Meredith Bailey
Lighting Designer
More than one instructor in the last few years has tried to deter me from pursuing this career. They go on about how I won’t make any money, won’t have a decent relationship. Kids? Forget ‘em. I guess they know better than I of the hardships one finds in a technical theater career. But when asked, they tell you that as rare as the moments you truly love your work can be, they are worth the hard work and deprivations of the trade.
I didn’t always want to be a lighting designer or work in theater. From the first dance class I took when I was three, I wanted to be a prima ballerina. Luckily for me, I’m neither tall nor skinny enough to pass the cut for ballerinas. I got burnt out on dance when I was “the awkward girl” in my pre-point class at 15 and quit dancing. I turned my full extra-curricular attention to our high school’s theater company. I was so ticked that I had messed up that audition! I was ticked building sets, I was ticked hemming costumes and I was ticked making copies and taking notes for our director. Those first few weeks were so tedious and thankless that I ended up spending hours in the auditorium working on the lights to avoid doing them. The solitude of the empty auditorium gave me a place to put aside my frustrations of failing to be a great dancer and natural actress. I learned that while my feet couldn’t turn out a perfect pirouette, my hands could make cable and rewire lights.
With that great discovery, I decided I would be a techie.
That year, I found that tech people were tons of fun and so smart! Our school competed throughout Virginia and won our regional championships at the Virginia Theater Association Conference. I got to know professional technicians and theater design artists through our victory trip to the national convention at SETC. I realized that I was not meant to tread the boards, but to enhance the magic from a dark table in the back of the auditorium.
The mission of my stint at George Mason University was to test if I truly thought I could do this job the rest of my life. I hope that my instincts are right when they tell me that any other role in the world would leave me unsatisfied. I draw like a four year-old and play the piano like a multiple-finger amputee, but when I paint the stage in swaths of ephemeral color and get chills at how incredible the art of lighting proves itself to be, I know that I am an artist.
My background is unique and diverse in the performing arts. I have worn many hats, from Master Electrician, to sound designer, to operator, run crew and beyond. I have “measured twice and cut once” more than I can remember and painted miles of plywood after hours. The fabrication of sets, costumes and dramaturgical packets are no longer such a mystery. The countless hours spent hunched over hems, drafts and cut lists have earned me a place of respect among my fellow technicians, which is a great honor as they are all superb in their own crafts.
I’ve designed my shows with an eye towards other art forms. I have found inspiration in “The Ecstasy of St. Teresa” in Rome, the films of the Depression Era, snow drifts along the Elizabeth River and other unlikely places. I am glad for my experience in other design fields because they help me understand how paint color on a deck can pop and blaze under the right gel, and how muslin waves gently in the breeze created by roving actors backstage can make a pattern or breakup come alive at just the right moment.
The past few shows that I have designed have all been incredible learning experiences. Every script brings new challenges and with them, I understand this craft a little bit better. ( Or I at least can be confident in my ability to look hard for solutions that are the best for a specific situation) Each of these solo designs has felt like a puzzle from the first read all the way through the very last tech, but they happily fall into place to make incredible pictures by opening night. I learn more with every project and I hope I never get tired of sitting in a dark room watching the miracle of recreated sunrises or imitated night fall wash over exquisite sets and gorgeous costumes that make the puzzle complete.
-m.a.b.
Lighting Designer
More than one instructor in the last few years has tried to deter me from pursuing this career. They go on about how I won’t make any money, won’t have a decent relationship. Kids? Forget ‘em. I guess they know better than I of the hardships one finds in a technical theater career. But when asked, they tell you that as rare as the moments you truly love your work can be, they are worth the hard work and deprivations of the trade.
I didn’t always want to be a lighting designer or work in theater. From the first dance class I took when I was three, I wanted to be a prima ballerina. Luckily for me, I’m neither tall nor skinny enough to pass the cut for ballerinas. I got burnt out on dance when I was “the awkward girl” in my pre-point class at 15 and quit dancing. I turned my full extra-curricular attention to our high school’s theater company. I was so ticked that I had messed up that audition! I was ticked building sets, I was ticked hemming costumes and I was ticked making copies and taking notes for our director. Those first few weeks were so tedious and thankless that I ended up spending hours in the auditorium working on the lights to avoid doing them. The solitude of the empty auditorium gave me a place to put aside my frustrations of failing to be a great dancer and natural actress. I learned that while my feet couldn’t turn out a perfect pirouette, my hands could make cable and rewire lights.
With that great discovery, I decided I would be a techie.
That year, I found that tech people were tons of fun and so smart! Our school competed throughout Virginia and won our regional championships at the Virginia Theater Association Conference. I got to know professional technicians and theater design artists through our victory trip to the national convention at SETC. I realized that I was not meant to tread the boards, but to enhance the magic from a dark table in the back of the auditorium.
The mission of my stint at George Mason University was to test if I truly thought I could do this job the rest of my life. I hope that my instincts are right when they tell me that any other role in the world would leave me unsatisfied. I draw like a four year-old and play the piano like a multiple-finger amputee, but when I paint the stage in swaths of ephemeral color and get chills at how incredible the art of lighting proves itself to be, I know that I am an artist.
My background is unique and diverse in the performing arts. I have worn many hats, from Master Electrician, to sound designer, to operator, run crew and beyond. I have “measured twice and cut once” more than I can remember and painted miles of plywood after hours. The fabrication of sets, costumes and dramaturgical packets are no longer such a mystery. The countless hours spent hunched over hems, drafts and cut lists have earned me a place of respect among my fellow technicians, which is a great honor as they are all superb in their own crafts.
I’ve designed my shows with an eye towards other art forms. I have found inspiration in “The Ecstasy of St. Teresa” in Rome, the films of the Depression Era, snow drifts along the Elizabeth River and other unlikely places. I am glad for my experience in other design fields because they help me understand how paint color on a deck can pop and blaze under the right gel, and how muslin waves gently in the breeze created by roving actors backstage can make a pattern or breakup come alive at just the right moment.
The past few shows that I have designed have all been incredible learning experiences. Every script brings new challenges and with them, I understand this craft a little bit better. ( Or I at least can be confident in my ability to look hard for solutions that are the best for a specific situation) Each of these solo designs has felt like a puzzle from the first read all the way through the very last tech, but they happily fall into place to make incredible pictures by opening night. I learn more with every project and I hope I never get tired of sitting in a dark room watching the miracle of recreated sunrises or imitated night fall wash over exquisite sets and gorgeous costumes that make the puzzle complete.
-m.a.b.