Making Believe

         Last Tuesday I wandered back stage.  I saw the vast array of building materials, lighting fixtures and knick-knacks that fill the small rooms, storage areas and rafters of our local theater.  There were miles of moldings - wide and narrow, large sections of flooring that would extend into rooms never to be seen.  

Baskets full of doorknobs, some turn of the century while others designed for a simple Oliver Twist; they sat next to teapots, muskets, and stacks of books leaning on televisions and moose heads.  

Closets were packed with overcoats and feathered hats with wigs piled next to cigar boxes that held an assortment of mustaches.  An old cookie tin held a variety of stick-on tattoos; some suggesting a military history while others indicating an allegiance to a cause or a bold proclamation of independence.   

One wall was peppered with an assortment of beards and toupees for those plays requiring fur-bearing actors. 

          It is a wondrous place filled with potential and anticipation.  It is a place where lines from a sketch are lifted from the page and transformed into bedrooms, back alleys, hideouts, or a grandmother’s kitchen.   

Jars of dust and spools of cobwebs sit on a back shelf waiting to create just the right atmosphere, while wooden signs painted with indiscernible languages lean against the wall.   

          Do not, however, believe that back stage is paved with wide aisles or meandering lanes, for it is not.  Barely navigable and dimly lit passageways wind around tripping hazards, skill saws and mannequin limbs.  

It is not a destination you’ll find in any brochure.  

The SET…

          Set builders are tasked with challenges of interpretation.  Using bits and pieces they must build what the playwright has only alluded to.  Five-sided rooms screwed together with imagination and lacquered over with gallons of illusion hide the reality of extension cords and duct tape.

         Windows that once looked out over a lake now gaze down on an apartment across the street or face the alley out back where sounds bring life to sinister shadows.   Understandably it takes a village to raise a curtain.

         Limited by available space, doorways leading down to the gardens oft time require the actors passing through them to make immediate right turns, for instead of gardens, less than a foot of stage remains behind the door.   A sudden drop-off can give a completely new meaning to the phrase, “Break a leg.”

         This has been a glimpse into my activities this past week. My first experience at building a set has left my muscles sore and my body aching.   

I spent the entire day building walls and steps in very confined spaces, hanging windows that looked out onto nothing more than a backdrop all the while avoiding the reality that I was simply a volunteer.  I was not back out in the workforce earning my way but simply making believe.

Even though I have seen the smoke and mirrors I will still be drawn into the magic - the moment the lights dim and the curtain goes up.

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