What I want to wear…

Like most people, the first costume I remember wearing was for Halloween. I must have been six or seven and unlike most Halloweens in Kansas City, it was cold and turned the usual rain to a hard crusty snow that today would have cancelled the regular American kinderfest.  I don’t remember if I was supposed to be an astronaut or some other kind of space man. I clearly remember a plastic fish bowl worn nearly opaque with use tottering on my shoulders and made my breath echo, as I trooped from house to house with a pillowcase full of candy.  My first pair of hiking boots and a set of grey cotton sweats stood in for the space suit. A big plastic vacuum cleaner tube was fastened to the back of the helmet with epoxy and strung either into a back pack or my suit, I don’t recall which, but it fell out at some point and I had to carry it for the rest of the night.

The rest is images: running through my neighbor’s yard, panting into an echoing helmet, the snow crunching under my feet, the orange-yellow glow of the street lights. I must have been happy.

It was the last time I would wear a costume unselfconsciously.  Like most people I don’t try to draw attention to myself when I am in public and when I wear a costume these days, I have a hard time not feeling absurd.  A career in theatre hasn’t kept me from feeling odd in someone else’s clothes, even if those clothes belong to a fictional being.  Oddly, it’s a feeling that isn’t extended to wearing a uniform, which is a type of costume. Maybe it’s the lack of choice or the fact that I am being paid changes that calculation. I would even wear it home, whereas most of my colleagues would change before leaving.   With that said, I wouldn’t go out on the town in my uniform.  I also I have never been asked to wear a mascot costume or had my face painted so I am not sure how I would do in those kinds of roles. Even the adult Halloween costumes that have grown in popularity make me feel itchy.

Yet, there is something really fascinating about seeing someone in a well-constructed costume. I can’t help but drool over the costumes that spill out of the coverage of the various big Cons. You can tell the people that put a lot of work into what they are wearing.  The look on their face, the focus is powerful. Watching a video or watching a good cos-player is like watching a lawyer walk out in a power suit, or a solider in a dress uniform on formal parade. There is an inherent power in outfits like this, a symbol of real or implied power. 

Comparing the well-made costume to a properly worn uniform made me wonder if the quality of the costume had something to do with how I felt about the experience or it really was just me being uncomfortable? Does that confidence come from building the costume or is it in the wearing it? Is it something else entirely?  In order to find out, I am in the process of building a Mandalorian costume from scratch, using the specifications from the  Mandalorian Mercs’ website. Here are some pictures of what I have built so far, and I will post more as I complete each step. 

Step one: I downloaded and cut out of paper the templets for a modern version of the costume. In Star Wars canon there are a couple of era’s in Mandalorian History, each with their own armor styles.  The modern style is closer to that of Boba Fett, though I am adding some of my own twists which you will see as the costume progresses.

Step two: I made cardboard templates of the paper templates to make sure I had the sizing right. These card board templates will get used create the final armor plates that will be cut out of one of two  4’x4’ sheets of ADM, a type of PVC plastic.

 

Fitting these templates onto their approximate location on the coveralls. Still feeling very goofy at this point.

 

Step Three: This is a mock-up of the vest that we will secure the plates to when they have been cut and shaped with a heat gun. 

 

Roots of an Artist

Throughout the course of working on this project, and really throughout my career, I have encountered people who are not only consummate professionals, but also fans. These are people who can speak with authority in their particular field, and have a deep and profound love of it. It got me thinking, do you have to be fan of a thing to be great at a thing?

The question occurred to me while watching the Foo Fighters: Sonic highways. The HBO sponsored program is both a Foo Fighters album and a documentary about the history of American rock and roll, blues, and country. In it Dave Grohl and Co. travel to a dozen of the important studios in cities like Chicago, Washington D.C., and Nashville. Each episode explores these studios’ place in its history and the music scene they inhabit. It is a fascinating crash course in these genres. 

The best part is watching Dave Grohl’s unbridled glee at working alongside his idols, and the joy that many of these people have in talking about their passions.  All of them get this thousand yard stare that looks into the middle distance of their past—a past that happens to be the important landmarks in the American cultural landscape. I am only half way through at this point but I am loving the hell out of indulging the inner sixteen year-old who had dreams of being a rock star. 

To be honest, I love media like this. On any given day you can find me sneaking episodes of Parts Unknown and Tabletop, reading author blogs or articles about fandom that made it on to my news feed, or engrossed in the Still Untitled podcast. It’s a way for me to see into my idols’ passions and how they express themselves. 

The good news is that I can get my fandom fix in a lot of different ways. If I want to watch someone’s process all I have to do is find a streaming site, go to the movie theatre, or turn on Pandora.  We are in the age of fandom and some of the hottest media products out there are helmed by creators like J.J. Abrams, Joss Whedon, Guillermo De Toro. All of whom are self-professed fans of the projects that are working on.

I can’t say that every person that Dave Grohl, Anthony Bourdain, or Wil Wheaton interact with on their programs are fans.  I can’t even say that about Hollywood or Broadway. For some  a job is is  just a job no matter how glamerous, but at some level you find enjoyment in what you do they would have to be to keep doing it every day. So I don’t know, maybe you don’t have to be a fan to be good, or even great, at something, but is sure as hell helps. 

The Big Box

This week I unlocked an achievement for a fandom that is close to my heart.  Let me explain…

I love to play Magic: The Gathering. I have ever since I was first introduced to the game by a close friend, Matt, at the age of ten or eleven. The two of us, and sometimes his brother Daniel, would spend long afternoons unleashing massive armies of fungal thallids, goblins, zombies, or angels culled from decks more akin to Jenga towers than the creatures they represented. I spent a very satisfying part of my childhood participating in leagues, tournaments, or pickup games; a satisfaction I was pleased to rediscover as an adult. There was only one thing, at least until early this week, that was missing: tearing into box of booster packs.

When I first started playing, booster packs were randomized injections of fifteen new cards that supplemented your growing collection. Opening them was part of the fun, since they were truly random.  The best way to describe opening a pack is combining the excitement of a slot machine with the tactile sensation of opening a pack of cigarettes or a candy bar. I couldn’t wait to see the contents which could be a pack full of crap up to that a mythical stack of rare powerful cards that could blow away your opponents. It didn’t take players long to imagine the Halloween’s bounty that a whole box represented. It was a particular rite of passage that I finally indulged when I brought home my first box of Shadows Over Innistrad, the current set.

Setting the box on the coffee table, I could feel the grin spread across my face as I tore gleefully into the shrink-wrapped display box, immediately smelling the acidic toner used on the front and back of each card. A smell that builds with every one of the individually wrapped booster packs I open. The mylar pouches were slick and crackled, but I was careful not to bend the cards. Just like I did as a kid, I sorted the contents by color, setting the land aside for later use. It took me over an hour to open twenty nine of the packs and fully sort them (I set aside seven for a type of game play called sealed, which required sealed packs). At the end I was left with an odd feeling, a small part of me somehow imagined the box to be bigger.

I didn’t buy a box to build a complete set, (I am not really that into collecting) or to increase my chances of get the mythic rares. I am also not super competitive; I enjoy playing but I don’t really care if I win or lose. Don’t get me wrong I am dedicated to building a good solid deck, but it’s a moving target.  New sets are released every couple of months, so there is an ever evolving assortment of threats that must be accounted for when building or maintaining a deck. This shifting ground is one of the reasons why many people get out of the game; it is simply too expensive. 

I managed to work three trim decks out of the massive pile of cards I unwrapped, which I will add to the dozen or so constructed and pre-constructed decks that don’t get nearly enough play. They are far different then the thousand card monstrosities from my childhood.  These sleek 60 or 100 card decks are better for the formats I play now. I have no idea how they will do, I haven’t had a chance to sit with the friends I play Magic with in a while.  What I do know is that the inner me, that kid who played so many hours of Magic, is well and truly indulged. 

The Shape of a Professional

The Shape of a Professional

Almost two months later, my work with Mask & Mirror still has me chasing down the feedback loops that coil through professional and community theatre.  Trying to figure out the best way to articulate that experience is part of the reason I haven’t posted anything here in a while. Don’t get me wrong, working with Mask & Mirror was a wonderful experience that resulted in a lovely essay, but it took me a little time to fully process what I had seen once the bulk of the work was complete. Posting here is a way for me to tie up the project so that I can move on to other things.

My struggle is rooted in my love of theatre, an industry that I have called home for most of my adult life, having worked professionally in a number of different capacities over the years. Working with a dedicated group of theatre fans was different. I will be the first to admit I am a bit of a theatre snob, the unfortunate side effect of two bachelor degrees in theatre. An important tenant of that education was remuneration for the work that you do. Along with professionalism, getting paid for your work is a part of a college or university’s messaging that echoes into the halls of many non-profit and for profit theatre companies. Often that message drowns out the simple joy of doing theatre. The members of Mask & Mirror on the other hand, go about the physical act of doing a show because they couldn’t imagine their lives without it; a trait that community theatre participants have in common with their brethren participating in other fandoms. 

Yet the question hangs in the air, is there really a difference between community theatre and professional? If so, does it matter?  

When I have an answer I will let you know. 

In the meantime, keep an eye out for future posts with pictures on the progress I am making building a costume for the Mandalorian Mercs.

I'm Internet Famous!

I was recently on Arts Alive With Lynda Philippi talking about my work in fandom as well as my current projects. 

The same day I participated in an interview with Joe Silva in support of Mask & Mirror's upcoming production of Trip to Bountiful. 

Fandom Roundup

Hello Fandom Seekers

I am fighting a couple of deadlines so I have more of a weekly roundup than a well thought out post.

The first is a blog post by Wil Wheaton. The post goes into how conditions have to just right for a fandom to develop and how they might emerge in later life.

The second is a lovely article about dream cars by JohnScalzi 

The third is an imagr post that I found via Kotaku about how to break Monopoly .  I played way too many rounds of Monopoly growing up and this in an interesting analysis of the lesser used rules in the game.

Finally, a Wired article came across one of my news feeds about the unique ways that Stephen Curry fans express their love of the basketball star’s fame. The story digs into the cross-fandom remixing that surrounds Curry’s life on and off the court.  

See you next week folks. 

Bitter Notes

Star Wars: the Force Awakens continues on it's march to break box office records, and many people are still questioning why.  A number of articles, reviews, and blog posts have come out since the films release that brings into question the quality of storytelling in the newest episode. Some authors point to the recycled plots, others to glaring plot holes, and a handful to more nefarious reasons This negative feedback is not just in the press; I have seen or heard similar opinions among my friends and colleagues. Even Samuel L. Jackson have leaped atop the pile. 

While all of these people are welcome to their own opinion, I was surprised when I felt a little bit of bile bubble up in my mouth every time I read one.  I really, really liked (link to previous post) the newest episode and it took every fiber of my being to avoid scribing a nasty diatribe about the authors writing and critical thinking skills while adding a jibe about whom their parents may or may not associate with when offered enough money.

We have seen this before. The prequels engendered the same reaction among fans and critics and I wonder if the feelings are justified. The original trilogy and for that matter the prequels are still out there.  It’s not like they are going away (and before you point out that you can’t purchase the originals without the added content, I would like to redirect you to eBay).

Even if Episode VII is a remake of the original trilogy (it’s not), why does it matter? We have been retelling stories for years.  There is a rich tradition of recasting the works of any number of playwrights from Classical Greek writers all the way up to modern works, why should film be any different?   Shakespeare himself often lifted plot elements (sometimes entire plots) from other sources, a habit that the film industry often uses. Lucas has stated that he used Joseph Campbell’s book The Hero’s Journey as a guide when writing Star Wars, which is a book about the similarities of many hero stories throughout history.  You could even argue that Return is a remake of A New Hope, or that ANH is itself a microcosm of the whole trilogy.

If this is the case, why do I feel like I am taking it personally when I read one of these criticisms?

There are two things going on here, but they are both rooted in where fandom beings. I started watching Star Wars when I was two or three, young enough that I don’t actually remember my first viewing. I just know that it was always there, a visual background music woven into post holidays meals, on rainy summer days, or when boredom and finances restricted our activities. The repeated viewings made it a part of the social narrative and I sought out books, comics, and video games that added to it. I either ignored or rejected anything that didn’t add to what I had already experienced. 

For me, the latest episode is a part of a rich tapestry woven tightly around every memory I care to recall, and it is hard to not take criticisms of the film as a personal attack.  The same can be said for someone who was disappointed in the latest film; it’s existence doesn’t fit with the narrative that they have built and therefore is heretical and should be rejected. Both experiences are rooted in an initial and repeated viewing of Star Wars and while they express differently, they are both just as deeply felt. 

Of course there are many things that can affect this reaction. In addition to our own, the opinions of others, either on the web or in person can warp the experience. The same goes for how you experience it for the first time. Seeing Star Wars on opening night with several hundred costumed fans is going to be different then the person who watches it alone on Netflix a year later.

The good news is the volume will get turned down on these kinds of stories as time goes on. In addition, new fans will experience Star Wars as a whole for the first time and many will make room for these new stories. And if things like the Machete cut (link)are any indication it will be these new fans who will create new justifications on how the whole thing knits together. Hopefully leading older fans into seeing things in a new light. 

While I still get rankled at negative reviews, I now understand what is going on internally and can work to avoid taking it personally.  I am curious though, what things do you feel like you have to defend to others? How and when did that thing enter into your personal narrative? How has your reactions changed over time? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.