Up North

Took a trip up North. First light back at home:

The Rio Grande from White Rock. Never saw that stunning site before. Bit of vertigo near the edge:

Later in the day said good-bye to the set:

Marat Sade

Here's a quickie this morning for possibly upcoming production of Marat Sade at the "Little Theatre", for Dave to take to the theatre board. Crude, but explicit -- with deep apologies to ol' Delacroyks. Looks just a tiny bit better when clicked on.

Road and beyond

On the road to Los Alamos, just above La Cueva. This time of the year we begin to enjoy light as we travel -- early dawn. Some slush, black ice, but, as you see, not much snow:

Zooming!

Fire? FIRE!
 Don't panic. Controlled burn, they claim. If you click, don't inhale.

Descending to the Valle Caldera:

The Valle. Believe me, it is teeming with elk down there; my puny camera lens will not reach that far. Last year that fence was just about covered with snow. This year you can see yellowing patches of vegetation poking through -- nice for the elk in the short term, not a nice prospect for spring if more wet stuff doesn't come down.

More zooming!

Wham! It's the set in post rehearsal disarray form. I have to move all that junk away from the wall and continue to obsessively apply more and more and more wood texture.

Don't want to mess with this photo any more, but the wood texture is quite visible really. Most of it is already done. Need to finish bits, fix furniture -- stuff like that.

Some detail; each panel became a crazy little painting strangely amounting to a wood paneling effect. Click:

At lunchtime (I overlooked bringing lunch with me) went to the local sub-shop when this little DOE squad marched in. Shouldn't they be chowing down in a barrack or tent somewhere? Poor customer looks deeply alarmed, as his hand slowly reaches for something that was not ever there, ready to run out into the street screaming if they as much as glance at him. I'll join him, but I have my veggie sub and Sierra Mist firmly grasped in my hands.

Walskin

Meant to spend all day at the theatre, but Lizzie got sick, fever etc, so I stayed home with her. Second day she's at it -- should be OK for tomorrow -- better be.
Meanwhile a winter storm is gathering. Hope tomorrow doesn't turn out to be a snow-day.
So I get to have a break from applying wood-textures to all that lies before me. A skin day instead. Actually, these are pieces that have been embedded in the sheetrock in the studio for the last few days.

Set beside

Here we are working away like crazy...

 ...while people who had been lingering down in the audience area below, suddenly started behaving strangely:

We continue undeterred. Short-ish deadline this, and a lot remains not even yet begun. Might have to replace video of flames projected behind window with mechanical, generic flame-like flickering effect, and might not have time to paint vista of building seen through same window on good transportable surface, but merely slap it on some available flats for use in LA only.

The folks down below go nuts:

Thin Air

Bitterly cold these days. Yesterday, arrived in Los Alamos earlier than normal, took shelter in Starbucks: short bold and a blueberry scone. Same old faces, sipping, mumbling, gazing at their laptops, waiting for their appointed hour.
The windows are steamed up like in an olde English Cayff (café?Olé!). Missing: grease, in its gaseous form, hanging thickly in the air. Thick chipped and stained china. Mixed Grill with the bubbly bacon still squirming from brutal treatment on the frying pan, pork and lamb chops glistening, livers and kidneys lurking deeply within beds of dark brown onions, very deeply baked beans slowly subsiding over what was once crisp, black toast. 
To be fair, the air was not thick with just grease; there was, in the good old days, smoke from cigarettes, distant wafts of marmite being smeared, steam rising from life-restoring PG tips and billowing from the yawning gizzards of the clientele.
You see, here below: the "steam" is not running down the glass, its not even steam, it is delicate high altitude frosting, the air is thin, the gentlemen at the tables are not stevedores or dustbin-men but refined types from the atom bomb factory, no doubt.