Today’s Sanity Level: Bananaphone

Our winterguard state championships were scheduled for yesterday. They were, of course, cancelled.

In the spirit of getting together apart, we (the members and staff) decided to create our own winterguard shows. Since the staff do this professionally, we decided to do the most ridiculous ideas we could find.

(I hope. That’s what I did, anyway.)

Performing their 2021 show “Bananaphone,” Winter Guard International is proud to present….

bananaphone

Music

The name kind of gives it away:

“Bananaphone” will be a Regional A show, since it’s both (a) ridiculous and (b) not long enough to be used in any other caption.

Floor

Since no one gave me a budget, I’m getting custom everything for my brand-new guard performing silly work on multiple pieces of equipment. As we all know, high production values totally make WGI judges ignore bad technique!

(Note for non-winterguard readers: The above is sarcasm. Nothing makes WGI judges ignore cringey technique. Especially not in Regional A, the literal training class.)

Anyway, did you know that “banana phone” stock photography exists? It does! Here’s what I’m getting printed on our amazing custom bananaphone floor:

abstract-idea-colorful-banana-phone-600w-1062212057

Minus the watermark, of course. And we’ll need to expand the sides, since we’re getting a 60 by 90 floor to accommodate all 30 of the performers I will definitely have once word about this once in a lifetime show theme gets around.

Also, you can expect a sort of “confetti” effect over the whole thing, once all my brand-new guard members are done marking every single spot in their drill with their very own color of electrical tape.

Does this banana phone look kind of like a tampon to you?

I’m sure it’s fine.

Props/Sets

Props and set pieces are my nemesis. I never know what I want or what I want to do with it once I have it.

But every good budget-breaking show needs ridiculous quantities of unnecessary props, so I Googled “banana props.”

We are SO getting these banana couches:

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Also, WHY. WHY DOES THIS EXIST.

I don’t care, we’re getting ten:

inflatable-mobile-phone

What are we going to do with the giant inflatable bananas and phones? No idea! In my world, that’s what we call “the choreographer’s problem.”

Equipment

Props are great and all, but it’s not winterguard unless we’re spinning regulation equipment.

I really wanted banana-colored Arcs, but since I can’t remember whether Arcs count as equipment (I know Airblades don’t), I’ve decided to throw some rifle wraps on and call it good.

Rifles that actually look like bananas seem a little on the nose, so we’re going with these stock wraps from McCormick’s:

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That leaves flags. Since nobody keeps a banana-print flag in stock (I know, I looked), I’m ordering custom flags with another stock photo image on them. Here are our ending feature flags:

Banana wallpaper (2)

And because I don’t want to hear any crap from the upstairs judges about why our floor is pink when nothing else is, the opening flags are going to alternate between the yellow and pink Genesis flags from Band Shoppe:

Uniforms

I expected costuming to take the longest of any of these. But then I was procrastinating on Facebook and I found this image from Beavercreek HS’s 2020 show:

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And I said, “THAT’S IT. THOSE ARE OUR UNIFORMS.”

Count Sheet

For the uninitiated: Every winterguard show starts with a count sheet. We listen through the music and conceive it in blocks of counts, which become the basis both of individual choreographic phrases and of the changes in staging, equipment, mood etc. from beginning to end.

Here’s my count sheet for Bananaphone:

Intro (16 cts): Entrance/dance thingy

Verse 1 and 2 (64 cts): Yellow flags (Group A), dance (Group B)

Verse 3 and Bridge (64 cts): Yellow flags (Group A), pink flags (Group B)

Instrumental (64 cts): Rifle & dance

Verse 4 (32 cts): Ending flag feature

Repeat & End: Mostly dance, some flags

Budget

I haven’t even tried to budget this. For a guard of thirty people, we’re probably looking at:

Large Custom Floor:   $2,000
Inflatable Nonsense:   $500
Rifle Wraps:                   $450
Stock Flags:                    $1,050
Custom Flags:                $1,050
Uniforms:                       $3,000

TOTAL:                              $8,050

Once we get done paying staff (because OF COURSE I’m going to pay well for the proper execution of this artistic vision), we’re well into the five figures, which is where I wanted to be. That trophy for “Most Overproduced Winterguard Show About Bananas” shall be mine!

….I’m being informed there is no such trophy.

Boo.


Both WGI and DCI 2020 aren’t happening, so if you wanted to help by buying me a coffee or sharing this post with your nerdy marching arts friends, I’d love that.

 

A Ten-Step Creative Process That Absolutely Works

Today in my Quora inbox:

What sort of approach or strategy do you most often use in your creative work as a writer, from the very early beginning stages and onwards?

I found this question baffling at first. Asking about “process” seems antithetical to creation itself. I don’t have a process! I channel the inspiration of the gods themselves!

Except I do, of course, have a process. All creatives do.

I can’t guarantee my process will work for anybody else. (Notice that the headline doesn’t say who “a ten-step creative process that absolutely works” works for.) I frequently disappoint aspiring creatives by regaling them with a discussion of my methods, only for them to list 5,000 ways those methods won’t work for them.

So your mileage may vary. Please consult the manual before driving. Do not feed this advice to babies or small children.

blog post image with title of post and url

Phase the Early: Ideas

Perhaps the most queried-after item in the whole “creativity” topic. Where do you get your ideas? How can I have more ideas? 

Step One: GET BORED.

Boredom is my friend. Boredom is where the really juicy creative nonsense comes from.

I took up running on the elliptical in order to get bored. I put a stationary bike in my basement so I can get bored. I’ll put my phone out in my car in 0F weather to force myself to get bored. I show up to dentist appointments an hour early to get bored.

It only takes a few minutes of boredom for my brain to start making up the most bizarre nonsense in order to alleviate its own boredom.

Step Two: MACBETH HATH MURDERED JUDGMENT.

All ideas at this stage are worth entertaining. No matter how truly terrible they are. In fact, the worst ideas are the most worth entertaining.

Last summer, I took several dance classes at the Music for All Summer Symposium with Vincent Thomas, who teaches at Towson University. We started every session with four agreements, the first of which was “To be full of my own value and free of judgment.”

Step Two is my “full of my own value and free of judgment” stage. If an idea comes up, I’ll play with it. The kookier the better.

Phase the Middle: Not-Terrible Ideas

The transition from the early to middle stage occurs when a single idea recurs enough times that I realize I’ve been thinking about it more than once. It doesn’t want to let go.

And since it won’t let go, it gets to move on to Step 3.

Step 3: JOT IT DOWN.

If an idea won’t go away, I write it down.

Writing it down tricks the idea into thinking I’m actually going to do something with it. The vast majority of ideas fall for this scam. They then get shoved into a closet, where I look at them once every 20 years.

The most persistent ideas, however, are too smart to fall for it. They keep coming back even after I’ve written them down. These ideas get to move on to Step 4.

Step 4: A LITTLE JUDGMENT IS OKAY.

I say “judgment,” but I mean “discernment.” This is where I start thinking about how the idea would work in practice.

What would the end result look like? What are the practical steps required for me to make it work? Is it worth the time and effort required?

Some ideas aren’t worth what I’d invest to do them. For instance, I have a long-pestering idea for some bathroom wall art made from repurposed pages of Moby-Dick (to do with my kraken shower curtain). But learning the skill to execute what’s in my head will take time and effort I’d rather spend on other things, like getting these novels out of my head.

Phase the Late: Making Art

If an idea survives steps 3 and 4, it gets one free ticket into the late stage.

Step 5: RESEARCH.

Step 4 is about whether the idea is feasible for me, personally and individually, to execute. Step 5 is about whether the idea is feasible within a broader social and economic context.

Is there a realistic marketable version of this idea, and if so, what does it look like? Is there some related topic or idea out there that is way cooler and more interesting? Are there 500 other artworks on this idea (hint: Yes! Always!), and what do they look/sound/feel like?

Step 5 is Wikipedia rabbit hole o’clock. I cram related creative works until I just can’t hold any more.

Step 6: OUTLINING/SKETCHING/NOODLING AROUND.

Now that I know WAY TOO MUCH ABOUT EVERYTHING related to this idea, what will my iteration look like for reals?

This is where I generate a bunch of really terrible proto-versions of the idea. Once again, judgment is locked out of the room. Quantity, not quality, is the goal here. 15 different marching band show ideas on the theme of “Angels”? 20 sketches of the same sleeping cat? Hell yeah, you can never have too many of those.

Step 7: REFINEMENT.

Write, draw, dance, polish, edit, repeat, repeat, repeat, whatever.

Blood is sweated, sweat is cried, tears are bled.

I become convinced that creating art in the first place was the worst idea I have ever had. Seriously, why can’t I just be a nice, boring insurance adjuster? O Muse, why dost Thou torment me so??!?!

This is the phase in which I start to question why I haven’t taken up a less self-destructive habit. Like skydiving. Or smoking opium.

Step 8. TENTATIVE PRESENTATION.

After blood, sweat, tears, and not nearly enough day drinking, a draft is born! And like someone who has just given birth, I’d be more excited if I wasn’t utterly exhausted.

I show the draft to people who love me, who love the art, and who have zero fear about telling me exactly how much the work sucks. They tell me exactly how much and in what ways the work sucks. I can’t believe I’m friends with these people.

I get spiteful: Oh yeah, well, I’ll show YOU whose book needs to explore its themes in more depth! I tear into revision with a vengeance, and I question why I ever thought I’d ever do anything else with my life except creating art.

Step 9: ABANDONMENT.

As they say: A creative work is never finished, only abandoned.

Eventually, I kick the piece out to its final destination – my publisher, a marching band director, my bathroom wall, whatever. I promptly forget it exists. Months later, when I get an email informing me that my short story was accepted or that some band director wants to give me cash moneys for making their 150-piece ensemble imitate starfish, I wonder how the heck it got addressed to me.

I’m not into short stories or starfish dancing anymore, see. I’m onto something new.

Step 10: REBOOT.

I find the most mindless activity I can (Sims, anyone?) and do it until I start to get bored. Boredom is my friend. Boredom is where the really juicy creative nonsense comes from….


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