Finding the Gift #7: Light as a Community

Thanks for your patience as I have been slower than usual to post in August! An intense week-long training event followed by a family vacation has taken me offline for a large part of the month, and it feels good to be back here again.

I get a little uncomfortable around mistakes, especially my own. I am more than a bit of a perfectionist, seeking to avoid conflict by never making mistakes. Which means a high therapy bill, as life is far from perfect. The mistakes that I fear are also the best way that I learn, and today’s blog post is a perfect example.

My self-discovery, autobiographical Finding the Gift series has so far marched through childhood, adolescence, and early career and I confess I was quite proud of my progression. I am finding ways to simplify and contextualize – and even illustrate – the phases of my relationship with light that make sense to me and tell my messy story in a cleaner, tidier way. But I messed up in posts 1 though 6, because this is the outline I was using:

Note how each illustration features me in relationship with light as it evolves from birthright to toy to tool to process. And now notice what is missing: the many, many generous, kind, intelligent, experienced individuals that have contributed to my journey. I fell into the trap of navel-gazing and left out very important people along the way, and for that I am embarrassed and sorry. So let’s get that fixed!

After introducing the series, I began with light (and darkness) as a birthright. Today, let me add in the first two individuals who have left an indelible mark on my life: Kay and Lin Warfel, my mother and father. Mom and dad made enormous sacrifices for me (and my four siblings) for decades, and continue to support us every way they can, even as they move into their eighties. Mom drove me to countless theater rehearsals and set crew Saturdays; I once took over dad’s shop for weeks to build scenery for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. They could have required me to work on the farm more than I did, but instead made it possible for me to explore, play, and follow my own passions. My journey with light could have ended before I ever left the home, but instead it was given room to breathe and grow. For that – and so much more – I will be forever grateful to my parents.

Light as a Toy, the second phase of my relationship with light, was not without its influencers. My junior high drama teacher, Mary Ellen Page, was the most wonderful, fun, and entertaining teacher of my life, and I spent countless hours hanging on her every word. Mrs. Page cast me as Peter Pan, Charlie Brown, and Ebenezer Scrooge, put up with my growing (false) ego, and gave selflessly and tirelessly to create a drama program that lived much larger than our small town deserved.

My brother Andy Warfel was also pivotal in my development during this phase and would go on to support me at multiple phases of life. Andy went into technical theater in college and started his own lighting rental business; without his model I might never have believed I could start my own businesses. Andy and I designed a few shows together, then worked on several architainment projects, and they are still among the most memorable experiences of my life. Andy still puts up with me, still looks out for me as his little brother, and that alone is priceless.

In college and shortly afterwards, I began to make money with light as a tool. While running a DJ business, my friend Ed Cler partnered with me and brought his audio experience to pair with my lighting passion. Ed and I spent many hours hauling way-too-heavy gear around campus and beyond, packing in and out of my parents’ minivan at 2am…or later. Ed, and a friend named Casey Smith who also contributed to the efforts, made my first attempt at business ownership possible.

My first job in architectural lighting was with Warren Charter and Mark Sills, who taught me how to light a building and launched my professional career. Also in the office were folks like Sara and Chris who patiently helped me find my way, taught me how to run lighting calculations, and generally served as guides in the exciting new world of grown up work. I should have stayed longer and learned more from Warren, Mark, and the team, but my headstrong nature led me to think I could do better on my own. It took me a decade before I had grown enough to admit my mistake.

When I left CharterSills and went to work as college faculty, I began to develop light as a process. The single most influential individual in the world of lighting for me has been Kathy Perkins, at times my professor, my boss, and my colleague. Kathy is a wonderfully talented lighting designer and a great human, the kind of person we should all be lucky enough to have as a mentor. Once again, I regret my headstrong nature that led me to realize only later how much more I could have learned from Kathy.

There were others at the university, too, including Benny Gomes who treated me as an adult even when I certainly did not always act like one. The late grate Bob Graves, theater professor, department chair and then dean, is still part of my story a decade after I left academia, for his dry wit and refreshing realism.

When I flamed out of academia and wanted to use light as an escape, no one supported me more than my wife Abby and my children. Sure, honey, you can quit your job and try to start your own business from home. Why not? There were a thousand reasons to stay at the university, but three reasons that made it compelling – and possible – to leave. I love all three reasons beyond measure. They are still my greatest source of joy and encouragement.

That brings us up to date in the series. With a little luck, I will remember to include a few of the many, many people who have helped me throughout my journey with light in the coming posts. I would not have experienced light as a gift, as a ride, or as a message without them.

Read more of my Finding the Gift posts HERE.