Arnold Aronson

Avant-garde scenography and the frames of the theatre

How do we know we are watching theatre and not simply observing the world around us? In The Contrast, Royall Tyler’s play of 1787 (usually considered the first American comedy), the good-hearted but simple character Jonathan is tricked into going to the theatre – an activity that he perceives as immoral, but of which he has had no experience. Questioned afterward, he comments on the peculiar architecture to be found in New York City that permits one to peer into neighbouring buildings, and acknowledges that he would not mind having a bit of cider with one of the individuals he observed. It is an amusing conceit precisely because of its metatheatricality. As a theatrically competent audience we may laugh at a naif who is unaware of the presence of a frame and thus perceives the on-stage action as an extension of his own world, no matter how peculiar. The situation in this play serves to demonstrate that without a frame there can be no theatre.

Technology and Dramaturgical Development: Five Observations

In her landmark book, The History of the Greek and Roman Theater , the great historian Margarete Bieber stated simply and elegantly, ‘The development of the theater building always follows the development of dramatic literature.’ While historians, of course, have always attempted to explain the drama in terms of known architectural, scenographic, and technological practices, the effect of one upon the other has been less fully or successfully explored. Why, for instance, is the reverse of Biebers statement not true? And in the rapidly changing technology of the contemporary world, is it possible that technology has become a causal factor in the development of drama?

Time and Space on the Stage

“Time and Space on the Stage” by Arnold Aronson looks at the way in which the creation of space on the stage also creates a perception and understanding of time. Much narrative and illusionistic theatre creates a situation in which the time depicted on the stage is different from that of the audience, and yet the performers and spectators share essentially the same space. This temporal disjuncture was so problematic for European Renaissance theoreticians that it led to the invention of the unities of time and place, but the problem can be seen as stemming from the physical organization of space on the stage as well as painting of the period. The essay looks the ways in the very different ways that time and space intersected in Ancient Greece and in the European medieval theatre. The essay then examines the contemporary phenomenon of video and projection on the stage and how even video projection of live action can disrupt time not only between the auditorium and stage but within the stage itself through a disruption of spatial parameters. In the process of examining the space-time nexus the author refers to Newtons diffentiation of absolute and relative time, Henri Bergsons observations on duration, and Aristotles notion of space as a container.

Their Exits and Their Entrances: Getting a Handle on Doors

Aeschylus, father of Greek tragedy, was also the first to realize the potential of drama taking place ‘inside’ and ‘outside’ – a change from his earlier plays which is quite clear from the Oresteia onwards; and although the Elizabethan theatre was unconcerned with the literal representation of place, exits and entrances were no less crucial to its dramaturgy. Along with the proscenium arch came the stage doors actors fought hard to preserve until the nineteenth century, when first the box set and then the dominance of naturalism required doors to be literalized – as essential for slamming in Ibsen as for the complex avoidance strategies of a Feydeau farce. In the following article, Arnold Aronson discusses the role of the door, actual, assumed, and iconic, in world theatre – and takes a lateral look at its significance in the TV sitcom. The author is Professor of Theatre at Columbia University in New York, and author of American Avant-Garde Theatre: a History (Routledge, 2000), American Set Design (TCG, 1985), and The History and Theory of Environmental Scenography (UMI Research Press, 1981). Arnold Aronson served as President of the International Jury for the Prague Quadrennial in 1991 and 1999, and will be Commissioner General of the 2007 Quadrennial. A version of this essay was presented at Brown University at the conference held in 2003 in honour of Don B. Wilmeth.

The 1991 Prague Quadrennial

It is a truism that theatre leaves behind only fragments of a process; the object itself-the performance-is transitory. What remains, perhaps, are written texts, photographs of productions, blueprints, costume renderings, set models, and, of course, the theatre building itself, though even this is not always the case. The study of any of these shards is problematic, for when taken out of the context of the overall performance these fragments are an incomplete and distorted record that often take on an artistic or aesthetic life of their own. The case of the written text is, of course, well known: the words become the property of literary analysts and the inquiry shifts to questions of language, meaning, and structure divorced from the realities of performance. More recently, however, the elements of design have become a focus of collections and exhibitions as well as a subject for analysis. This is a good thing insofar as it heightens spectator awareness of the contributions of design and the inseparability of the performance (i.e., actors and language) from the physical space. But it also elevates the processual icons-the models, renderings, plans, and sketches-to the level of art objects. The moment this is done, the object ceases to be viewed and evaluated as a tool for achieving a production-as part of a process-and is instead appreciated for aesthetic principals similar to those applied to painting and sculpture; it becomes an end in itself. Some designers fare well in this context. Many Russian scenographers, for instance, are part of a long tradition that values exquisite set renderings which compare favorably with paintings. Indeed, many of these designers are also highly regarded painters. When looking at these renderings it is often difficult, however, to understand how they translate onto the three-dimensional world of the stage. In fact, the realizations of these renderings are often disappointing when viewed side by side with the painting. (Some American designers such as John Lee Beatty and Ming Cho Lee are known for their rendering abilities or for exquisite models, though it must be said that in the U.S. the emphasis is always on the final execution and there is a strong correlation between the designers plan and the final product.) The result of this emphasis upon the object or some extratheatrical scale of aesthetic principles contributes to the valorization of painters in the theatre-Pablo Picasso and David Hockney are prime examples-when in fact they are not always particularly good, let alone innovative, theatrical designers.