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On Mentorship

We talk a lot about the importance of mentorship in this industry, and in general. While I may have studied theatre sound design in college, I feel like so much of the learning I have done has been through mentors who have given me a chance to watch them work. Now that I have gotten a few years of career experience under my belt, it has been super rewarding for me to take up that mantle and start mentoring myself. So, for this blog, I want to talk about my own experience progressing from mentee to mentor.

“There’s a very ancient saying, but a true and honest thought, that if you become a teacher, by your pupils you’ll be taught!” – from The King and I. Lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II, Photo by Matthew Murphy

My first major mentor was Chris Evans, head of sound at the Benedum Center in downtown Pittsburgh. I was lucky enough to intern with him in the summer after my junior year of college, right when I was figuring out that I might want to mix musicals professionally. As Chris worked in an IATSE house (which meant that as a non-union worker there were limitations on what tasks I could do), my jobs included marking up scripts, making paperwork, and pulling sound effects. But mostly I just got to watch a brilliant mixer do his thing. I learned so much from just getting to be in the room with professionals and seeing how people behaved gave me a profound understanding of our industry. I returned to school that fall determined to channel all that I had learned from my new role model and be the best person I could be, not just the best mixer.

As I went on in my career, I collected a host of other mentors, some of whom probably don’t even know I think of them that way. I met folks through work, by shadowing them on shows, or by attending trade shows like USITT and AES. It can be awkward to approach someone when you have no footing in the business yet, but if I showed a genuine interest in what they do and a respect for their time and knowledge…the doors would magically open to me. And really, I can’t think of any other way that I could possibly have learned so much about the industry.

As I moved up in the ranks at my regional theatre gig, I kept in touch with mentors like Chris, but I also slowly began to mentor my apprentices. They each came in with different backgrounds, so while they all were hired to do the same job (be my A2 and assistant), it felt good to learn about each of them and try to tailor the experience to what they specifically wanted to learn about, whether it was mixing a musical, being a better A2, or doing cleaner paperwork. I could give them a safe place to learn on the job by handing over responsibilities a little at a time and share stories about when I had been in their shoes as an apprentice myself a few short years ago.

Even then, I still felt like I had so much to learn myself, but I was now squarely in the middle of the progression of my career. I wasn’t at the top yet (still nowhere near it!), but I was at least a few “rungs” up the ladder. I could now speak from personal experience about getting one’s first job, but also about getting a second job, or moving to a new city for work, or any of the other career hurdles that I had somehow managed to overcome. And as I continued to learn from mentors of my own, I could immediately pass that wisdom on, and hopefully save my mentees from falling into some of the pitfalls that I did, or that my mentors had during their early careers.

3 generations of Goodspeed Musicals Mentorship gathered safely at my pandemic wedding! L to R: Rob Baldwin, Olivia Denison, me, Jay Hilton. Photo by Eric Brushett Photograhpy.

Once I finally started working in NYC, I felt like something shifted. I began to get approached by teachers to guest-lecture for their students, and by young people asking me questions about getting into theatre. At first, I approached these encounters with an imposter-syndrome-fueled dread.  The way I saw it, I too was still making it up as I went! I had no idea how the NYC theatre scene worked, having just arrived there myself in January of 2019. I could give no advice on how to get a job, how shop builds worked…how could anyone think that I was a good example of someone to learn from? The first few times I mentored, I think this nervousness definitely showed! But, as I stood in front of my first group of students, I realized something. All you can give is your own story, and as “once in a lifetime/the stars aligned” as your career path seems to you, even sharing that information goes a long way to demystifying this world of theatre. And once I got a little better at doing it, I discovered I kind of liked it 🙂

After that first fateful experience guest-lecturing, I figured out my spiel a little bit. I kept inviting young aspiring mixers to shadow me at Rock of Ages, and did my best to connect with people who are underrepresented in NYC theatrical sound. However, it was during the pandemic that I really felt myself cross the proverbial bridge from mentee to mentor. I don’t know how it happened, but as we were all pivoting to life at home, suddenly people needed more guest lecturers in classes, or assignments to replace being on run crew for shows. And not only was there a need, but I suddenly had the time to fill it! The first months of 2020 I had been working multiple shows on top of each other basically nonstop (which by the way I DO NOT recommend!), and the effect was beginning to really deteriorate me physically and mentally. I wanted to continue being there for any young person I could, especially young women. And when the shutdown happened, I tried my best to keep paying it forward, even without being able to invite folks to shadow me at Front of House.

I’ve had a couple of great mentoring experiences this year. I took on my first SoundGirls mentee, zoomed with a young aspiring designer after this year’s virtual USITT, and most recently, did a structured 10 week program through Sound Thinking NYC where I helped my mentee complete a composition she wanted to work on. Again, my experience and career path didn’t always match my mentees exactly, but I found that I could help guide them in the right direction, or at least offer my takes on where they could go to learn more about the subjects that excited them. These experiences have been one of the absolute highlights of this time away from work for me, because no matter where my mentees were on their career journey, it was completely ok that none of us knew the answers! I would say things like, “well, I have no idea what job advice I can give right now, but here’s how it worked pre-pandemic.” The shared feeling of “making it up as we went” made me feel like I could be honest about my own uncertainties. And while at first, I worried that I was setting the wrong example by not having the answers, it turns out that my admitting what a mystery this line of work is made it ok for them to feel that way too.

Some of this year’s class of SYNYC mentees at one of our virtual meeting!

To me, this is the heart of mentoring, and what makes it different from just teaching. Sure, plenty of practical learning might happen by osmosis, but your job as a mentor is first and foremost to just do what you do, lead by example, and be honest about your struggles. We all want to come back to an industry that is more inclusive, more just, and more tolerant of people’s individual needs. And I believe that those of us who are mentors have a responsibility to keep opening doors in the industry to make that change happen for those coming up behind us.

Starting A Show

In any normal year, early spring is when the staffing process begins for tours going out in the fall. You probably won’t have a contract in hand yet, but your resume has gone off to designers and production companies, or (if you’re currently on tour) you’ve had a conversation with your design team or production manager about the shows going into production, and what they might have in mind for you.

However, there are still months before you’ll hit the shop to build a new show, and longer until you’re in the venue to tech it. So spring and summer become the perfect time to start learning a new show so you can give yourself a running start. Right now, conversations center around maybes: someone has your resume on their desk; they’d like to inquire about your availability for a possible project; we’d like to see if you might be a good fit. That sort of language. At this point, nothing is for certain, but I’ll start in on some cursory research for the show I’m under consideration for. This mostly involves cyber stalking the show: searching YouTube for Tony Award or press event performances, Googling pictures of the production, and listening to the most recent cast album or recording of the show.

On Official Offer

Conversations use more concrete terms: yes, we’d like you to do the show; we’re sending your resume to the production manager; you should hear from this person soon, etc. At this point, the show’s soundtrack becomes the new underscore of my life. I cannot stress enough how important it is to listen to the show. Replicating the sound of it is your job, so the more familiar you are with it, the better. Plus, knowing what’s happening gives you a solid foundation to start tech and make intelligent mixing choices.

Finally, once I have an official offer I can start my formal prep. At this point I ask for a packet of information from the designers or production consisting of: a script (preferably a mixing script if it isn’t a brand new show), any audio recording that might be available, and a console file (again, this is if there’s a version of the show currently running).

The Script

The script is the basis for most of my paperwork. The audio recording hopefully gives me the full show to listen to, including dialogue. The console file lets me dive into the structure of the physical show as well as providing details about programming that might not be clear in the script.

From the script, I’ll build an initial set of paperwork starting with my own mixing script. Even if I get a complete, annotated mix script, I will always make my own for two reasons:

#1. I like my formatting. I have a system with color-coded notes that is easy for me to read, and I can put page breaks in convenient places. Plus, re-entering cues and notes means that I know exactly where each one goes.

#2. It’s another opportunity to get the show in my head. I always re-type the script which forces me to go over every single word of the show. Usually multiple times with annotations and proofreading.

In conjunction with the script, I’ll do some additional paperwork and make a spreadsheet to document (or for a new show, create) DCA assignments. This has the basic information of how many console scenes are in the show, what the name of each DCA fader is in each scene, and which specific mics are assigned on a given fader (if it’s not obvious, such as faders labeled chorus, altos, or one-off solo lines). This helps while annotating my script if I have a question where a cue needs to go or who’s in what scene, and becomes a quick reference for programming the console when I get to tech.

This is where the console file can come in handy. Most consoles have an offline editor that you can use to open it on your computer and look around to see how the show is laid out. When I’m building paperwork, I’ll double-check the file if I have questions about who exactly is singing which part in a scene.

Practice

Once I have an annotated script, my basic paperwork, and the audio recording, I’ll start to put the mix into practice. I use two methods, one that requires my practice board and another I can do pretty much anywhere.

Using my practice board (a set of faders that don’t control anything which you can find versions on casecraft.com, er3designs.com, or I, personally, have a custom board made by Scott Kuker), I’ll grab my script and the recording and move through the mix of the show. I’ll go over difficult transitions or fast sections multiple times to start developing some muscle memory, and if I’m having trouble, I’ll play around and see if there’s a more efficient way to mix the scene. That might be adjusting the DCA programming or changing which hand covers which faders. On Les Mis and Saigon, those shows are almost entirely sung-through, and there’s always music. So I used my right hand on the orchestra faders for the majority of the show and did the vocal choreography with my left hand. Practicing for those two shows involved figuring out where I needed both hands for vocals and should switch my right hand from covering the orchestra faders to assisting with dialogue. Mean Girls on the other hand has dialogue scenes with no underscoring, so I spent more time using both hands-on vocal faders and then shifting back over to the band for songs.

The second method I use is something I call pointing through the show. I can practice with this technique anywhere with just a piece of paper (the aforementioned DCA breakdown paperwork), and the audio recording of the show. For this, I’ll listen to the show, pointing along on the paper to who’s mic should be up at the moment. This tests how well I’ve memorized the show because there’s no way to hide if I can’t point to who’s talking. Then I’ll go over any problem scenes with my script. Most often these are dialogue scenes where it’s constantly switching between several different people or scenes with a lot of one-liners. Pretty much anything that might cause you to skip around on the faders if there’s no good way to do typewriter programming.

I started practicing this way because I got into the habit early in my career of working to get off the book as soon as possible. Pointing through the show gives me a head start on memorizing the show and I can usually put my script away a couple of weeks after tech. I find I pay better attention to how the show is sounding when I don’t have my head in my script. Other people prefer the security of having the script in front of them to reference, even if they don’t necessarily need it. It’s purely a personal preference, but you should always make sure you are comfortable and confident that you truly have the show memorized before you completely put your script away.

*    *    *

But what happens when you don’t have all this time to learn a show? The prep process I’ve outlined can take weeks or even months. What happens if you get thrown into a show at the last minute or won’t even get a script until a couple of days before tech? Or what if it’s a short run where you just can’t justify months of preparation?

In this case, I do some basic preparation but focus on making the notes in my script are clear since I’ll likely be sight-reading it in tech. I won’t retype my entire script, but instead use the limited prep time to make sure annotations and notes are easy to follow and my fader or DCA layout is as logical and simple as possible. If I have time to physically practice, I’ll focus on the complicated parts to make sure they’re efficient. I’ll always make and print out a DCA breakdown so I have a quick reference for programming the console.

Every bit of preparation helps, no matter how much or little time I have, and I’ve never met a designer that wasn’t happy to give me whatever they could to help me learn the show. So don’t be afraid to ask for materials, your designer will appreciate your initiative and everyone (yourself included!) will love it when you’re self-sufficient in tech.

The Changing of the Guard – Training subs and replacements on a show

 

Last month, in Tips and Tricks for Subs and Replacements, we discussed how to put your best foot forward when learning to be a sub or replacement on a show. This month let’s look at the other side of the equation, when you are the one running the show and someone new is coming in either to sub for you, or to take over the show entirely. We will mostly discuss training subs in this post, but the training principles and tips should apply in both scenarios.

Why is having a well-trained sub so important? Well, the old saying “the show must go on” applies equally on stage and backstage! Just as actors have understudies for their roles, it is important that no one person’s health or availability is the “single point of failure” on a production, such that the show literally cannot go on without them if they must call out. Additionally, you don’t want the show to simply “go on” without you. You want it to be as good as it is when you’re the one mixing! When your sub is mixing the show, they are representing you, your work, and the entire sound department, so you want to know you have someone who is going to do their best job and be a good ambassador on your behalf.

Think of your show as this tower, and don’t let one person’s absence be the block that breaks it!

I like to break the training process into 3 phases: Pre-Prep (before your sub’s first official day), Training (when your sub is learning to mix the show), and Hand-Off (when the sub finally gets “hands-on faders” and starts mixing the show). Depending on your sub’s prior mixing experience, this process can take anywhere from a few days to a month. Typically, I will ask for 16 performances (2 weeks, assuming 8 shows a week) to complete this process, and I have this is the typical timeline in NYC.

Phase 1: Pre-prep

There is a lot you can do to make things easier for your incoming sub before they are even hired. The first of these is to maintain a good mix script! If you read my last blog, you know that I take paperwork and formatting very seriously, because they’re the best tools we have to convey all the information that is needed to mix the show correctly. If your script is paper, think about making a digital version, or at least a scanned PDF. That way your sub can have access to all your notes as they put together their own copy of the mix script. Collect any additional paperwork or training materials that might be helpful to them and organize it all in some sort of shared folder. For example, if a new sub was to join my show, they would be added to a private Dropbox which has my mix script, a blank script, the score, face pages (for learning people’s names), startup/shutdown instructions, show recordings (audio-only and conductor cam), and hands videos that my current sub filmed when he was training so that he could reference them while practicing. Back when I was a stage manager, one of my sayings was “the book matters more than you do,” and this idea certainly applies here. When your sub is mixing for real, you won’t be there to answer questions, so as much of that info as possible needs to be written down and easy to reference.

A sneak peek inside the contents of the “RoA_SoundSubs” Dropbox

Phase 2: Training

Once your sub is in the building and training has officially begun, you will want to give them at least a few performances to get familiar with the show, the mix, the pace, and the sound before they start practicing. They should watch the show from the audience at least once before moving to FOH to shadow you. Once they are shadowing you, this is when they can be building their script, taking notes, and asking questions. On Rock of Ages, I had a small table with a video shot of the stage over to one side, plus our console had an overview screen that I could angle towards my sub at the table. This allowed them to watch both the show and a mini-version of my DCAs moving in order to see my strategy for making certain pickups in real-time, and without having to be right on top of me at the console :). If you’re able, try to explain certain things to your sub in real-time while you’re mixing. The more context you can give your sub for why you approach scenes the way you do, the easier it will be for them to mimic your moves. Everyone learns their own way, so give your sub room to do the prep they need, whether that’s watching you, marking up their script, or mixing along with pennies or a practice console. If they are newer at mixing and need more guidance, do your best to instruct them on what to focus on as they train, and what notes they should put in their script to make things as clear as possible.

Phase 3: Hand-off

It’s finally time for your sub to start doing some real mixing! Rather than just have your sub dive in head-first and mix the whole show their first time, it’s best to give them bits and pieces of the show to start with and build up from there. There are 3 common methods that I know of for handing off a show: “top-to-bottom,” “bottom-to-top,” and my personal favorite, “inside out.” If you are handing off a show “top-to-bottom,” you will have your sub start by mixing the beginning the show, and then you will take over and do the rest at a logical “hand-off” point, such as during an applause break. The next night, they will again start mixing from the top, but go on for longer before handing back to you. This way, they are always mixing the show in sequential order, and they will always be starting by mixing a part of the show that they have done before. This can help to build confidence, depending on your sub’s experience and personality. “Bottom-to-top” is the same method, just backwards. Your sub starts at the end of the show (for example, with the finale) and then your “hand-off” point moves earlier and earlier. Handing off “bottom-to-top” can be great because the regular mixer sets the tone for the show, and the sub has a benchmark that they can follow once they take over.

Finally, handing off “inside-out” is when you have your sub start with mixing small sections in the middle of the show, then build out from there until they reach the “bookends” of each act. I love this method because I can tailor my sub’s hand-off schedule to them more specifically. It also has the same advantage as “bottom-to-top” where I can start things off and give the sub a sense of where their levels should be that night. Typically, I will first give my sub some easy stuff to mix in the middle of each act, such as intimate dialogue scenes and solo or two-character songs. I’ll try to make sure that they get a section with some sound effects if the show has those so that they can get used to juggling that responsibility with making their pickups. The next day, I will either add entirely new chunks of the show to their list or extend the length of the chunks they are already doing. Again, this is dependent on the content of your show and the experience of your sub. In this method, the original A1 will find in a few days that all they are mixing is the beginnings and ends of each act, and finally, the whole show will be “handed off!”

These methods all take some advance planning to make sure that your hand-offs are clean, and it’s good to make sure your sub, stage manager, and music director are all privy to the plan each night. You don’t need to go into major detail about who is mixing which exact lines of dialogue, but those folks will be able to give good notes about what they are hearing and what might need adjusting between you and your sub.

Clean hand-offs are key here as well!

 

Optional Phase 4: Noting and Brush-Ups

If time allows, try to make sure that your sub-mixes at least one entire performance by themselves prior to your planned absence day, if applicable. If things are progressing well and your show is fully handed off, the last thing I like to do is give my sub one show where I am not at the console with them, so that they can practice “flying solo.” At this show, I will sit in the back of the house so that I can get to the console quickly if I need to, but mostly I will try to write my notes down and stay out of their way! This really is the only way that your sub will learn to solve problems and make decisions without you there to help, which is exactly the goal of training them in the first place!

Once your sub is fully trained, you should make a schedule for them to come in and mix a brush-up performance every few weeks, with you noting them from the house. Even if you aren’t planning to take a day off, it’s important to make sure your sub stays fresh, and that can be hard to do if they go months without mixing a performance!

What if your theater isn’t in the habit of hiring and training subs? I know from personal experience that it can be hard to sell a producer on this idea, especially in low-budget venues or on short show runs. If you are met with resistance, ask your producer to think of it this way. Training a sub is like taking out an insurance policy for the show. Putting in the time and resources to train a sub in advance will likely result in a higher quality mix than if someone untrained must attempt to mix the show “cold.” Or in the worst-case scenario, the producer might have to cancel an entire performance and refund everyone’s tickets. Hopefully avoiding both these outcomes is in their best interests too!

On a side note, one of my sincerest hopes is that when theater returns post-pandemic, the need for trained subs, paid sick days, paid personal days, and thorough contingency plans will be taken much more seriously by everyone. No one should ever feel like they must “power through” if they aren’t feeling well, and I think that we all now realize that having a sick person in the building is not worth the risk it poses to everyone else! No more “war stories” about sick A1s trying to mix with their sinuses totally blocked or with a nausea bucket next to them (I, unfortunately, speak from personal experience on both). Also, we have always known that this work can be mentally taxing, and I hope that when we reopen workers will feel that they can advocate for themselves better in that arena too, whether by asking for support outside of work or taking a mental health day without fear of repercussions.

I hope this post and my previous blogs have helped to shed some light on this important aspect of running shows! Whether you are the sub or are training the sub, these tips and tricks will help you make sure that your show sounds the best it can, regardless of who is mixing it.

Producers:  Your job listings need to include pay

And that pay needs to be reasonable

I don’t know of a time prior to this pandemic that the entire entertainment industry was out of work.  It’s very difficult to think of when or how we will get back to work, and the grim reality is that many of the companies with which we are accustomed to receiving work will not be there when “normalcy” returns.  This means that when we do return to work, there will be more of us than available jobs.  My biggest fear is that producers will try to take advantage of these situations and offer new jobs at the lowest possible dollar.  It’s been happening since before the pandemic, and I’m afraid the situation will only get worse when those jobs are in higher demand.

First of all, when are we going to get to the place where openly discussing pay isn’t a taboo subject?

For as long as I have been searching for jobs in my professional career, the pay is almost always the last thing I find out about.  Why?  Why would producers hide that information?  Are they embarrassed about the rate?  Is it too low?  Is it illegal?  If the answer to any of these questions is yes, well then, producers, I’m here to say that you’re doing it wrong.  Your pay rate, benefits package, and special offers should be a selling point for you.  If you’re touting your company’s great reputation, clout, and place in the industry, but you’re not willing to share pay information until you’ve almost got a potential employee hooked, I can’t help but think that you’re taking cues from the Mr. Wormwood Book of Ethics, and my theatre buddies will know that Mr. Wormwood is not good company to keep.  Many of us begrudgingly go through the motions of updating our resumes and websites, collecting letters of recommendation, filling out lengthy applications, and making time for multiple interviews just to learn that after all that time, the salary was never worth it in the first place.  I don’t know about you, but when that happens to me, I feel cheated and duped.  I shouldn’t have to pass a series of tests just to find out what you’re willing to pay me if I’m offered the job.

Look, I get it, your company was hit hard too.  You’ve had to resort to Zoom theatre and other cheap programming just to keep the electricity on.  You’ve had to furlough many of your full-time staff, and you’ve been trying to live off of PPP loans for 11 months.  If that wasn’t bad enough, you are going to have to beef up your Covid-19 compliance when you are able to open again, and that will mean shelling out more money.  The thing is, though, there is a way to do this honestly and ethically.

If you are unable to offer a living wage for a full-time position (*protip—$30k p/y as the full-time Technical Director in Los Angeles County is not a living wage) you need to rethink your company’s structure.  If having a very experienced, top-of-the-line TD is a priority for you, you need to prioritize their salary first.  Commit to paying that person what they are worth, and they will commit to you.  Maybe the scale of your productions needs to come down.  Maybe the number of shows you produce needs to be adjusted.  Maybe you need to up your grant writing and donor outreach game, but the simple fact of the matter is if you cannot afford to pay an experienced TD what they are worth AND produce your dream list of shows at the same time, then you can’t afford either, and your internal structure needs to change.  If $30k is what you have to offer, and you cannot budge on that number, that means the job description needs to change.  This is not reasonable for a full-time job, but it could be reasonable for a part-time job, depending on the job requirements.  It could also be reasonable as an entry job for a recent graduate or even an internship.  Being able to make creative adjustments to facilitate the job security of your current and future employees is a really attractive prospect.  It also means that you can proudly display your pay rate on your job listings and know that you are being fair to your applicants.

Producers, you have to prioritize your people

All of us have been using this downtime to really explore those HR processes that have and have not been working.  We should all be very aware by now that “must-have five years professional experience” and “$30,000 per year” for a full-time skilled job are just two points that should not exist together in the same sentence.  If you’re saying to yourself, “It’s always worked for us in the past,” you should know that even if it’s been working for you, that doesn’t mean it’s working for your employees and applicants.  Companies that try to get by on the lowest possible salary have a high turnover rate usually due to employee burnout.  The employee that is receiving a lower than living wage rate is either trying to work as much as possible to pick up lots of overtime so they can make rent, or they’re working tons of side gigs and have little energy or will leave to perform adequately for their main company of employment.

The fact that we feel we HAVE to take the low-paying jobs so that we can get that “five years professional experience” is what creates the rat race that we desperately need to dismantle because when we all come back post-pandemic, that rat race is going to be much worse.  We will shift the reasoning for taking these jobs to “so that I can eat and live” and when we do so, we will be handing over even more leverage to the producers that think the technician/designer/actor/etc. that works for the lowest dollar wins.  Producers, you have to prioritize your people.  Be open, honest, and fair in your job offers, descriptions, and expectations.  Make sure a human is capable of living off of only your job.  Eliminate the need for side gigs.  Make the people the center of your budget—prioritize them.  Happy employees make happy companies, and there is no other version of this very simple mantra.

 

Tips and Tricks for Subs and Replacements.

A lot of folks’ first “big break” doesn’t come in the way that you might expect. Mine was a matter of good timing, mostly. I had just finished a run as the A2 on a small new musical, and during the load-out week, my boss pulled me aside and asked to discuss something with me. The show running at the theater’s main stage had become a giant box office hit and was going to extend its run by an additional month. However, the current mixer on that show had a conflict with the final weeks of performances, and my boss, who would usually cover for him, had other things going on. So, did I want to do it instead?

The “In-Out” sheet provided by stage management outlining what understudies and subs are in the show that night. Paperwork created by Pamela Remler, Alison Simone, and Christine Seppala.

 

I had never been a substitute or replacement on a show before. Ever! I think I might have understudied someone when I was in the ensemble of the eighth-grade musical? But I definitely never went on. Shows in school and college also tend to have really short runs, and often the sprint to get the show open is so crazy that no one gives a thought to having to possibly replace an actor or technician at a moment’s notice. So as a result, these skills are most often learned “on the job.” And they are important skills to have because subbing or replacing someone on a show is how a LOT of people get their start in the industry!

Being a substitute or replacement on a show definitely comes with its own unique set of challenges. Regardless of the situation, it’s always tricky to be the new kid. You’re coming into a group that has already formed, and in all likelihood, they have a bond that comes from having been through the process together up to that point. So, not only are you trying to learn to do your new job, but you are also navigating the social situation and seeing how you are going to fit in. Plus, on the practical side, you will not have been privy to all the decisions that were made throughout rehearsals, tech, and previews, which led to why things are done the way they are. You’re getting a lot of new information but without the underlying context.

 

How I felt my first-day training on Irving Berlin’s Holiday Inn. Don’t worry, everyone was nice!

Sounds challenging, right? But fear not! There’s a lot you can do to set yourself up for success. So, with that, here are a few best practices for making your transition into a show as smooth as possible.

*quick side note for definitions: I think of a sub as someone who covers for the current mixer in the case of a planned or unplanned absence, and a replacement as someone who is training to take over mixing the show full time. Sometimes they overlap, certainly, there are differences, but hopefully, these tips and tricks will help in either case.

Do as much homework as you can!

One great thing about joining a show that is already up and running is that you don’t have to come in as blind as on an original production. As soon as you’re hired, ask to see the show. See it as many times as you can from the audience before you start watching it from the mix position. This will give you a great sense of how the sound system is laid out, because in all likelihood the show feels pretty different under the balcony vs. second row orchestra. That knowledge will inform your understanding of why the mixer does things a certain way, and how the balance that you hear at FOH is translating to the audience.

If you can’t be in the theater prior to your start date, get any recordings or cast albums that exist and listen to them nonstop. The show that I first came in on as a replacement was a new jukebox musical called Irving Berlin’s Holiday Inn, so there wasn’t a cast album of any kind. My solution? I made a Spotify playlist of all the original songs so that I could at least get a handle on the lyrics, even though the songs in the show were in different arrangements and keys. Ask for any scripts, scores, and show paperwork, so that you’re as familiar with the material as you can be before hitting the ground running.

Read the room

Your first day at the theater should be 99% about listening and observing. What is the vibe like backstage? How does the current mixer interact with people? You can get a lot of knowledge from watching them because they know the people they work with and how to interact with them. They will know which actors want to chat, and which ones would prefer to be left alone to get into character. At least when you’re first phasing in, follow the current mixer’s usual walking paths and tendencies. It will help to create a sense of continuity, because your new coworkers will see that you are not here to rock the boat or upset the existing balance.

Of course, if you get the sense right away that there is some tension, use your judgment about how you might do things differently when it’s just you there. And certainly, you shouldn’t do anything that you are uncomfortable with, or mimic a behavior that you think is making other people uncomfortable. You are your own person, after all. Don’t be afraid to ask your mixer questions about why they do things a certain way or speak to people a certain way once you’re able to talk privately later. But when making those first impressions, take a leaf from the Hamilton book and “talk less, smile more.”

Respect precedent

A follow-up to #2. As we’ve covered, things usually are the way they are for a reason, even if you aren’t sure what that reason is yet. When you start learning to mix the show, do it as identically to the current mixer as you can. Do not change any programming! This is considered rude, as the Mix Bible and Control Group assignments is the original mixer’s main artistic contribution to the piece. Sure, if you’re a replacement, you may do some cleanup of the show file once you’re on your own (spelling errors and such), but for now, mix the original mixer’s show, and mix it their way. Also, if a show runs in multiple cities (e.g., there is a New York production and a touring production), those productions are likely set up to be exact replicas of each other, so that if someone is transferred from one to the other, they aren’t suddenly learning a new way to mix a certain scene. Everyone who mixes the show needs to be able to do it the same way, so you risk creating inconsistencies between mixers if everyone has their own slightly different show file. You should definitely have your own script, set up in a way that makes sense to you, but to make this script you should be copying the notes out of the current mixer’s script exactly, and taking cues where they take them. If you’re replacing someone on a show, your mix will naturally evolve over time, as other folks in the company swap in and out, or after a director or designer comes to note the show. But for now, your job is to do what the current person does.

 

Left-Brad Zuckerman’s original mix script for Rock of Ages Off-Broadway. Right: my version of the mix script. Same notes and info just conveyed in two different ways.

Form smart alliances

In my opinion, the 3 most important relationships that a mixer on a musical has are with the Stage Manager, the Music Director, and the House Manager. Including you, these are the 4 people whose jobs really have no breaks! Y’all are busy the entire show, steering your own related parts of the ship that come together to make a whole production. The stage manager will be able to give you insight into the actors, the general energy backstage, and other things that may help to inform your mix that evening. They can also be an ally when working through scenarios such as a a split track (when there are multiple actor absences and lines/vocals need to be reassigned to do the show “person-down”), a post-show speech, or a special event onstage. The music director is depending on you to make sure the band is coming through well to the house, as well as to the monitors. They will appreciate knowing that you are on their side! The MD knows the show better than almost anyone, and they will know when you might need to make an adjustment based on a sub musician or understudy actor. Finally, the house manager will be able to tell you about any weird audience/patron situations that may affect your mixing. Plus, you can work together to catch audience members using their cellphones to text or bootleg the show, because sometimes you have a better view of the audience than the ushers! This is an ENORMOUS pet peeve of mine personally, and I am grateful to the many house managers who work hard to minimize distractions for those of us who are out in the audience making the show happen.

 

Learn everyone’s names (and pronouns!)

I used to tell my apprentices that if they only learned one thing in their time working with me, it should be the names of the band members and their subs. I was only half-joking when I said it! This is one of the simplest things you can do to build trust and respect with people. Ask for a face page (a document usually made by stage management, with small photos of the company with their names and pronouns listed underneath them). Study it. If there isn’t a face page, make your own! Get a program or playbill, which should at least have photos of the cast, plus names of the orchestra and crew. Resort to googling and social media stalking if necessary. And if you forget, don’t be afraid to ask! I once walked right into the wardrobe room and said to one of our awesome stitchers “you are always here, and you are so helpful, and I cannot remember your name or pronouns!” Once he told me, I never forgot. Plus, I turned my forgetfulness into an opportunity to build respect not just with this stitcher, but with the whole wardrobe department. It showed everyone in the wardrobe room that who they are and what they do on the show was important to me.

Finally, don’t be afraid to ask questions! The more information you have, the better you’ll do at finding your place and doing your job as well as the person before you. Work hard, be patient, and show a lot of respect. If you’re a replacement, know that you will find your own role in time, so there’s no need to rush it. If you’re a sub, just focus on keeping things consistent on the nights that you are there.

Mid-way through my training on that first sub gig, the music director came up to the original mixer at intermission and said, “the show sounds good tonight!” To which the original mixer replied, “I’m not mixing the show tonight!” That’s how I knew I was doing it right. I had worked hard not just to learn to mix the show, but also to create a smooth and seamless transition between the outgoing mixer and myself. And someone not knowing that that transition had even happened truly was the best compliment of all.

Look out for my next blog in April, where I’ll flip the scenario and talking about TRAINING subs and replacements!

The Innovation of Theatre During a Pandemic

2020 was the year that Broadway, and so many other theaters, closed their doors. Consoles remained covered. Houses stayed empty. The lonely ghost light stood center stage. However, the year also came with great innovation, which is something that cannot be ignored by those who remain working in this industry. Though our theatre doors may be shut, many have turned to other ways to safely continue community involvement.

Streaming, zooming, and filming have now become the norm. I think a lot about older family members cursing at their computers and then I do a broadcasted performance where the streaming equipment outweighs the audio equipment in the setup. Although I feel incredibly inexperienced working audiovisual, this is the road theatre must take to maintain activity and reach their communities. While it may seem frustrating and foreign, streaming ensembles and filming theatre are some of the only ways we can continue to do shows at the moment. My peers and I have had first-hand experience in dealing with familiar and not-so-familiar challenges while working this past year.

At the start of 2021, I took on the role of recording engineer for a musical turned film-musical called Gay Card, written by Jonathan Keebler and orchestrated by Ryan Korell. Because of Covid-19, the director, Jordan Ratliff, had to adapt and form safe plans to see this production to fruition. Fortunately, my job was to record spoken lines and sung musical numbers, since backing tracks were provided. The cast is a mix of seasoned actors/actresses and first-time performers. Many cast members had never recorded in a studio before, which can be challenging for both the engineer and the vocalist.

When recording, I prefer to think I am capturing an experience, or a slice of this moment; perfection is not a real, pre-existing thing that I think a lot of people assume they are going to capture when they walk into a studio. Not only does this put an immense amount of pressure on the person in the booth, but adds unnecessary stress for the engineer. The captured experience is vital for a high-energy musical such as Gay Card. 

I worked alongside the director and sound designer to be certain what we recorded met the needs of the musical. Filming was a hybrid of wide shots for dance numbers and filming through Zoom of more intimate shots. After the filming and editing process has been complete, our production of Gay Card will follow the typical assembly line that a movie or short film might follow. The sound designer will add their sound to the picture-locked film, as well as, mix and master the finished product.

Many of the designers, technicians, and actors on this production come from the theatrical world and have had little to no experience with film production. We were incredibly fortunate to work with a small filming crew who could turn this piece into an actualized creation. It is collaborations and adaptations like this that make me so fond of the industry that I am in, and even though the current pandemic has halted the typical theatre experience, it has not stopped innovators from finding ways to continue their craft.

On the other hand, some productions have been produced entirely remotely with both designers and actors working from home. I was able to talk with my peer, Kayla Sierra-Lee about her experience as the sound designer for a recent production of Sex by Mae West.

Kayla Sierra-Lee on the difference in design technique

In terms of the differences in design techniques, streaming was relatively limiting. All of my sound effects were ran through QLab like normal, but the only speaker focuses I had were a right and left computer speaker. We had a specific person dedicated to running the stream which included most of the audio and effects. After editing our filmed cast, frames were built in Wirecast and filmed sections were put in with the live actors. For running the show itself, all of it was streamed through youtube.

And you also had to work with the music that the composer had already created. How was that?

There was a change in direction from the director, so a lot of the music the composer gave me no longer fit the tone of the play. The pieces we did use were added into my QLab file, as well as, other pieces I had pulled to fit the era of the show. This was a challenge due to all of the copyright laws for streaming, which is something not a lot of theaters have ever had to think about.

Were you the only one not local to the area? Was that a challenge for you?

A majority of us weren’t local and a lot of the filming/streaming took place in people’s homes. Needing a clear connection for streaming was also a high priority for both actors and designers. None of us had access to in-person rehearsals. That made it a challenge because we couldn’t gauge the emotions and reactions that would normally be happening on stage. We didn’t have a set, so it was important for us as designers to bring home the theme and location of 1930’s Montreal. What helped the most was having a director that knew what they wanted and was able to communicate that in our production meetings. Being able to say “this is the tone I want, the mood I want, and the audience reaction I want” was great since a lot of those things are usually pulled from in-person rehearsals.

Did you miss not being able to fully collaborate with your fellow designers?

I really did miss that connection with other designers, but I was able to work with people from all over the country and at all different levels of profession. That doesn’t get to happen very often unless either person travels to the theater, so this was a very unique opportunity for me to have.

Though theater doors have shut, some doors have remained opened for professionals that normally would not have been available to them otherwise. It is this strength and resilience that I find most attractive about our industry. If anything, this article has renewed your hope and inspiration for your work and its application.

This production of Gay Card is anticipated to be finished in late spring 2021. Information and videos of this production of Sex can be found on the Facebook page titled ‘Play Your Part Seattle’. There, you will be able to find many videos of the cast, designers, and director talking about their experience with this production and the process.

A very special thank you to Kayla Sierra-Lee for her contribution to this article. Sierra-Lee can be found at kmsounddesign.com and is a graduate student in the UIUC Sound Design program.

 

On Aesthetic Distance & Virtual Live Performance

 

In a theater, sound design is a mode of transportation into the world of the story. As we adapt to creating virtual live performances, however, we are up against greater challenges in effectively inviting the audience into the worlds we are building. In the virtual space, live performances are flattened – both literally and figuratively. So, the question becomes, how do we translate live theatrical performances to the virtual space in a way that offers a satisfying experience comparable to that of in-person theater? How do we address the lack of sensory immersion and narrow the gap in the aesthetic distance?

The X factor at home is huge and complicated – far beyond the question of what sort of headphones or speakers are used. How is the audience watching the show? Have they set everything up on their TV, lights dim, no distractions or are they balancing a tablet on the kitchen counter while they cook dinner, their kids watch cartoons, dog barks, and upstairs neighbors do jazzercise? Background noise and viewing setup aside, it’s more difficult to maintain focus at home. Distractions are everywhere, the level of commitment is much lower, and the energetic benefits of being in the room with other people are just not available. All of these issues prevent sensory immersion, widen the aesthetic distance, and impede audiences’ ability and willingness to suspend their disbelief.

In order to really transport our audiences without the control we typically have in a theater, we have to shift our approach. Narrative Transportation Theory (in the context of storytelling) suggests that reaching the state of complete mental absorption in a narrative hinges on two key ingredients: empathy and imagination. As sound designers, we certainly have tools to facilitate empathy along with the work of the text, the actors, fellow designers, etc. But imagination might be the most critical ingredient to pay attention to right now. How are we inviting our audiences to imagine?

In trying to convert our 3D medium to a 2D medium online, it makes sense initially to emulate television and film. And our audiences are already accustomed to enjoying television and film from the comfort of their own homes. However, virtual live theater is not television and it needn’t be. With incredibly tight budgets, the constraints of streaming platforms and accessibility to those platforms, achieving a production level comparable to that of a tv show is a maddening and often disappointing challenge. Beyond the production logistics, there is the issue of “Zoom fatigue.”

Over the past few months, I’ve been meditating on what variation of theater I would like to experience and how I would like to experience it. I desperately want to be transported and lose myself to a story while I’m trapped in my tiny apartment in real life. At the same time, I stare at my computer all day long and the idea of staring some more just for fun seems, well, not fun. I’ve also found it difficult to become immersed in virtual programming as I’m hyper-aware of virtual backgrounds, delays, all of the same things we grapple with behind the scenes. The risk of these elements is that they can stifle imagination rather than ignite it.

At first, my focus was on all of the incredible technology in our hands what innovative things we can do with it from our own homes. Lately, I’ve turned in the opposite direction. More specifically, towards radio plays. These are bare-bones times in need of bare-bones productions. Taking cues from radio plays along with gripping low-budget productions of any sort, memorable black box performances, anything that makes way for a “less is more” sort of approach is worthwhile. Right now, less is more. We certainly have less to work with, but we also need to allow more space for audiences to use their imagination and hopefully be transported into the story. Some of the designs may be best left to the mind’s eye or mind’s ear. We can perhaps benefit from paying special attention to what not to include. And, of course, I am biased towards sound (and would love to give my eyes a break), but I think this idea can apply more widely. In order to close the gap in the aesthetic distance, we have to craft a path towards the imagination.

Now, I am not advocating a strict return to radio plays. Nor am I advocating that we necessarily turn to sound-only media. In thinking about the process, however, live radio plays are a suitable jumping-off point. I certainly don’t have the answer to creating effective virtual productions and I can’t offer prescriptive advice or best practices as every show is completely individual. I do think, though, that there are some elements of a live radio play and its process that can enhance or at least refresh our approach in the virtual space.

Trying to capture attention by increasing stimuli can be more exhausting right now. Stripping a production down, counterintuitively, may offer a better opportunity for immersion. Knowing the challenges that we are up against, considering first what elements need to be presented and which can be forgone is a good first step to streamlining. Do we really need to hear that door close? Is it essential to see that room? As sound designers, we are already cognizant of silence as a strategic part of our design. What we do not hear is equally as important as what we do. We can expand this line of thinking to create more space in a production. What can be strategically left to the imagination? Then, keeping the two-dimensionality of the final product in mind, we can critically assess how each element is best portrayed, whether aurally, visually, as dialogue. The question being, what is the best way to provoke the mind’s ear or mind’s eye to complete the picture?

Lowering the complexity of virtual performances, in addition to making room for enhanced imagination, also allows for more focus and energy within the production. With fewer distractions and fewer opportunities for latency and glitches, actors and audiences alike have more space to relax and concentrate. The energy of live performance is one of the things that makes theater so compelling. When actors are in a flow state, completely absorbed in their characters and the story, all of their energy carries directly to the audience. With a stripped-down design, we can protect that precious energy.

Every show, every production can be approached, produced, designed in infinite ways, none of them right or wrong. As we all wrestle with creating live virtual theater, its limitations and possibilities, it is important to take a step back and re-evaluate our own personal design processes. For me, this has been a helpful way of reframing my work and my goals for virtual performances. It’s my hope that some of these ideas can at least come in handy when a virtual design hits a virtual wall. And when in need of some inspiration, go ahead and close your eyes and listen to some radio plays.

Abigail Nover is a sound designer and composer based out of Miami, Florida. She works as a freelance designer for theatrical productions in English and Spanish throughout the country. She holds a BFA in Sound Design from Carnegie Mellon University School of Drama and an MA in Folklore from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Her work is often rooted in cultural memory and immersion. In addition to theatrical work, Abigail conducts oral histories and writes about cultural and sound studies. She is a member of the OISTAT Sound Design Group.

 

A Little Bit of Magic

 

I miss mixing shows. That thought has snuck up on me every week or so for the past several months. It’s always a tiny bit surprising because I knew I liked my job, but I’d never stopped to take stock of exactly how happy it made me. I know I’m not alone in that; all of us want to get back to our usual, wonderfully irregular lives. One of my favorite things about mixing is that there is always something to do. When I started in theatre, I dabbled in a few other jobs, but as an actor, I got bored sitting backstage for the scenes I wasn’t in and I’d end up helping the crew with set changes. As a sound designer, I found myself, despite a valiant effort to pay attention, inevitably spaced out in my seat when there weren’t problems to actively solve.

But mixing, that’s the best of all worlds. There’s always something to do, something new to watch, something to keep you on your toes. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen a show, there are always surprises:

When I toured with Les Mis, we were probably 30 shows into the run when my A2, Mark, started to learn the mix. We were talking through a scene with a whistle sound effect and he asked, “Do you take that off Felipe’s whistle? Or something else?”

“…. Wait, Felipe whistles?”

Sure enough, watching for him the next performance, Felipe came out, brought two fingers to his mouth for the whistle, and I had to resist the urge to do a facepalm. He wasn’t even tucked somewhere over on the side where I might have missed him. He was dead center stage and the only possible way I would have missed it was…. if I hadn’t even looked. On the upside, no one had noticed up to that point (more a testament to Felipe’s timing than mine), and once Mark pointed it out, we attached the cue to the visual and moved on with the show.

I typically evaluate audio through a cinematic lens when I’m watching a show, meaning that I always have the question in mind: Does the audio match the visual? Sometimes the answers are simple: does the actress exit the stage as she continues to talk? Alright, then her level should decrease as she disappears so it sounds like she’s moving away. Is a guy giving a whistle to alert his friends? Then maybe (just maybe…) the effect should link up with his motion. Just like in a movie, what you’re hearing should complement or even help clarify what you’re seeing. If those two senses aren’t working in harmony, the audience is likely to get confused and pulled out of the show.

These are examples of what I’d unofficially term mechanical augmentations: they’re fairly obvious if you’re looking for them, but go a long way to assist the storytelling or your actors by reinforcing their choices. The more you’re able to pay attention to these details, the better able you are to understand the director’s vision or the character choices, and based on these, you can make more intelligent mixing decisions.

During “Why God?” in Miss Saigon, Chris is lamenting the cruel irony of having found something good and worthwhile in war-torn Vietnam when he had previously been content and safe in his lack of attachments. Towards the end of the song, a group of Vietnamese men come up to him, pleading that they will give him money if he can get them visas to flee the country, until he bursts past them, dramatically venting his final frustration to whatever higher power might be listening.

Through the course of this song, Chris goes from a state of confused contemplation to angry vexation. The music has a natural crescendo, but the true catalyst to the shift in his mood comes from the chorus as they badger him. As the mixer, you have the actors already doing their part, getting more insistent and physically closing in on him as they plead their case, but you can give the scene an extra push. You’re trying to make sure there’s a logical transition from Chris being mildly annoyed to aggressively frustrated which is where (for me) the cinematic lens comes into play. The mixer can push the level of the men begging steadily up along with the orchestra so they both get progressively louder until it makes sense that Chris’s reaction is to push past them to get away from the cacophony.

In the second act of Mean Girls, Regina sings the song “World Burn” as she plots her ultimate revenge against Cady. The beginning of the song starts with Regina, all in black, on a dark, empty stage, save for the copier she’s pushing and the harsh uplight that illuminates her face. She’s pissed, but this is not a yell-in-your-face confrontational angry, this is a quiet, oh so controlled venom where you know she’s not playing and is ready to do some major damage.

Again, you follow what makes sense with the visual onstage. Having Regina’s voice booming out of the PA wouldn’t seem realistic and would jar the audience out of the moment. You want to keep them focused and immersed in the show, so the mix for this scene wants to be subtle and controlled. Still clearly audible, but exactly what you imagine when you think of the phrase “deadly quiet.”

Broadway Cast Photo Credit: Joan Marcus

In addition to those subtleties, there’s another kind of moment. These aren’t necessarily as obvious upfront, and it might take some trial and error to figure out the right combination from a mixing standpoint, but when it happens, there’s just a little bit of magic. It sounds corny, but you know these moments when you get a chill up your spine, or your breath instinctively catches, or the audience goes absolutely nuts and you can’t help but grin like an idiot.

One of the first moments I found like that was back in college on the show, Altar Boyz. Towards the end, one of the characters, Juan, receives bad news but tries to soldier on with the show. Yet, partway through his solo, he reaches a breaking point and runs away. The rest of the boys chase him down and coax him back in a musical moment that starts quietly and begins to build until it culminates with Juan choosing to step back into his spotlight and belt the final bits of the song.

If you get the dynamic bump between the build with the boys and the power of Juan’s reentrance into the song right, the audience starts cheering for all they’re worth, and it’s a grin-like-an-idiot moment. But it’s not just the fader bump that makes that moment. Part of the magic in these little snippets of a show comes from the fact that you can’t do them alone. If the audience doesn’t like Juan throughout the show, what do they care if he comes back to finish the number? There’s a lot riding on the actor himself to bring that moment to fruition. The best moments are the ones where you add a final flourish to bring it home and make the performance that much better.

Another one of my favorite moments was in Les Misérables at the end of “On My Own.” Eponine’s song builds up to this massive culmination of music and then everything cuts off, the vocals, the orchestra, everything, for just a second before she finishes the song with a soft “I love him, but only on my own.”

In the musical build-up to that peak, I would also push the vocal reverb on Eponine and, if I got the balance just right, it felt like the sound was suspended at that moment as the reverb rang out through the house. But there was a razor-thin margin for success which required precision between several different factors: how the actress was singing that night, how I was mixing, and the acoustics of the theatre itself (which changed weekly). If you didn’t push the reverb enough, you wouldn’t get as powerful an impact, but if you pushed too hard, it sounded unnatural and pulled the audience out of the story.

It didn’t happen every show, because there was no exact formula of constant variables where you could just say “x + y = MAGIC!” But that’s part of what makes the times where everything does come together so special.

US National Tour Cast Photo Credit: Matthew Murphy

As you’re working a show, you’ll learn to look for those places for little tweaks and nuances to augment your mix. It doesn’t matter if you take a show because it’s a job to pay the bills, or it’s one that’s been on your bucket list for years, finding those moments will keep you engaged and ultimately give you your favorite parts of the show. I worked on Altar Boyz well over a decade ago, and I still smile whenever I think of mixing that song with Juan. Those are the kind of moments that I miss most and can’t wait to have again when we can get back to work.

 

Everything I Need To Know About Sound Design, I Learned From Ruth Bader Ginsburg

 

Ok, maybe not EVERYTHING, but what I mean to say is that I can (and do) apply RBG’s wisdom anywhere.  We lost a champion of the people, a defender of equality, and a warrior among women when we lost Ruth Bader Ginsburg, and it’s up to us to make sure that her legacy is carried out for ages to come.  It sounds lofty, I know.  Carrying out her legacy does not mean that we need to be as notable as she was.  It doesn’t mean that we have to decide the fate of millions of people.  It just means that we have to stand up for what is right, and speak up for what we believe in.  We can do this in our own little corners of the world.  From the moment we wake up until the moment we close our eyes, we make decisions.  Some decisions are small, and some decisions hold more weight and can affect more people.  Let’s just take an extra breath and ask ourselves, “What would Ruth Bader Ginsburg Do?”

“It helps sometimes to be a little deaf (in marriage and in) every workplace, including the good job I have now.”

This seems like a strange way to begin a Sound Design blog, but hear me out, it’s impossible to hear the macro when we’re so focused on the micro.  I don’t know if this is what RBG meant by this, but this is how I’m choosing to read it.  It’s hard to see our place in the world when we can only see ourselves.  I once composed an opening sequence for a show I was designing.  It was perfect, I absolutely loved it and was really proud.  During tech, we ran the opening.  During the hold, the director looked at me, scrunched up his face, and said, “I don’t think the opening music is working.”  It was really the last thing I expected him to say, and now I became hyper-focused and aware of that music.  We ran it again, and I listened to the music.  Intently.  I closed my eyes, I moved to the center of the house, and I listened.  The director said, “See what I mean?”  No.  I didn’t.  So we ran it again, and this time I kept my eyes open, and I noticed a costume piece I had not seen before.  It was bright.  The actors in the opening light looked light and cheery.  I wasn’t even listening to the music anymore, I was watching everything on stage, and I realized, my music didn’t match these elements.  I had to be a little deaf to it to realize that.

“My mother told me to be a lady.  And for her, that meant be your own person, be independent.”

This one is easy but still important.  In the entertainment industry at large, we are compared to those that have come before us and even those that work alongside us.  As designers, it is imperative that we have our own voices, thoughts, and ideas.  What value is there in “doing it like the cast recording?”  Stay far away from “this is the way we’ve always done it.”  You don’t need that kind of negativity!  “This is the way we’ve always done it” is not good for design, and it’s not good for growth.  It’s ok to be the one voice that asks to do things differently.

“Women will have achieved true equality when men share with them the responsibility of bringing up the next generation.”

This is ever so true for Sound Designers.  We’ve all read the statistics.  Sound Design is a heavily male-dominated field, and it always has been.  What’s important to remember is that it won’t always be that way.  We’re starting to be recognized, we’re starting to be sought after and appreciated, and the next generation will learn from all of these women.  There has never been a lack of talented women in Sound Design.  There has been a lack of belief and trust in those women.  There’s been a lack of support, and now that is starting to change, but there is still work to be done.

“Fight for the things that you care about, but do it in a way that will lead others to join you.”

There should not be one single aspect of your life for which this does not ring true.  It does not matter how big or small the situation, if you care about it-fight for it…thoughtfully.  I think about this when I’m designing if I come to a point where I’m defending an endangered cue.  It’s at the forefront of my mind when advocating for students’ opportunities.  When I’m questioning a policy, I remember these words.  And when I’m being an ally and an accomplice in industry-wide equity, Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s words give me confidence and grace.

Look, the fact of the matter is, I could have written this blog about any job in any industry and still been able to apply RBG wisdom.  The reason why her words are so applicable to every situation is that they are always about the human experience.  Let the small things go, be an individual, assert yourself, equality, equality, equality.  One more little piece of advice from me:  You can have a role model and still be an individual.  If you’re looking for some enlightenment, it doesn’t get much better than Ruth Bader Ginsburg.

 

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