In addition to my normal job (which is going great by the way!), I have been doing some informal teaching as a lighting designer at a youth theater and a speech coach at my alma mater (yes, these are jobs). Now that my coaching and designing are over for the season, I've realized that I was indeed a teacher and that these students of mine have learned things from me and wow is that cool.
It really hit home for me at the last interactions I had with my students. For the speech team, that was an end of year dinner, and for the theater, it was when our last show closed on Sunday.
At the end of year dinner, the head coach spoke about every student on the team, but when he finished his acknowledgements, the team then spoke about each of their coaches. My senior original orators spoke about me as a coach, and one of them recounted the first day I came to practice. I was working with another student on her performance, and instead of taking notes and letting her run the piece once or twice, I kept stopping her and we went through the introduction in parts for an extended period of time. We worked on her intonation, her gestures, and getting her to stop using a "public speaking" voice in favor of a more natural tone. This was a normal practice for me because it is a truth universally acknowledged that we teach how we were taught. I pretty much forgot about it until she brought it up again, and it really made an impression on her! She had never seen coaching like that before. And later in the season she and I did the same thing for her speech. The other student talked about how I seemed to approach all of my work with the team with care and love. They also said that getting to know me gave them hope for their own futures, to know that it is possible to go to college, keep loving the things that they love, and come back as the cool alumna. It is no secret that I do not self identify as "cool." That evening, I felt like I was truly acknowledged and appreciated for the work that I had been doing throughout the speech season, that I wasn't just an extra person, and that I made a difference.
And the tangible results of my teaching? All of my orators made it to the state competition. So proud.
The show was a very different type of experience. There were four shows in the season: a teen play, two kids' musicals, and a teen musical. The kids' shows are for 2nd-9th graders, and they are two casts of nearly 100 kids each doing big ensemble musicals. The teen shows are a little more interesting. As lighting designer, I get to do more interesting work on the teen shows than on the kid shows because I can shape space more and use different angles and effects without compromising the product that they parents see. For the kids, my job is for every relative to see the face of their child on stage. I anticipated that this would be solitary work, that I would just do my programming and leave, but the teen run crew and cast needed some coaching from me. First of all, I had an amazing 14-year-old board op who really wanted to learn about lighting. I would narrate for her how I made the looks for the shows, what choices I was making about angle and shape and color and timing, and she really got it! By the end of the teen shows, she was running them on her own perfectly (on the Express and using the follow spot! By herself!). It was really impressive to me to see how much she had learned about running the shows over the course of the year.
I also worked out a system with the backstage run crew so they could work the house lights (it's a super old theater) and be able to do their set changes safely. With the actors, there were always those who would step out of their light. I would tell them that the light is there based on where they are supposed to stand, and if they are uncomfortable in the spot then they're probably in their light. Young performers invariably stand five feet to the left of their light. It just always happens. But in this last show, I saw a performer learn how to find her light during a show, and it was so gratifying to see that the notes were heard and the students learned something. It was also really great to see the design as it was originally conceptualized. Anyway, at the end of every show of the season, the cast gives gifts to the staff, and they always say a few words before presenting the gift. No matter how frustrated I was after sitting through the rehearsals and shows for two or three weeks, when they thanked me, it all felt worthwhile. I think some of the teens really came to appreciate me as a mentor and not just the designer.
These two jobs are my side gigs, the ones I do for fun, the ones that let me be artistic and creative. Well, sort of artistic and creative. There's only so much I can do with 100 small children on stage. But I digress.
The moral is that I watched young people transition from doing things that did not work to doing things that did work and they figured out what things work as the result of my coaching. And that is a crazy awesome thing to observe.
Today is awesome because I had some really good conversations with people and it was sunny and my workout was good and there are two people in my workout class who were at the same concert as me last week and we connected today through our love of the band.
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
Monday, May 18, 2015
On Subjects, Objects, and the Scale of Celebrity
This is a very conceptual and slightly intellectual post. I have been pondering this topic for a long time and I finally have some words for the ideas. It's been eating at me the last week and a half, so I'm writing this post to get the thoughts from my brain to someplace tangible so I can keep developing my theory.
I think I began thinking about this topic in the fall of 2010 when I went to my first YouTube meetup. You can read that post here, but I talked about what it was like to meet people I had been watching online for years in person (point #2 in the post, it is a trainwreck from my first few days of blogging ever-what a throwback). They seemed to be the same in person as they were in their videos, but there was this weird dynamic of me knowing so much about them from what they share publicly (like a college major or relationship status) and them having no clue who I am because I am not a public figure the way they are. But it was as if they had jumped out of my computer screen and were suddenly standing right in front of me, and it was really cool.
Fast forward three years, and 3/5 of those YouTubers have been brought forth as manipulative and abusive humans. And when all of this news broke, it got me thinking about that strange dynamic of knowing vs. not knowing and how that creates a power dynamic in which the person who is known, the "celebrity," has power because the "fan" has an obvious affection for the person and/or the work that they do. But when the "celebrities" are producing all of their own content in a way that any "fan" could also produce content, where is the transition point that places them in these categories rather than having them just be people who are humans occupying the same space? I don't mean this in an exclusively romantic/sexual situation, which is the dialogue around the YouTube abuse situation and is covered really well at http://uplifttogether.tumblr.com/. I am thinking about it in the most innocent sense-having friendly conversations with people whose work you admire or personalities gel with your own. When does the power dynamic shift so that you can just be friends?
I've had a few more experiences where this idea has been floating around. In college, I worked on a pro-wrestling style show for all four years. The premise surrounding professional wrestling, or wrestling entertainment, is that the audience is as much of a character as the wrestlers themselves. As they get involved in the matches with cheering or chanting or booing or calling out to help the wrestlers they prefer, they become part of the performance. Later in college, I learned about immersive theater, where the physical boundaries between performer and audience member are deconstructed. When you can literally touch the performer, what does that do to the performer-audience relationship? The traditional structure is gone and you are completely absorbed by the world of the production.
And how does this all tie together? When there is a performer-audience dynamic, be it in a theater, a wrestling arena, a concert, or over the internet, the performer is an object to the audience. But here's where the esoteric sociology/performance studies stuff kicks in: every individual is constantly putting on a performance of self for the world to observe. So we are all constantly performers and audience members; however, there are scenarios where this is more heightened than others.
I can think of two examples at the extremes of the spectrum. The first is the more obvious sort of performer-audience scenario, one where this is the explicit dynamic and the associated etiquette is in place. At a Broadway show, the audience sits in their assigned seats, reacts appropriately to the content, and takes in what the actors are doing without thinking about the humanity of the individuals because they are focused on the story unfolding in front of them. This dynamic is flipped when the audience members wait to meet the actors at the stage door. At this point, the actors are not their characters, no longer objects in the story, and the audience is confronted with their subjectivity rather than the simple view through the fourth wall of them as an object. The etiquette moves from a highly structured interaction to two humans having a conversation, but the actor holds a degree of celebrity status to the audience member or fan.
My second example is far more mundane. I was recently working on a show where all the actors and run crew were teens. At a certain point, I suddenly felt watched and judged and like I had a starring role in someone's headcanon. It was really weird. And then I realized that I had reached the age and status of being interesting and cool without trying to be any of those things. Somehow I had become one of those people who I had once looked up to, those camp counselors who were five years older than me who I adamantly denied were anything other than human to me even though they were, the "celebrity" of the adult professionals on this production. I still don't know how to feel about it. It is really cool to be that person the teens look up to, but it is also crazy because I still feel like I have so much to learn. My approach is to just be human around them, to behave normally and interact with them as equals. I think it's working.
[It was also a bit jarring because (and I don't know how this nonsense developed) I always expect people not to remember me. It's the Harriet Jones thing from Doctor Who: "yes, we know who you are." Except instead of taking it in stride the way the character does (since it is literally every single conversation), I am internally shocked and confused at what made me memorable (this goes for people who I've met in ordinary circumstances and for people who I connect with in unconventional ways). And I need to get over it because I'm not in an environment where people meet thirty new people every day and therefore forget every single one of them. I am unique and memorable and I can be confident about it! I'm trying to live my life unapologetically, which, to me, means permission to take risks because I have no reason to apologize for following my gut and existing.]
So, the real question is, when does the line between celebrity and fan go away? Can I communicate the barrier out of existence? Can a person who is a subject to me in the "off" state be an object to me in the "on" state? Do I become an object as an audience member to the performer having a subjective experience? And how do we wield our celebrity power responsibly?
I'm still working on this. I think I really want communication to be a solution to this problem of power. That if we are honest enough and normal enough, that division begins to weaken. By normal, I mean our selves rather than a character or persona we put on. But that deepens this question of subjects, objects, and the scale of celebrity to one of interactions to what the essence of identity is, and that's a post for another day. For now, I'm just going to keep thinking on this idea and make sure I respond to these gradients in a responsible way whether I am the fan or the celebrity. It's just about all I can do.
Today is awesome because I have the privilege of going home at the end of the day for the first time in many weeks.
I think I began thinking about this topic in the fall of 2010 when I went to my first YouTube meetup. You can read that post here, but I talked about what it was like to meet people I had been watching online for years in person (point #2 in the post, it is a trainwreck from my first few days of blogging ever-what a throwback). They seemed to be the same in person as they were in their videos, but there was this weird dynamic of me knowing so much about them from what they share publicly (like a college major or relationship status) and them having no clue who I am because I am not a public figure the way they are. But it was as if they had jumped out of my computer screen and were suddenly standing right in front of me, and it was really cool.
Fast forward three years, and 3/5 of those YouTubers have been brought forth as manipulative and abusive humans. And when all of this news broke, it got me thinking about that strange dynamic of knowing vs. not knowing and how that creates a power dynamic in which the person who is known, the "celebrity," has power because the "fan" has an obvious affection for the person and/or the work that they do. But when the "celebrities" are producing all of their own content in a way that any "fan" could also produce content, where is the transition point that places them in these categories rather than having them just be people who are humans occupying the same space? I don't mean this in an exclusively romantic/sexual situation, which is the dialogue around the YouTube abuse situation and is covered really well at http://uplifttogether.tumblr.com/. I am thinking about it in the most innocent sense-having friendly conversations with people whose work you admire or personalities gel with your own. When does the power dynamic shift so that you can just be friends?
I've had a few more experiences where this idea has been floating around. In college, I worked on a pro-wrestling style show for all four years. The premise surrounding professional wrestling, or wrestling entertainment, is that the audience is as much of a character as the wrestlers themselves. As they get involved in the matches with cheering or chanting or booing or calling out to help the wrestlers they prefer, they become part of the performance. Later in college, I learned about immersive theater, where the physical boundaries between performer and audience member are deconstructed. When you can literally touch the performer, what does that do to the performer-audience relationship? The traditional structure is gone and you are completely absorbed by the world of the production.
And how does this all tie together? When there is a performer-audience dynamic, be it in a theater, a wrestling arena, a concert, or over the internet, the performer is an object to the audience. But here's where the esoteric sociology/performance studies stuff kicks in: every individual is constantly putting on a performance of self for the world to observe. So we are all constantly performers and audience members; however, there are scenarios where this is more heightened than others.
I can think of two examples at the extremes of the spectrum. The first is the more obvious sort of performer-audience scenario, one where this is the explicit dynamic and the associated etiquette is in place. At a Broadway show, the audience sits in their assigned seats, reacts appropriately to the content, and takes in what the actors are doing without thinking about the humanity of the individuals because they are focused on the story unfolding in front of them. This dynamic is flipped when the audience members wait to meet the actors at the stage door. At this point, the actors are not their characters, no longer objects in the story, and the audience is confronted with their subjectivity rather than the simple view through the fourth wall of them as an object. The etiquette moves from a highly structured interaction to two humans having a conversation, but the actor holds a degree of celebrity status to the audience member or fan.
My second example is far more mundane. I was recently working on a show where all the actors and run crew were teens. At a certain point, I suddenly felt watched and judged and like I had a starring role in someone's headcanon. It was really weird. And then I realized that I had reached the age and status of being interesting and cool without trying to be any of those things. Somehow I had become one of those people who I had once looked up to, those camp counselors who were five years older than me who I adamantly denied were anything other than human to me even though they were, the "celebrity" of the adult professionals on this production. I still don't know how to feel about it. It is really cool to be that person the teens look up to, but it is also crazy because I still feel like I have so much to learn. My approach is to just be human around them, to behave normally and interact with them as equals. I think it's working.
[It was also a bit jarring because (and I don't know how this nonsense developed) I always expect people not to remember me. It's the Harriet Jones thing from Doctor Who: "yes, we know who you are." Except instead of taking it in stride the way the character does (since it is literally every single conversation), I am internally shocked and confused at what made me memorable (this goes for people who I've met in ordinary circumstances and for people who I connect with in unconventional ways). And I need to get over it because I'm not in an environment where people meet thirty new people every day and therefore forget every single one of them. I am unique and memorable and I can be confident about it! I'm trying to live my life unapologetically, which, to me, means permission to take risks because I have no reason to apologize for following my gut and existing.]
So, the real question is, when does the line between celebrity and fan go away? Can I communicate the barrier out of existence? Can a person who is a subject to me in the "off" state be an object to me in the "on" state? Do I become an object as an audience member to the performer having a subjective experience? And how do we wield our celebrity power responsibly?
I'm still working on this. I think I really want communication to be a solution to this problem of power. That if we are honest enough and normal enough, that division begins to weaken. By normal, I mean our selves rather than a character or persona we put on. But that deepens this question of subjects, objects, and the scale of celebrity to one of interactions to what the essence of identity is, and that's a post for another day. For now, I'm just going to keep thinking on this idea and make sure I respond to these gradients in a responsible way whether I am the fan or the celebrity. It's just about all I can do.
Today is awesome because I have the privilege of going home at the end of the day for the first time in many weeks.
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