About 8 months ago I sat down with Huntington University theatre professors, Jay Duffer and Michael Slane, for the opportunity to design and execute make up for the upcoming production on “Beauty and the Beast”. They asked me to write my name down on an unaffiliated list, and they’d talk to me when the time came.
Let’s not forget that I was forgotten. I was. Until the week before rehearsals started when I sent an e-mail asking if I was still in consideration for the part.
I started designing the day I learned the job was mine. Researching animals and candles and clocks and opera prima donnas and beasts and belles.
I attended production meetings, where I was the only one who had anything to say, because I was the only actual designer there. And they all got to talk every day if they wanted, while I was limited to just my lonely Tuesdays.
I came and I worked and I designed and I applied. And I was a make up machine.
I waited and waited to learn if wigs and prosthetics were coming. Nervously waiting to find out if I would suddenly have a huge amount of work to do.
Finally it all came.
So we rehearsed and I panicked, and then it all went away.
Then I was in the swing.
Suddenly I’m a den mother. Making sure actors are here. Making sure they’re doing what they need to do. Making sure there weren’t condoms in my bag, from actors who think it’s funny to not practice safe sound. Making sure Glen applied all of his make up, which makes the design. Tidying wigs. Spraying down costumes.
Painting costumes? Wait, that’s not my job, but one night until 5:30 in the morning I was doing it. Not sure how, but I did. Without a place to, but needing to, sleep I slept a few savory hours in the make up room. It became my second, bug infested home.
And now I’m here for our final performance waiting for the show to finally wrap. Wanting, hoping to get pictures of some of my designs. But there just aren’t any guarantees anymore.