.

Insert brief history lesson here: Way back when, stagehands were off-season sailors. Sailors who communicated by whistles (there’s a valid superstition about that…) and shouts. The theater mechanics had to accommodate any given sailor at the time, so a lot of the theater workings are not too dissimilar from the workings and mechanics of a ship. In particular, the fly loft, designed very much like the rigging of a ship, has mooring anchors to tie off the various ropes to. In this case, instead of holding nets, cargo, sails, and spare parts, these ropes held scenery and special drop-ins.

As for my lack of knot tying skills, I’ll simply say that tying off the ropes isn’t as easy as it looks, but I did get the hang of it.

I wasn’t nearly as busy as I thought I’d be up in the fly loft. Which worked out in my favor, I think. I got to watch the performance from a unique vantage point. And watching the dancers, both professional and amateur alike, I was in sheer awe of the grace and style they all possessed. I felt very lucky being the one to watch from above. And once again, a bit stronger this time, I felt like Joseph Buquet.

 

The performances went off without a hitch and Serkan was proud and ecstatic. And relieved. Felix was glad it was over for another year, and I was just glad I got to enjoy one of the oldest arts from one of the oldest arts professions. And I got to learn some simple rigging in the styling of a sailor.

Until next time… Ship up, me hearties. Yo ho! -ACS