Since the last time I posted, I have spent every waking moment locked in an epic struggle to find some way to fabricate the Ennis tiles I wanted to use to dress the set for "Rumors." And I lost.



The whole endeavor was based on the idea that to make enough tiles out of paper mache in the alloted time, I had to make as many molds as possible, hopefully enough to cast 20 tiles a day. Further, since I had only a small budget to work with, I couldn't use the usual pricey rubber compounds I normally use for molds, so I was limited to working in plaster.



So the theory went like this:

1. I make the first tile in foam core.

2. I make a rubber glove mold supported by plaster from that.

3. I make four plaster positives from that.

4. I make a four tile mother mold from those four tiles.

5. I cast a plaster production mold from the mother mold.

6. I cast paper mache in that production mold.

7. While the paper mache is drying, I cast another production mold.

8. I pop the dry papier mache tile out of the first mold, and then load both production molds with paper mache.

9. While the paper mache is drying, I cast another production mold.



...and so on, riding the geometric progression train to tile town.



The whole process started breaking down in step 3. Right from the first one, the plaster poured into the rubber mold simply did not want to relase from the mold. I'd cast plaster in rubber a million times before, so I was pretty confused by what was going on. While I was wrestling the second tile out of the mold, the plaster outer mold broke.







But that's not a problem! Since the plaster was just there to support the floppy rubber glove mold, I was able to keep going until I had the fourth positive plaster casting. After that, however, the rubber had stretched enough that it wouldn't lay in the plaster right anymore, so any further tiles would come out increasingly warped.



The next step called for me casting plaster out of plaster, which is always a dubious prospect at best. Plaster tends to bond permanently with any plaster it comes into contact with as it sets. But I'm smarter than your average bear! I know to paint the positive plaster with a thin coat of latex, to act as a sort of gasket and prevent the new plaster from bonding. Brilliant, yes?



Only it didn't work.







Well, it did, at least the rubber part did. The gasket did exactly what it was supposed to, and the plaster didn't bond to the other plaster. But unfortunately, back when I was building up the original master from foamcore, I gave it a coat of texture paint to give it an authentic stone look. That texture was reproduced faithfully in the plaster reproductions, and was probably why it was so hard to get them to release from the rubber mold. Without the flex and give of the thicker rubber, that texture turned into an thousand little undercuts, totally trapping the positive into the negative. I ended up trying to chisel the negative out so I'd still have at least one working production mold, but even though I'd reinforced it by embedding chicken wire in the plaster, the production mold broke beyond use as well.



A sane man would have given up there and walked away.



I move on to plan C.



I'm starting to give up on keeping things cheap, but not to the point of buying the $80 a gallon self vulcanizing rubber I know so well. Still, there are other options. First, I scrape and sand all the texture paint off my original, to try and help the demolding process. Then I run down to Pearl and pick up some exotic art supplies.



First, I try to cast a production mold in expanding urathane foam. The foam sets up in two hours, so that's great, but the way the foam swirls and expands as it fills the mother mold leaves huge ragged voids. Not only would it look like crap, but it would make any paper mache tiles cast in it very hard to extract.







Then I tried a flexible foam. The detail was much better, but there were still some annoying voids, and since the resulting mold was like a firm foam pillow, it would be impossible to get tiles out of it that weren't bent to some degree.







Even worse, even if either foam product had worked, at $22 a mold, it would hardly have fallen into the budget.



So today, with about two weeks left to go before the set is supposed to be finished, I have surrendered and informed the director that the tiles are no go, and the set will have to get by on a totally paint based treatment. I think it will still look great, but it really breaks my heart to give up on this technique. I feel sure that given another month, I'd be able to work this out.



I think the main lesson I've learned here is don't offer a technique you've never used before to a client, no matter how awesome the finished effect would be if you pull it off.

Mold attempt #1 failed after four coats of rubber. I've never used this particular type of rubber before, as I generally go for the two-part type that you pour all at once, then it sets up in a thermochemical reaction. But that stuff is pricey, so this time I opted for the latex based rubber that you use to make "glove type" molds.



For starters, it's too damned cold out for the rubber to dry, so I set up a pair of heat lamps to simulate a balmy summer afternoon in direct sunlight in my office.







Unfortunately, I learned the hard way why the instructions are so adamant about building the mold up in numerous thin layers rather than a few thick ones. Turns out that any rubber that isn't completely dry on the surface of the master object can be persuaded to turn to steam and inflate the unfinished mold like a balloon. Once that seal is broken, the mold is ruined. Any further coats will simply make the distortion permanent. Luckily, I'd built up enough layers that I was able to peel the rubber off the master and start over cleanly. The aborted mold looked rather disturbingly like human skin.







Mold attempt #2 is already underway. This time I know that it's far better for a coat of rubber to be too thin than too thick, and that each coat needs to be 100% dry before the next one goes on. Oddly enough, that will actually make the process go much faster, as a thin coat dries fairly quickly. I should be able to pour the plaster outer mold tomorrow, and maybe even try casting a papier mache tile.



:::crosses fingers:::

I've just submitted the construction drawings for the two shows I'm designing now, and it looks like neither of them are coming back with any major revisions!



This is the one I'm most excited about, the Frank Lloyd Wright inspired set for "Neil Simon's Rumors" at the Hapgood Theatre in Antioch;





The plan here is to cast a ba-jillion sculptural "textile block" tiles in papier mache and cover most, if not all of the set walls with them. I've already made the master tile:





Now I have to pull multiple molds off of it and see how fast I convince the papier mache to dry. The show opens January 2nd, so the clock is ticking. What a lovely time for a cold snap...



The other set I'm working on is for "Something's Afoot" at the Pinole Playhouse, in the same space where we did "Little Shop of Horrors";







This one opens on January 18th and is about a third the size as "Rumors", so there's a lot less pressure here.



I'll post photos as construction begins!

..."Oliver!" gets a fine write-up in the Milpitas Post!





And another positive review from Fremont's "Tri City Voice" (yeah, I've never heard of it either!)

Now that I'm working in theatre, I finally have to admit to myself that I just really don't care much for musicals. Ironic that three of my first five shows are musicals, one of which I find so patently bad that I don't think that any caliber of cast can save it. I'm going to keep which one that is to myself for now.



It isn't, however, Oliver. I'm still not a huge fan, mostly because I've seen it so many times since I was an orphan myself back in the 6th grade, and I've never been a huge Dickens fan to begin with. But the Douglas Morrison Theater did a bang up job with the show nonetheless, with a superb orchestra, a decent cast, and what can I say about that luscious set? Oh, that's right, I don't have to say anything, I have photos...



No matter how many times you call the exterminators, it's impossible to completely get rid of that orphan problem...





And if it ain't the orphans, it's the townspeople milling about aimlessly...





...and they are prone to fits of singing and dancing.





"Boy.... Boy for sale...."





Ooooh, spooky night scene...





That's probably enough Oliver to satisfy anyone. I think I am now relieved from ever sitting through it again. Cheerio...