Love without reason, love without mercy, love without pride or shame.

Love isn't so convenient
Love isn't something scheduled in advance
Not something guaranteed you need for fear it may pass you by
You have to take a chance
You have to try it out
What's love unless it's unconditional?
--Passion, by Sondheim

Four shows have gone up. I've learned a lot, done many things I haven't before. The first show was creating a diverse and magical wonderland through mostly found sound in the first KIDDStuff production, Alice in Wonderland. The second was making the forest of Marivaux's The Dispute come alive with live sound created by the actors with sticks, leaves, rocks, and the architecture of the theater itself (also a strategically placed desk fountain). If You Give a Pig a Pancake was the latest kids show--that script has a song written into it, the lyrics in the script, but for reasons that are still confusing, we couldn't get our hands on the actual music that went along with it--so I composed the music for these lyrics, which is a very peppy, catchy showtune. Currently most people at the theater hate me because it's in all of their heads. (I didn't know I could write a catchy song. actually.) So I also composed bits of underscoring based on that tune to highlight different sequences in the show. The fourth was Is Very Good Story of Ukrainian Heroism, is a devised piece about children in an orphanage who have unheard of physical deformities as a result of the Chernobyl disaster. That's mostly original composition and a good amount of emotionally-used explosions.

I'm starting on several other shows right now: Click, Clack, Moo, another children's show, directed by someone I've worked with in NYC, actually... Willy Wonka, which will be a cast of children and that's going to be a feat... and Beggar on Horseback, the final "Wedge" show (these are the more experimental shows) which will be... more original composition. Composition is not always the realm of a sound designer, unless they're up for it, and I said yes early on so now people are very much using me for that. It's fun. To be more precise, for Beggar on Horseback I'm live recording, editing, looping, and mixing original composition from violin, on stage, wearing a lot of black eyeliner. (I'm always interested to see how different directors use me.)

One of the reasons I fell in love with design was the opportunity it provided for love. While, of course, as a director I do what I do out of love, there's something gorgeous about listening to a director describe a vision, and then using my own thoughts and ideas and expertise to expand that, help realize it, dream further, to care for a specific part of the collaboration so deeply, to take that over so the director doesn't have to obsess over it. It's a certain kind of care that requires you to be generous with yourself, you care, your time and I love it.

I learned a lot about care on the last two shows. Things tend to change a lot during tech, which is when we see finally see everything together and in the space, and it's the time that's the most trying in any process. For one of the shows, we'd had things pretty set by the time we got into tech, but after our dress rehearsal it was clear that certain things needed to change. This actually involved me recomposing at least a third of a show. In under an hour. At this point, it would be perfectly acceptable for me to do what I could, find something that would work for each moment, and move forward. But I've been trying to challenge myself to be a more generous designer, and I managed, in about half an hour, to push myself to have multiple options for nearly every moment in the show that we'd decided to rework. I have never worked that hard and fast in my life before (and I scrambled the rest of the time, trying to program in all the changes we'd made, quickly running out of time), but it was absolutely worth it. I was proud to be able to give options in even that situation. What it came to was generosity. To be so generous with my time and effort and love that I pushed myself farther than I knew I could go. Partially being prepared to be flexible, but mostly, generosity.

Later on that day, in tech for another show, I had to say, "No," to a director. I. HATE. Saying. No. This gets me into trouble sometimes because I overcommit (which is how I ended up working on 13 shows last semester), but it takes a lot for me to say no to a director in tech. To the point where I was actually agonizing about the fact that I'd said no throughout the next day. I'd only said no because, for this show, we'd be backtracking way too far in the creative process to make that change, as well as not having the time to properly tech that section. And it killed me, but I know that, out of love for what the final product was going to be, it was the answer I needed to give.

I guess most people would come here for the opportunity to practice their art with few distractions and more support than we often get in small theaters in New York City, to meet people and make connection, to get experience. And yes, I'm here for those reasons. But for me, the opportunity to be challenged to keep caring, to expand my capacity to love, is just as valuable. Because while I work as a designer, as a director, my true job, the reason I'm here, is to love people. To love everyone. Plain and simple, job description of a Christian. And I take that extremely seriously. Theater puts a lot of people in high stress, emotional situations, and therefore is a great place to put this into practice and expand the amount you can love. Because it is possible for that to grow, if you make an effort.

The thing that has ceased to make sense to me is why you wouldn't push yourself to give. Unbounded generosity. I mean… I guess I see that it's tiring. Fine, it's grueling, and potentially insane... but it's absolutely worth it. Why not love all the way, in that gritty, inconvenient, terrifying way?

Love without reason
Love without mercy
Love without pride or shame
Love unconcerned with being returned
No wisdom
No judgement
No caution
No blame...

(also Passion, because Sondheim is a genius. Duh.)

Source of light

I was in New York City this weekend, dealing with some logistical things and visiting people and taking a break. One of the directors I'm working with asked if I was going to go to Central Park to see the fireworks. Nope, I said. I did not leave Brooklyn at all on July 4th. I went to a BBQ in the late afternoon, had a couple of glasses of sangria, saw people I hadn't seen in months, ate good food, relaxed. Then a group of us walked through Bushwick to another friend's place... where, after eating MORE good food, we rushed to the roof after the sun set to see what we could see.

The roof was full--many people from that building had decided to party on the roof that night, but it was not at all overcrowded. But rather, there was a buzz from people and excitement and celebration. Two of the residents of the building formed a band, and were playing live music there on that random roof in Brooklyn. And there were guerilla fireworks going off everywhere. Every direction we looked. Despite the "Fireworks are Illegal" signs that had been posted everywhere, people were gathering in the streets to shoot rockets into the sky out of celebration. Not really a patriotic celebration, but rather a celebration of LIFE. Of existing, of being alive and able to celebrate in that moment.

And that is how I spent the 4th of July. Sitting on a rooftop in Bushwick, with good music, good food, and good company, talking about art and how we graduates are moving forward and how grateful we are for what we learned and how useful and important it is, with a panoramic view of fireworks that were not designed to be impressive, but instead recklessly set off in pure joy of living.

I don't see how anyone with eyes could possibly limit God to a church building, when He's staring us in the face so obviously.