Scenic Design

Reflection 1: December 2022

My semester-long stagecraft class proved to be the ideal setting for both my dramaturgy and scenic design lesson plans. Previously, I attempted to structure the class to focus on a student adaptation of Antigone: students would devise a design concept, then a scenic design, followed by costumes, then (time permitting) lights and sound, leaving them with a complete design portfolio of their adaptation.

However, after 4 years, there was clearly a need for a major overhaul. Students were just not mastering the necessary skills by the end of a semester; their eyes glazed over as I sped through each design area at breakneck pace. Plus, since I only had them devise an outline for an adaptation (not an entire script), it made all the subsequent design units unnecessarily difficult. Scenic and costume design are so dependent on a completed, published script, especially for those new to theatrical design.

By revising the course structure into just four units, this would hopefully give students time to more thoroughly master these concepts and absorb the stories for which they were designing and adapting. The first unit is the general structure of a theatre, from the building itself and the varied types of stages to the myriad of jobs that work together to produce live theatre; the second unit is dramaturgy & design concept, in which the students read & analyze Antigone, then devise a concept for an adaptation; the third & fourth units would use a student-chosen play (with parameters from the teacher) to design sets and costumes.

As I expressed in our summer MA course, students consistently had difficulty with scale, but the lessons we learned made me want to spend more time exploring the essential elements of design & principles of composition. I chose Gillette’s Theatrical Design & Production as the text for my class, supplemented with the video series Practical Technical Theatre which was created in St. Louis, so it’s been a valuable resource in showing students theatre spaces they can visit (perhaps work for someday?) right here in town. The hands-on activity of shaping wire (I chose pipe cleaners due to availability) to interpret emotions and other abstract concepts proved effective to support the sometimes tedious rigamarole of defining key terminology from basic “line” to “asymmetrical balance” or the difference between “unity” and “harmony,” which even I will admit to mixing up from time to time.

After the successful wire shaping activity, I moved on to an analysis assessment: students chose one element or principle, then analyze varied scenic designs and how that element or principle is present. I modeled the assignment before setting them to work, but I probably need to check for understanding more frequently to keep students on task.

I had a few other applications for scenic design throughout this semester as well: my fall play, Our Town, afforded a limited opportunity for scenic design since the script doesn’t call for a set of any kind, mostly a few furniture pieces and barely any props. To give my shop class something to build, I designed a simple symmetrical set of two platforms with hog-trough legs and upstage silhouetted shapes of houses using 1”x4” & keystones. Next semester, there will be much more to do with our spring musical, Fame. 

Reflection 2: May 2023

As this tumultuous year draws to a close, I feel grateful for the opportunity to not only teach the fundamental concepts of theatrical design, but practice them on my own designs as well. The spring semester brought new groups of students to my stagecraft and shop classes, however the majority of this semester was focused on our spring production of Fame: The Musical. While I shan’t devote all five hundred words reflecting on how difficult, how challenging, how utterly exhausting this production was, I can’t avoid emphasizing just how crucial constructive communication is between director and designer. Such an important principle was discussed during our lectures with Prof. Rigdon this past summer.

While I was able to function as both director and designer for our fall production of Our Town, one of my colleagues assumed the duties of director & choreographer for Fame (we’re fortunate to have three theatre teachers in the faculty). Some additional context: the choice of the musical itself was a late change that he made unilaterally (he initially chose Hairspray at the end of the 2021-22 school year), and I only found out about this change when I overheard students discussing it. He had the good fortune of the decision turning out to be a positive one, as the production was a great success and he was lauded with due praise. For me, though, it meant tossing out research I had already done for Hairspray and starting from scratch with the school year already underway.

Using the script analysis methods from our summer course didn’t yield much in the way of detailed settings, but that just meant I had more creative freedom, more “wiggle room.” The libretto did indicate a specific time and place: the final graduating class of the High School of Performing Arts (or “P.A.” as the characters refer to it) before it merged with another school in 1984. Additionally, most scenes took place in either corridors with lockers, the cafeteria, or in one of four classrooms: Drama, Music, Dance, and English.

The director was vague in the few production meetings I was able to wrangle him for, but as I pieced together his wants - which seemed to change with frustrating frequency - we decided on a series of levels on the upstage area, leaving the center and downstage areas for the classrooms and choreography. He also wanted an entrance underneath the center platform, which would be the highest point on the set at just over seven feet. We agreed to create an asymmetrical silhouette for this upstage “island” of interconnected platforms and stair units that would need to withstand the stresses of students bounding up and down. As for the facing and painting, I went with a saturated palette of curved, colored stripes over a beige base layer based on school hallways from the 1970s that I researched. It added nice contrast and variation to the otherwise angular set, which also included areas of brick facing. Each class would have elements (chalkboards, dance bars, piano, lockers, etc) that would roll onstage atop wagons with independent casters and brakes. In the case of the lockers and piano (both of which would have to be functional), they needed no additional braking as they were just so heavy; I’m amazed the wagons held as well as they did, a testament to my shop students following instructions.

The final request that the director had was to borrow an idea from a West End production of Fame: utilizing the motif of senior portraits that would illuminate at various points throughout the show. In an attempt to keep costs low, students sent me senior portraits of their parents or other family members, which I mounted to foam core and bordered with LED tape and patched into our board. The effect was striking, and I was proud of the final product as it was my first time working with that equipment. Lest I forget, though, this director was so focused on his choreography to the neglect of other areas of production, that the first time we ran through the entire show without stopping…was opening night. Organization & communication cannot be underestimated. But do the ends justify the means? Are we meant to just be okay with the exhausting, maddening rehearsal process if the show is so successful?