Theatre Design & Technology - Fall 2007 - 54

equal and, depending on one's view and priorities, perhaps better work
was presented at the exhibition. Why the Latvian rather than the Czech
students, whose cave-like environment with peepholes and other visual
entryways made one conscious of the act of looking and the way work
is framed? Why not, for instance, the U.S. exhibit, which not only used
its available space more fully than did other exhibits but demanded the
viewer interact with it, activating the "audience" through the opening of
drawers and mirror-covered doors to discover and reﬂect (on) the work?
Or the Belgian students' elegant exhibit made up of six sections of a huge
tube that rotated independently as one entered its tunnel, with work attached to the interior of each section spinning around the viewer? These
were conceptually more sophisticated and, arguably, more successful
exhibits. They lacked the narrowly deﬁned unity of the Latvian exhibit,
however, which the judges seem to have valued above many other considerations if their award for the Golden Triga, the coveted prize for best
national exhibition, is any indication.

Other student exhibits, clockwise, Czech
Republic, Belgium, USA.

The winning Russian exhibit resembled a theatrical set. A high-ceilinged room from more than 100 years ago, perhaps the one within which
Chekhov and the Ranevsky's forgot Firs after losing the cherry orchard,
now nears collapse. Water damage peels the paint, crumbles the plaster,
and stains the walls. An inch or two of water blankets the (pond-liner
protected) ﬂoor, requiring anyone who wants to view the designs to don
the large galoshes provided and wade toward them. Meanwhile, one can't
help but be aware of the electrical cords seemingly haphazardly ganged
and draped from the ceiling powering naked bulbs. If a cord slipped loose
and fell in the water... Well, one hopes the galoshes serve as protection

from more than just moisture. (Then again, they may use a ground-fault
interrupt circuit as protection, but do the observers know that?) Tall, green
glass bottles and urns stand here and there, objects seemingly related to
the water but whose actual function seems forgotten. The models balance
precariously on stacks of books or china, a birdcage, tuba, or the legs of
overturned chairs which themselves balance on other chairs and boxes.
Everything seems like it might collapse at any moment, as though the past
were being held together with found objects and overchewed gum. As
though a new way forward seemed unavailable and the present was in fact
the past recycled, revered but rotted. One is conscious of the act of entering the Russian exhibit, crossing its border into a Russian environment
that, from many of its points, one could not quickly or easily escape if
the need arose. In it the past has become dangerous, balance precarious;
decay conveys the sense that time is running out. Titled "Our Chekhov: 20
Years Later," the exhibit recalls the Chekhov-centered theme with which
the Russians won the Golden Triga in 1987. Fittingly, the designs themselves synthesize nineteenth-century realism and postmodern sensibilities. Many used raw wood and natural materials, suggesting simplicity and
authenticity, but juxtaposed elements in unexpected ways. Mart Kitayev
and Mikhail Platonov's set for The Three Sisters featured a gently sloping
staircase creating the upstage barrier and, set within the middle of the
furnishings, suitcases, and artwork of the house, a section of train track.
Both potential escapes
lead nowhere. Part of
the stage rigging has
apparently fallen and
hangs precariously
in Zinovi Margolin's
Seagull setting for the
Boris Eifman Dance
Theatre, with something suggesting a
sail or wing attached,
and a fragile, concave
structure of glass windows arcing over from
upstage. Dedicated to the memory of the recently deceased David Borovsky, the exhibit featured two of his designs. In his Uncle Vanya for the
Maly Drama Theatre, large stacks of hay and a lone clock in a loft loom
with the apparent weight of destiny over the characters, table, desk, and
few chairs that break up an unadorned and oppressive barn-like room
that evoked a sense of entrapment not unlike that of the Russian exhibition itself.
Confronted with scores of exhibits and thousands of designs each
conceived in a distinctive way, a person can't help but wonder what factors gain one an award and another anonymity. Given the similarities
between the Russian national and Latvian student exhibits, it is tempting
to credit the idiosyncratic taste of the judges. Both exhibits limited the
number of participants to a dozen or so (twelve and eleven respectively),
concentrated on designs of a particular playwright or play, used a modern
but "classic" author, created distinctive atmosphere, focused on models,
and eschewed video, digital media or much focus on anything but set design. The production design winners, however, lack a commonality of factors that would suggest that the eleven judges possessed a single stylistic
THEATRE
F

2007

DESIGN

TECHNOLOGY

Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of Theatre Design & Technology - Fall 2007