San Francisco Theater Pub: Making theater means spending your life creating and re-creating other worlds onstage. Some of the tools we use to create these other worlds are abstract – language, gesture, spatial relationships. But there’s also a whole heap of tangible stuff that becomes part of the world of the play: sets, lighting, costumes, props. These items need to be carefully considered, and obtained, and maintained. October 2015 is Design Month on the Theater Pub blog, so, to kick things off, I asked friends and members of the community to share their favorite stories about props.
17 comments:
It’s strange how a prop, simple or elaborate, can make or break a show. Something as a rubber duck not being on the bathroom shelf can throw of the attention of the audience long enough for them to miss something more important in the dialogue. Or god forbids a prop mentioned in the text doesn’t fit the exact description and you have an even bigger problem on your hands. This leads me to wonder why props aren’t taught more in higher (actually even secondary) education. In speaking with our former props master Jon Ward he told me that people don’t really go to school to be a props master. Most end up in the job unconventional ways. I don’t understand why the field is so readily pushed in scenery in an education sense, when at most theaters it’s considered a separate department entirely. I think that props should me carefully looked when crafting a comprehensive education for design artist, and should be given a clearer distinction in the degree field.
As all of the student of CMU graduate with at least a small amount of knowledge in all of the theatrical design worlds, I think props is definitely one of the most under appreciated. It's really quite a large and painful labor of love, and I really admire the props masters that i've worked with in the past. Audience members who may not know very much about how theatre works definitely aren't going to be looking at that "ugly but expensive" lamp and be able to appreciate the level of craftsmanship required to produce it, or just the pure creativity working with all of the ridiculous materials that props masters have to be working with. Not to mention the amount of time that it takes to make a prop in the first place. In the grand scheme of things, when working off a props list many things are as easy as just making a quick trip to the dollar store or to the grocery store, but there really are a vast majority of items required by scripts that just aren't buyable and look better when custom made.
I completely agree with Brennan that props doesn't get the love and respect it deserves. I love working on props and wish there was more props education at university levels. The amount of consideration and skill that goes into making good props is amazing, especially given the fact that, unless an actor uses it or the characters specifically address it, many people will overlook the props on stage. However, if they weren't there, or they were wrong, the audience would notice.
When I left the theater I was interning at during high school they were getting ready for Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and their props master, a young woman named Anna Taylor had to figure out how to create the famous parasol gun since none of the other local theaters had it. And that's what I love most about props, how much ingenuity and creativity it takes when you have to deal with everything that's leftover from all the other departments.
Props play integral parts in productions. I view props as the connector between their world and the physical world of the play. They allow actors to interact, touch, hold, smell how things actually occur in reality on stage.
I think that Props education comes from experience. I find that most props masters are those who have fallen into the field, or taken specific interest in bringing the details of a production to life. Teaching a properties major at any level of schooling would be difficult. Props masters are jacks of all trades, and masters of none. The article talks about playwright's creativity, and the specificity of the props that come along with those grand ideas. Sometimes it is difficult to find exactly what is needed ready-made, so they are made. Making props entails many skills that in a larger scheme make no sense. Materials used in a prop shop range from plastics, to glass, to wood, metal, fabric, the list goes on. Therefore, covering the vast material that would need to be taught in classes, would be merely impossible. With every new play, there are new props, and ideas. We must learn from doing.
I am continually awed and amazing by props artists. These are fabulous people who can make a mansion for the budget of a hovel. Mostly, I am impressed by their inventiveness and ingenuity. Props basically require a person so basically be a jack of all trades and master of all, and yet I am always astonished when I see the same hands who can make something like a hidden compartment brooch also make a moving fake cow, a gingerbread puppet, a working wagon, or a delicate fairy wand. I have cousin who worked in a Hollywood prop shop for a while, and while there he worked on the Bat-mobile, a hidden compartment desk for National Treasure, a fake meth lab in a suitcase and a robotic cappuccino maker. No matter how outlandish, good props give weight and gravity to an imaginary world, taking the creations of the director and the actor and actually making something feel lived and breathed in. Their work is invaluable and constantly overlooked.
Props is one of my favorite aspects of theater because it requires creativity and ingenuity to make sure it fits the description and historical context of the show but can also be built and reused throughout the show's run. I love hearing stories about the bizarre objects the props masters have to make because they are testaments to the creators' hard work and dedication. Actually making these things to be usable and not so fragile that they'll break down halfway through the show seems to be another job in itself, since it could potentially have to be passed around throughout the whole performance. Props design and building also interests me because it isn't confined to just the theater: TV and film props also require skill and ingenuity to be believable and durable, sometimes even more realistically than theater props because of how close the cameras come to the objects. I also like how the author touched on what happens to the props after they're built or discovered, since it's a valid point that most people don't think about. It made me think of CMU's props warehouse which I got to visit a few weeks ago, with huge shelves filled with random objects that no one would ever think go together.
I loved the sentimentality of this article, because I can completely relate to Skudlarek's story about the mink stole in high school. In high school, if there was a prop or an article of clothing I really enjoyed I would try my hardest to incorporate it somewhere into all the shows I possibly could. It's awesome that sometimes you can have a prop that's used for over a hundred shows, and others that can only be used for one show in specific. Take Pillowman, for example -- there aren't many shows that would need an apple with razor blades shoved into it, or a man made out of pillows. But a vial of poison for Juliet in Romeo and Juliet can become a beaker in a chemistry lab, or an interesting vial for the potion in a Midsummer's Night Dream. The playwright has complete control over what gets written down and what should be taken note of, but when you produce a play it all comes down to the director and the prop master on whether you actually make the seven foot giant or nix it out.
Practical props are the best! In high school, we built a very generic wrought-iron (and very heavy) electrically wired lamppost, and it appeared in no less than six or seven shows over 4 years, from Singing in the Rain to Annie to some Shakespeare to Fiddler on the roof. Just last year here at CMU, I was making an animatronic chicken prop for seven guitars that was supposed to be the dying chicken at the end of act 1, it ended up not working in that role, but was repurposed for Bliss, that was going on at the same time, for use as the flying machine at the end of the show. Some people have very strong opinions on prop/scenery/costume reuse. They say that if you are reusing materials, you compromise your design by putting something into the design that wasn’t built for that world. If no one but you and the director will be able to tell the difference between the pulled and the built piece, then use the pulled piece. You increase the possible scope of your production without compromising the artistic experience of the audience if the piece is close enough. In theater, close enough is good enough.
The people that make props are definitely an under appreciated group, especially by the audience. Its much easier for them to understand the labor and planning that goes into the set or lights of a show than its props. The normal assumption is that the props just got bought from somewhere, and while that is what happens often enough there’s still a lot of unseen work that goes into getting that prop. Given the amount of time props masters have to put into finding or making props its no wonder that people end up with favorite props and programs end up with special props that have long elaborate stories attached to them. These stories are why I always like seeing a prop show up in more than one show. It gives me a way of bringing previous shows into the current one. The same thing can happen when props get lent to other groups, it acts a way of tying them all together.
I've always thought that props and smaller costume/ set pieces tend to promote the most nostalgia that can linger long after a show is over, I think because we as humans associate memories with tangible objects. I was on the set crew for every show in my high school drama guild, and I kept a small piece of scenery from almost every show. Some that come to mind are a sun and moon from You're A Good Man Charlie Brown (which now hang on my brother's bedroom wall), a painting I did for Priscilla's bedroom in Priscilla Dreams the Answer (which hangs in our dining room), a log from the fireplace in The Dining Room, clock gears from Radium Girls, stars from A Midsummer Night's Dream, and custom stenciled wallpaper cuttouts from Plaza Suite. Most of these things are on display or tucked around my room, and they always conjure up good memories. It also always felt nice to keep a small piece of a show, because theater is inherently temporary, and a lot of the times photos don't do justice to evoke what the experience was. To speak on the keeping and lending out of props, my high school shop would usually only keep custom made pieces we thought might be useful in future shows, or we just couldn't bear to part with it, either because we worked so hard on it or it was too good to throw away (such as the comically giant axe we had to make for the executioner in Epic Proportions). I would love to work more on props design and creation in the future, because I think its a special opportunity to put a lot of detail and history into something. I feel like props design involves a unique type of specificity (as shown in the example of the jewled broche) that is too often underappreciated.
I think that props can arguably be one of the best kinds of memorabilia from being in a show. It can evoke such an intense reaction from the audience, the actors, and anyone who's ever interacted with them. For me, prop making is one of those things that I hold near and dear to my heart. I think it's the perfect mix of creativity, sculpture, and theatre. Another things about props that I love incorporating onto the stage are the kinds of props that are made from found objects. It's always delightfully surprising to me when I'm an audience member and I recognize props that are made from everyday objects. I did "Metamorphoses" in high school as my very first play and being involved in that show changed my perception of theatre and the parameters for what could be turned into a prop. My very close mentor directed the show and created almost all of the props with found objects. We made this serpent using paintbrushes, paint rollers and the bottom ends of SOLO cups. It's fascinating what the human mind will substitute-- it doesn't even matter that the snake technically didn't look like a realistic snake-- but you absolutely knew it was a snake.
Throughout my high school theater career, I did not have very much respect for the props crew. It usually consisted of 15 people watching one person do a job, while 10 more people sat off to the side with their phones. I was often recruited to do intricate painting or calligraphy and I found that I was getting the same amount of required hours doing this as the other members were for being on their phones. After that experience, I found it very hard to take prop production seriously. It seemed like it was an overstaffed waste of time. Boy was I wrong. Being on props crew at CMU has completely changed my perspective of what this is. There is so much required knowledge for being a props master that I was not aware of. They need ingenuity, creativity and fabrication skill that can create an object that can withstand and actor's abuse. That is not an easy job. Additionally I find that props people have the best stories. Most of them have so many examples of how they creatively solved a problem presented by the actor, director, or script. Out of all the design facets, props requires the most creativity and for that, it deserves respect.
Props present a very fun challenge when working on a show. My favorites are always the oddly specific or near-impossible items that playwrights manage to work into their scripts- the crazier the item, the more fun it is to build and see onstage. Working in summerstock theatre producing four shows in ten weeks, the crew had an incredibly jolly time putting our favorite props in shows over and over and over again. A small spam can miraculously made it into every single show of the season, featuring first prominently in Spamalot, as trash in Outside Mullingar, and as period set dressing in the final two shows. I’m sure nobody in the audience noticed such a small addition, but it was a valued prop for the summer crew. Weird props are my favorite, because of the challenge they present in their specificity. I could list so many examples, but sometimes they aren’t even strange objects, just something that needs to be made for the show because nothing exists that is quite right. The props master and I built a fake freezer for a 1940’s fridge that was an exact replica of the original- just larger (and made of Masonite).
I love hearing about the history of different props. It is so interesting to see the creative problem solving skills that propmasters have to have when getting all of the props for a show. When thinking about it there are a lot of shows that require some really strange props. It is great to see how things that are usually seen as trash can be repurposed to fit really specific purposes. Keeping props after shows is also a great way to remember all of the amazing times you have had while working on shows.
Props to the props people for an arduous job that doesn't get enough credit for really making the world of the theater lived in and believable. props is such an interesting job, and one that is all about scavenging and creativity. I did props for Noises Off and had a hell of a time finding a way to pour Sardines over everything, and break a nice tin every night. it's a fun job where a lot of my time was spent in antique stores, thrift shops and thinking up ways to make bait look real.
Props are a very interesting part of theatre. Most elements of a show are disposed after a show closes. Most props are usually kept and reused. Most people do not like destroying props because they often take a long time to make or they are real everyday objects that have some value to them. Though shows are often very different there are many props that are similar in different shows. A phone from a certain time period is a very valuable prop for most shows that take place in that certain time period. Prop masters often trade props amongst each other because certain items are very difficult to find, especially if they are from a very specific time period and style. Driving around and getting random items off of the street is a very good idea for people in theatre because the most random items often become that random prop you need in a show you do the next year. Being in theatre has the tendency to turn you into a hoarder because you never know when you are going to need a weird looking chair or phone.
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