Friday, December 2, 2011

In the fourth part of our series Secret Diary of a playwright Steve Waters examines the concept of theater as homes and new home meets Bush Theatre

the arrival of close-up: 40 years in the Bush Theatre has caused mixed feelings in me. This beautiful book brilliant, filled with the collaboration of students from the London theaters - art directors, writers, actors and designers - creates a strange compression of time and space in your images and memories. For me, the most troubling is the repeated image of the original theater itself, in a shooting along the seam between the Shepherds Bush Green and Goldhawk Road. The final funeral rites were performed on space, in fact, even when I sat down last week in the hall funk Bush marks new incarnation in Uxbridge Road, a project manager confirmed that the transfer was complete: Bush Mark One was no more.

I worked on a number of theaters and now none of them are in the state met for the first time. Artistic directors have moved or are in place, casting directors are sticks, administrators literature have become playwrights or have had their position terminated. Change is inevitable. But the biggest change is the loss of terminal space. My first house in the theater was dead at the Hampstead Theatre, Swiss Cottage and the house was in his building, rather, two-storey temporary mobile with glorious tumult of the last pulse Finchley Road

The notion of "site specific" theater always seems to be a tautology. The theater space is almost as sacred as the holy land of churches, giving every effort "a local habitation and a name," as William Shakespeare. In fact, the myth of the founding of the theater is that the image of your company, Lord Chamberlain's men, remove the plates and tables in the theater of Shoreditch, to transport it across the Thames and restore the Bankside Globe that reborn. When a theater migrates from one space to another The operation is as risky as a transplant organ, a transmigration of souls alive. Many things can be lost in the movement.

Fears Bush's new headquarters were completely demolished for me to play while watching Tom Wells, the kitchen sink recently, the library area. Here indeed was a play on the old nursery and planted in the new garden bursting into glorious life. In fact, it is no small compliment to all participants that the experience reminded me most was to see Beautiful Thing by Jonathan Harvey, the headquarters of the age - some of the same delicacy, sincerity and absolute commitment of nature is also evident in this case, and the production of Tamara Harvey, a tribute to the age skillfully executed in the environment changed again.

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