John Iacovelli's centre piece of a large, distorted doorway had been beautifully painted and 'gold-leafed' by staff and students in the shop. It was the perfect combination of circus, doorway, and castle. Wedekind's father had bought a castle in Lenzburg when the family were young, and this is where Wedekind had grown up. One of his plays is called Castle Wetterstein. And the door was a perfect resonance with this time and place. I was delighted.
The 'elephant podium' designed by Daniel Neeland in the shop was also perfect - a strange combination of levels and heights and circles and cut-offs. Divine.
And Byron in the shop had found a simple and effective way of securing the walking globe so that it no longer had a life of its own... But now, the Tilly puppet DID have a life of its own. 'Murph' had made the most wonderful head for Tilly, and although she still had no hair, clothes, painted features, I suddenly could relate to her absolutely as a little person.
There was a magical feeling in the rehearsal room, and I was excited by the innate collaboration of theatre. How everyone's unique and individual contribution forms part of the story-telling. Even those whose work is less evident - e.g. Eric, the production manager, keeping morale high - given invaluable contributions.
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