I recently watched a most fascinating film. It was so good that my husband and I watched it again a few days later, and then he felt it necessary to actually purchase the DVD and companion book. We do not own many DVDs, so that gives you an indication of exactly how compelling this film was. It is called “Helvetica,” and that pretty much sums up the film’s subject. It is a paean to the typeface, with many designers weighing in on how it has affected their life. I must admit that Helvetica has become so ubiquitous that I don’t pay much attention to it, and I never think of using it. This film has changed all that for me. I have a new respect for it, as a result of seeing a number of inspirational designs that employ the font. So I have decided that I owe it to the font to try it out. And in some large and obvious way. I am aware of walking that fine line between simple, clean and powerful…and simple, clean and boring. This is the challenge.

Did you see the recent Times Style magazine? It was the one with Natalie Portman on the cover. I was particularly struck by Editor Stefano Tonchi’s note concerning the introduction of the magazine on the web. He professes his love for the feel of magazines, the weight of the paper, the feeling of flipping the pages, but knows that the electronic version of his magazine can reach so many more people. He states that much of what we see on the web is visually unpleasant, busy and clunky. So true. In an effort to make the “virtual experience as sensual as the written one,” he has focused on the things that the paper version can never supply: sound and movement.—————————————— The theatre has just hired an email content management company to handle all our email blasts. Yet this requires the acquisition of email addresses from our patrons. I don’t know about you, but I am very selective about giving out my email address. But one cannot fight this technology; it is here to stay, to evolve, to be one with our lives. Someday historians will look back on this period of web infancy and muse about our attempts to create, become comfortable, understand and navigate around our fairly new virtual world.

Anna Deavere Smith’s process is rigorous. She believes in discipline of the body and mind and spirit. As I was writing an essay about her this weekend, I was particularly aware of the powers of procrastination… (I launched myself in a SCARF-reorganization project to postpone writing…among other things. And I have a lot of scarves.)  In her Letters to a Young Artist, she says: “I am in awe of the power of procrastination. I am so in awe of it that if I have something I have to do, I try to program myself to do it so quickly that procrastination cannot possibly set in. At one point I was afraid of not fulfilling my commitment to swim every day that I slept in my bathing suit! I would sleep in my suit, through on a swim parka at five a.m., and, without thinking about it, head to my car and off to the pool.” And that was at 5 a.m.! Every morning … Hem.

Today I read an article in the CT Post about “The Santaland Diaries.” Thomas Sadoski, who plays “Crumpet” was talking about having “eureka!” moments: where the solution to a particular stage problem will suddenly pop into his head…often months later. It is the same feeling I’m sure we’ve all had when reacting to certain situations. It is always easier to figure out the most appropriate reaction in hindsight. Designing is often like that as well. Sometimes you see things in the final printed piece that you never would have noticed while in the design process. There are times I have looked at my work and thought “what possessed me to do THAT?” Other times I have worked on a design to the point where I cannot imagine why I was initially excited about it. Often I will pull out these pieces years later and realize that they actually were good, and that they succeeded in doing what they were supposed to do. Time and distance often helps.

I went to my high school reunion last weekend. We have one every 5 years and I’ve gone to all of them. I guess I want to show my graduating class that I have survived, thrived, succeeded, and that I am proud enough of my accomplishments to continue to show up. One former classmate has not been so fortunate. Although he has built a successful business, he is still tormented by demons and bullies from the past. He was very upset to see a typo in a printed flyer from the reunion photographer. His reaction seemed a bit over the top to me; being in the print and design field, you get used to these things. I showed this flyer to a number of people, and no one saw the typo, even after being told to look for it. Recently a Long Wharf piece came back from the printer with an unfortunate ommission. It is just one of those moments when you realize that as careful as you have tried to be, something just slipped by unnoticed. In the newspaper business this happens often. Sometimes it happens in front page headlines, and even though many many people are staring at it for several hours before it goes on press, it somehow still winds up in print. I take it as a message to breathe, slow down and pay attention. Even when you are too busy to think.

I love Donald Margulies’ comment about life being too short for The New Yorker. I couldn’t agree more! I am constantly juggling my New Yorker reading with all my other reading. If I read a novel I get behind on The New Yorker. If I keep up with The New Yorker I get behind on all my other reading. It really makes me crazy that they come out with a summer reading issue every year. Since when does life stop in the summer? Do I have more time to read in the summer? No…in fact I’m much busier in the summer, with my garden and my biking, to carve out any extra reading time!

Moving right along….there was a wonderful large graphic in the Times recently (yes, I try to keep up with the Times as well!) about campaign logos. The artist, Ward Sutton, analyzes all the presidential campaign logos for color choice, impact, and overall look. In the last panel, he acknowledges that it is all in the eyes of the beholder anyway. Nothing could be more true. This is a constant challenge for those of us in the visual arts. It isn’t enough if you know your design works in all the ways it should; if the client doesn’t like it (for whatever subjective reason) it is back to the drawing board.

another thought is the old question about “how to get the best out of people” or at least “theatre people”… i’m finding out with these opportunities that are offered to our staff (like 365, or DISCOVERY DAY, or the PLAY READING CLUB on Mondays) that it’s the creative soul that needs to be fed every once in a while. And feeding that –even in small ways– makes the detail work we’re all struggling with every day more worthwhile. Another way is trusting people … trusting that they can get the job done. letting everybody experience a sense of accomplishment and task completed. And finally, fostering the belief that in the end –and especially in theatre– it’s all about collaboration. Viewing collaboration as a richness, not as competition.

in my leave of absense from the blog, i did have a couple of thoughts
i knew were meant for this: one is my final entry about what i know
nothing about: baseball. I read it some weeks ago in The New Yorker
(see also p.s.).  It’s about how “you can’t understand America unless
you get baseball” –Maybe this explains some of my confusions about
this country??

p.s. There’s a line in COLLECTED STORIES by Donald Margulies “life is
too short for The New Yorker” –said by this professor and writer. I
kind of agree if I look at the two-month old stack of which i’ve read
two and a half articles. tops. O, and that’s why I can’t find the
reference any more!

wondering why i haven’t been able to find a little time for little
blog entries,
then realized that the title of my blog, POSTCARDS FROM A CROWDED
DESK, explains it all.
i’ve been submerged by virtual and material documents and ideas and
texts and organizational/philsophical big and small details in the
last few weeks. i’ve emerged. for a little bit anyway.

It’s a rainy Friday, the end of another busy week. I watched a run-through of The Price on Wednesday. It is always a revelation to see the almost-finished product. It makes me realize that what we all do here is so vitally important on so many levels. It is easy to forget that in the midst of all the backstage drama. The fact that we create something from nothing is a constant source of amazement to me. Even though I have gotten better at imagining how a particular production might look as I am reading the play, I am still inspired and surprised by all of the creative choices.

Anyway, as I was sitting on a prop couch against the wall watching the run-through, I started to fantasize about the notion of getting rid of all the theatre seats, extending the set into the empty space, and filling it with period furniture, so that the audience would feel as if they were really sitting in that old attic. Carrying the idea further, creating seating for each play that essentially becomes an extension of the set. But I know that the reality would be a logistical nightmare on many levels, but still fun to think about. We would certainly distinguish ourselves, though!