Sunday in the Park with George by Sondheim/Lapine.
Railway Street Theatre Company 2007.
Tyran Parke & Amie McKenna as George & Dot
Costume Design by Mason Browne
Period Cutting/Construction by Corinne Heskett
Costume Design by Mason Browne
Period Cutting/Construction by Corinne Heskett
I wrote this for the possible press release for a theatre company I worked with ... it's longish, but if you're interested, this is a little something about what I do.
When invited to undertake this project, I first saw it as a chance to bring me back to where I was from, to work in a region where I grew up; the old stomping ground. I think it then took me a week to realise that it was in fact going to be the biggest challenge I have ever faced professionally, thus far. Not only does Sunday in the Park with George span two distinctive periods in the history of costume, it also features a large ensemble cast of characters who all need individual attention to detail. Act One, based on the subjects in the Seurat work Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte is set in Paris in 1884, known in costume history as the second bustle period. After a brief re-visit to the characters within the painting in Act Two, the period shifts to 100 years later to Chicago, 1984 where the painting still hangs to this day. We enter a world of Vivienne Westwood and the beginnings of Gautier, and the re-invention (again) of the famed Chanel suit.
In a way of approaching the challenge I immersed myself in costume research, first keeping my attention focused on Act One. I will always remember studying this period in detail during my first and second years at NIDA (I graduated the Design course there in 2003) and it always fascinated me. The fashion plates and vintage photographs from the time had me transfixed for hours. One morning I stepped into the Powerhouse Museum research library, one of the best places for publications and documentation of period dress, and did not leave till late afternoon. I had been so engrossed in all of the detail and didn't realize how late it was until my stomach rumbled. I felt it important to really understand this period before I started to work on illustrating the costumes.
Now when I look at any visual documentation of the period, I am not only inspired by the excess and frivolity, I see the almost countless layers of clothing that these women endured. First, women would done a garter belt and hosiery, then over this a combination undergarment (the chemise and breeches would often be the one piece in these days). Over this they would endure the cuirass (pronounced kwi-rass) corset, known for its curvature and hourglass shape; the rough translation being "armour" This corset came down quite low over the abdomen and was known (in its day) for its comfort and health properties. They would then quite possibly wear a corset cover, to smooth over the whalebone lines of the corset. The bustle contraption was then fastened around the waist; over this would be another petticoat with flounces to emphasize the shape. An underskirt would then go over the top, then an overskirt, and (especially if the woman was wealthy, and known for her excess) aprons could be added, with large amounts of fabric, gathered at the side and pulled across the front of the skirts. The woman would of course be wearing a blouse, then a bodice or extremely well fitted waistcoat and jacket, which would re-enforce the cuirass shape of the corset.
What I found quite fascinating was the class distinction and how the bustle really did filter down into the lower classes. The Seurat painting illustrates this, but I found evidence that it was just a matter of what the under structure was. The wealthy wore a cage-like bustle made of boning and flounces, which was usually made collapsible so that a lady could sit. In some cases these were also made of steel and wire. Other techniques in achieving the desired shape used horsehair, simple flouncing of fabric at the back of the petticoat and underskirts; and padded bustles, almost like shaped pillows, which were for ease and comfort while working. I have also heard reference to "the working-woman's bustle", just simply pulling taught the fabric of the skirts in front, and a slight gathering at the back for the desired effect.
The period was also known for its accessories. Fans reached giant proportions; three-quarter length gloves suited the length of the sleeves fashionable during this period. Hats were worn high, the 'Toke' being quite fashionable and sometimes embellished with a whole stuffed bird. Hair was pulled in at the sides, curled, and embellished at the back of the head, much like the shape of the bustle.
This period was well known for its extremes. From the front, these garments were quite streamlined, collars worn high, jackets resembling those of men, fitted and emphasizing the cuirass shape. Turn to the side, and the extreme shape of the bustle is revealed, where we see the excess embellishment. This period also saw the return of the 'polonaise' walking dress, a popular style originating in the eighteenth century, worn perhaps by Marie Antoinette herself. It was simply appropriated for this period with the bustle, featuring a long over-jacket, opened out around the sides with ruched swags embellishing the back. The skirts were worn quite high off the ground, hence the term walking dress.
Once this period had been significantly documented, David Hollywood (Director of Sunday and Producer of the Railway St. Theatre Company) and I sat down and talked about the characters, and the world they were from. There is a diverse range of characters here, from all walks of life and social standing. You have the wealthy, the middle/working class and the lower classes, and they are all out in their Sunday best, enjoying the sunshine by the waterside. The play is also double-cast with the characters in the second act, and quite importantly. There are parallels between the period characters and the more modern ones. The Soldier in Act One is troubled by being physically attached to a mere cutout of his comrade; the character Alex in Act Two (both characters played by Luke Joslin) is obsessed with the idea that he is an individual, an artist struggling to gain prominence. It is quite a clever interplay, and I guess we have Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine to thank.
The second act really stood out to me as not only another period to research and develop, but also a load of fun to put together. I've had some experience in styling for music videos and short films, and approaching this half of the play I'll try to apply those skills. This period also had its excesses, and right now fashion is filled with vintage from that time. Sydney is teeming with vintage clothing stores these days, and totally have that period covered. The challenge will be to bring it all together as a unified whole, especially in the scenes inside the art gallery, where the group dynamic, the use of "colour and light", a recurring theme in the musical, is something that David and I have discussed in detail.
Being able to take all of this on board and then build up costumes for the production has been a great challenge, and an exciting one. As I began to sketch, using the period silhouettes from fashion plates and vintage photographs from both periods, I adjusted to the shapes and found I was able to invent ideas from scratch, and really give a sense of character from what the actors will be wearing. Not too much of course, I am well guarded and never allow myself to beat the audience over the head with a stick (so to speak). I see the work I do in theatre as part of a collaboration. First between the director and designer, then between the designer and the period cutters, who have an amazing magic of their own. Some of the hardest working practitioners in the theatre, film and television industries are cutters .. and they more often then not get absolutely no recognition for the mind-boggling work that they do. After this intense relationship comes the collaboration of the designer, cutter and the actor, in fittings and rehearsals in costume. Finally there is this amazing organic process where I just have to let go as the actor adjusts to the costume. In period productions such as these, so much is dictated by the restraints of the period clothing. The corset, and indeed all of the underpinnings and subsequent over-layers changes the body and how it moves, so it..s important to have the actors in fittings quite early. Then there is this hysterical point where you have the actor, who has adjusted to the costume, walk onto a set, and through a doorway as if they were doing it in ordinary clothing. Crash, bang. It's a lot of fun, and I like to keep that stage really light-hearted. Keeping a sense of humor is very important. We are all creative people, and the release that laughter brings can cure any sort of stress.
Mostly, I really enjoy the period of time spent in the workshop. It..s a crazy time where we all interpret the design, and it is really important to keep communicating with those who are building this show with you. I use the word collaborate a lot, because it is what we do as a group that is important.
I grew up around costume. As a teenager, working on productions back home, performing in local community theatre, directing and designing productions at school, my family home became the costume workshop. We have this great three-metre banquet table, great for Christmas when all twenty or so family members get together, or lining up about six or seven sewing machines. I used to get home from school and instead of watching television, my mum, three pins held between her lips while her hands fed slippery blue satin through a sewing machine, would hand me a half made costume and get me to run it through the over-locker. We always ended up working on shows that involved either fur or feathers, both of which my mother and I are totally allergic to, yet we all still pitched in. At one stage, nearly every member of my family, including all four of my sisters and a brother-in-law had his or her hand in the costumes; it made for some great memories. To this day, my mother and my sisters still cut all of the costumes for my nieces dance studio .. and while they complain about it, you can see the satisfaction they get out of it, using this skill and talent of theirs to give back. And, they do it for almost nothing!
In 2008, Sunday in the Park with George received a nomination at the Sydney Theatre Awards for Best Costume Design. It felt like I'd been put on the map, so to speak - being amongst great designers Stephen Curtis and Dale Ferguson was an honour.
When invited to undertake this project, I first saw it as a chance to bring me back to where I was from, to work in a region where I grew up; the old stomping ground. I think it then took me a week to realise that it was in fact going to be the biggest challenge I have ever faced professionally, thus far. Not only does Sunday in the Park with George span two distinctive periods in the history of costume, it also features a large ensemble cast of characters who all need individual attention to detail. Act One, based on the subjects in the Seurat work Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte is set in Paris in 1884, known in costume history as the second bustle period. After a brief re-visit to the characters within the painting in Act Two, the period shifts to 100 years later to Chicago, 1984 where the painting still hangs to this day. We enter a world of Vivienne Westwood and the beginnings of Gautier, and the re-invention (again) of the famed Chanel suit.
In a way of approaching the challenge I immersed myself in costume research, first keeping my attention focused on Act One. I will always remember studying this period in detail during my first and second years at NIDA (I graduated the Design course there in 2003) and it always fascinated me. The fashion plates and vintage photographs from the time had me transfixed for hours. One morning I stepped into the Powerhouse Museum research library, one of the best places for publications and documentation of period dress, and did not leave till late afternoon. I had been so engrossed in all of the detail and didn't realize how late it was until my stomach rumbled. I felt it important to really understand this period before I started to work on illustrating the costumes.
Now when I look at any visual documentation of the period, I am not only inspired by the excess and frivolity, I see the almost countless layers of clothing that these women endured. First, women would done a garter belt and hosiery, then over this a combination undergarment (the chemise and breeches would often be the one piece in these days). Over this they would endure the cuirass (pronounced kwi-rass) corset, known for its curvature and hourglass shape; the rough translation being "armour" This corset came down quite low over the abdomen and was known (in its day) for its comfort and health properties. They would then quite possibly wear a corset cover, to smooth over the whalebone lines of the corset. The bustle contraption was then fastened around the waist; over this would be another petticoat with flounces to emphasize the shape. An underskirt would then go over the top, then an overskirt, and (especially if the woman was wealthy, and known for her excess) aprons could be added, with large amounts of fabric, gathered at the side and pulled across the front of the skirts. The woman would of course be wearing a blouse, then a bodice or extremely well fitted waistcoat and jacket, which would re-enforce the cuirass shape of the corset.
What I found quite fascinating was the class distinction and how the bustle really did filter down into the lower classes. The Seurat painting illustrates this, but I found evidence that it was just a matter of what the under structure was. The wealthy wore a cage-like bustle made of boning and flounces, which was usually made collapsible so that a lady could sit. In some cases these were also made of steel and wire. Other techniques in achieving the desired shape used horsehair, simple flouncing of fabric at the back of the petticoat and underskirts; and padded bustles, almost like shaped pillows, which were for ease and comfort while working. I have also heard reference to "the working-woman's bustle", just simply pulling taught the fabric of the skirts in front, and a slight gathering at the back for the desired effect.
The period was also known for its accessories. Fans reached giant proportions; three-quarter length gloves suited the length of the sleeves fashionable during this period. Hats were worn high, the 'Toke' being quite fashionable and sometimes embellished with a whole stuffed bird. Hair was pulled in at the sides, curled, and embellished at the back of the head, much like the shape of the bustle.
This period was well known for its extremes. From the front, these garments were quite streamlined, collars worn high, jackets resembling those of men, fitted and emphasizing the cuirass shape. Turn to the side, and the extreme shape of the bustle is revealed, where we see the excess embellishment. This period also saw the return of the 'polonaise' walking dress, a popular style originating in the eighteenth century, worn perhaps by Marie Antoinette herself. It was simply appropriated for this period with the bustle, featuring a long over-jacket, opened out around the sides with ruched swags embellishing the back. The skirts were worn quite high off the ground, hence the term walking dress.
Once this period had been significantly documented, David Hollywood (Director of Sunday and Producer of the Railway St. Theatre Company) and I sat down and talked about the characters, and the world they were from. There is a diverse range of characters here, from all walks of life and social standing. You have the wealthy, the middle/working class and the lower classes, and they are all out in their Sunday best, enjoying the sunshine by the waterside. The play is also double-cast with the characters in the second act, and quite importantly. There are parallels between the period characters and the more modern ones. The Soldier in Act One is troubled by being physically attached to a mere cutout of his comrade; the character Alex in Act Two (both characters played by Luke Joslin) is obsessed with the idea that he is an individual, an artist struggling to gain prominence. It is quite a clever interplay, and I guess we have Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine to thank.
The second act really stood out to me as not only another period to research and develop, but also a load of fun to put together. I've had some experience in styling for music videos and short films, and approaching this half of the play I'll try to apply those skills. This period also had its excesses, and right now fashion is filled with vintage from that time. Sydney is teeming with vintage clothing stores these days, and totally have that period covered. The challenge will be to bring it all together as a unified whole, especially in the scenes inside the art gallery, where the group dynamic, the use of "colour and light", a recurring theme in the musical, is something that David and I have discussed in detail.
Being able to take all of this on board and then build up costumes for the production has been a great challenge, and an exciting one. As I began to sketch, using the period silhouettes from fashion plates and vintage photographs from both periods, I adjusted to the shapes and found I was able to invent ideas from scratch, and really give a sense of character from what the actors will be wearing. Not too much of course, I am well guarded and never allow myself to beat the audience over the head with a stick (so to speak). I see the work I do in theatre as part of a collaboration. First between the director and designer, then between the designer and the period cutters, who have an amazing magic of their own. Some of the hardest working practitioners in the theatre, film and television industries are cutters .. and they more often then not get absolutely no recognition for the mind-boggling work that they do. After this intense relationship comes the collaboration of the designer, cutter and the actor, in fittings and rehearsals in costume. Finally there is this amazing organic process where I just have to let go as the actor adjusts to the costume. In period productions such as these, so much is dictated by the restraints of the period clothing. The corset, and indeed all of the underpinnings and subsequent over-layers changes the body and how it moves, so it..s important to have the actors in fittings quite early. Then there is this hysterical point where you have the actor, who has adjusted to the costume, walk onto a set, and through a doorway as if they were doing it in ordinary clothing. Crash, bang. It's a lot of fun, and I like to keep that stage really light-hearted. Keeping a sense of humor is very important. We are all creative people, and the release that laughter brings can cure any sort of stress.
Mostly, I really enjoy the period of time spent in the workshop. It..s a crazy time where we all interpret the design, and it is really important to keep communicating with those who are building this show with you. I use the word collaborate a lot, because it is what we do as a group that is important.
I grew up around costume. As a teenager, working on productions back home, performing in local community theatre, directing and designing productions at school, my family home became the costume workshop. We have this great three-metre banquet table, great for Christmas when all twenty or so family members get together, or lining up about six or seven sewing machines. I used to get home from school and instead of watching television, my mum, three pins held between her lips while her hands fed slippery blue satin through a sewing machine, would hand me a half made costume and get me to run it through the over-locker. We always ended up working on shows that involved either fur or feathers, both of which my mother and I are totally allergic to, yet we all still pitched in. At one stage, nearly every member of my family, including all four of my sisters and a brother-in-law had his or her hand in the costumes; it made for some great memories. To this day, my mother and my sisters still cut all of the costumes for my nieces dance studio .. and while they complain about it, you can see the satisfaction they get out of it, using this skill and talent of theirs to give back. And, they do it for almost nothing!
In 2008, Sunday in the Park with George received a nomination at the Sydney Theatre Awards for Best Costume Design. It felt like I'd been put on the map, so to speak - being amongst great designers Stephen Curtis and Dale Ferguson was an honour.
No comments:
Post a Comment