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Making Sonic Magic from Auditory Illusions

So, if a tree falls in the woods, perhaps it makes infinite sounds

A few years ago, I attended a talk on wave field synthesis, and to say I was captivated feels like a sorry understatement. Wave field synthesis, if you are unfamiliar with it as I was, is a spatial auditory illusion and rendering technique that produces a holophone, or auditory hologram, using many individually driven loudspeakers. The effect is that sounds appear to be coming from a virtual source and a listener’s perception of the source remains the same regardless of their position in the room. Its application in theatrical contexts is very new, but as the techniques and technology slowly become more widely available, the potential for theatrical applications is astounding.

This introduction to wave field synthesis, in addition to being quite exciting, pointed me towards a categorical lack of knowledge about auditory illusions. Since then, I’ve been filling in the gaps and adding these illusions to my sonic toolbox. Now, quite a bit of theatrical sound design could be considered spatial illusions like, for example, when we recreate actual physical phenomena like the doppler effect. Auditory illusions, however, encapsulate many effects extending far beyond this.

Optical illusions have long been the inspiration for and integrated into visual arts. M.C. Esher’s work, for instance, presents the viewer with impossible objects and perceptual confusions. In psychology and neurology, the study of optical illusions has played a large role in understanding the visual perception apparatus. Due to the historical ease of reproducing and distributing visual material, as opposed to auditory material, visual illusions have long been widely encountered, studied, and applied in artistic works. The history of auditory illusions and their use in psychology, music, sound design, and elsewhere is much shorter.

Auditory illusions, much like visual illusions, reveal the deficiencies and oddities of our perceptual processes, but the auditory and visual systems have their own unique attributes. The field of psychoacoustics examines how the brain processes sound, music, and speech. Hearing is not strictly mechanical but involves significant neural processing and is influenced by our anatomy, physiology, and cognition. Researches have even found that how we unconsciously interpret sounds is influenced by our individual environments, backgrounds, and dialects. Auditory illusions provide key information in unpacking our auditory processes for psychologists and neurologists. In artistic applications, auditory illusions provide similar insight into our perceptional processes and illustrate that there is no one true sonic reality.

Dr. Diana Deutsch, a psychologist at the University of California, San Diego is at the forefront of psychoacoustic research and her work has utilized countless auditory illusions and sonic paradoxes. If you want to hear examples and read her work, visit her website here: http://dianadeutsch.com/. Due largely to her research, there has been increasing understanding of the cognitive factors in the auditory system and how it has evolved over time to help us interpret our sonic environments effectively. Psychoacoustic research has been applied in myriad contexts including modeling compression codecs like mp3s, software development, audio system design, drone flying, car manufacturing, and even, terrifyingly, in acoustic weapon development. In the arts, psychoacoustics and auditory illusions have been applied in musical contexts, sound art, film, and theater, though these applications are fairly nascent.

There are a number of types of illusions that can be roughly categorized as spatial illusions, perpetual motion, and non-linear perceptual effects. More auditory illusions continue to be uncovered and understood, so these categories aren’t rigid. Spatial illusions are already a mainstay of theatrical sound design. We frequently manipulate spatialization to make it seem as though sounds are coming from a particular source or direction other than the loudspeaker producing the sound. Holophones can be created in a number of ways including wave field synthesis as I’ve mentioned. Binaural recording is another example of spatial manipulation, reproducing interaural features and anatomical influences of the head and ear. All of these spatial illusions exemplify a distinction between the physical properties of the sound field and the perception of what listeners actually hear.

Unreal sounds created in the inner ear or brain are a part of our daily lives that we typically don’t notice, and there are several auditory illusions that mirror common visual illusions. A Zwicker Tone, for example, is the sonic equivalent of an after image. Illusions of Auditory Continuity show us that when an acoustic sound signal is momentarily cut off and replaced by another sound, listeners perceive the original signal to continue through the interruption. Through the familiar Precedence or Haas Effect, we perceive a singular sonic event when one sound is followed by another with a short delay time, and that we ascribe directionality based on the first arriving sound. While subtle, these are all valuable design techniques.

Less subtle are perpetual motion illusions. Pitch and tempo circularity is roughly analogous to the barber pole illusion in which a sound seems to be endlessly ascending or descending or a rhythm seems to be endlessly increasing or decreasing in tempo. Both pitch and tempo circularity encapsulate a number of techniques and effects. The Risset Rhythm and Shepard Tone are complex versions. The Shepard Tone most notably influenced the film score for Dunkirk and created a palpable sense of anxiety. Much like Esher’s impossible stairs, circularity illusions are both unsettling and entrancing, a powerful design technique.

There are a number of speech-related auditory illusions. Most famously, the Laurel/Yanny internet phenomenon of 2018 brought speech interpretation illusions into the spotlight. It also demonstrated the incredible subjectivity of our hearing. Similarly, The McGurk Effect presents a puzzling phenomenon in the interaction of vision and speech. When a visual component of a person mouthing a sound is paired with a different sound, listeners perceive neither of the two sounds, but instead a third sound.

Dr. Deutsch has amassed an immense number of Stereophonic Illusions including Phantom Words, Binaural Beats, the Glissando Illusion, the Octave Illusion, the Scale Illusion, the Tritone Paradox, and more. Her work shows us how differently people perceive the same sounds. When we listen to speech the words we perceive are influenced by our expectations, knowledge, dialect, and culture, in addition to the physical sounds we hear. Much of her work has also demonstrated how left and right-handedness influences how complex sounds are synthesized and localized in our heads. In the Tritone Paradox, utilizing sequentially played Shepard tones a tritone apart, some listeners hear the tone ascending while others hear it descending. The potential for designing sounds in which some of the audience experiences the inverse of what others experience is, to me at least, a riveting notion.

While this is brief overview is the tip of the ever-expanding metaphorical iceberg of auditory illusions, I have found that looking into psychoacoustics and auditory neurology provides incredible design techniques and ideas that are not always at our disposal. The potential here that I’m so excited about, is to create audience experiences that rouse questions about the subjectivity of their perceptions of the world around them. Audiences can leave the theater not believing their ears. It also illuminates a greater need for interdisciplinary collaboration and cooperation between fields that often feel disparate: psychology, neurology, audiology, engineering, music, sound design, etc. In my own work, I have yet to utilize almost any of this material (with the exception of spatialization techniques, of course), but it is leading me to think about designing for the whole head, the ear, the brain, and the mind. I so look forward to the continued integration of auditory illusions in theatrical designs, creating sound magic.

 

 

Twi McCallum on Hiring Black Designers and Creatives

An Interview with Twi McCallum – The Woman Behind the Letter 

On June 8, 2020, broadwayworld.com published Twi McCallum’s Open Letter to the Theatre Community on Hiring Black Designers and Creatives Twi McCallum Shares an Open Letter to the Theatre Community on Hiring Black Designers and Creatives.  I came across this letter the following day, and I have to admit that I was quite struck by the letter’s tone.  You really must read the entire letter for yourself, but I can tell you this:  Twi gets right to the business of letting the entertainment industry know that hiring a Black cast does not mean your EDI box is checked.  She writes that she’s, “tired of “inclusion” being exclusive to the actors, writers, producers, musicians, and dancers,” and that’s exactly the tone I’m talking about.  She’s tired of it, and who wouldn’t be?  The play does not stop at the stage.  As everyone knows, that’s only the beginning, so why isn’t this inclusivity reaching backstage, to the shops, the design studios, etc.

I’ve seen this letter pop up in my social media feed several times since the first time I read it, and I’ve re-read it a few times.  Each time I did, I couldn’t help but thinking, “I wonder who’s reading this and what they’re doing about it.”  I reached out to Twi because I wanted to know more about her thoughts behind this letter, what made her write it, and what did she hope to accomplish with it, and I wanted to know what makes Twi tick.  She graciously agreed to be interviewed, and here’s what she had to say:

You recently wrote an open letter to the theatre/arts/entertainment community on hiring black designers and creatives.  Can you talk about your impulse for writing that letter?

The contents of the letter have been thoughts I’ve had drafted in my iPhone’s notepad for about 2 years, and sentiments I’ve felt since I was in undergrad (before I dropped out.) I attended Howard University, an HBCU, in their technical theater program. Although I was at a Black college, the school’s focus was to serve the acting students, so I was often told, “nobody cares about the designers and technicians” as if I shouldn’t use my artistry as an activism platform the way the performance majors were encouraged to. Here I was, about four years later, seeing a fantastic video from a Black Broadway actor going viral on social media, speaking out about racism he’s experienced. However, it was a little discouraging because Black actors are often given the platform to speak out. The thought of “representation” in entertainment is often limited to seeing Black actors, writers, directors, producers, musicians, and dancers getting big roles. Artists like me who work behind the scenes and are often nameless are seldom included in this “representation” picture. The letter is still evolving, I have several drafts of it and I plan to republish it next summer with a review of how I think the industry has progressed (or not) over a year.

Did you expect the letter to be so widely received?  What was your reaction to that?

I still have no idea how “widely” my letter has been received, especially since I intentionally have not opened the links where it’s been published– I learned as a teenager not to read reviews and comments because some people intentionally say unkind things. BroadwayWorld posted on its Instagram page that they were opening their writing slots to Black people in light of the uprisings, so I saw that as my chance to write an open letter through the lens of a Black femme (and disabled) sound designer who works in theater as well as tv and film. I also submitted the letter to a few Black publications, who surprisingly did not publish my letter, which I assume is because they focus on highlighting actors and directors and don’t care about the Black artists who work behind the scenes. That rejection was a little discouraging until I started getting emails from veteran sound designers, former teachers, and regional theater companies that I worked for. I am still afraid of getting blackballed, but so far all of the responses from my network have been positive and encouraging. I’m sure that every minority designer can relate to my sentiments about physical abuse, sexual harassment, delayed payment, and wondering why a show with a Black cast/director has no Black designers. I chose not to name-drop particular companies where I experienced blatant racism, but I’m sure they all read it and wept.

What kind of responses have you gotten from industry folks?

Most of the responses from industry people have simply been to the effect of, “great job using your voice eloquently” and “you are a great role model.” I’ve also been invited to speak on a few panels since my letter was published, and my proudest result has been joining the EDI committee of Theatrical Sound Designers & Composers Association. Moving forward, I am trying to collaborate with the non-Black veteran designers to figure out ways to get more Black designers into job slots at regional and off-Broadway theaters in the upcoming seasons.

Who are your mentors, and why?

I have four mentors, who all have been warm and gentle towards me in different capacities. In no particular order: Nevin Steinberg, who has passed my resume along for at least 1 design job, and texts me every once in a blue moon to check-in, which goes a long way for me. Megumi Katayama, who took a chance and hired me as her design assistant at Long Wharf Theater in November 2019. I was grossly under qualified at the time but I was able to learn so much and being able to put that show on my resume opened doors for me. Mike Backhaus, the sound supervisor at Yale School of Drama, is a fantastic resource for all the engineering and mathematics-related sound things I haven’t mastered yet–he’s terrifyingly intelligent. Finally is Wingspace Theatrical Design, an advocacy organization for professional directors and designers based in NYC, and I’m being mentored by Sinan Zafar and Kate Marvin who have already helped me make important decisions in my career like unions, school, books to read, etc.

Can you describe the most comfortable and most equitable collaborative artistic situation for which you have been worked on?

My favorite production so far has been Frankenstein at Kansas City Rep in March 2020, we made it to opening night and then closed due to the virus. This is my first LORT stage as a sound designer, so I had big shoes to fill. This was not a “Black” production, both of the performers/writers were non-Black. The director was a non-Black woman, and I was the only Black designer on the team. When I saw the promotion for the show on the KC Rep website before arriving for tech, I was terrified because I had already convinced myself I was out of place. However, the organization didn’t make me feel like their token teammate. They trusted me, I got paid on time, it was a safe space to ask questions and expect a respectful response, my sound team picked me up when I fell short, and overall that level of comfort allowed me to produce my work to the best of my ability.

It’s a common discussion in this industry that once the “old guys” are gone, the upcoming younger generation will be able to enact real change for future generations.  What is your response to this scenario?  Do you think there is hope for meaningful change while the “old guys” are still here, or is it too late?

To an extent, I see many of the “old guys” helping to create real change for future generations. Of course, there are still racists popping into the conversations especially on social media, such as the situation with the Black producer who wanted to hire a Black film editor and got backlash from veteran White editors. At least in the sound design network, some of the old guys are showing up for EDI conversations and speaking up about the tangible actions they can take, such as making a commitment to bring on an emerging Black designer for one of their regional productions in a future season.

Job access is a multifaceted issue, including stems like pay disparity (because minorities are expected to work for free), education level, and access to expensive equipment if you’re a designer who comes from a low-income background. Institutionally, White-run theaters create barriers by hiring the same old guys consistently, and not having contact information listed on their website so that emerging designers can submit their resume to the producers/production managers, which creates a sense of exclusivity. Old guys making room is a good step towards getting more Black designers into these seats since many of them overbook themselves for productions that their design assistants are responsible for, but it’s not the only solution.

What is your dream project?

As a sound designer who works for the stage and the screen, this is a two-tiered answer. My dream project in theater: anything on Broadway! I already have my co-designer picked out for when I get hired for my first Broadway production, and yes she is a Black woman. I’ve had my eyes set on designing for a Broadway-bound director like Kamilah Forbes and Stevie Walker-Webb, along with a list of 30 other big directors I admire.

My dream project for cinema: post-sound mixing for many Beyonce films! She’s producing great content and I think she would love me as her post-sound girl.

However, the icing on the cake would be if I’m not the only Black, femme, and LGBTQ person on those technical teams. In a few years when I can grow as a businessperson, I want to have the power to train and recruit diverse engineers, A2s, foley artists, dialogue editors, etc who look like me.

Do you think that the pandemic outbreak has overshadowed the BLM movement and related initiatives that are being executed in the entertainment industry?  If so, what do you think folx can do to stay focused?

I don’t think the pandemic outbreak has overshadowed the BLM movement, I think it’s the other way around. In regards to visibility, the problem is that non-Black counterparts participated in the temporary activism for about a week or two, then things went back to normal for them. Black people collectively are still mourning, marching, and organizing not only for George Floyd but also for Breonna Taylor, and new/rediscovered cases such as Elijah McClain, Oluwatoyin Salau, Sandra Bland, Tony McDade, and Riah Milton. Black women, trans people, and disabled people are often not cared for in these movements as much as Black men are. I want everyone if they have the capacity, to show up as much as they can, sign petitions, and donate to grassroots organizations instead of large nonprofits that aren’t proving where the funds are being allocated. BLM is an ongoing movement, even when the fire settles down.

What advice do you have for young technicians, designers, crew, and any other “unsung heroes?”

Advice on your job hunt: Send out your resume as much as possible! Cast your net wide. Last year, I sent my resume to about 80 theaters and directors I wanted to work for and only heard back from 6, but those responses turned into jobs.

Advice on creativity: practice, practice, practice. Practice your QLab, ProTools and other industry-related software, sign up for free webinars, join lots of industry organizations, watch YouTube tutorials, etc.

Advice on being comfortable in your own skin: My favorite quote is by a man named Michael Todd, “…planted and under-qualified” which means we may not always have enough experience or readiness for a job, but still take the opportunity when it comes and do your best.

Resources for hiring a diverse production crew

Wingspace is committed to the cause of equity in the field.  There are significant barriers to accessing a career in theatrical design and we see inequalities of race, socioeconomic status, gender identity, sexual orientation and disability across the field.

Parity Productions is a formidable producer of new work, that also ensures that they fill at least 50% of the creative roles on their productions with women and trans and gender nonconforming (TGNC) artists. In addition to producing their own work, they actively promote other theatre companies that follow their 50% hiring standard. Artistically, they develop and produce compelling new plays that give voice to individuals who rebel against their marginalized place in society.

Production on Deck Uplifting underrepresented communities in the arts. Their main goal is to curate a set of resources to help amplify the visibility of (primarily) People of Color in the arts.

POC in Audio Directory The directory features over 500 people of color who work in audio around the world. You’ll find editors, hosts, writers, producers, sound designers, engineers, project managers, musicians, reporters, and content strategists with varied experience from within the industry and in related fields.

The EQUAL Directory is a global database of professionals that seeks to amplify the careers and achievements of women working behind the scenes in music and audio. Any person around the world can add their name and claim their space. And, any person looking to hire a more inclusive creative team can find professionals in their area.

Twi McCallum is an NYC-based sound designer for the stage and screen. Her first jobs in the big city were a technical theater apprenticeship at New York Live Arts and an IATSE Local 1 stagehand gig at Manhattan School of Music.

Off-Broadway credits include Women’s Project Theater. Selected television/film credits include ABC, HBO, Warner Bros, CBS, and NBCUniversal. Selected regional credits include Kansas City Rep, Cape May Stage, and Long Wharf Theater (assistant design.) Twi has also designed Parity Production’s spring 2020 production of “Mirrors” at the New York Theater Workshop.

Selected Awards/memberships include USITT Early Career Mentee Grant, Post New York Alliance, SoundGirls, and Disney Creative Careers Fellow.

The SoundGirls Podcast – Twi McCallum: Hiring black designers and creatives

Twi McCallum Interviews Bobbi Banks for The SoundGirls Living History Project

Find More Profiles on The Five Percent

Profiles of Women in Audio

 

 

Striving for Excellence

 

I love to show this picture when people ask what my job is like, especially in tech. It’s from one of our first previews of the Miss Saigon National Tour: I’m at front of house (FOH) with Mick Potter and Adam Fisher, the sound designer, and the UK sound associate respectively, next to me on the console. The executive producer, Sir Cameron Mackintosh, watches the show on the end of the row, keeping a sharp eye out for any aspect that might need a bit of polish. On my other side is the US sound associate, Josh Hummel, who’s taking the picture, so it’s a full house in every sense of the phrase. There’s nothing like mixing a scene for maybe the third or fourth time with multiple people — all of whom have the ability to fire you — within a five-foot radius. And while you’re mixing, the producer is making suggestions to the designer who is making adjustments and talking with the associate, who is also making adjustments while giving you notes to help you refine your mix. Oh, and please, don’t miss any pick-ups.

It doesn’t stop once you leave tech. Granted, FOH becomes less crowded once the directors, producers, and designers are gone, but there are now thousands of people in the seats and they also expect perfection. They will happily be your harshest critics if they feel like the experience isn’t up to snuff, and you don’t have much of a safety net: actors can cover when they forget something, but there’s no way to ad-lib a fader up after you’ve missed the line.

Until you’ve done a few shows and learn to trust in your abilities as a mixer, it’s easy to let your nerves get the better of you. This is a common problem in many careers; a musician has to be “on” for an audition, an athlete has one chance to break a record or win a medal, a businesswoman has one meeting to nail a presentation. However, there is one major difference. Those jobs have one thing: one project, one match, one audition. As a mixer, it’s every day, 8 shows a week, week after week that you have to spend at a level of peak performance.

Mixing has and always will be a high-pressure job, but if you’re able to accept that and work with it instead of fighting it, you and your blood pressure will thank you. Sometimes it’s as easy as finding a scene or a song in the show that you can jam out to or get carried along with the sweep of the music. Other times it’s finding some way to let go of adrenaline or calm yourself down before your start. I know people who will take a walk around the theatre if they need to work off some nerves. Personally, I like a game or an easy crossword puzzle that keeps me occupied and gets my brain going, but I can put aside at a moment’s notice.

Most of the time, the stress comes from falling into the trap of expecting perfection. Achieving a “perfect” show depends on millions of variables and is therefore close to impossible. I was listening to a podcast called “How To! with Charles Duhigg” where he had Dr. Green, a peak performance psychologist, talk about dealing with stress, specifically related to performance. Green said at one point, “There’s a difference between perfectionism and striving for excellence.” That phrase resonated with me and my approach to mixing. Mixers rely on a unique ability: they have to constantly strive and expect nothing less than complete accuracy, but if they do make a mistake, they must also have the capability to forgive themselves and move past it almost immediately, otherwise, it can derail the rest of the show. “Striving for excellence” is exactly what we do. You walk up to the board with the commitment to do you very best every single time, but allow yourself enough grace to acknowledge your mistakes if they happen and move on.

Sometimes that commitment is your best defense against nerves. If you bring that mindset of striving for excellence every time you step up to the console, it’s just another show. It doesn’t matter if a producer with a net worth of upwards of a billion is pacing around FOH, or if it’s just you left to do your thing: you always mix the same show. I’ve seen the opposite with the actors a lot. There are always a few that consistently do warm-ups, but when a creative or someone important comes to the show, suddenly the dressing room hallways are filled with a cacophony of vocal exercises. Backstage you can see the ones that have been doing the show they’re supposed to the entire time: they’re calm and collected; conditioned by weeks of practice. Those who choose to mark their singing for most shows, then decide to go all out for this show are the ones huffing and puffing; they didn’t realize that it was so much work to dance and sing like they’re supposed to. (Plus it’s an absolute treat for the mixer to have to play “Guess the Level” when actors decide to actually sing out for the part they never do, or option up an octave instead of the normal note.)

When mistakes happen—whether due to surprises or not—one of the biggest, and least productive, traps a mixer can fall into is dwelling on that mistake. Your brain only has so much bandwidth to devote to a task at hand and, as soon as you start using up processing power to berate yourself over a missed pick up, you limit what ability your brain has left to focus on the show. Believe me, you’ll have plenty of time to beat yourself up when the show is done if you want to.

The best method I’ve found is to acknowledge it. My involuntary reaction ends up being a sharp head jerk and a pissed off grunt, but then I put myself right back in the show. Take a moment, but only that, then focus on the next line, the next band move, the next scene. Don’t give yourself an opportunity to linger. It’s not easy at first, because that’s exactly what you’ll want to do, but with enough repetition, it will become a habit.

Once the show is over, then you can do a replay of what you missed. It shouldn’t be to blame yourself but to do a technical analysis and take stock of what happened in the moment. Did you grab the wrong fader? Were you focusing on something or someone else? Did you lose your place and fumbled while getting back on track? When you know what caused the mistake, you can take steps to help yourself the next time.

One of my more glaring mistakes was the press opening of the tour for Miss Saigon. It was a tense, quiet scene between Chris and his wife, Ellen, and I grabbed the wrong fader and, instead of Ellen comforting Chris, another woman was loud and proud talking offstage about her dress for the opening party. Again, mentally curse, and move on. After the show, I highlighted that line and made sure I absolutely could NOT miss the fader number was in my script. That served as a reminder for me every time to make sure I threw the right fader.

On a less obvious note, in Mean Girls, one of the lines changed from when I first learned the show, and “I noticed you failed your last few quizzes. Is everything okay?” became just, “I noticed you failed your last few quizzes.” For some reason that the last sentence was so ingrained in my head, that there were multiple times where I forgot it was cut and had to scramble to get the next fader up in time. To solve that, I made a concentrated effort to consciously remind myself to bring up the next fader on the word “few” and, with show after show of that constant thought, it eventually became habit.

In both cases, the mistakes (or close calls) were singular events, blips that didn’t snowball into larger catastrophes, but being able to keep your cool under pressure can help you have less of those blips in the first place. When Les Mis had the official press opening for the tour, it was just like the Saigon preview at FOH, only more people. Designers from every department, directors, production management, producers, you name it, if there was an open space, it wasn’t empty long. And despite their best efforts, they’re never completely quiet: pencils scratching on notepads, fingers tapping notes on tablets, whispers back and forth. Even with all the distractions, I focused on the job at hand and had a solid, clean show. Afterward, one of the production managers told me a few people had mentioned to him that they were impressed that I could be so calm with so many eyes peering over my shoulder. You don’t always get the feedback, but people are watching and they’ll notice how you handle yourself in a stressful situation.

The best thing you can do for yourself is to walk into every show with clean feet, or “leave your baggage at the door.” Did you miss a line or two in the last show? Were the dynamics not what you know they should have been? Did you have an absolutely flawless performance? Great. That was the last show. This is a new day and a new show. Come to it without resting on your laurels or harping on yourself for the mistakes of yesterday; each new show is another chance to get it right, another chance to feel that satisfying rush as everything comes together. It’s unfortunate, but sometimes the stress of our jobs can discourage aspiring mixers before they even have the chance to learn how to master it. Remember to be patient and show yourself some grace, especially when you’re learning. Good things take time.

 

Stage Managers and Sound Designers

Together Forever

2020 is the year of the stage manager, so this is the perfect time to talk about how I get the most out of my Sound Designer/Stage Manager relationship!  The Stage Manager is the one person that probably knows the most about the show and the actors. They are also the one who is going to make sure your design is executed exactly as planned at each and every show.  Basically, the Stage Manager is someone you really want in your corner, so I want to go over just a few of the ways my relationship with Stage Managers has been beneficial.

First of all, I completely support listing the Stage Manager as a part of the creative team.  I’m stating this, maybe obvious (to some) fact, because it just doesn’t happen a lot. Frankly, I’m still beating the “LIST THE SOUND DESIGNER IN YOUR POSTS” drum loud and hard, because that title is also one that is often left off…. I guess because you can’t see that design in a photo.  So if I have to constantly remind people that Sound Designers are part of the creative team and need to be listed in posts, I can’t imagine how much harder that fight is for Stage Managers. Let’s just think about it for a minute though. What defines a creative team? Surprisingly, I couldn’t find a succinct “Theatrical Creative Team” textbook definition, but I did find this “Advertising Creative Team” definition from smallbusiness.chron.com, and honestly, it totally fits:

A creative team is made up of several key members, starting with a creative director,  and including copywriters, editors, graphic designers and artists, and web developers.  In short, it’s the group of people that comes up with advertising ideas and brings those ideas into being.

This is basically the same for theatre, right?  The Director, Choreographer, Music Director, and Designers are the key members that come up with the ideas and bring those ideas to the stage.  But from the first concept meeting, the Stage Manager is also there. They are running the meetings, taking notes, and sending those notes out to the team.  The Stage Manager is keeping track of all of the action that’s going on in rehearsal and keeps the rest of the team updated daily. They will remind the director of Designers’ ideas, and likewise, let Designers in on things that might help or hurt their design idea—like informing a Sound Designer that a group of actors are constantly blocked to be in a place where a speaker was going to be.  They are the ones firing sound cues in rehearsal and reporting on how it was received by the director, and any good stage manager will practice calls over and over until their “GO” lands at that perfect swell in the music that will ensure every audience member leaves feeling all the feels. That’s art. Stage Management is an art form, and they have every right to be recognized as part of the creative team, and basically, what I’m saying is that the more we openly recognize that fact with our Stage Manager friends, the better the working relationship is going to be.

I mentioned that the Stage Manager probably knows more about the actors than anyone else.  This is really useful to the Sound Designer of a musical. For years, I would make my plans about which microphones to use, which lavs to put on actors, what I would use to change the color of the lavs if needed, what kind of tape or another attachment method to use, and which style of mic belts to assign well ahead of tech on my own.  Many times over the years, I would run into situations where I was changing tape on an actor because they were allergic to what I was using, or switching out a mic belt because of a blocking direction that was just given, or what have you. It was frustrating, and would often create a domino effect if I was short on equipment or supplies.  I soon learned that consulting the Stage Manager while I was preparing these plans alleviated a lot of those issues for me before I even met the actor. The Stage Manager would not only know the nuts and bolts information, like allergies and blocking, but also more personal things, like actor preferences: This actor likes to wear the lav on the left side of the face, that actor has their own mic belt, etc.  Once I realized that I could unlock that info ahead of time, it was a definite level up for me.

The Stage Manager is also very invested in protecting your design and maintaining its original intention throughout the run.  There are sometimes situations in which microphone and lav placement are very specific, and I’ll tell a Stage Manager that if this position moves an inch one way or the other, the sound will change.  Many of the Stage Managers I’ve worked within the past take that information very seriously and will note actors throughout the run for the sake of the design and the production. I’ve also worked with Stage Managers in the past who, during rehearsal, will bring up things I’ve said in the past about which circumstances give us the best sound quality if it looks like the Director is blocking actors to be somewhere or do something that is not conducive to excellent sound quality.  Because I like to keep a line of open communication between myself and my Stage Managers, I’m able to count on them to be my voice, even if I’m not in the room.

When it comes to theatre allies, Stage Managers are definitely a group of people I want on that list.  I want to know that they care as much about my design as I do, and will give their all every night to make sure that it is executed perfectly.  I think that as Designers, we can sometimes feel overprotective of our work, and it’s sometimes hard to remember that the questions, the emails, the regular check-ins from a Stage Manager are all in pursuit of the same goal as us—a perfectly crafted piece of theatre.

 

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