Chapter 1: Music
At the humble age of eight years old, I managed to convince my parents to buy me my first acoustic guitar and allow me to begin to take lessons. My little fingers quickly got calloused with the amount that I was practicing, but they eventually learned how to deal with the pressure of the steel strings. I actively practiced for several years before eventually moving on to learn more instruments (like ukulele and piano), dropping the guitar lessons as I got more busy with school, rehearsals and other extracurriculars.
While I never had official lessons for the other instruments I tried, I knew enough about music to find chords and begin to play songs by ear. My hands may not have been in the proper positions, but I still found a way to explore my interests. This concept of “not knowing the rules before messing with the tools” was how I started as a theatrical designer, faking it until I made it.
Vocal lessons are how I got first involved with my local community theater, which sparked a series of events leading to where I am now. I was around twelve when I walked through the doors of Playhouse Merced for the first time, water bottle and pencils in-hand for my first class. It’s interesting to look back on it now, knowing how those humble beginnings would lead to me auditioning for my first musical.
Often being cast as ensemble members for the shows I auditioned for, I was often given the “alto line”, which created a personal joy for harmonization. The appreciation of adding several different elements together and creating something even more interesting greatly shaped how I included details within my designs.
When I did start designing, understanding musical timing and emphasis elevated my designs for musical numbers through my understanding of the song’s composition in relation to its role within the show. I’d easily get caught up in the process, creating complex cues timed to the hundredth of a second so something hit right on beat at the end of the number every time.
However, as I got more involved with design, the less I was able to play. Having to work long, odd hours (once coming home at 2:30AM after a shift during “tech week”), I lacked the hours during the day to pick up the instrument and play. It was only during quarantine, with nowhere else to go, that I managed to get my guitar out of its case. The strings were all out of tune and faded from the months they spent unplayed. I once again had to go through the painful process of cutting up the skin on the tips of my fingers until they were acclimated to the guitar. This process made me realize two things:
1) Developing a skill and practicing to reach perfection quickly fades away if you don’t maintain it.
2) It’s going to be a strange experience when I get back into a theatre and try to program cues into the lightboard again after being forced to abandon it for over a year (you know, because of the global health crisis).
These days, I try to pick up the uke between classes and play for just five minutes, to tap back into the joy of playing and pay homage to my roots. But, it will be an interesting experience to return to the old six-string friend and see how much I still manage to remember.
