Over the last few days, my scenic studio has been working like mad to create a series of stencils for the upcoming show at Berkeley Repertory Theatre. (The White Snake -- see it, it's beautiful.) We're trying to make some brand-new custom-built furniture look like actual antiques. I love this sort of challenge. But I'll admit that all this stencil-cutting is a bit hard on the body. I have to consciously unclench my jaw when I'm working, and take breaks so that my hand doesn't cramp.
I've been working with Margot, who did the scenic painting fellowship with me two years ago. She's wonderful.
Apparently the carpenters, who were working on onstage notes asked Margot where I was, but when she told them that I was at the studio, making stencils they mis-heard her. They thought she said I was making stem cells. This lead to a strange line of discussion, about how we could stop building scenery, and just grow it in giant vats. But then we were left with the moral quandary of what to do when the show ends, and we needed to strike the scenery. Would we be murdering our own creations?
Even if it's stressful, and sometime tedious, my job is never dull.
So what do you think? Did we manage to create a surface that looks like it wasn't just painted yesterday?