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". . .a versatile black-box space is the right solution." — George Hatza Reading Eagle 5/16/2010
"I know what you want."
There's a phrase guaranteed to make me wary. I generally check to make sure my money and credit cards are secure. Double check that no one is standing behind me. Quick glance over-head to ascertain that no water balloons or other projectiles might be obeying the law of gravity.
I feel it's a rare, lucky day when I have clarity in my own head. I sincerely doubt that someone outside of my head can know what I want.
This is doubly so for administrators – no matter how well-meaning they may be.
"I know what you want – you want a black box theatre. Everyone wants a black box theatre." The very nice administrator stood smiling at me. I want a black box theatre? Had I ever said such a thing? I want a secure place to work. But I didn't think I'd said anything about a black box theatre.
It took me months of active persuasion to convince the Powers That Be that, no, I did not want a black box theatre. I wanted a good, well-conceived space that would allow for a wide variety of work. But I didn't want it to be all black. And I'm not convinced that a box is the best space for making productions.
When did the black box become the answer to every question? It makes no sense to me.
To all the black box theatres reading this column, please understand that I have nothing against you. You are fine, worthy boxes. You haven't robbed nor killed. You sit there serenely waiting for the next group of theatre folk to tread your floor.
The question is what people do with their black box. Which is to say, they rarely do anything new.
After the disastrous big push for the "open" stage some 50 years or so ago, there was the trend to have a black box. The black box allowed the college, university, or regional theatre to do the experimental work that would allow the art of theatre to move forward. Architecturally it was a winner.
Designing and building a really fine proscenium arch theatre takes a huge pile of money and much skill and artistry. Designing a really good thrust theatre seems to be beyond most folks. Take a reasonably big space. Rip everything out. Paint everything black. Make sure you have some circuits to plug some lights in. It's Miller Time. The main working cost is demolition rather than designing and building fly galleries or getting the rake of audience seating correct relative to a stage deck. Indeed, you get "portable" seating units so that the theatre artists can experiment with actor/audience relationships. Maybe the actors could surround the audience! Maybe we could set up the chairs so that the actors could walk in-between the audience chairs! Maybe . . . Maybe. . . .Maybe. . . .
Perhaps things are different where you are. And I'm glad they are. The fact of the black box has developed far differently than the dream of the black box. The portable seating units? They turned out to be more of a hassle than anyone thought. You can break them down, but where to store them if you aren't using them? And actually moving them around is such a chore. Maybe we should find a nice, workable "default" position for them. If an enterprising designer or director wants them moved, oh we'll move them. But why make more work? And, by the way, most of our actors are so used to working in the proscenium/"confrontational" relationship with the audience anyway ("confrontational" only in that the actors are in this side of the room and the audience is in that side of the room) – why don't we make life simple by turning the black box into a chintzy version of the awful open stage we don't like to use in the main hall?
Most black boxes become, in fact, cheap versions of the open stage – the proscenium arch stage without the picture frame. Then people do things like put false prosceniums up, or hang curtains to provide the wing space that have been opened up with the lack of an arch.
Seriously, people. When did we allow ourselves to get caught in this treadmill? When did we decide to capitulate to the dreariness of making a very cheap version of what we want?
We must ask ourselves some clear questions. Why would anyone want to come to a dreary space devoid of color – usually in some dark place to see a little play that we're doing in the experimental space because we don't think there's much of an audience for it in the first place? And if we're doing the experimental show in the experimental space, why don't we truly experiment? If you think the small show in the experimental space is going to make money, you're likely wrong. So you may as well get something out of it.
There are some answers to this. How is it that about 100 years after Appia's work at Hellerau that we can't figure out a way to make open stages work for us, rather than against us? How is it that about 50 years after Grotowski's idea of "Poor Theatre" that we can't seem to get our heads around the notion of taking advantage of the poverty of our work-spaces rather than try to cover them up while simultaneously apologizing for them?
Secondly, what's wrong with doing plays in an elegant space that has some color in the space? Why not allow that people might want to come see a play in a space that isn't gaudy, but allows for the light and the dark of the human spirit to be shown in a generally welcoming atmosphere?
So, no. No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Please, Mr. Critic and Mr. Administrator, I do not want a black box. I understand we don't have a fortune. Allow us to have a space with simple elegance and some color that allows us to watch the work of actors unimpeded by the obstacles of bad architecture.
A lot to ask for, I know. But a boy can dream.
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