Timon's portrait from Timon of Athens - STNJ:

     During the first act, Timon is hailed by a pair of Atheneans, one of whom has painted a portrait of him.  Director Brian Crowe really liked the painting style of George Grosz, the German caricaturist of the 1920s, and wanted Timon's portrait to reflect that.  Designer Brian Ruggaber asked if I would like to take care of that project, and  handed me a print of a Grosz painting and said "Like this!"  

     Looking at the painting (above left) I then posed Greg Jackson in his costume (above right) and went to work in Photoshop, 'cause, yeah, it was a nice change.  At first, the finished portrait was quite like the Grosz, which B. Crowe wasn't looking for.  He wanted Jackson's Timon to be more recognizable, so I went back and did this:

      which B. Ruggaber printed and framed (as seen at top).  He also sent me a print copy later, which is now in my office at Purdue.

     Summer interns at work on Accidental Death in 2011 - STNJ:

     Painting wood -- to look like wood!  That's what we do in scenic art.  Too bad I don't have a shot of the floor being painted.

    Doing their part on the roll drop.  I whipped out the sky, then supervised, 'cause that's part of my job.  If I remember correctly, other than a few final sprays, these three did the actual scenic work on the facades.

     They also spent a couple days smearing texture on clockwork-like elements that fitted into the corners of the false pro on Timon.  A combination of built-out detail and painted dimension, they sprang out of the "steampunk" idea.

                Arty shot!  During load-in for A Midsummer-Night's Dream, 2011 - STNJ.  Brian Ruggaber & Bonnie Monte design.

     Painting wood to look like -- rusty steel!  (above and below) 'cause painting wood to look like wood gets old.  Fast, and I'd know.  Cabaret at Purdue was built out of wood, with a few steel pieces here and there (like hand rails) but mostly it just looked like rusty steel.  And decayed concrete.

                          Cabaret, partial, with actors at photo call.  It was a good deal of wood painted to look like rusty steel, actually.

     Yours truly at work on A Christmas Carol, STNJ, painting wood to look like wood (on one side) and to look like stone (on the other) just to keep things interesting.

     The wallpaper for Brighton Beach at Purdue (above and following).  Derek and I talked over how to generate wallpaper patterns for this, with the same questions that arose way back when I was working on Time of Your Life: cost, size, color, et cetera.  Derek finally settled on  floral and damask patterns for the living and dining rooms, in what were basically three colors: two background sprays and a then single pattern color.  

     The patterning was done with a set-up like a silkscreen -- actually it was plastic screen, but silkscreen sounds better -- was masked with a combination of clear plastic and casting latex, through which the pattern color was sprayed.  Most of the work Derek and I did while the flats were in the shop, though a few we had to do after assembly 'cause some surfaces hadn't existed until assembly was done.  Thanks to Heather Ugrina for turning me on to the casting latex.

                                      It turned out well.

    Here I am with a linstock prop for Henry V, STNJ, 2007.  Prop master Christiana Gould asked if I had any idea what a linstock was, and I said it was basically a stick with a "slow match" at the end.  They used to be employed to touch off priming powder on artillery pieces.  The slow match itself was a hank of cotton rope soaked in potassium nitrate, which, once lit on fire, would merely burn with a hot ember at the end, rather than going up in a quick flame - hence "slow."  The handles were long enough that the poor sod who did the touching off could stand beyond the wheels that held up the gun carriage, so that he wouldn't get caught if the recoil drove the gun backwards too far.

     In this case, as a prop it was asked that the slow match have the appearance of being lit.  Christina suggested using a handful of lamp parts out of prop stock, which I put together as seen at right.  There is a small battery pack in the head where the arms attach, with wiring running up the hank of cotton rope to a pair of flicker lights pulled out of a Halloween novelty from Target.  The "on" switch is buried under a piece of leather wrapped around the handle.

     Design-wise, it's fancier than any linstock that I had found in research images, but hey!  It's theatre!

     And then there are these things.  Back in the spring semester of 2015, some of the theatre faculty collaborated with faculty from the English department on a production that was heading up to Toronto.  Part of an annual convention on the literature of the Elizabethan era, among the events and discussions were staged versions of plays written by authors other than Billy Shakespeare or Chris Marlowe.  Purdue was sending Three Lords and Three Ladies of London, which indeed had three lords, three ladies, and three Spanish interlopers.  The male characters all wanted shields, for which design and execution I was hired.

     The Spanish (above) and the English (below) heraldry all had specific design needs and coloration as described in the script, so I only had to match those descriptions with some period imagery.  Which meant going through a batch of research images from the era, and drawing up things that met approval.  Well, let me tell ya', Elizabethan is not my bag, but at the last, it was just another prop job.  

     For the baby-on-a-pike, I bought a baby doll at Toys-R-Us, and took a photo of it posed.  From that I did a large print, which I transferred to the shield while in progress.

     They're Masonite, with cotton webbing bolted on for hand- and arm grips.

     I also threw a hand in on the props, fabricating a branding iron (below, at left and right)  As with the shields, the script was specific, noting that pattern of the brand as that broken circle with an "X" across it.  The handle is one of those wooden roller extensions that didn't fit in roller handles any longer (the threads were stripped) and I bent some aluminum rod to create the iron itself.  The head was put together with J*B Weld, then dusted with adhesive and  powdered charcoal.  I sent along a small tub of powdered charcoal, as the head, once coated with the loose charcoal, could then be pressed against someone's skin and leave a mark.  Without heat, that is.

                                At work on The Liar at Purdue.  

     And lastly, an "arty shot" of Chuck Bender welding a plate at the top of a spiral staircase on Henry VI, 2007 - STNJ.  I've been trying to get another shot like this since, and just can't.  Alas.

     Photos: R. Jake Wood.

           Thank you.