Feeling at home in the theatre of my dreams

There’s a hush and sense of peace as you enter a darkened theatre, the cool air hitting your face and the awareness of a brooding potential energy. It’s the kinetic energy that most people experience—the crackle of a space gearing up for a show, the susurrus of conversation fading before the houselights go down and the play begins.

I’ve grown up first working backstage, and later, doing stage lighting. Still later I experienced the bittersweet pang of having words I’d written being spoken on stage. I remember how, as children, my brother and I would take advantage of the afternoon lull between morning move-in and late afternoon pre-show frenzy, and sneak up the ladders at the back of Chowdiah Memorial Hall to wander along the forbidden catwalks, peering down at the stage far below.

I remember the excitement of standing poised in the wings waiting for blackout, our clue to dart onto stage and strike furniture for scene changes. Or the mounting tension as the audience could be heard through the doors, but the scene painter was still slapping at the set with his brush, or the electrician hanging off a ladder trying to find out why the most inaccessible light in the rig was not coming on. And then when those doors swing open there’s the relief of knowing that ready or not, the show must start and there’s nothing to do but hold on and ride to the end.

Today, I’ve returned to the home town to work at the ‘family business’ which includes a theatre. It’s hard to believe, when walking into the space, that this is one’s own playground — a place where you can wander the catwalks with impunity and play with profile spots and Fresnels as you please.

Huge luxury

Another huge luxury is being able to rehearse plays in situ, setting up the lights early and being able to have a proper series of techs — final rehearsals that are run as if there is audience present. In the old days, the ‘tech’ was simply the first show, or at best, a harried afternoon run before the first night, often leaving actors too tired to put on a good performance for a paying audience.

I’m most excited about returning to an old passion of mine: lighting for the stage. The modern convenience of programmable lighting boards means that complicated scenes can be created from large numbers of lights, and subtle fades and effects programmed to run flawlessly night after night.

The problem is that lighting boards and scenes take time to programme, time that never existed in the days of hiring a space the morning of a show. The result is a lighting aesthetic that’s minimal by force, and it’s possible now to explore greater depth of texture, colour and motivation.

Of course, my duties include tasks more mundane, but the wonderful thing about working at a theatre is that you’re doing something different in a different place every 10 minutes — a working style that suits my haphazard brain function perfectly.

At 11am I’m writing press releases for the upcoming season, at 11.20am I’m checking the effect of a light colour on the set, at noon I’m sitting in on a rehearsal and talking to the director, after lunch I’m in a meeting about the café, and towards evening I’m hanging about the lobby awaiting the arrival of friends for a show.

It’s fun, but sometimes a little funfair — a ride that, like a play once begun, I can’t find time to get off. But you know what?

I just may have found my calling.

Gautam Raja is a journalist based in Bengaluru, India.