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I Want to Do This for the Rest of My Life
I grew up in St. Louis, MO in a rather nondescript neighborhood in your average suburban home of the 1970s. I always wanted to be in the entertainment business in some fashion. Some kids wanted to be firemen, I wanted to be an actor. Wait a second. I want to be a director. Nope⌠I want to be a filmmaker. That one stuck for a good little bit. Having seen Star Wars as often as I could get someone to go with me to the theater, I thought George Lucas had this all figured out. Iâll write a cool movie script, then cast it, then film it, then direct it. My friends and I would spend our summers trying to figure out how to film stop motion photography with a 16 mm camera. Yeah, not so much⌠With high school came dances, driving, and dating.
Then it happened. In 1987, I waited outside a local department store all night long with some friends so we could be first in line to get tickets to see Billy Joel. It was a steep ticket price. But even $12.50 couldnât stop us. I should pause for a second. Yes, the ticket was $12.50, yes you had to camp out to be first in line when they went on sale, no you couldnât download them to your phone. The doors opened, we ran through housewares and womenâs fashions to get to the ticket counter. The lady behind the counter, every bit of her eighth decade with us on this planet, started punching in the keys for four tickets. They came up on the green computer screen; four seats in the third row! Score. Oh, but wait, she is used to doing tickets for Disney on Ice. She painfully, slowly goes to the map to show us where the seats are. Show us where the seats are?! Itâs freakinâ third row; BUY THEM. Too late. When she went back to the computer the seats were gone and she had to try again. This time we warned to grab them and not even tell us, just get the tickets!! I seem to remember some comment about âIâve never seen anything like this beforeâ uttered from her antique mouth. But the move was on. We heard the printer start printing tickets. At least we knew we were going. Not on the floor, but still pretty close. By the time we got out to the parking lot with our treasure, some fans at the back of the line were told the show was sold out. It had been 20 minutes. Ah, the good âole days. Even the tickets were part of the adventure.
I tell that story only for humor and the understanding that going to a concert was an obsession for me. Add Billy Joel into the mix, it bordered on psychosis. So when I entered the arena for the first time, a ghastly old place called the Checkerdome, I thought it was a palace. Years later I would be reminded by every touring friend who knew I was from St. Louis what a complete and total dump it was. Iâll have to borrow from Mets fans about Shea Stadium: it may be a dump, but itâs our dump. It was here that I first saw it⌠a lighting rig hanging magically over a stage, placed perfectly over the end of the arena ice floor. Below that, a custom shaped stage with all of these ramps and instruments placed in perfect positions.
How did they get all of that up there?
What is holding it up there? (Not a unfair question in the Checkerdome, but I digress)
How did that stage get here?
How many days did it take to build that?
I was overwhelmed and dissecting the entire thing with blistering speed. Then my attention turned to this area in the middle of the arena floor. There was all of this computer equipment and these people wearing headsets. I wonder what they were doing? Is that the control center? Who is that rather animated fellow waving his arms around pointing up? I follow his hand motions and notice there are all of these people hanging from chairs in that magical lighting rig. The rig and hardware were all painted blue to match the stage. What was all of this about? The strains of Rhapsody in Blue started playing over the sound system. What was this about? Just before the music crescendo, I see that guy with the headset victoriously point skyward and suddenly the arena was plunged into darkness as a roar like I had never heard erupted out.
I didnât know that was Steve Cohen. I didnât know what a Steve Cohen was. I also didnât know that he had just called âHouse Lights, GOâ.
What I did know is that I was hooked. Now, how do I get to do that?
There are multiple ways into the business. In recent years, the idea of formal training has found its foothold. The concert industry veterans invented their industry. There was no training to be had. There wasnât even a job title. Concert Design grew out of the notion that âwe need someone to do lights, how about youâ? Often, the guy doing lights became the defect set designer, image consultant, and show director. As the only one who was out front and could see the whole picture, they became the experts in all things visual. That is, with the exception of the guitar playerâs wife who doesnât think that her man is bright enough, but weâll get into that a little later.
By the 1980s, there was a realization that the growth of technology and the prominence of lighting as an art form were becoming such that vendors (who often were providing the crews for these tours) started seeking out technical theatre students with a sense of adventure. With the formal training, they abandoned the dreams of the Great White Way and went to work for companies handling touring production. While this wouldnât give validity to the industry in the eyes of theatrical professionals, it did bring much needed order to the prevailing Cowboy way of doing things. The tours were becoming more and more complex and production required a great organizational savvy. Additionally, understanding design strategy started adding great power to the designs that were being produced. It was still a new invention, but it was rooted in the historical traditions of the theatre.
Today, educational routes into Concert Design are still met with a âtake it or leave itâ mentality, but the training is getting stronger. You basically have three options in degree programs; a BA program, a BFA program, or a trade-focused school that is more hands on and specific to your technology interests.
The BA degree is a general theatre degree. There are many affordable schools out there offering a BA program of study. The short version of a BA is that you will have a full theatrical experience. You will take classes in all areas from Acting to Lighting. Most programs offer more concentrated study in your field of interest, but it is still based on the overall experience.
The BFA degree is more concentrated. BFA degrees are specific to your area of interest. For example, I attended Webster University, which is a BFA program and my degree is specifically in Lighting Design. Webster is also a Conservatory style program. This means you live, eat, and occasionally sleep theatre. Everyone in the program is there due to the acceptance of a portfolio and it is geared to prepare you for the professional world. Carnegie Mellon School of Drama (another excellent program) operates on a similar principal. You will get a well-rounded education, but your priority is always focused on your main interest. But wait, there is more. A Masters of Fine Arts is three additional years and can provide highly advanced (and specific) training, but it can also open up many, many opportunities. Those programs have you with one foot in the professional world and one foot in the classroom. Everything is career-centric. Many people with their MFAs find great opportunities. Another of my fantastic students, Jeff Behm, headed off to UCLAâs MFA program. He landed job opportunity after job opportunity, blasting through doors that would never have opened as quickly without UCLA backing him up.
BOX 1.1
Cindy Limauro
Carnegie Mellon School of Drama
Theatrical lighting designers tell the emotional journey of a characterâs story using the tools of intensity, angle, color, and movement. The artistic process of creating the world of the play through light is not unique to theatre. Anyone who is an Artist of light can easily transition into the genres of concerts, television, and architecture. Whether it is communicating the emotion of music or the mood and atmosphere of a public space, lighting transforms our personal experience. Technology and techniques may vary from genre to genre but at the essence of all lighting design is the power to tell a story.
In recent years, BFA programs have begun adapting to the reality that not everyone wants to go to Broadway (gasp)! As a result, they have been widening the pool and talents of their educators. Carnegie Mellon has often brought in top television designers like Bob Dickinson to teach the intricacies of lighting for the camera or my friend Abby Holmes to teach concert lighting. They even let me in the door on occasion. The challenge to schools embarking on this expansion into other fields is keeping a steady flow of students focused in those areas. I helped create a Concert Design program at Webster University. After about seven years it became clear that it was difficult to maintain that kind of specific target and despite great successes out there (you know who you are, and most likely got this book for free) it was difficult to keep up with the technology changes and recruit like-minded students, so it ended up becoming some specialized topics classes and immersed back into the theatre training.
It is in this area that we have seen success. For example, Full Sail University is a private university offering degrees specific to multiple fields from video games to concert production. With the private funding available to them and strong relationships with vendors, they are able to offer up a great exposure to the newest technology and trends. With every gain, however, comes a loss. Unlike BA and BFA programs, the core and history of theatrical technique is not a focus of the program.
If school is the route you choose, you need to do your homework. Understand the schoolâs priorities for your education. Visit the school. Spend time with current students. I found a home instantly at Webster. My dear friend Susan Rose (Ringo Starr) had a great time at Full Sail and is in their Hall of Fame. We are all out there working today and happy we went to school for it. If school is your route, youâll find your way when you focus on your priorities. Keep in mind, one of those priorities might be a parentâs edict that you WILL get a degree so that youâŚ.
Wait for itâŚ
ââŚhave something to fall back onâ!
In 1970, Jack Calmes, Ruste Brutsche, and Jack Maxson started a company in Dallas, Texas, that would change the concert industry forever: Showco. The guys at Showco saw that the need for quality sound delivery in a live concert was an essential part of this new world of touring rock concerts. Once the technology had been developed, it moved into lighting as well. Later, Showcoâs sister company, Vari*Lite started manufacturing and providing fully automated lighting systems. To accomplish this, large shops with large staffs based locally and pool of touring personnel were needed to get the show on the road. More and more of these companies continued to develop, employing more and more people. Sometimes the bands themselves got in on the game. The band JOURNEY, for example, started a company called Nightmare Productions in the 1980s, bought and built their lighting and staging and hired their road crew on salary. When the band wasnât on the road (which was rare in those days) the crews would be sent out for other tours. Later, they became Nocturne and were one of the most prolific video companies in the early days of concert video.
The point is, you can get a gig. It may not be the gig you want out of the gate, but is a door way. Today, major concert production houses often put their road crews on salary, provide benefits, and often offer family support networks for people that are leaving families at home while they go on the road. Vendors offer a great connection to the business. They have already done the hard part of getting to the talent and getting the job. Many, many times, Iâve seen people rise up to the top from entry level positions. Some of the best programmers and designers in the game (people like Nathan Alves and Brian Jenkins) were young, inexperienced programmers introduced to me by Bandit Lites when I was juggling too many gigs at one time and needed people that were ready to be trusted with a rig. There ya go; out of the shop and on the road with two daysâ notice. It happens like that all the time. It also gives you a home base. Some of my favorite people live in and around Sycamore, IL. What is a Sycamore, IL, you ask? For our purposes it is the home of Upstaging and its many employees. They live in a beautiful college town and have great jobs and nice homes. They go out on the road, then they come home and work on the next âthingâ in the Upstaging shop. If college isnât your thing, this is a great way to go with companies like Bandit and Upstaging that support you as you climb. The larger production houses are also great places to start with lots of ways to climb the ladder (figuratively as well as literally). Companies like 4-Wall and PRG are nearly always hiring shop staff. Show your stuff and the bus will be waiting.
There is another angle to the âshopâ path. Y...