Everything is significant. Nothing is significant.
On a few occasions after a performance, an audience member has found me with the desire to discuss the performance that they have just attended. Sometimes they want to glean the symbolism presented in the show, ranging from acting choices to costume to set pieces. Yes, as artists, we make certain decisions to allow something to embody a much deeper meaning or truth. However, sometimes, a decision is made purely out of necessity. The entire set needed to be able to fit in a closet. The costumes were donated. The actor had to leave through that door because…there was no stage left.
I will never correct these audience members because, they obviously found a connection that truly meant something to them. They constructed a new way for the performance to become much deeper in meaning that it was intended to be. Why would I ever take that away?
Which brings me to this show. The concept seemed simple: create a show that could be completely open to interpretation. Devise a show that would allow the audience to interpret what they wanted from the show. To create a conversation. A show where everything was significant and, at the same time, allow for nothing to be significant.
Notice, I said that the concept “seemed simple”. The show took months to design and build. As I began to work on certain puppets or scenes, I discovered that what I was creating was no longer to the original concept of the show. Of the original forty-two scenes for this show, less than half survived to the final product. (All is not lost, there is another real good puppet show to be created from the material that was cut that will be presented in the future.)
Admittedly, there was a second, more personal goal for the show. I wanted to perform puppets in ways that I have never performed them before; ways that would not normally work on a traditional fringe stage. This is a long way to say, that I wanted to get things wet and set things on fire. However, like many things in this show, proved easier said than done. The Rain Dragon took weeks to design and build, only to be broken beyond repair on its first film outing (it’s a miracle that we got what we needed). The Firebird (that was not seen in this production) had to be scrapped due to design, construction, and safety concerns. (The test puppets may have started a small fire.)
However, for each set back there are also moments of true joy. The plesiosaur puppet changed truly little from concept to final product. For as simple as the puppet may have been to build, the happiness that it continues to bring me is unequaled. The scene of the plesiosaur playing with me at the end of the show, spitting water on my face was not scripted. That elation on my face is truly genuine and I honestly cannot believe that I was able to capture it.
If you are reading this, you have most likely already seen the performance. Thank you. It may not seem like much, but I deeply appreciate your support. You did not have to see this show, but you did and for that I am eternally thankful.
After viewing the performance, I invite you to think about what you have witnessed. Was there something that made you think? Was there something that made you question? Was there something that made you angry? Was there something that made you smile? I will be the first to admit that I could rattle on about potential underlying symbolisms in this show. However, that does not interest me. I want to know what you think. What did you discover?