BY LUCIA MAURO
Videotaped images have become so ingrained in our collective subconscious, they are now as natural a part of theatre design as sets, lights, costumes and sound. If we were to pare down projection design to its technical essence, it entails using some device that forms an image and projects it using light. But, as longtime projection designer John Boesche contends, "It becomes gray from there…the edges have blurred so much that it’s difficult to define."
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"The
reality is that the technology is part of the mental landscape |
Boesche’s remarks encapsulate the field’s perpetual evolution, often driven by advances in technology–most notably, the computer as a complete production studio.
"I now read the script, storyboard, research and download images from the Web, manipulate and reformat images, and write cues on the computer," says Boesche, 49. "Then I present ideas and images to the director on my laptop and don’t 'see the show’ until the digital cues are fed to a digital video projector the day before tech."
More specifically, he cites three technical factors leading to the abundance of projections on stage: lower-priced digital video projectors, high resolution and playback from DVD players, and the ability to edit digital video on a home computer. Technology adds new tools and new elements to the theatrical landscape–one he believes cannot be divorced from what theatre artists and audiences know: a steady exposure to media. In addition, projections are typically an affordable way to reproduce an effect night after night.
Boesche finds that stage directors today tend to edit a production like a film. The combination of a cinematic form and live performance sets up a polarity of what Boesche believes fosters a more potent theatre illusion.
"With projections," he explains, "you’re creating a more strong and successful fourth wall and, on the other hand, something more verité. The detail is real, but it’s presented in a way to serve a theatrical purpose."
Boesche, therefore, prefers to explore the form’s possibilities beyond the techno-speak: "When I’ve been successful in projection design, it’s had less to do with successful manipulation of the technology and more to do with successfully resonating with the spirit of the production."
His earliest inspirations were theatrical-oriented experimental films and art installations–genres that still drive his designs. So he brings to the field balanced expertise in technology and artistic interpretation, as well as that elusive quality of seeking fresh ideas outside the constricted world of a specific production.
For instance, as projection designer for Valentino, a modern opera composed by Dominick Argento on the life of silent-screen idol Rudolph Valentino, Boesche drew from modern artists–like the futurists and collage artists–of the late teens/early 1920s. Washington Opera premiered the work in 1994 at the Kennedy Center Opera House.
He explains his choices: "It was essential to include Rudolph Valentino’s face. But we chose only one photograph. And, from that photograph, we interpreted his face in many different ways–very fragmentary with torn pieces of paper (part of an eye or a mouth). These shards would then assemble into a face. This choice addressed the idea of the man behind the mask and people’s own manipulation of what they imagined Valentino to be."
Boesche, an Indianapolis native, moved to Chicago 26 years ago to study interior architecture at the Illinois Institute of Technology. He transferred to the School of the Art Institute, where he received degrees in interior architecture and art history–and later taught projection design.
In the late 1970s/early 1980s, Boesche began collaborating at the now-closed MoMing Dance and Arts Center with performance artists and dancers (including the woman he would marry, Jeanne Uzdawinis, a former dancer with Shirley Mordine’s modern company and now a co-owner of Café Selmarie in Lincoln Square). He also developed his own installations at galleries and site-specific locations.
"I would do things like fill a gallery with fog," shares Boesche with a laugh, "and cut through it with points of laser light. Or I would project images that, in order to receive the images, you had to walk through them."
Those earliest experiments led to work in theatre. In 1984, Boesche got a call to design a poster for Wisdom Bridge’s production of Hamlet. He also brought along samples of his projection designs. While he was meeting with the theatre’s publicist, Robert Falls and Michael Merritt walked in. They had been discussing the challenges of re-imagining the play’s "dumb show" segment. Boesche’s experimental, collage-like images piqued their curiosity, and he landed one of his first large-scale projection design jobs.
His idea involved multiple slide projectors and images that appeared in the shape of shadow play. The phrase, "To be or not to be," was spray-painted fresh every night and layered with edgy optical effects.
Two years later, Boesche designed projections for Goodman’s Galileo, directed by Falls. There, he teamed up with scenic designer George Tsypin, who liked his work and recommended him for the Lyric Opera of Chicago’s 1988 staging of Tannhauser, directed by Peter Sellars. His career has continued to encompass theatre and opera.
Boesche recently designed projections for Julius Caesar and Sunday in the Park with George at Chicago Shakespeare Theater. Other local credits include Lyric Opera, Steppenwolf (Space, Libra, Slaughterhouse V) and Goodman (The Odyssey, Galileo Galilei).
Regionally, he has designed for New York’s Roundabout Theatre (Frank Galati’s The Glass Menagerie), New York Shakespeare Festival (Joanne Akalitis’ Henry IV, Parts 1 and 2), San Francisco’s Theater on the Square, Denver Center Theatre Company, Brooklyn Academy of Music, Canadian Opera Company, San Francisco Opera, Dallas Opera and many more. His designs were seen in the 1991 world premiere of the opera, The Death of Klinghoffer, in Brussels, Belgium.
Upcoming projects are Don Giovanni (conducted by Placido Domingo) for the Washington Opera, opening in March; and Lookinglass Theatre’s Race (directed by David Schwimmer), opening in June.
When talking about projection design in theatre, despite its ever-malleable definition, Boesche divides it into two areas: the full incorporation of projections with scenery, lights, etc., to create a seamless whole; or projections as a distinct element–an actual character in a production. It’s even possible for both areas to converge.
As examples, he refers to CST’s Julius Caesar directed by Barbara Gaines: "The projections were incorporated into the overall stage picture to provide detail, texture and mood." For the upcoming Race at Lookingglass, media itself (especially television in relation to racial conflicts, like the Rodney King beating) will be a central character.
Boesche also takes us through the process of how he devised more recent projections, with his stirring designs for Julius Caesar ultimately beginning to blur the lines between smooth integration of design genres and design as a central character.
"Julius Caesar is more clearly in the model of creating a seamless theatre illusion," he says, "even though each element [lights, sets] is articulated. I can do little to add to this story and its issues, which are very alive and real today. But I can intensify the theatre illusion in which that message is being conveyed."
The constant overhead projections in this modern staging seemed to have taken a cue from the Ides of March–varying degrees of clouds rolled in across fluorescent ceiling panels to suggest chronic unrest.
Continues the designer, "The projections became a physical expression of a large gathering storm. Depending on the direction and the pace they were moving, they illustrated a shifting point of view. And they suggested the idea of what’s in the stars and how much are we controlled by fate.
"From a more practical standpoint, during the battle scene (which jumps to and from different locations), the projections helped make those transitions as blunt and quick as possible. They helped the audience rocket through a series of related but different scenes. In the later scenes, I included satellite images to evoke battlefields and war strategies abstractly –to convey the abstraction of war and its erasing of humanity."
For CST’s Sunday in the Park with George, directed by Gary Griffin, Boesche and the artistic team initially experimented with approaching the first act as if it were a black-and-white charcoal sketch, leading up to the final moment of the live recreation of Georges Seurat’s painting.
"The painting was being composed and taken apart," shares Boesche, "and it was a great idea. It just wasn’t working. Black-and-white had too many cues, and it was pulling focus from the performers. So we simplified the idea, and included some of those images there as needed to be a gloss, or reference, for the text."
He acknowledges that, with projection design, the artists start with an interesting idea, see if it works, then throw away what they don’t need. He calls it an organic process to get to a very simple solution.
With the Philip Glass/Mary Zimmerman opera, Galileo Galilei, at Goodman, Boesche designed only the text projections–a more symbolically resonant version of projected subtitles. These projections, however, melded with the other design elements, and their fonts proved highly evocative.
"I distinguished between hand-written letters and formal transcripts or scrolls to represent different ideas and to evoke the physical character of the text."
Galileo Galilei also served as a bridge between theatre and opera–two forms Boesche believes in which "the boundaries are blurring very aggressively," especially with opera houses hiring theatre directors to bring fresh ideas to classic works.
But there is a key distinction: "In opera, it’s the music that calls the shots," states the designer. "The conductor and director are two different people, and there are almost two productions occurring simultaneously."
Technology has been integrated into opera for moving and controlling scenery and allowing for more special effects. Yet, Boesche points out, "opera has become this anomaly…it refuses to incorporate electronic manipulation of the sound so that audiences can experience the real, or pure, vibrations of a singer’s voice. Yet technology has revolutionized opera through recordings."
His job as a projection designer, he observes, "is to create seemingly invisible images," like projections, that subtly carry an aria through its different moods.
As with Washington Opera’s Valentino, Boesche does not seek design ideas solely within the operatic form. He may go to the Museum of Contemporary Art or listen to a modern concert. He combines bringing ideas from unexpected places with his own first naïve reading of a libretto and the director’s vision.
And, while he respects the need for the preservation of non-technological approaches to stagecraft, he also cannot deny the power of hi-tech: "The reality is that the technology is part of the mental landscape of anyone performing a classical work. That’s the reality of post-modernism. It’s not possible to re-stage classical works without acknowledging that we’ve seen the movies or heard the recordings. It’s part of what everyone–artists and audiences–brings to it."
Looking to the future of projection design, he envisions bigger, brighter, sharper, higher-definition digital video projection at the high-priced end; more affordable digital video projectors for more creative stage work with smaller companies at the low-priced end; and an increasing number and variety of projection tools that will make more aesthetic breakthroughs possible.
Yet, amid the endless technological advancements, Boesche has not forgotten the human element of live theatre: "The key ingredient is the performer on stage. As designers, we’re providing a really interesting container for the actors to stew in. My job is really to get out of the way of the actors because it’s live theatre, and that’s where the emphasis should be."