It seems that once upon a time I threw all the elements of my beloved theatre into a pot on the back of the stove. Given sufficient patience and even minimal heat they would reduce themselves to the essentials.
Those infamous contingencies of time have since done their bit to shorten the list: some things defy nomadic realities, others require cumbersome precision involving paid lever-pullers. Still others require making premature decisions, or elaborate stage stuffing practices erroneously inserted to protect the poor performer from ‘getting it wrong’. Anything that hampers the attendant fear that inevitably accompanies our work can safely be considered contra-productive. Even the presence of a verifiable audience is technically dispensable.
With the economy of wisdom these essentials have boiled themselves down to — raw people in a moment of heightened interaction–. I should be loath to pronounce it out-loud, but the ultimate distillation even allows that if the actors can be persuaded to people the scenario with their true selves, it isn’t even necessary to inform them that they are acting…
The unMonastery imagery soars – the real time walls and vista are no less evocative. We are most convincingly in the right place at the right time.