Pro Sound Web: A few years ago I was visiting with my friend Chris Walker, the worship leader at Covenant Life Church in Grand Haven, MI, when he dropped the term “tech ninja” on me.
I laughed and thought of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I imagined a green shell-clad sound guy with an assortment of weapon stashed in his belt.
8 comments:
I love the term “tech ninja” because that is how I viewed backstage crew when I was younger. I thought it was so cool that there were people behind the scenes that put all of the magic onstage together. If it were not for them the show would not be possible. I liked seeing them during transitions moving the set so smoothly and quickly. I was more interested in how they did all of that so quickly and calmly. I just wanted to be up there dressed in all black making the people on stage look good. It seemed like a secretive world that only exclusive people got to see. Everyone loves going on backstage tours to see how things really work. I wanted to be the one to be backstage all the time and make all of the magic work. Even though “tech ninjas” do not get enough recognition, I still enjoy being one.
If CMU has taught me anything, it is the appeal of assimilating yourself into the mold of a tech ninja. Showing up to a call without your full toolbelt leads to you being ostracized by your peers, ridiculed by your crew heads, and looked down on teachers. My buds who have already been on run crew claimed that they would always feel at their most uncomfortable when they were on stage and folks could see them, with each person much preferring venturing out into blackouts to clean up or move some props around. Now, the author claims that the appeal of tech is the darkness itself, and that to be a true technician you must be able to be a ninja and hide in the black, but occasionally, things don't go that way, or you need to be out during scenes. Ninjas also need to have infiltration in their skill set, so a tech person who isn't afraid to get into costume and get out onstage is one of the strongest you can have, as they will truly be ready for anything.
Its interesting that no matter what part or level of the entertainment industry you work in, it is always a constant challenge not to let the technology and the process get in the way of the story and the art of what you are doing. For so many theater people, myself included, it is often much more enticing to “do a cool thing” rather than to “tell the story” and that is a problem that has to be constantly watched. I think part of the issue is the culture of backstage fraternity that forms in so many places. People take so much pride in being a “Techie” or “Tech Ninja” that doing their craft well becomes the most important thing. In many situations I find that we loose flexibility to tradition and pride in ones work. I am conflicted on this issue, in an ideal world I think everyone would be centered more on the Why and What, rather than the How of a process. But if that were true, would we ever have innovation and invention. Is the world driven by people who say “I want to tell a story” or by people who say “I want to make something cool”?
There are so many "tech ninjas" in theater, and I would like to acknowledge them all. They are the reason that theater is possible, and yet at the end of each show, the audience does not know who they are, and some that they even exist. I think it is an appropriate name for the work they do. The author throws in this idea of message and medium. Which is very interesting to think about. I have never thought about theater in these two categories. The message is important and so in the medium. And in some ways I think this is the equation to a successful show. The ones that have a strong message do well, and do even better if they have a good medium - the way they tell the story which can be very dependent on the tech ninjas.
So a lot of this article is common sense, if you’re technical elements are not running effectively then the world your shoe has intended to create is now gone. But where this article didn’t go, where I wish it would have, is that at least with younger designers there is such a desire to not be a technical ninja. They want the effects they worked tirelessly to be recognized, which is completely valid in some cases, and completely distracting in others. Like this author said “The result is an experience where the focus is on the message - not the method.” My opinion might not mean much, but I’ve definitely seen some shows were technical elements outshined the actors, and therefore a level of the plot was lost because as an audience member you are no longer in the world, you are in reality looking at the light used to create that world. We have to remember as designers to stay true to the production.
As a designer, I have often run into conflict with actors who believe that I do what I do out of fear, and that I fell back on design because I am opposed to the spotlight. However, I would argue that a designer's subjected spotlight can sometimes be all the more terrifying than that of an actor, and to face it every day is an accomplishment in and of itself. This is the bravery of the tech ninjas, the people who know that to do their job effectively will earn them no applause once the curtain has fallen. These are the souls who understand that the minute they cause one tiny disruption in the flow of the process, the minute they make apparent a single flaw amid a thousand triumphs, they undo all the work they have done to create the world of the play. Being a designer is not about hiding: it is the act of being visibly invisible. There is no improvisation once an audience has witnessed a designer's mistake - there is only the product and the all-too-obviously ineffective process behind it. What I can't stand is when fellow theatre artists act as if the carrying out of a job or a task does not matter when they do not know what it is. Just because I don't know what the hell the guy in the corner is doing doesn't mean he isn't crucial to the process. The more we all make the effort to mutually respect the relevance of our different roles backstage, the greater the bravery and invisibility of the entire team; thus, the smaller the margin for error and the lesser the fear of the spotlighted mistake.
“Tech Ninjas” always felt like a very high school term to me, but maybe that’s because we’ve just become so used to what we do that it doesn’t seem weird anymore. I mean, the definition used in the article is:
“the unseen, completely unnoticed, highly trained tactical team of secretive, slightly mysterious warriors that lurk in the booths, catwalks, and backstage areas without anyone knowing who they are or what they’re doing.”
That is exactly what we do. It’s not all that we do, but as a technician, that’s a huge part of it.
“So the job of the tech ninja is to use and exploit the medium in a way that allows the message to come thru unfiltered.”
That’s another good quote. And if you use that as the “prime directive” of being a “tech ninja” you will probably end up with a pretty good product. If the driving motivation behind a technician is to use the show to push the message, or the content, or the vision, or whatever the church or companies goal is with the event, and the whole technical team can get behind that, you will probably have a pretty good team and product.
This article speaks to so much more than sound and light designers.
Disappearing and letting the "message be the message" is so important.
I think that I run into productions that focus on designs and tech rather than the message.
It is my belief that design elements are only there to take push forward the story and message of the play. To enhance what the actors are doing on stage.
I am still unsettled regarding the term "tech ninjas". I am usually not offended when someone calls me a techie, though I do prefer technician. However, the term used in this article just seems a little immature.
The idea of disappearing is so cool. Along with the designs that, I feel, should create the world of what's going on rather than be what is going on, technicians should too. Not being seen or heard but seeing that things and tasks that we are doing (moving things, calling cues, lights changing) has a magical quality that only live theatre can produce.
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