Strike

I might have mentioned that I am a scenic carpenter by trade. That means I build scenery, not that I'm good to look at while I carp. Or is that, "carpent?" I don't know. Perform acts of carpentry. It's a joke, son.

A question I get asked a lot when people find out what I actually do is whether I get depressed at having to build things which are just destined to be torn down after the play closes (that's theatre-folk talk for no longer being performed at that theater). Since I usually build things which last for a few months at most, many people seem to think that it must be very saddening to me to put so much work into something so impermanent. It's a valid question, which is why I'm answering it now.

No.

Well, that was easy. I think I'll run out for a beer or something, leave the audience here to ruminate on that. Oh, wait, there's not much upon which to ruminate. Okay, I'll take another stab at it.

I could get all deep and say that everything is impermanent. I won't because that dodges the question. The work I do sometimes does seem like a whole lot of effort for very little result, it's true. Sometimes I put tremendous amounts of time into things which last for a week and are seen by a few hundred people at most. Sometimes that does get to me.

But not for the reason you might think, I maintain. I dislike putting more work into something than it's worth, true, and sometimes if I spend a lot of effort on something which isn't appreciated or isn't used to its full potential, it does bother me. Can anyone honestly say that they've never had something they've done be under appreciated? If so, you're lucky. If not, that's life I suppose. I hate it when people say that's life. Maybe I'll write something about that. Hold on a second.

Okee dokee, I'm back. The point is that no matter how long I spend on something, seeing it misused does bother me. But the point of scenery is to be impermanent, so I don't consider that misuse.

And being impermanent has its definite advantages. You don't have to build for the ages, for one thing. It only has to last as long as the run of the show, so you can avoid a lot of headaches. There's also the fact that, if you really dislike your work on a set (that's play-folk talk for the scenery) it doesn't hang around to remind you of it. Actually, that's a fabulous bonus to all theatrical endeavors: they have a finite end-point, so if you hate doing them, they won't last forever (unless you're doing Cats, in which case you're screwed).

So no, I don't find it depressing to tear down things into which I've put hard work. It can be quite rewarding, actually, if you hated a particular element and get to destroy it. And not all scenery gets destroyed; if it's useful, sometimes it gets saved for the next time you'll need a platform on wheels, or a man-eating plant, or what have you. That's not always the case, and it's not good to save everything because you rapidly run out of space, but sometimes you contribute something lasting.

Even if I don't ever see any set piece that I've built ever again, I take photos of the good stuff to show off to prospective employers, and I don't mind returning the stage to the formless space from which it began. There's something wonderful about going back to square one, even if it can be a little daunting. It's a good way to end, just like it's a good way to begin.

Oh, and nothing lasts forever. I would have kicked myself if I hadn't said that.