The House Beautiful.

In 1997, during the extensive $15 million restoration of the New Amsterdam Theatre in New York, a night security guard was making his rounds through the construction site when he encountered a young woman in a green beaded gown clutching a small blue bottle. She blew him a kiss and vanished. It was the ghost of Olive Thomas, the "Most Beautiful Girl in New York." Before her silent film career and tragic death in Paris from mercury poisoning, she was a featured player in the Ziegfeld Follies at the New Amsterdam. Between 1907 and 1931, the Follies showcased numerous renowned artists, and the theater was arguably the peak of entertainment in New York.

After the sighting, management followed the age old tradition of setting up a ghost light at night, in part for safety, and to keep Olive company. After all, we are nothing if not a superstitious bunch.

When it opened in 1903, the New York Times gushed over its Art Nouveau design, and it became known as "The House Beautiful." Between the end of the Follies era and the early 1990's redevelopment of Times Square, the New Amsterdam went through a period of uncertainty and decline. The low point came in the mid 1960's, when many of the theaters on Broadway were either closed or were showing "grind house"movies, surrounded by sex shops and other illicit activities. Still, the ghost light kept burning at the New Amsterdam.

At perhaps it's lowest point, when the ceiling leaked, the floors creaked, and the mice squeaked, the New Amsterdam became the location setting for the 1994 film Vanya on 42nd Street. Conceived as a play within a rehearsal within a film, it captures a group of seasoned professionals rehearsing Chekhov's Uncle Vanya on the dilapidated stage of the theater. No costumes, no theater lighting, and only the theater itself as background scenery.

For the entertainment professional, the darkened theater is the perfect metaphor for career transition. We sometimes think that if we aren't calling a show or managing a load-in, our professional identity is evaporating. But Vanya shows us that the "work" (the craft, the process, the rigors of the trade) can exist on its own. You're still a Production Manager even when the house is empty; you're just in a suspended state of potential energy. Seen from this vantage point, the ghost light is more than just illumination in the dark; it represents a state of change from one engagement to another. Sometimes it means a career change within the industry; something that resonates with your skills and abilities. Sometimes it's patience and networking that will ultimately pay off in your chosen field. Sometimes the change means leaving the industry altogether, either by choice or by circumstance. Whatever the course, the ghost light is there to help you find your way.

The ever present ghost of Olive represents our doubts and anxieties as we try to navigate this change. The mystery of her death reflects our feelings about not having control over our own destiny. Olive is our inner regret for the jobs we didn't get, or the opportunities that seem lost. If we leave her in total darkness, it will sabotage our next interview. So the ghost light keeps you from falling 15 feet into the pit, figuratively and literally.

If Olive represents the anxiety of the dark, the film Vanya on 42nd Street represents the stubborn persistence of effort. Surrounded by the New Amsterdam’s decay, Chekhov's characters find their way through their circumstance with dignity and perseverance. As the play ends and the reality of their long, unglamorous labor settles in, Sonya offers a closing monologue:

We shall live, Uncle Vanya. We shall live through the long, long array of days and through the long evenings; we shall patiently bear the trials which fate sends us; we shall help others, both now and in our old age, and have no rest. And when our time comes, we shall die without a murmur, and there, beyond the grave, we shall say that we have suffered and wept, that our life has been bitter, and God will have pity on us. And you and I, Uncle, dear Uncle, shall see a life that is bright and beautiful and elegant; we shall rejoice and look back upon our current misfortunes with a smile of tenderness—and we shall rest.

A year after the film, Disney swooped in and breathed new life into the New Amsterdam. It survived because the architecture was sound and the bones were preserved. Remember: you are not a ruin. You are a site of restoration. You have a choice in how you handle the dark days of career uncertainty. You can reach for the blue bottle of bitterness—the resentment that the industry has moved on without you. Or, you can adopt the quiet, dignified persistence of someone who knows that the ghost light is always there, waiting for the curtain to go back up.

Speaking of ghost lights, a final thought: if you are struggling with your current circumstance and pithy metaphors are not enough, please visit the Behind the Scenes Foundation for resources and support, including crisis management, substance use, and other mental health support.