Sunny Side Up Feb 19, 2003 � 2003, Kathleen Gibson Lessons from the Prop Shop I love painting. So every year I join other volunteer painters, artists, and carpenters who help prepare the sets and backdrops for the community musical��The Music Man� this year. Even the Preacher helped�slapped black paint on set backs and planned his next sermon. On my second trip to the prop shop, Randy Holfeld, head set artist, pointed to the unpainted plywood base of our impressive �cast bronze� statue. �How about doing something with that pedestal? Just don�t make it too dark.� First I painted it black. Then �ragged on� grey. Randy worried. �It might be too dark,� he said, arms crossed, head cocked to the right. �Trust me, Randyangelo. I�m not done yet.� I sponged on white. Dabbed on gold. Finally stroked it with a chicken feather to emphasize the veins, then stood back to admire. Marble, most definitely. �Looks good,� said Randy, �but I don�t think those veins are going to read well.� What he meant was, �How in blazes are the people in the back going to see those wimpy lines?� (Except he�s much more gracious than that.) Randy knows what he�s talking about. When he painted sets for �Oklahoma�, four years ago, I seem to recall that he actually painted ladybugs on the corn in the cornfield. For �Hello Dolly�, he added excruciating details to the stained-glass cathedral windows in the New York scene. In the end they were visible only to those on stage. �I�ve learned,� he said, �that when painting sets, you can�t focus too much on details. And you have to do some things that look pretty bizarre up close, so that they�ll �read well� from a distance.� �Right, Randy. I forgot.� I really had. I redid each vein, thickened them until he agreed they�d �read� from afar. A few mornings later, I got an apologetic email from Gloria, our director. She had liked the pedestal, but against the lighter backdrop, the whole thing looked too dark. �I�m so sorry,� she said, �but it looks like the Grim Reaper.� I repainted. Randy smiled and patted my head. Our statue, dapper in his thirteen dollar Salvation Army store attire, (stiffened with half white glue, half water, if you wondered) looked much better perched on ordinary limestone. My thoughts keep returning to that pedestal. I�ve realized something. God plays on the stage of my life, but my choices are the brushstrokes that determine whether or not he�s readable. Too often, I set my stage for those in the front rows alone, making teeny little good decisions, taking no risks, playing it safe. But every time I�ve spoken strongly, acted boldly, lived generously, God has used those choices to help even those in the distance to see and hear his truth. I don�t always listen well, though. Sometimes I make my own plan, paint my own colors�wrong ones. So far God, like Gloria and Randy, has always extended me the grace to begin again. That�s show biz. And that�s life. Respond to this column at [email protected] |