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Crews: Backstage & on Sailboats — The Smaller Picture pg244
Colorful companion to my memoir The Incompetent Psychic
A month after my dog Rosie left there came a wonderful phone call from a guy named Adam, who ran the scene shop for a smaller professional theater across the bridge in Concord. They needed a painter, and had heard about me from a set designer. “Could you come by this afternoon?” I could, and I wouldn’t even need to change out of my spattered clothes.
Adam had a quick mind that could figure out how to build anything so that it would come apart, reassemble, unfold, spin and be engineered sturdy enough for an entire chorus of dancers to stomp on.
I painted my heart out in that happy shop. — From Chapter 13
By this point in this memoir I’m in my late forties, and the most fit I had been since skiing every day in high school. I was painting huge stage sets at speed, racing on sailboats 2–3 times a week and doing yoga classes that often as well.
The first stage I painted for Adam was a play I forget the name of. It was set on an 18th century wooden sailing ship and dealt with issues of despotism and scurvy… kind of like the previous presidency (I would like to forget that even though it wouldn’t be wise to do so).
