Let the Memory Live Again

It's been some time since I've had an hour or two for writing.  As an update, CATS opened well.  Most of the houses have been sold out minus Sunday, which was seventy percent.  Dress rehearsal got pushed back 24 hours due to Tech delay because of the theater's dimmer melting.  We ended up making one cat suit, hand painted with hand-knit warmers, some wigs, and various accessories to polish the rental a bit.  

During dress rehearsal, Rum Tum Tugger's wig just would not stay on.  I pinned it myself for the second dress, discovering that because of the punk-rock look of his character there is a fine buckram, yamaka-like base make the hair thicker and spikier at the top of his head.  It is impossible 

to pin into.  So, after spraying his pin-curls with lots of hairspray pinning the wig cap to the pin curls, and taping the front of his wig, we also turn the wig inside out until just the buckram is resting on his head and secure that part to his wig first, before putting actual wig pins into the pin curls.  I got it down to 20 minutes before I handed it over to our assistant musical director who doubles as wig and makeup consultant; he has his cosmetology license.  

Director ended up leaving town

 mid-CATS for personal reasons.  In his absence there were a few in-company self-nominations to take his place.  But Artistic Director ended up calling in a kind and wise young actor who was in the CATS national tour to coach the company into opening.  "Are you the replacement director?" I ask hopefully.

"No, I'm just the CATsultant."

Hehe, I think.  His dimples flirt with anyone in a 10-foot radius.  

Dress rehearsal with him is a breeze.  We talk openly and kindly about how to make this cat more sexy, and this one cuter, and he gives me some makeup notes, but mostly encourages the entire company and tells me just putting CATS up, whether I designed it our not, is a "major accomplishment."  The real satisfaction I feel is that I'm one fourth done with the summer and I'm not yet over budget.  I'm happy to see that it actually looks professional and polished on stage.  I enjoy the catchy music and most certainly am still moved by Memory, a song my sister sang incessantly growing up along with my mother's favorite, Barbara Streisand, whom I was forced to listen to while running marathon errands in my mother's 1972 Volvo (the angular kind that look like a giant Lego).

The day after opening I spot Director at CATS' Sunday performance.  Immediate anxiety sets in.  I don't want to go to the production meeting in the morning.  I stay up all night to work on renderings and read the script three or four more times.  I also make color palettes to share with the scenic and lighting designers.  But mostly I think I stay up because I want to savor my precious last moments before I must continue my working relationship with him.  "Nobody ever makes me feel this self conscious," I think to myself.  What is going on with me?

Our production meeting goes well.  I try to move it along to relay color concept with the other designers and touch upon logistics rather than getting delayed by details that the director and I can discuss without everyone waiting.  At the end of the day Director tells me "Everything's looking great.  Thank you."  I'm flabbergasted.  

In my newly re-instated self-security, I wonder about catalysts for human energy.  There are two main types initiate by one person onto another; positive and negative.  I discovered in high school that when someone yells at me to get me to penever come out or freeze up and not do anything.  I have also learned that when someone is too kind and understanding, I tend to go easy on myself as well, in work circumstances that includes, extending deadlines, and sometimes substituting verbal discriptions with hard visual illustrations.  I remember being considerable afraid of my father as a child and not because he was abusive or even really mean.  He did seem powerful and not to be fucked with.  From age twelve on, his inner softness, his inner child, and his humanity grew increasingly apparent and I can remember asking him finally, "What was that, you used to be so scary?" 

"I believe in raising children with a healthy dose of fear," my dad answered.  

Was this what Director had done to me?  Scared me shitless into producing a thorough set of costumes for him?  It is the opposite experience I have had with most directors; I think because with other projects, the directors picked me themselves.  In this instance, the Artistic Director hired me as a Costume Designer and him as a Director, which can get complicated.  Now I know to always ask to speak to the director before I agree to a job. Although at first Director's comments felt like a very negative attempt at getting what he wanted, I am at peace with his antics and rather relieved by his straight-forwardness.  After all, two weeks is a minuscule amount of time to make a meaningful and cohesive Theatrical experience.  

On the upside, this week I finally realized that I am meeting some wonderful people here, with whom I have already shared my dreams.