The Mind Does Funny Things. Installment Two.

I returned to Sno Valley Construction the following summer after having recovered from my dance with a Milwaukee skill saw. It had left my right knee with a knotch in the cap but no other signs of damage. So, after my senior year at Newport High I was back on the crew, swinging a hammer.

What I am about to recount will be scoffed at by most. I’m used to that. I have always wanted to film this event rather than write about it, but alas, at my advanced age it is easier to type than to assemble the cast, crew and equipment necessary to film it.

This happened one year to the day following my encounter with the ole’ worm drive skill saw.

It was around 3pm on a bright sunny warm summer Seattle day. We had been working on this house for six weeks or so. It was a new construction project and we had been with it from the ground up. It was framed and skinned and the roof was going on as well as the installation of windows and doors. I was up on the roof with another guy, Todd. It was a peaked roof, a comfortable slope, and Todd was on the opposite side of the peak tacking down shingles. I was on the sunny side rolling out tar paper. This stuff comes in rolls maybe three feet wide by fifty feet or so. It’s heavy and black and serves as a vapor barrier between the plywood sheeting of the roof and the shingles (asphalt or cedar) that finish the roof.

I was at the edge of the roof at it’s lowest point, rolling the tar paper out and stapling it down as I went. This was a two-story structure and I was covering the eves of the long side of the house. There was a hole in the eves where the brick chimney would rise once it was installed. Below me was a second story that had a large opening soon to be a sliding glass door onto a deck (not yet built) and a first story of I can’t remember what. It was three o’clock. The sun was shining.

I rolled the tar paper across the large opening that was to accommodate the chimney with the intention of cutting out the opening with a matt knife. Simple as that. Two or three feet beyond the chimney hole I ran out of tar-paper. I sank several staples into the flapping end and trudged to the peak of the roof where the supply of tar-paper rolls had been situated. Shouldering one, I headed back to the opposite corner from which I had been working. I tacked down the edge of the new roll and started rolling back toward the end of the previous roll. A quick glance behind me revealed nothing but solid black.

The sound was something close to, “TWOOOSHH”. Tar paper ripped away and I was, all at once, gravity's plaything. The mind does funny things. In what amounted to a couple of seconds at best, I had three clear, distinct and memorable thoughts. More remarkable was how succinct and free of invective they were. “What’s happening?” was the first of three. “I’m falling”, was the second, and, “this is going to hurt”, was the third and final before landing.

My trajectory was as simple as they come. I had pitched slightly backward when I broke through the tar paper and the upper part of my back caught the opposite side of the chimney hole. That sent me a little forward again and maybe off to the side because when I landed it was as if I were laying in a ship’s deck chair with my left elbow propping up my head, as if to take in the view.

Now it’s important at this point to register a few facts. One, when my back hit the edge of the hole it gave the house a little shake. Two, as I fell past the deck level I was within several feet of the only woman carpenter on our crew, Jane. She was framing in the sliding glass door opening. She saw me go past and hit the ground, and she started breathing hard, nearly hyperventilating. Three, everyone on the crew, who was ground level at the time, ran to my aid.

Cut to Todd, still up on the roof. Having felt the house shake and hearing the commotion, he left his task on the other side of the pitch and went up and over to see what the fuss was about. When he reached the edge of the roof where the torn tar paper gave him his first clue, he peered down and saw my sprawled figure surrounded by co-workers. Todd was extremely concerned and went straight away to the aluminum ladder that was propped up against the edge of the roof. In his haste, he failed to shift his weight properly and the bottom of the ladder skidded free and Todd and ladder were traveling the same path I had just taken.

Jane had continued to hyperventilate during this time. As Todd and ladder passed, Jane’s ventilating morphed quickly into hyper-hyper and she was inhalations away from “basket case.”

Todd landed twelve feet away from me. He preferred the face down approach and hit hard. Todd was at least fifteen years my senior and, truth be told, was a little out of shape for the work and his age. He lay motionless and every single person that had surrounded me, when I fell and as I struggled to my feet, immediately shifted over to Todd. It was like some greater suction had been activated a few feet away and everything within reach was pulled instantly to that point.

An ambulance came and the both of us were carted away. Todd was strapped to a backboard because they feared for his spine. I hopped in and sat in the back with Todd, trying to cheer him up. We were both out for a couple of weeks with severe bruising but, can you believe it…no broken bones, no lasting damage.

It was the second time, a year apart, that I had been in an ambulance. I was seventeen and eighteen respectively. Many years have passed since then and I can say (knock wood) that I have not seen the inside those horrendous vehicles since

For a while there the emergency crew knew my mother by name because what with my several accidents (some yet un-blogged) and my younger brother getting hit by a truck, and then, later cracking his head open, and my other brother in and out with breaks, sprains and trauma’s…well, they’d just pick up the phone and say, “Mrs. F, you better come down here when you can. No rush though, we’ll patch him up like usual.”

A couple of weeks ago I heard that a woodworking friend of mine lost the ends of two of his fingers. He’s fifty five or so and has been doing this kind of work all his life. Every day I finish cleaning up and putting the tools away, I look at my hands and know I’ve done well to keep everything in tact. But as fast as I fell through that tar-paper… well, you know…fill in the blank.

Christmas Never Looked So Good

Christmas is light this year. No big presents, just stocking stuffers. All available cash is tied up in the renovations. I was however given these two beauties by my ever thoughtful wife. I opened them early with her blessing due to the schedule of the next several days. Waterford Crystal tumblers, illuminated from within by the glowing amber of an Irish whiskey, accented by the deep violet of granite counter tops. I am blessed.

What I did on my Birthday.

Having set the granite counter top the day before, I bolted a masonry blade onto my circular saw, duct-taped a vacuum hose onto it’s dust port, taped off the granite countertop to protect it from the plate of the saw, and got a squirt bottle of water at the ready. I then spent 45 minutes sinking a saw blade into the kerf left by the granite factory, trying to cut through the remaining half inch. This kicked up dust, smoke, sound and fury in equal measures. Having demolished a blade, I went to the store for two more. Returning, I spent another 45 minutes before all but a few spots held the sink cut out in place. Taking a cold chisel and an hammer, I began striking at the underside of the granite where the remaining structure held tight. At long last it broke away and fell an eighth of an inch, landing onto a cradle I had constructed for just that occasion.

I then bolted screwed and fastened all the faucet accoutrement onto the sink and devised a two stage landing in order for one skinny man (me) to lift a cast iron sink into place without breaking the stone countertop. I enjoyed reading the WARNING! YOUR CAST IRON SINK IS EXTREMELY HEAVY! GET HELP TO LIFT IT INTO PLACE! And devising ways around the unmanly and humiliating prospect of asking for assistance.

It worked. I then hooked up the water lines, tested them and showered in anticipation of dinner and a show in celebration of my 39th birthday.

The dinner was Thai, (quite good), the show was Jaques Brell Is Alive And Well And Living In Paris, which I was introduced to at an early age and have loved all this time. The show was well done and it was a delight to revisit this exquisite music and share it with my wife who had never encountered it before.

My birthday was dusty, smelly, arduous, challenging, frustrating, rewarding, comforting, sensuous, exhilarating, touching, joyous and completely exhausting. Just as it should be. Thanks to all you well-wishers, and can you imagine!? Next year I’ll be thirty-nine!!! Ahhhrrrg.

The anatomy of Crown Molding

This is in the livingroom. Here and there it hides electrical cables, sound cables, TV cables and phone cords that you may remember making indecorous passes into the living room through a hole in the wall, then draping across an expanse only to duck, not too delicately, through a gap in the ceiling. Crown molding covers these sins while lending a weight and refinement to the room. God, I love detail, both as a carpenter and as an actor.

And The Winner Is…

Remember when folks were asked to vote on the countertop samples? Well the votes were tallied and we promptly went with our gut. Remodeling ain’t no democracy ya’all. However, there were a couple of votes for the sample we selected and for those of you keen enough to identify the countertop below and match it with your sample selection, congratulations.



Remember when I reminisced on the bathroom sink being the cornerstone of design considerations for the bathroom? Well here too you will see the cornerstone of the kitchen in the very same guise. I don’t know why I was compelled to begin with the sink. I hope it doesn’t point to some deeply buried yet pernicious life view; things going down the drain and all.



Of course not! It’s quite the opposite! The sink is the basin above which hovers the spigot from which water, that life saving liquid, pours forth.

Countertops!

Ahhh. Granite. There have been wild ups and downs the last few weeks with respect to the remodeling but today was a bright spot on many levels.



My friend Tony and I borrowed a van from my old business partner and drove to NJ to pick up the countertop. I had built a little A-frame out of left over sticks of wood and had a couple of strap clamps at the ready. The deal with stone is that it’s strong but brittle—don’t bend, like a couple of directors I’ve worked with. So instead of being flexible, and absorbing the shock of say, a new idea, or a bump in the road, they break into a million pieces.

With stone, to avoid this, you transport it on edge, strapped to an A-frame. Come to think of it, that may be advisable with respect to the aforementioned directors. Hmmmm.

The longest piece was 5 feet long and really heavy. Tony almost dropped it a half dozen times, and he plays hockey! I, on the other hand, am skinny but scrappy and strong.



They partially cut out the sink hole and now I have to figure out how to go about completing the job. They do this because it helps to strengthen the piece while it is being transported. Once it is installed, they take a grinder and complete the cut. So far my feeble attempts have kicked up tons of dust but have done very little damage to the remaining granite holding the nasty sink cut-out in place. Tomorrow my goal is to accomplish this task and to install the sink and faucet!!

The downs of the last few weeks I won’t go into, but the latest up is that my wife just booked a very nice acting job that will occupy her for the first four months of next year. She is to replace Kathleen Chalfant as Miss Havisham. Ok, not actually replace directly, I’ve been implored to make clear. Kathleen Chalfant played the role in the NYC incarnation of the play as it premiered before hitting the road as all Theatreworks productions do. So several tiers of possible Chalfant replacements were (probably) not interested in the touring schedule. That said, there was a legitimate city wide selection process, rigorous in nature, and yours truly (not me, the pretty one) landed on top.

In the next two weeks I will be cleaning up the mess from the remodeling, hiding the tools in the basement, and both the Mrs. and I will be trodding the boards once again. What’s left of the remodel will be picked up in mid Feb and finished by the end of March. Forgive me if the blog finds it’s way into the rehearsal process and I bore you with an-actor-prepares!

Barney

There comes a time in rehearsal where nothing is working. What was funny is not, and what was moving is putrid, stale and fake. Usually the third or forth week.

There comes a time during a renovation where the toil overtakes the vision. A time when the pleasures of the perceived finished product is overwhelmed by the endless line of tasks and the smells and the dust. This is that time. And so I have been silent.

Today my wife and I attended the memorial service of Barnard Hughes
.



It was an extremely moving tribute attended by powerhouses of Broadway, young and old. I took away many things, but one that applies most strongly to the situation I find myself in with the apartment, and to myself in general. Find the joy. No matter what difficulties life throws at you, find the joy.

Here are a few recent pictures. A photo album will follow soon. I will awake tomorrow, embrace the tasks left me, and conjure the spirit of one of the greatest stage actors of our time by finding the joy.

Inside Out vs Outside In

In the vernacular of the actor the phrase “inside out”, or “outside in” has to do with an approach to the task of creating a character. Back in the day, near the turn of the 20th century, acting was very presentational. There are texts from that era that instruct a young actor as to what gesture and facial expression to use in a given circumstance. Constantine Stanislavski was a young man in Russia at the time and observed that the most moving performances he attended had some component that went beyond simple gesture or form. Through experimentation and practical work with a company of actors he codified an approach to building a character that took into consideration the internal life of the character.

Long, long story short—a revolution in acting occurred. Now, as audience members, we are very used to expecting a kind of emotional truth from actors that was not in vogue when Stanislavski began his experimentation.

For a while there, Americans and Russians had a corner on the market of the “inside outters” while the Brits and others worked from the “outside in”. These days things are much more mixed up. The classic examples are Marlon Brando who epitomizes the inside out approach, great for On The Waterfront but leaving something to be desired while mumbling through Julius Caesar. Laurence Olivier at the other extreme, would reach into his make-up kit, slap on a nose, and go from there.

Larry was doing a little Hollywood pic with a newbee, Dustin something or other….Hoffman, I think. It was dubbed, “The Marathon Man”. Legend has it that Hoffman was not eating, running miles each day to wear himself out, not shaving or bathing and really trying to LIVE the character. Trying to embody the essence of this hunted, tortured individual. Olivier, (who was playing a Nazi torturer) after noticing the condition of his colleague, took Hoffman aside between takes and said. “My dear boy, why don’t you just pretend?”

The same can be said for designing a space. How and where to begin. Sometimes it makes sense to begin “inside” (ie: mood, psychology, flavor, internal life, intention) and sometimes it makes sense to begin “outside” (function, a given object, period or style, a given circumstance).

This Talavera sink was our “beginning” for the bathroom (at least color-wise)



and, strikingly, the kitchen sink (picture to come) is where we got a lot of the color cues for the kitchen. Outside in. Pick something you like; a limp, an accent, a beard, a paunch, a chair, a sink, a rug, countertop…and go from there.

The Brush of Brushes

Here’s the Cadillac of my collection of brushes, the stippling brush mentioned in a previous post. I bought it because someone hired me to do a faux finish for them and wanted what the stippling effect would yield. A rule of mine that I try to honor as often as possible is that you should never take a job unless it requires you to buy a new tool (at the clients expense!!).

Wife II

The day after Thanksgiving I auditioned for a theatre in Harrisburg PA that was doing I Am My Own Wife. This was the second time in a month, the first being Vermont Stage. I was called back on Saturday and then several days passed. By mid day Monday I chalked it up to another failed attempt. I moped around, kicking a two-by-four across the hall. Today I received a call offering me the part. I start the day after Christmas. We are now in a hurry-up-and-get-the-place-livable mode. It’s going to be tag team actors-on-the-road for the first half of ’07 for the merry band in our Haven on Haven.




Charlotta rides again.

Color

Something I learned early on. Never enter into a conversation about color with a client. When they pull out the chip of puke yellow for the walls and Pepto-Bismol pink for the trim you simply smile, nod and go get the paint. Color is extremely subjective.

That said, here is a completely inadequate picture of the officette wall color. I know some folks were worrying when the sample shot was posted. This is the nighttime and no flash was used but you can get the general picture. Dark wood, deep green.

Technique. An oil based undercoat of a bright green was applied followed by (when dry) a glaze tinted with a much deeper green. Utilizing a stippling brush, (yours for a mere $200) you tap the wall with the brush repeatedly. This creates little pin prick sized holes in the glaze and the base color shows through. The glaze is also not completely opaque so there is some transparency there as well. The effect, when done well, gives a depth to the color that stands in stark contrast to a flat wall color. This picture does little to convey this. More attempts will be made soon.