You may have noticed that there is a LARGE gap in posts. I posted sporadically last summer, and then not at all until this week.
Things have shifted a lot since Eamon was born. Yes, I am married to the same man and live in the same apartment, but I don't do the same things from day to day. Theater has been my passion for many, many years. I still love it, but I don't know how to continue working in it when the pay wouldn't cover child care and the hours are long. More than anything, I want to be there for my son. Theater not only would take me away, but it wouldn't help me provide for him.
Last August, confused about what to do with my life, I went to a career development workshop that my alma mater was hosting for moms looking to start working again. I had been working 1 day per week since Jan 2011 and I had designed the set for a show, but I didn't feel like I had a career or focus anymore.
The workshop enabled me to see what skills I had and how I could best use them, and in late September I launched my new business, Eliza's Eye Family Photography. The business took up every spare moment I had in the fall, between figuring out how to run it, doing shoots, retouching photos and whatnot - all during Eamon's naps and after he is in bed or when Christopher could watch him. Now that the logistics of the business have been more or less figured out (though of course there is always room to grow), I feel a little more able to knit and read blogs and whatever else I did before. And so I am back.
I'm not sure where this blog will go, or if I will continue it for long. But it might be fun to see where it takes me...
Today is a big day for us. Today is our anatomy scan. Or rather, Smudge's anatomy scan. We'll find out whether Smudge's organs are developing correctly, and also possibly learn its gender.
This scan will make Smudge more real for us, and the reality of Smudge is a little daunting. We have about 4 months until its arrival, and we really have no idea how our lives will change post-baby. If Smudge is colicky, we may just retreat into our home and become zombies. If Smudge is a chill little one, things might not be so extreme.
mom and me, circa 1976
I spent a few hours on Friday with a friend of mine, another set designer, who recently became a mother. Her career is a bit more established than mine, and I was curious to see what she had to say about parenthood. There was a lot to talk about, but it was all reassuring. The best thing she said was that the sleep deprivation was no worse than what we'd experienced in grad school, except that with parenthood no one was judging and yelling at you daily. Which I find extremely reassuring! (though I was 10 years younger when I was a grad student... still, it was manageable.)
On Saturday I went to a family alumni function that the design department of my grad school was hosting. I saw a few people I knew, all with babies. They too said that the sleep deprivation was comparable, though one new father said that of course there were no vacations during which to catch up on sleep. One woman said that she'd mastered typing while nursing, and the general consensus is that it is acceptable to bring your (well-behaved) child to meetings. Babies are welcome in the theater community. Which makes some sense. Theater is really just a grown up version of children's play.
I had been worrying about all of this, the balancing of career and baby/child, and I thought that one of them would take a hit. Or that I'd have to take 6 months off and then return to design begrudgingly. But seeing these other designers dive gleefully back in, a month or two after their child's birth, is reassuring.
Yes, they are still working part-time, but they are working! me too! me too!!
Back in 1995, when I was a college student, I spent a summer interning at Glimmerglass Opera. I was on the stage crew, along with 6 other interns. Glimmerglass is a professional summer company that runs in rep, meaning that every day they do a different opera. The summer I was there we did 4 operas, all appealing to very different tastes: Don Giovanni (Mozart), Paul Bunyan (obscure 20th century Britten), Yeomen of the Guard (Gilbert & Sullivan) and Tamerlano (Baroque/Handel).
This experience was huge: it confirmed that I wanted to spent my life doing theater. Everything there was exciting, new and big.
And I also formed a very important friendship with Joanna (aka Jojo, though at the beginning of the summer she was still Joanna). She and I were the only women in a group of rowdy and somewhat lewd college boys. (To be fair, there were some women on the crew, but they were not interns and therefore had more responsibility than us.) Neither of us were particularly rowdy. Joanna had recently moved to the US, having transferred from a French university the year before. She had listened to all of the operas before she got there that summer, and during the operas she would let out a little sigh or coo every once in a while, when the music was particularly good.
She was also rather outgoing, and became friendly with some of Tamerlano cast. I remember us having breakfast with one of them at a coffee shop in downtown Cooperstown, and another time the soprano invited the crew (through Joanna, of course) to the house where she was staying for brunch.
Since we both were staying at the same residence, had similar work hours, and had only one car between us, we frequently went to work together or came home for lunch together or went grocery shopping together. Basically, we were inseparable.
The operas. In the case of this blog post, there is only one opera worth discussing: Tamerlano. I don't think I was at all familiar with Baroque opera before that summer, but I was blown away by it. So soft and lilting, so unexpectedly beautiful. As a crew member on Tamerlano, I spent the duration of the opera behind a very tall gold folding screen with 2 other crew members. At certain musical cues (once each act, I think), we moved the screen. Otherwise, we played cards or napped. On stage. I am serious.
There were two musical parts that we would wake up for and listen to intently. One was David Daniels' aria. The other was the show finale. I've found a YouTube clip of some other singers singing the finale and strangely they are wearing the same costumes as our production. (Looking at the credits, it has the same director, Jonathan Miller)It's not very long, and it is beautiful. Listen!
That fall, I went to study in Italy. My college had a very intensive, immersive junior year abroad program in Florence, where I studied art history and Italian language. It was very hard, especially going from Glimmerglass (where had I finally found people who loved the same things as I did) to a country where I barely spoke the language and didn't know anyone. How I got through that year is another post (and I did get through it, and loved it), but I have to stick to my story. Joanna (who had by then been nicknamed Jojo) sent me a ton of letters. Along with being a great friend, she knew about culture shock and she knew Europe; she understood what I was going through. And she sent me things, tapes of music she'd gotten out of the library: Purcell (Dido and Aeneas) and Bach (St Matthew Passion), to be exact. And I listened to them on my walkman, laying in on my bed writing letters or walking the Sede for class. The music was so surprisingly different from Handel (unfortunately I have little music education and have no way to discuss this. I can just tell you that is very modern to me.)
Years passed, and I stopped listening to my cassette tapes. I met Christopher, and was surprised when one day he put on the St Matthew Passion. Apparently when he was in a chorus in DC they sang it, and he loved it. He plays it regularly, and I always think of all of these things when he does.
A few weeks ago he sent me an email while I was at work. A staged version of the St Matthew Passion is being done at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, and he wanted to get tickets. He had been listening to the director, Jonathan Miller, on the radio and it sounded really exciting. Jonathan Miller! The same guy who directed Tamerlano! St Matthew Passion! Needless to say, we got tickets to see it, and went last night.
It was beautiful. I guess the piece is usually performed as a choral work, very staid. Miller made it a little more dramatic, separating the two choruses and orchestras so that they each faced each other in a loose sort of circle, leaving the center open as a performing space and for the conductor. Musicians would enter the stage for solos as well, and everyone was in street clothes.
I found a YouTube clip of an older version of the production, and it just doesn't do it justice because I think the spacing is so important. I suppose you can hear the music though. It's interesting to me how connected I feel to this music. Listening to it last night brought back so many memories of different times in my life. Times that are pretty far in the past...
We've been slowly working on our apartment. I bought myself a new computer desk on Craigslist, and on Tuesday I put it together and cleared a space for it in the den. The reasoning behind this was to get the taxes done, and though it took a while, yes, I made some progress on that too. The rest of the room is still in progress, so it's not worth showing just yet. Hopefully this weekend we'll finish moving everything around and I can begin to settle into my new work space. I have hopes of artistic inspiration once the clutter has been removed.
The economy has been really getting me down recently. The play I recently designed closed, and I have just one more project coming up. I don't blame myself for this lack of work. In fact, everyone I know is slowing down and reevaluating what they'll do next. Last Saturday I had a meeting for my new project, and afterwards I hung out a little with the sound designer, who I have worked with twice before and am thrilled to be working with again. We were in Williamsburg and he followed me up to The Yarn Tree, where I bought some bamboo roving.
Broadway seems to be doing very well, and I'm not sure why. It's the little shows that are suffering, the ones dependent on funders for donations in order to survive. Non profits. This sound designer said that 6 companies that he worked with last year have now folded or lost their spaces, and are no longer producing. He also said that he did something like 25 projects last year, a mixture of assisting and designing, and now he only has a handful coming up. 2 projects that I thought I'd be doing were either postponed or downsized, pushing me out. We both found this terrifying.
The upswing of this, what seems to be in the air these days in the arts community, is that this might be a time for us to try something new. This sound designer was talking about how he'd always wanted to compose music, and now he has the time. I've wanted to try illustration (yes, and quilting and other fibery things).
Or perhaps we'll see unusual collaborations. Once we take the money aspect out of a theater project (ie someone hires you to do their project, and then they sell tickets) perhaps things can be a little more democratic and more interesting. "WPA" seems to be on everybody's tongue. I am not sure that the US government is about to give money for theater development this time around (though it would be wonderful if it did). But perhaps slow times call for self-motivation.
I opened my latest show last night, a gay adaptation of Hedda Gabler entitled Henri Gabler. It's an interesting concept, and the set was fun to design and put together. Really it's fairly simple: a green floor, and a wall of 4" plastic refrigeration strips hung a few feet from the back wall. The strips create some really great reflections, and the floor glows. Very cool.I'm beginning to emerge and restart my other life (the non-designer part). It's always so disappointing to go back to work after doing my theater thing intensely for a chunk of time. I always use this period to notice everything that's wrong with my life: the lack of storage space in our bedroom, the dust bunnies under the dining table, the clutter on and around my desk. The room where I have my computer and my knitting stuff has become a dump of sorts, and it's no good.
I clicked over to Apartment Therapy this morning and discovered that they're doing their Cure once again. I think it might be good incentive to clean up and organize at least one of our rooms. Terra has agreed to loan me their Cure book, so I'll begin next week, a week or two late but whatever. At least I'm trying to do something about the clutter. And maybe once that's gone the rest of my life will feel more organized too.
I have been really busy. In fact, I am still really busy. And tired. I have forgotten what it feels like to be deprived of sleep. I almost put the milk away on the cereal shelf this morning.
This will all be over by Thursday, though the big push is today, to paint my set and dress it fully. It is coming together nicely, and I'm thankful to have a career that involves creating imaginary worlds. All day long. It's like playing with a dollhouse with your friends, but all grown up.
I am not sure what to do about these socks. I loved the first one, but I am really disappointed with the color repeats on the second one. I am tempted to rip it out to the first green and gray repeat (right after the heel), cut the yarn to prevent the second green repeat, and do it over. I could have prevented this by reskeining 1/2 of the yarn, so I could knit the same direction (and not from either end), thus preventing mirrored repeats.What do you all think? Christopher says that I have a lot of projects that I want to start (how does he know??) and that I should just finish the socks and move on. I'm less sure.
Ok, ok, it's not the Boston Globe (which has supposedly announced that they're not reviewing any shows on the Cape after Labor Day), but still:
This play is a two-hour game of hide the truth and seek the answers, all played out against the backdrop of a sculptured cityscape outside the office window where the light is ever-changing in dramatic sweeps, always a reflection of what is taking place on stage, thanks to brilliant lighting design by John Malinowski. Created by Eliza Brown, the set outside the window is a lifelike view that engages the audience with its clever construction and imaginative conception.
I still haven't solved the camera charger problem; I know that I have/had two chargers, but since I've returned home I haven't found the second (unbroken) one. I will probably have to buy something later today at one of those huge electronics stores, since I need my camera for some research I'm doing and, well, I can't go to Rhinebeck without it.
In any case, I've downloaded my photos from the Cape. If you're at all near Wellfleet, MA before November 1, go check out the show. It was written by Conor MacPherson and is called Shining City. It's a haunting sort of play, the kind that makes you work a bit, though in a good way. And the actors are great and, well, you would also get to see my set. I was very pleased with the end result, though there were some definite labor pains mid-week.
Christopher came up on Friday night for the opening, and we spent the weekend bumming around, eating seafood, and hanging out with the actors after their performances. On Sunday we drove to Provincetown and climbed some dunes. They were beautiful and encompassing, though we didn't make it all the way to the beach. Now we're back, and I'm neck-deep in my next show, which opens in two weeks, though the set goes in on Monday. The "set" is something that I will have to assemble, which means that between now and Monday I have to get my ass in gear, esp if I am going to Rhinebeck on Saturday... Let's hope my camera resurrects itself.
I'm now in Cape Cod, working on my show. It opens on Friday.
It's amazing just how quickly one's reality changes. I spent Friday on the bus (EIGHT hours), mostly listening to podcasts and trying hard to knit. (it was less than successful; I spent three hours trying to knit the 10 rows of ribbing to finish my beret and will have to redo it again when I have the right needle.)
Saturday was a quick immersion into life here: a run thru of the play in the morning followed by meetings with the prop mistress and the production team. In the evening I went to the final performance of the previous play, which was very good. And then I went to the tiny closing party and met the actors and director, finding myself on a road trip to Provincetown to get pizza at 1am.
Theater folks are unusually friendly and outgoing, which makes for quick friendships and an inclusive environment, perfect for someone like me who deep down considers herself shy.
Today, with the previous set struck from the stage, the crew started loading my set in. I always find this part an uneasy transition. At this level I'm not expected to help, I'd probably be in the way most of the time, but I should also be around to answer questions and notice things I want changed before things get too permanent. Years ago, when I did props and was on the other side of this relationship, I remember being impressed by a designer who wanted to leave the theater and go furniture shopping with me. Now that I'm a designer, I can see why he wanted to flee. It's rather stressful to see your work realized, especially when it's at a point where major changes can't be made. (That's why I build a model before I submit drawings, to avoid mistakes like that.) By the time I reach this point, I need to have faith in the decisions I've made, even though I sometimes find myself thinking, "wow, I hope that looks better when that's painted," and usually it does. In any case, the set looks great. It's very exciting to see it being realized, and the people here are just wonderful. The actors aren't on stage until Tuesday afternoon, so there's plenty of time to tweak this and that before it needs to be functional. Remember my little village? Take a peek out the window.
I'm still drafting my show. I sent most of the drawings in last week, and they've started building from them, but there are some little detail-y things for me still to do.
One of those is to draft the five (5!) little forced perspective buildings that can be seen out the window of the set. Brilliant of me to put five (5!) of them there, and to make them all so different. Did I mention that they have roofs and chimneys? Maybe it's time to hire an assistant, so I can work on more important things...
After a 7 hour bus ride yesterday, I was here: Cape Cod. The trip was too short. I got there at 3pm yesterday and left this morning at 11am. I am looking forward to a week there in October, when I go back to put the finishing touches on my set. And I'm glad I won't have two 7-hour bus rides back to back again. I'm tuckered out (though I do have 3/4 of a sock).(This beach muck reminded me strongly of Anselm Keifer's work. I wonder if he's inspired by the beach...)
This afternoon I left work early to go to what should have been an interesting panel discussion at The Public theater. 3 playwrights who also work in film and TV were to talk about the two worlds- film vs theater- and I dragged Christopher. Somehow I thought we'd gain some insight into the world we're trying to enter.
When I got off the subway, I was thinking of the swatching I've been doing, and also of Christopher's play. (For those of you who are curious, the play has so far been going very well. No, he hasn't been offered a production, but we've gotten very positive feedback from some people who are well known in the business.) Anyway, I was thinking about the nature of art and creativity, which you must realize I've been contemplating a bit recently.
Here's the gist of what I was mulling: "Art" is something that one hones. The word "art" is used to describe something that is masterful, something that requires skill and thought and intense study. And for this reason, theater is my art. I have been involved in theater intensely for the past 17 or so years, and I still find that there are many things to learn. But I also feel that I have something to contribute, which is very exciting.
Knitting is a much newer "art" to me. Of course, I've been knitting for longer, but I haven't been honing my skills. This past week I've been swatching a sweater that I'm hoping to design, and it's been so much fun just knitting lace pattern after lace pattern. I feel like each pattern has taught me something different about the yarn and what it can or can't accomplish. It's very cool.
So I came out of the subway, and I was contemplating all of these things in depth. And it felt pretty cool to be going to The Public and checking in and receiving a packet. But then the panel discussion began.
It really should have been an interesting panel. The playwrights they chose are all under 40 and very successful. But the moderator... she was from the Mayor's Office of Film, Theater and Broadcasting. For those of you who don't live in New York, I should explain. This office is mostly responsible (in my opinion) for encouraging film companies to shoot their films in New York. They draw tourists in to see The Lion King. They give tax incentives to TV shows with studios in Queens. Their mission is to bring money to New York, and they do it very well. But this isn't an office that is concerned with honing one's art form. They are business people.
So the woman moderating this panel of esteemed young playwrights was from this office. Not only did she ask questions that didn't lead to interesting answers (Q:"what is your typical day like?" A: "I always walk my dog, and I try to structure my writing around that.") but she suddenly started referring to "the industry" and "the business." In fact, in one of her questions, she went on and on about "the industry" this and "the industry" that. And when it came time for someone to answer, the playwrights all looked really confused and there was a pause until one of them then said, "What industry?"
The word "industry" implies that many people are making a living or something totally crazy like that, like we're factory workers who can be plugged in to a role here or there, when in theater the whole deal is that we can at least call ourselves "artists." I mean, that's why we get paid so little, right? Because that title (and the ownership of our work) is worth the lack of pay, which is more or less what one of the writers had just said. (of course, you could say there are "industry" people in theater, but they aren't the writers or directors or designers or actors. They are the agents and producers, and Broadway theater owners and stagehands, the folks who are living off of our struggles.)
This whole lack of understanding frustrates me to no end, probably because it just shows a huge disconnect between how the city views us theater artists as just another way to make money. They don't see that we're busy honing our art. argh.
Thank you for reading that. Your reward is my swatch. I think I'm on to something!Of course, I'm still not 100% sure what I'm going to do, but I have some ideas. Yes, you'll have to wait. One really cool thing (that you can't see in these photos) is that the yarn changes very subtly from lavender to grey. I didn't know that would happen.
I haven't said much here about it, but Christopher and I are producing a play that he wrote. He is a playwright, so the idea of this isn't too odd. But we've never produced before, and there have been some growing pains.
Tonight is our opening night! We're very excited (and a little anxious). Things still need to happen before tonight. We're tired. And just about everyone we know is coming to our opening night, so we've got a social day ahead of us as well.
That said, we've assembled a stellar cast and a really great production team. For all of our inexperience producing, I think we have a great product. And better than that, people are coming to see it. Reviewers. And agents. And directors. And that's why we're doing this, to give Christopher and the actors and director some exposure. (I've already learned that designers don't get much from these shows except for some photos for your portfolio, the experience of having worked with this team and a line for your resume.)If you are in New York this summer, please come and see the play! I will be there at all of the performances (though I may appear harried). There are 7 performances at rather weird times between now and August 3. Information below:
COULDN'T SAY
By Christopher Wall
Winner, Literary Prize, Washington Theatre Festival
When Ethan and Liz are stranded on a deserted highway, the past they've avoided finally catches up to them. Join Brent Langdon* and Jeff Award-winner Elizabeth Rich* in this savage, tender portrait of marriage in the breakdown lane.
Director, Lisa Rothe Set Design, Eliza Brown Lighting Design, Melissa Mizell Costume Design, Christina Bullard Sound Design, Daniel Kluger
Saturday, July 19, 5:00 PM (Sold Out!) Monday, July 21, 8:30 PM Tuesday, July 22, 6:30 PM Sunday, July 27, 5:45 PM Wednesday, July 30, 5:15 PM (Performance Added!) Friday, August 1, 5:30 PM Sunday, August 3, 3:00 PM
Dorothy Strelsin Theatre Abingdon Theatre Arts Complex 312 West 36th Street, 1st Floor Just West of 8th Avenue
Use Discount Code CSAY at Ticket Central for $15 tickets
For more information go to www.couldntsay.com
* These actors are appearing courtesy of Actors' Equity Association.
Sorry I've been so absent. I've been here all week: It's all good, it just takes up a lot of time.
Yesterday was our first performance, and now I've got to move on to designing on Christopher's show. We have to see what it looks like in the theater on Friday afternoon, and I am sad to say that I am way behind.
My life has been a whirlwind since we got back from Germany. I am designing sets and costumes for a show in Hartford, CT, and so I've been trekking up and back weekly. I used to think that I'd like business trips, because I like to travel, but I'm discovering that I don't. Traveling for fun is so different than traveling for work. When you travel for work you only have work and work-related things to do. There is no going home at the end of the day, and there's not much time off that's very focused or relaxing.
A few years ago I designed the set for a play in Vermont, and the only place to go in town (besides the theater and a bake shop, where you couldn't really sit) was my haunted hotel room, where there was a really dinky TV and 24 hour news coverage of the Pope's deathwatch. I have never had much interest in the Pope, but in this case it was utterly absorbing. I kid you not. (perhaps I wouldn't have this problem if was in a higher paying field, but still.)
Anyway, I'm nearing the final stretch in this project, and it's really nice that the end is in sight. I'm looking forward to having time to pet the cat and organize my yarn (which I'm embarrassed to say is all over the place). On the other hand, I have two more set design projects waiting in the wings. We had a meeting for one this afternoon and the other one will be in full swing almost as soon as I get back. It's exciting to have so much to work on, and I certainly can't complain, but I also wonder whether my life will always be this hectic. I mean, this is the career I chose, and I knew that this was the lifestyle that came with it. But the lifestyle makes more sense when you're 25 and single. How does one incorporate a family life into this time sucker of an art form?
As promised, I have photos of my set. Somehow -ok, this always happens- I took the photos during a performance and someone's head is in the way. I've started Photoshopping it out, but it will take a while.
Here are a few pictures to show you what I did. The play is about two homeless people who live on a subway platform. During the course of the play they are visited (or haunted) by the Angel of Death and her sidekick: There are a bunch of dream sequences, one of which takes place in a tango bar.
My show opened last night. This week has been exhausting, more work than I've put into a design in a long time, but I'm very pleased with how it turned out. I'll be taking photos next week and will post some to show you a little of the final product.
In other news, Christopher's stocking is zipping along. Check it out:I eliminated a repeat of zig zags between the Christmas trees so it doesn't become an unmanageable size. I don't miss them at all!
The play that I am currently working on is about two homeless people on a subway platform. They are visited by the Angel of Death. We need magic on stage. Making this magic happen has been stressing me out a little. I've dreamed big and now I need to make it happen.
This weekend is the last weekend before we load the set into the theater. Today and tomorrow we are building and painting the set. That is, a carpenter is building it and I am painting it. Monday we go into the theater, Tuesday we play with lights and cues and such, Wednesday we have a dress rehearsal with an audience, and Thursday we open. A lot has to happen between now and Monday. Our carpenter, aka our TD, is building the set in a storage space in Bushwick, Brooklyn. I went out there today to paint it. There was a mix up in the lumber order and a lot hasn't been built yet. In any case, I spent some very pleasant hours on the roof of the storage space, priming the walls that had been built and enjoying the view. The weather was also perfect and windy. I felt a little like I was on a boat (except that I was on a rooftop). I'll spend the day there tomorrow, making those walls look like subway walls. Wish me luck!
I feel like I've just been complaining about my health (and other things) on here, but it's not that bad. And it's going to get better.
I spoke to my doctor yesterday and we discussed the fact that if my headaches seem to be stress related I should start thinking more about managing my stress. We talked about me possibly seeing an acupuncturist. I'm not sure if my insurance covers it, but it might be a plan, and that makes me feel better. Already, I feel more under control. I'm trying to breathe deeply, relax my shoulders and jaw. I'm drinking lots of herbal tea, something called "calm" and I made myself a little heating pad with some left over fabric, rice and lavender. I put it in the microwave for 30 seconds and then lay it over my head or shoulders or neck and the stress just melts away. Well, maybe not completely, but I it does help relieve tension.
This weekend will be a busy one, which is too bad since Sunday is our first anniversary. (The good part is that my set will be done or at least in progress, which should alleviate some of the stress I'm feeling). I'm bracing for the chaos and trying not to let it paralyze me. It does feel overwhelming. In other news, poor Dinah has been so neglected that I didn't notice that she had a big sore on her ass until Tuesday night. Christopher had to take her to the vet on Wednesday. The vet was a little shocked by how bad it was and now Dinah is on antibiotics. We have to bring her back next week so the vet can reexamine her; Dinah wouldn't let her near the sore as it was. So now, twice a day, I get to give Dinah a little squirt of medicine down her throat. She is becoming more savvy about how to avoid it and gags every time I give it to her. To reward her bravery, I give her a treat after each dose, and she's started running to the kitchen after the medicine to get it. Now that she's feeling better, she's gotten much perkier which means she's back to her demanding, clingy, princessy self. Gotta love the fuzzball.
I've just got another week to go with this play I'm designing. There's a lot of planning the hours on certain days, coupled with wondering how I'll occupy myself on other days: hurry up and wait.
I saw the neurologist yesterday and he was rather dismissive of my headaches, accounting them to stress. I'm to cut down on the medication he gave me before (which has alleviated them for the past two weeks), so now the headaches are back. The pain just grinds me down. I don't know what to do. In other unhappy news, Christopher's sweater doesn't fit him very well. It seems to be just the wrong shape, or perhaps it's too big. It's hard to tell in the state it's in. This afternoon I was revving up to rip out the sleeves and reknit them smaller. I just had him put the sweater on again and it looks more like the problem is that there's just tons of fabric right under the sleeve, in the body of the sweater. I'm taking a big breath and have decided to continue onwards, sew on the buttons, block in and then see what needs to be done. Maybe it will all come together.Strangely, I get a lot of joy about thinking about life after the show opens. It's not been an unhappy process, but it is making me really anxious. Is it that I need more work to keep me occupied, so there's less time to worry about details? Or is it that I'm not cut out to work in theater?
