Trial By Fire

It was a trial by fire, doing my first light show.

Imagine it:  South Beach, 1996.  My friend Drew had lost his job to me over a pool game.  I'd never done lights before, and the bet I'd made was in total jest.  Yet there we were, in the lighting booth at legendary circuit-party nightclub Salvation, and Drew was running me through a control board the size of Montana.  His car was packed, and he was moving to North Carolina.  The club that night would have 3000 seething gay men, dancing and partying the night away into the next afternoon.  He gave me a tour of the facility, showed me where the electrical room was, ran me through the board, told me the "three rules of lighting," made another one up on-the-spot just for me, and took his leave.  Boom.  I was 21 years old, and having a full-fledged panic attack.

Strangely, as if by magic, two hours into the party something in my head just snapped.  I don't know if it was because the iconic DJ Abel was such a master of his craft, or my background as a piano student in the 4th grade left me with great hand-eye coordination, but SOMETHING changed.  As if a switch had been turned on (not trying to be punny).  In that moment, whatever triggered it, I became a vessel through which the music came in and the lights came out.  

I never looked back, and I went on to a fantastic career in intelligent lighting across the United States, Europe and South America, working with the biggest names in nightlife & music.

When I moved to Los Angeles, all that came to a crashing halt.  I'd been summoned by the late, GREAT, Gilbert Stafford, to help him build a club in Hollywood.  We did, and the two things about the place that were magnificent were: him in all his splendor at the door, and my light show.  Everything else about the place was unbecoming: the music, the crowd, the management.  Unfortunately, both Gilbert and I were treated appallingly by the owners/managers.  He & I, who created so much, were constantly being kicked in the teeth by those scumbags.  Gilbert's health took a swift turn for the worse, and he died.  My fury and rage with the people I held responsible knew no bounds, and I blazed out of that nightmare situation, never to look back.  

It's been four & 1/2 years without doing what makes my heart sing with such joy.

In March some friends of mine called with an opportunity I just couldn't refuse.  We sat down during Winter Music Conference in Miami, and the offer to go to Vegas to do lights for one of the biggest DJs in the World was presented.  I was in shock.  Extreme shock.  On the one hand, YES!  YES!  YES!  I wanted to go to Vegas and do lights!  Especially for David Guetta!  On the other hand, OH SHIT...  What if I can't do lights anymore.  The technology has moved on, but my knowledge of it hasn't.  What if my fingers don't work?!?!  What if I don't have the endurance?  What if I let my friends down?

After I excitedly accepted the offer, I was riddled with anxiety and terror.  We booked my flights and hotel, and I was set to go to Vegas the 1st weekend in May.  I was given minimal information about the controller, fixtures & space.  Essentially, I was flying blind.  

Here we go again, another trial by fire.

My anxiety grew like a weed all through the month of April.  I called my friends at PRG & they set me up with a tiny closet & an OLD version of the controller I *thought* was in Vegas.  I blankly stared at it, for quite some time.  I used to use this controller like the back of my hand five years ago, then we swapped it for the newest version.  I had worked on it hundreds of times, doing lights for nightlife, music videos, special events, circus...  Terrifyingly, my mind blanked.  I fiddled around with all the buttons, knobs, faders...  Tried to remember how to clear the memory out, move programs around...  Some things came back, but not much.  I left and met my friend for a sake-laden sushi lunch.  

The week leading up to my gig, my teeth hurt so much I went to the dentist.  He asked, "have you been grinding?"  "I guess so, " I replied, "I've been very stressed."  He admonished me, "well STOP IT, or I'll give you head gear to wear in your sleep!"  I wish he had.  The night before my gig I BIT DOWN SO HARD on my tongue, the pain woke me up.  I spoke with a pronounced lisp for days.

I had a full-on, crying panic attack the night before my Vegas trip.  My poor husband assured me I'd be amazing, and regaled me with stories of how he used to be in awe, watching me run lights at the club in Hollywood, when we were falling in love.  It's true.  He used to come all the time & just watch me work.  It was very sweet, and I thought nothing of it.  Working the light show was second-nature to me then.  I really tried to calm down, and joked "no matter WHAT happens, the sun WILL rise on Sunday."

                       Photo Credit:  Allegra Riggio

So?  I hopped on my plane to Vegas.  I even ran into a not-terribly welcome face-from-the-past on the plane.  "As I live and breathe," I said, "what are you going to Vegas for?"  "Oh, you know....Vegas." he said.  Sigh.  The eloquence of club-folk.

I met up with my friend, the production manager (and also the hardest working guy in show business) at the airport.  I had my combat boots on, mirrored shades, and was trying to act natural.  We got all checked in to an INCREDIBLE hotel where the club is.  My suite was amazing.  Full five-star treatment.  Our big, famous DJ friend was spinning at the pool, so I freshened up & met up with the crew there to check out his set.  

He was in a fantastic mood, the crowd was massive, and every single girl was in a bikini.  Welcome to Vegas.  As I listened intently, I got into his particular groove very quickly; and I have to admit the thunderous sound of bass soothed my pounding heart.  (see video below)

6 second Vine post from behind David Guetta at the Encore Pool Las Vegas

In the early evening we were finally allowed into the club to so sound/light check.  I met the in-house audio/visual guys, who couldn't have been kinder to me.  This was a gigantic relief, as I had tons of questions & they were accommodating and generous.  As I walked into the lighting booth, my heart began to palpitate & I broke into a sweat.  The controller they had was the latest version of my last one.  On the bright side, I remembered a lot.  On the not bright side, understanding the in-house labeling of commands was like learning a new language, but that's to be expected. 

Photo Credit:  Allegra Riggio                                                                              The lighting controller at XS in Vegas                                    

I fiddled around with the controller for hours.  Also, I walked around the club, mapping in my mind where all the lights were, how they moved, what was & wasn't working...  Lighting is mercifully solitary, so I was left mostly alone to get a grip on myself.  There was too much daylight streaming in for me to see how the show actually looked, so when we broke for dinner I was happy to see the team order a cocktail.  Whew, thank goodness & yes, please.

It was my turn to operate the set when the headlining DJ went on, but I went early to fiddle around with the show & bend the ear of the in-house Lighting Director.  The laser guys and video mixer were all busy at work, making sure their sets would be ready for the headliner.  No one did much in terms of visuals for the opening DJ, so I still had to wait to even see what it would look like.  Essentially, I would have NO IDEA what the show looked like until it was my turn to go on.  Mantra: Don't panic...Don't panic...Don't panic...Don't panic...Don't panic...

1:30am rolled around & the headliner took the stage.  We blacked all the lights out, and the crowd's energy swelled in anticipation.  He raised his hands and I brought some simple key lights up on him.  As he dropped his first track, the video guy brought his LED walls up, and I quickly adjusted the lights to enhance his effect.  BOOM!  When I brought them up, the crowd went WILD, and it was GAME ON.  

The next two hours were a blur of beats, emotional swells, and gorgeous lighting.  The laser guys were top notch, and the video guy & I were in perfect sync.  We were of ONE MIND!  And, let me assure you, that is incredibly rare.  By the end of the night I received two actual compliments on my light show.   :-)  It was all over at 4:15am, and I did the best job I could.  It could have been better, but it could have been MUCH worse.  Plus, having had the privilege to do lights for the incomparable David Guetta at the best club in Vegas (XS at the Wynn), AND he played his track (a favorite of mine & EVERYONE in the WORLD) with Sia called "Titanium" - I will never forget it.  <3

In the end, I'm proud of what I did, and hope VERY much they invite me back.  David's team is the best in the industry, and I am so humbled they thought of me.  Thinking positive thoughts & hoping for the best, but whatever happens, I got through it, and the sun DID rise on Sunday.

Trying On A Little Tenderness

We live on a street which is generally devoid of door-to-door sales traffic.  Our house is on a steep hill, with no sidewalks, and people drive up & down like lunatics.  In the four years I've lived here, we have had three instances of door-knocking, Bible-beating, sales-type, house-casing people, and my intuition is always my best friend in these situations.  My intuition's favorite word, by the way, is: NO!

I am not inclined to ever open my door to the sales-religious-whatever types, as I'm more mistrusting than trusting, and am always in a state of HIGH ALERT.  Once (2009), these unsavory two men showed up on our doorstep, claiming to be from the Ronald McDonald House; but their IDs were unofficial looking, they initially refused to give me their names, had shifty eyes, and I felt like they were CASING the JOINT.  I took pictures of them, just in case.  Also, I called Ronald McDonald House to inquire about them, and they said "we never do community outreach like that."  So!  My suspicions were JUSTIFIED.  Unsavory types!  Harrumph!

Another time (2011), I was coming home with groceries, and these two walk-of-shame looking girls, with hooker heels, last night's makeup & seriously gaudy minidresses were making their way up the steps to our home.  I called out to them from behind and said, "HEY!  Where the HELL do you think YOU'RE going?!"  To which one (whose fake left eyelash was dangling half off her lid) said, "Have you been saved by the Lord, our God, Jesus Christ?"  Not having it, as they certainly were dressed to sell something other than the saving graces of Jesus, I told them to fuck right off.

Today (2014 :-D) it's chilly & overcast in LA.  I was home, about to make a cup of tea, when there was a knock on our door.  SOMEONE (meaning my husband, who ALWAYS DOES THIS) must have left the door to the street ajar.  This drives me bananas, as ANYONE can just MOSEY up like this.  My inner DEFCON FIVE alarm went off, and I grabbed a kitchen knife & went to see who it was.

There were two women standing there, with literature in their hands, and exhausted faces.  Both in jeans, and well worn sneakers.  The black woman had GLORIOUS raspberry wavy hair, and the white woman (girl, to be honest) had INCREDIBLE eye lashes.  Real ones!!  Still, they both looked a bit down & out.  I put down the knife & opened the door.

As I opened the door, they introduced themselves as Jenn & Mieko, from the "Walter Hoving Home" for Women, in Pasadena.  Oh great, I thought...  They are kind of adorable, and how on Earth am I going to slam the door in their faces?!  They went into the spiel of how the home helps rebuild the shattered lives of women and yes, it is faith-based.

FYI: I'm not into organized religion.  I don't pray.  I don't go to church.  I did my time in Catholic school, and that certainly was enough for me, by the way.  My religion teacher was always throwing me out of class, for having "the nerve" to ask questions.  My parents always told me TO ask questions when I didn't understand.  Sigh...conundrums...

As they went on, I wasn't really listening.  I was looking at how tired & wan their faces were.  I stopped them cold and asked, "Would you like to sit down?  Can I get you some water, or coffee?"  All of a sudden, the spiel stopped, and light came into their faces.  They were so tired, and thankful for the human kindness, as they'd had a really challenging day.

So, I made them a couple of cappuccinos, grabbed my tea, and sat with them on our verandah for about a half an hour.  Poor things, the hills are steep, and people around here are just as prone to being on HIGH ALERT as I am.  Anyway, I'm no saint, but kindness isn't JUST a Christian concept.  Actually, if you listen to the right wing news too much, lately Christian beliefs seem to have taken a turn AWAY from the selfless, toward the selfish.

The one girl told me of her domestic violence past, and the other suffered from drug addiction.  I told them I too had moments of being down & out, and they gazed at our pretty house in wonder of where their lives could lead them, if they could keep on the right path.  It gets better, I said, as they enjoyed their warm coffees in the cool breeze.

Of course, their mission today was not just to inform people about the organization where they are getting help, but also to collect donations towards their "tuition."  I guess I'm in a generous mood today, because I did donate.  They must have caught me on a "big softie" day.

By the way, I've never made cappuccinos with vanilla almond milk before, but it's all I had & the girls claimed they were the BEST coffees EVER.  I wish them all the best.

Summer Rain NYC (classic blog post from 2006)

I had a blog for a minute in 2006.  I only posted a few things & then left it abandoned.  Let's take a stroll through the sands of time to June 25, 2006, and this post I wrote about the summer rain in my beloved NYC.  :-D

Summer Rain, NYC - (06/25/06)

It's rainy here in New York. My favorite type of weather. Melancholic. Dreary. The atmospheric equivalent of "In a Sentimental Mood" by Duke Ellington and John Coltrane. Perfect.

So...

Nothing makes me happier than seeing people, all dressed up, running around like lunatics because they don't have their umbrella. Does this quirk make me a bad person? I sit in my window, smirking, while overlooking the chaotic mayhem of 1st St. and 1st Ave. on a rainy, summer Saturday night. 

Every weatherman for a week has been preaching how the weekend will be a replay of the Great Flood. What, do these people think if they dress up for a night out, the weather gods will smile and spare them the downpour? Do these people, who very sensibly carry umbrellas to work, think it only rains Monday through Fri-day? Ridiculous. Hilarious. People running like well dressed rats in the rain for my amusement. How thoughtful.

Here comes a M-15 bus, sputtering and clunking at the Allen St. and Houston light, on it's way to the stop outside Lucky Cheng's. The drunk bachelorette and her minions standing on the corner outside One and One bar had better stay RIGHT there. No, don't move. That's it...that's IT...ooooooo...ahhh...no, NO, don't move, RIGHT THERE....SPLASH! That's what you get you silly bitches! Ah, sweet glee on my part. Ecstasy. That's the most action I'm going to get all night, I think. Sigh.

Anyway...

The weather gods tend to smile on me. It's because I respect them, and worship at their altars: weather.com, NY1 news every 11th minute, in the hallowed hollow under umbrellas, and in the protective cocoon of raincoats. Because of the reverence I show the all-powerful weather gods, they bestow upon me their good graces.

I wish they would give me more snow, however, even they cannot overpower global warming. Crap.

Wait. There it is. The other thing I love to see in the rain. My smirk is wiped off, and replaced by a half smile, and glazed expression.

Two people are standing, sans umbrella (of course), on the thin, median strip separating East and West Houston, under the street light. Cars are whizzing by like everyone is late for the next World Cup game, which, of course, they aren't, because it's 3am. It's not raining as heavily now, but it's consistent. The couple, most likely wasted and complete strangers, are entwined in lust, and kissing against the street light. Sure, it's not that romantic, but hey, this IS the East Village on a rainy, summer night. 

The Lightgirl COMETH

I've been a lighting designer in nightlife since 1996, with much success in Miami, New York, Europe & South America.  After moving to LA in 2008 (egads, how time flies), I was involved with building and LDing a huge "super" club in Hollywood.  There was nothing "super" about the place, except it's size & the number of douchebags it could hold.  The music was terrible, the crowd was horrible, and the owners/operators were scumbags.  After all my successes everywhere else, I walked away from my beloved lights; as working for awful people killed my love for it.

It's been four years since I walked away, and now it's time to come back.  In a BIG way.

I've been offered a VERY exciting opportunity.  If I can pull it off, perhaps it will lead to an even LARGER opportunity.  I am humbled by being even considered for this, as I've been "out of the life" for so long...  But the truth is, I have missed my beloved lights EVERY...SINGLE...DAY.  I'm tired of not-so-silently judging the lights at every club, concert, awards show, etcetera, and wishing it was mine!  No more!  

Cross your fingers for me!  My heart feels full of fire, and I can't wait to paint the atmosphere with it.  Grab your ear plugs & dip yourselves in glitter, people: the Lightgirl COMETH.  :-D

COACHELLA BOUND! (again, after saying I'd NEVER go back)

I'm COACHELLA BOUND!  After last year, I swore never to EVER go back.  The trip was rife with drama: friend issues, the SANDSTORM, and the lineup was not terribly impressive.

Honestly, all my silly girlfriends had to do was say, "please come, Allegra; we'd miss you if you didn't..." and give me their cute kitten eyes, and I was DONE.

It doesn't hurt they offered an air mattress with my name on it, a ride, AND a super-duper, impossible-to-get Artist guest pass to adorn my wrist.  Heck, what's the point of knowing musicians, if they don't treat you like a treasured guest?  ;-)

So, kicking and screaming I go.  And by that, I mean WATCH OUT MOTÖRHEAD mosh pit; I am coming for YOU ALL!  (evil laugh, shakes fist at sky, lightning flashes, thunder claps, eagle cries)

ACE OF SPADES!  \m/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1iwC2QljLn4

Creating my website, finally...

I'm sick to death of people pestering me about having a personal website, so HERE IT IS.  Also, the incredible amount of misinformation in the press, presented as fact, is both infuriating AND hilarious.  I hope I am doing this all correctly, and perhaps someone will actually look at it, once in a while.  Besides my Mom & Dad.  ;-)  Any advice?