Theatre Design & Technology - Spring 2005 - 56

PHOTOS BY R. FINKELSTEIN

think that in years to come, marvelous regional differences between scenographic approaches might cease to be discernible between countries. But less pessimistically,
perhaps WSD is the next logical step in a long
ongoing revolution, where nationality has increasingly become less significant than one-toone communication between those who love
performance design. In an increasingly ethnocentric and politically polarized world, that's a
comforting thought.
Clearly, stage artists worldwide now enjoy
a rich banquet of international imagery, hungrily gobbling up the resources that technology
brings to them through traditional research,
popular culture, and on-line resources. In Toronto, I feasted upon a salad of cosmopolitan
eclecticism, born from a healthy respect for
the traditional sources of inspiration and artistic form-no matter where they came from.
Exhibitions such as this (let alone its distinguished older sibling, the Prague Quadrennial) are mammoth undertakings, requiring
huge amounts of time and effort in order to
create an event that lasts only for short time.
Funding is always an issue, and inevitably one
wonders whether or not it is worth the effort,
especially in an information age when so much
is available to us via a few well-picked words
in Google. But despite the sophistication of

Web access to portfolios and production photos, along with the availability of the occasional
illustrated article, monograph, or catalog, I
still find something utterly enthralling about
encounters with real models, costumes, and
renderings (and now soundscapes) in an environment where work from all over the globe
may be directly compared. While the scale of
WSD could not contain the massive national installations of Prague, they were not necessary.
It was sufficient to have the opportunity to lean
up close and wonder at the incredible architectural detail of the Yojimbo model, to explore the layers of dense imagery packed into
Oh's suitcase, to examine brush strokes and
textures and experience renderings in full
scale-to breathe it all in at once. Nothing
beats the real thing.
As the process of performance design is
for the most part still opaque to the general
public, an exhibition such as this does much to
promote the general profile of the profession.
But designers, who spend many of their workdays in isolation, themselves benefit most from
contact with the world beyond their immediate
experience. They hunger for it, as they hunger
for inspiration-well, I certainly know I do.
Even when one's own work isn't on display,
viewing others' efforts (I especially enjoy
thumbnail sketches) grounds you and helps

establish your place in your profession and in
the creative world at large. I am delighted to
see my colleagues at their best. There are less
stressful and more lucrative manners in which
to make a living, and even beyond the considerable pragmatic challenges that all artists
face, creativity upon demand is never easy. We
have all occasionally experience doubt, frustration, and artists' block. Yet this all seemed
irrelevant as I wandered through the World
Stage Design exhibit, engaged in a happy feeding frenzy as I inhaled all the exciting, innovative, resourceful, and ultimately nourishing
images, sounds, and ideas that resonated in
waves across me. Overwhelmed, my brain
hurt-but in such a good way. Inspired, I
wanted to rush back to work, take some
chances, bang that gong and create something
brilliant for 2009's World Stage Design. ❖
Bradford Clark is a scenic designer and
associate professor at Bowling Green State
University where he teaches courses in
stage design, puppetry, and film. He served
as a design assistant at the Shanghai
Drama Institute and Moscow's Bolshoi
Theatre, and has written for TD&T, The
Puppetry Yearbook, Theatre InSight, and
The Asian Theatre Journal.

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