the timboucher experience

Working as running crew in theatre, a major part of one’s responsibilities relate to cleaning and preparing the space in which a performance takes place. This includes not just the stage itself, but backstage or “back of house” - areas traversed or utilized by actors, crew and other house personnel. My first professional crew position in an Equity house consisted of a “crew call” (the time at which crew members are required to arrive) a full hour before regular actors. During that time, before every performance I was required to vacuum backstage carpeted areas, occasional dusting of the backsides of flats (our shop is attached to our backstage area, and kicks out plenty of debris regularly), sweeping and mopping of the mainstage, as well as arranging moveable set pieces (referred to in the biz as “pre-setting”) to their locations for the top of the show. “And other duties as assigned” is what my contract said. The thing you’ll find if you do any work in theatre, is that other duties have a way of being almost endlessly assigned. There is always so much to be done, that it is very common for you to be pressed into doing something that’s not your area of specialty, that you know little to nothing about and which is typically not your responsibility. When I first got assigned to crew, I had a vague idea of what would be required. Then it seemed like each day, new responsibilities were piled up. Each time, it added just a small level of indignation, of annoyance, which was mitigated one day by the words of a co-worker who I became good friends with:

“Not to sound pious,” he said - which immediately sounded pious, “but we get paid to do this. I think that’s pretty incredible.”

And he’s right. It’s all totally worth it. All the mopping, sweeping, cleaning toilets, whatever they have you do. I’ve learned a great deal from working in theatre about ideals such as Duty and Service, terms which were very abstract to me before but which have become very concrete. Mainly because within the environment of the theatre, you can immediately witness the repercussions of your actions. If you build something wrong, it breaks. It impacts everybody, you look stupid, and hopefully you learn to not do that again, to improve yourself. Not looking stupid, of course, shouldn’t be your first motivation for anything when it comes to theatre or to the greater artistic process which is enshrined within theatre. That should come directly from the Great Work itself. It’s the end from which everything else derives.

As my pre-show cleaning responsibilities mounted, my stage manager asked me, “Have you ever worked with kabuki performers?”

“No,” I said.

“I have. With kabuki performers, the entire cast comes early – they race to see who can get there first – and they all get down on their hands and knees with soapy water and scrub the stage. All by hand.”

I ruminated on this anecdote every day as I swept and mopped and vacuumed. It’s all about the psychological preparation and the spiritual discipline embodied in the act of cleaning. You are slowing down to take the time to physically and personally “touch” (with a mop or broom, or whatever) every area of the stage upon which you be entering into on behalf of an audience an entirely other world. Cleaning the stage clears your mind, your soul, your heart. It readies you for the Work.

Timothy Leary used to talk about something called set and setting when it comes to psychedelic journeying. Set refers to the mental and emotional state that a psychonaut is bringing with them to the experience. It has to do with attitudes, ideas, beliefs, intentions, habits, typical ways of doing things and experiencing oneself and the world. If you go into a psychedelic experience with a healthy positive state of mind, you’ll generally find that reflected in your experience. Same thing with negative states, negative sets bring bad trips. It’s a near certainty. Setting, of course, deals with your immediate environment in which the trip takes place. Who is with you, the relationships and history between people, where you are, what you’re listening to, lighting and so on. Theatre and psychedelics both bring about otherworldly perceptual experiences. They are, in some sense, ritual excursions into the imagination. The types of personal preparation, cleansing, and readying yourself and your space for one of these types of experiences is easily translated to the other. Same thing goes for occult, New Age and more traditional religious practice: it often involved banishing rituals, getting rid of negative energy, burning sage, cleansing yourself with water, putting on white clothing, prayers of protection and guidance. Our inner and outer worlds are so intimately connected that I’ve found the easiest way to manipulate your inner world is through ritual action in the real world around you. You give your inner experiences perceptual hooks, frameworks upon which they can organize themselves. Wax on, wax off. Clean that stage. Wipe it down, reach every nook and cranny. Turn everything upside down and set it right again. And find a good place to dump out the dirty mop water when you’re done.

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