We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Noah Lerner. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Noah below.
Alright, Noah thanks for taking the time to share your stories and insights with us today. Do you feel you or your work has ever been misunderstood or mischaracterized? If so, tell us the story and how/why it happened and if there are any interesting learnings or insights you took from the experience?
A challenge of mine is adequately conveying what it is exactly that I “do.” Often, people with whom I’ve worked have observed me in a specific job, and they only know me as someone for that specific job. That might be as a cinematographer, an actor, a lighting designer, a lab technician, or an audio engineer among other titles. I am always amused by the quizzical reactions I receive when I mention working in a vocation different from the one in which I am known to have been employed. In my hometown of San Jose, California, I ran into some people for whom I had performed in numerous musical theater productions over the years. It had been a while since last seeing them, and they asked me what I had been up to. “Oh, I moved to L.A., and have been working in ‘the industry,’” “So you’ve been performing? That’s great to hear!”—I had completely forgotten these folks had only ever known me as an actor. “Actually, I’ve been doing more light and sound design for short films than acting, although I was in a straight play last summer.” “Really? I had no idea you worked behind the scenes. Make sure to stay on stage too!” It was a nice encounter that reminded me both of my roots as an actor, and of how those roots inform my work, with actors, as a designer. More recently, while working as a trade-show livestream operator, I was encouraged to “pick one thing and specialize in it,” by a higher-ranking colleague. Generalization, it seems, is frowned upon, as if training in multiple regimes somehow diminishes one’s ability on all fronts, rather than cross-informing to an end greater than the sum of its parts. Even if panned by industry standards, I have personally found the latter to ring true time and again. Be it drawing from my collegiate studies as an analytical radiochemist, or my more presently-active work in entertainment technology, I tend to discover interesting and useful parallels. For instance, the signal chain of an HPGe gamma spectrometer is remarkably similar to that of a microphone-recorder setup. A preamp is still a preamp; a noise floor is still a noise floor; an ADC is still an ADC; electrons are still electrons. Whether they’re serving as an analog of sound or of ionizing radiation doesn’t matter much to them. Pretty neat, huh?
Another example: something that sticks with me from acting is getting my taped-on microphone ripped off of my face and neck every evening. It is not a fun sensation. As such, I always carry isopropyl alcohol with me when running production sound on set. It dissolves the tape adhesive so as to not inadvertently wax the talent during mic changes. After having specialized in many things, I can’t imagine how I could have learned only one and been at all competent in it. There are so many cross-overs, so many non-apparent connections, that only reveal themselves after deep-diving into seemingly disparate realms: “Whoa! Hold on, that’s the same frickin’ thing!” It’s so cool when you’re finally able to make those connections, and when those connections help you to better your abilities.
In short, yes, I have difficulties in expressing what I “do.” I am just as at home behind a camera as I am belting my heart out on stage or interpreting spectra. Having that breadth of specialties makes my jobs interesting and certainly assists in doing whatever it is that I “do.”
Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.
My name is Noah Lerner. I got my start in the entertainment industry at the ripe old age of eight when I began acting in local musical theater productions. I only wanted to get a better look at the stage lights; my parents took me to auditions to do so. Lighting design for live theater was my first interest in the technical arts. Nearly two decades later: I am just as enthralled by stage lights (I grew to like performance too). Naturally, my first job out of high school was as a lighting designer and counselor for a youth theater camp. I worked there every summer for four years, eventually being granted my own “Tech Camp” of which I was in charge. It was a blast, and I learned a bunch! As the only person on staff who knew anything about lighting, I didn’t have much of a choice when it came to learning both new systems and new techniques. It was either I do so, or the show would be performed under work-lights. The actors worked hard and I had to, at least, meet them half-way. That kind of motivation greatly accelerated my grasp of lighting design. Then, as fate would have it, came audio engineering.
I remember one camp performance during which our sound board operator had an unexpected conflict arise, so he asked me to run both sound and lights at the same time. At this point, I was comfortable with lighting, so no problem there, but…I had very little audio experience. After giving me a fifteen minute crash course, our board-op left. I was horrified for the duration of the whole show, and definitely missed some cues. Still, I got my first sample of the thrill of live sound. I gradually improved and continued to run sound as a substitute, until “graduating” from youth theater camp, moving on to become an assistant production manager to help start-up a new combination live/movie venue. The thing about my new job: I was the venue’s only employee. Despite my title, there was no production manager to be assisted, so I reported directly to the theater’s owners and juggled most every operational position from technical to food service, focusing mainly on audio engineering (and cinema projection when we were between live productions). Similar to my learning of lighting design at the theater camp, I learned sound largely because no one else was there to do so, and because our casts had put in a ton of effort that I wanted to see supported, not inhibited, by technology. After numerous productions, I finished my work at that theater and continued to work as a lighting and sound designer for a few years at two non-profit organizations in the Bay Area, first at a year-round youth theater company for schools without theater programs, and later at the performing arts venue of a larger private community center. It was in these subsequent positions that I improved my abilities to the point of feeling confident in freelancing.
Concurrently, my friends and I established a music collective which we maintain to this day. Being kids of the suburbs, we named it Suburbamore. Even if not a “job,” I would be woefully remiss to leave out my activities with Suburbamore from my story of creative development. From technical directing concerts, to acting in promotional material, to shooting and editing music videos, to singing backup, Suburbamore has been a driving creative force in my life since its inception five years ago. It’s a sandbox in which I can play with all of the skills I’ve learned so far, with friends who are doing the same thing in their respective disciplines. I often apply what I’ve learned in such “play” to productions on which I am hired. I credit that kind of outlet, in conjunction with professional work, as having elevated my skills across the board.
Lately, I have been equally involved in film and live production, working as a gaffer, photographer, cinematographer, editor, and production sound engineer on various independent productions in LA and around the country, while doing work with my IATSE local as a stage/live-event technician in San Jose. I really enjoy teaching others how to realize their creative goals through the use of otherwise-daunting entertainment technology (I suppose that’s still the camp counselor in me), while maintaining my own creative ventures in music composition, language arts, and stage performance.
In your view, what can society to do to best support artists, creatives and a thriving creative ecosystem?
The paramount act one can perform in support of a creative ecosystem is to take up an art of one’s own. Become an artist. Understand what that means. With that knowledge, one is better able to precisely assist their fellow artists in meaningful ways. It is predictable to respond to such a request with “I have no time for that,” or “I cannot afford that,” or “I am not the right age for that,” or, most egregiously: “I am not creative.” We might have commitments and debts that preclude our participation in formalized art, or are intimidated by the elderly master or child prodigy about which we have heard. Taking up an art of one’s own need not be formal, so long as one is both challenged by, and fully applied to, what it is they are doing for a moment of time, however small, and that one shares their creation with others. As impressive as those masters and prodigies are, they are of no concern to one’s own artistic progress. One needs only to look back and see how far one has come. The idea that there are creative and non-creative people in the world is misleading. By virtue of being human, one is creative per se. Whether one exerts effort to stoke or extinguish that creativity is where the dichotomy arises.
There is a pervasive notion that the arts are a luxury to be had only when time and money permit; that we are granted access to the arts by the benevolence of those willing to fund them. To an extent, this is true. Our society is one of commoditization, and art is not excepted. Although it often comes with fanfare, dedications, and write-offs, monetary support is not always the most helpful avenue to be followed. Namely, gifts made as a substitute for attendance, and gifts made into restricted funds are each particularly harmful. I can recall participating in numerous shows/performances/galas/etcetera in benefit of the arts wherein sponsors opted for one or both of the aforementioned donation varieties. They bought their tickets and did not attend, and/or made their donations with stipulations of use. Such acts are not performed in malice, rather, they reflect hurriedly dropping off a gift card for a friend’s birthday: “I’m in a terrible rush and cannot celebrate with you, I don’t know you well enough to pick out a specific present, and I don’t trust you to use cash appropriately, so please use this to buy yourself (an analogous) forty dollars worth of frozen yogurt.” It is rather difficult, as a donor, to know the kind of assistance needed by an arts organization without being involved in the arts, so such restrictions tend to pose an impediment to the beneficiary’s operation. Furthermore, no matter the art form: conventional or otherwise, no matter the venue: gala or living room, artists will concur: even if accompanied by a genuine and considerate donation, exhibiting one’s creation for empty chairs is one of the more demoralizing creative efforts that might be pursued. In being an absent benefactor, one further solidifies the notion that the arts are a luxury: a secondary commitment of society.
Creativity is not defined by hours of arduous practice, or the use of the finest tools available, a developed skill, or a pre-existing virtuosity. Although all of the aforementioned are immensely helpful in its development, creativity can be found, if sought, in and by most anyone. Once gained, the associated understanding of others in the arts permits one to provide support in ways largely inaccessible to those within whom such creativity is not kindled.
For you, what’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative?
This may sound selfish: creating something for my own enjoyment is the most rewarding aspect of being an artist. Although it is really cool to receive positive feedback from others regarding your own creative works, I cannot truthfully point to that as my reason for creating anything. The distillation of an idea into a presentable medium until every aspect of that idea is “just so,” until the end product is exactly as hoped for, is immensely rewarding, both in process and product. Whether that’s composing a song on my own or shooting a movie with friends, I love creating things I can then enjoy. If others happen to enjoy those things too, well, that’s all the better!
Contact Info:
- Website: https://noah.town
- Instagram: @noahmagellan
Image Credits
Harlow Brooks, Taylor Sanders, Savanna Trujillo-Poelma, Michelle Shabtai, Noah Lerner, Jay Alexander