Theatre with Less
Bill Raoul, one of my college professors and author of the Stock Scenery Construction Handbook, advocates the use of stock scenery as a resource saving method of constructing scenery. The clearest benefit to theatres of using these methods is modular design, and time and money savings in production. Raoul also casually mentions the amount of sheer waste created by set construction and disposal. Many elaborate sets, even on modest college and regional theatre stages consume thousands of dollars of materials, most of which are thrown away when the show ends - often in as few as five or ten performances - rarely longer than a few months.
When I worked at the Public Theatre as a carpenter, one of my first jobs was to demolish the set of a play that had run for six weeks. In addition to decimating and tossing out enormous faux-brick columns, we also pried up several hundred square feet of stone tile. While we did try to save as much tile as possible for re-use, we could only salvage about a third of it because it broke so easily when pulled up.
As the cost of theatre continues to rise at a rate higher than inflation, playwrights are finding that plays with large numbers of characters are not being produced by professional companies who cannot afford the payroll. Each year, theatres struggle to meet expectations of audiences by offering them some kind of simulation of spectacle, even if just a modest simulacrum of some fictitious drafty bedroom.
Even more ethically challenging to theatres is the amount of waste they produce each time they fill a dumpster with painted lumber, flame-proofed fabrics, and program print over-runs.
What if we challenged ourselves, and our audiences to shift this paradigm? What if we did plays with less? What does theatre-of-less look like? For instance, theatre outside in the daytime doesn't require lights - and is hardly an original idea (it also doesn't require a building, heating, cooling, or fire exits - ergo, minimal flame retardant).
Working in the bowels of production for many years, I've seen firsthand just how resourceful theatre artisans can be - but I've also seen the limits as they've struggled to meet the expectations of the current paradigm. What if we challenged all these creative, resourceful people to a $100 set design contest for "I Hate Hamlet?" Or to costume "Camelot" for $100? Every designer I know personally would sock me for proposing it - but think of it like any other form - haiku, say, or the scenic equivalent of a dirty limerick.
When I worked at the Public Theatre as a carpenter, one of my first jobs was to demolish the set of a play that had run for six weeks. In addition to decimating and tossing out enormous faux-brick columns, we also pried up several hundred square feet of stone tile. While we did try to save as much tile as possible for re-use, we could only salvage about a third of it because it broke so easily when pulled up.
As the cost of theatre continues to rise at a rate higher than inflation, playwrights are finding that plays with large numbers of characters are not being produced by professional companies who cannot afford the payroll. Each year, theatres struggle to meet expectations of audiences by offering them some kind of simulation of spectacle, even if just a modest simulacrum of some fictitious drafty bedroom.
Even more ethically challenging to theatres is the amount of waste they produce each time they fill a dumpster with painted lumber, flame-proofed fabrics, and program print over-runs.
What if we challenged ourselves, and our audiences to shift this paradigm? What if we did plays with less? What does theatre-of-less look like? For instance, theatre outside in the daytime doesn't require lights - and is hardly an original idea (it also doesn't require a building, heating, cooling, or fire exits - ergo, minimal flame retardant).
Working in the bowels of production for many years, I've seen firsthand just how resourceful theatre artisans can be - but I've also seen the limits as they've struggled to meet the expectations of the current paradigm. What if we challenged all these creative, resourceful people to a $100 set design contest for "I Hate Hamlet?" Or to costume "Camelot" for $100? Every designer I know personally would sock me for proposing it - but think of it like any other form - haiku, say, or the scenic equivalent of a dirty limerick.
How about just use entire black sets (thus no light and no set) with LED studded constumes and personal lights that illuminate your head. Sure it might look like a bunch of floating heads with stick bodies, but the real actors would be exposed, if only your facial expressions and body movements could be seen.
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