Friday, November 12, 2010

When necks disappear


Because it would make life very difficult otherwise, we spend most of our backstage time without our heads and wings. This means we walk around with these rotund bodies, thick arms, billowing pants and tiny little pinheads sticking out on top.

When we get our stage call we all file into the room backstage. There our wonderful dressers help up hook our wings into our harnesses (hidden by the layers of clothing) and tuck our neck-seams into our overcoats. From then on we mostly rely on mime -- it's very difficult to hear people talking as quietly as they need to when we are onstage. We go from being individuals to being strange uniform beings, varying only in height. Then later as we wait at our various entry points we regain individuality because all of our props are different.

I have some backstage paintings brewing, but I'm struggling a little with the lighting. Blocking is no problem, but to really get it right I need to capture the high-contrast blue and orange lights back there, and how that chef always stands right under the light, but these two are in dark grays near the tablecloth. I took fastidious mental notes last night, but I may need to turn to field notes for this one. I may walk around tonight in the light of neon lights with some paint swatches and see how it changes things.