Long Live the Main Drape!

The Main Drape creates the border between the audience and the stage – a border between two worlds, those of reality and illusion. This border is permeable [a membrane, if you will] and such permeability is quite a flexible concept.

There are at least three ways to look at a Main Drape:

•  as an element of scenic design and the production itself;

•  as an element of theatre architecture;

•  as an original work of art.

This is what we [might] call the “trinity” of the Main Drape. Since the beginning of theatrical time, one or another of these qualities became prevalent, due to the ever-changing nature of theatre.

The Main Drape was born alongside the modern proscenium (which boxes in the stage.) This happened at the end of the 16 th century in Italian palatial halls. Accompanied by the fanfare of the timpani and trumpets, the drape was to fall at a moments' notice into a special hollow on the stage. This action was part of a director's plan for any performance – the start of the show. But to make the plan a success, the spectator was not to see anything other than the Drape at the top of the show; the Drape was to be a part of the interior, a piece of architecture .

At this time, typical drapes were those painted as architectural illusions. The imagery was a continuation of the architectural styles used in theatres themselves. One could even say the Drape was a key element of theatre architecture. This was influenced by the reigning Baroque style, when architecture was at the top of its game. And although the stage scenery was also developing an architectural perspective, the Drape had more to do with the interior of the theatre itself than with the scenery.

When, at the end of the 18 th century, pastoral themes became prevalent in scenery, the Drape remained true to its architectural beginnings. Thus, when the first landscape-depicting drapes appeared in the early 1800s, they were still seen as a part of the architecture of the theatre and the palace itself. Most often, their imagery simply depicted garden architecture.

The proscenium opening slowly became a sort of secular altar for the spectator. On some level, this “stage mirror ” was facing not only the auditorium but the cities and towns themselves, even the whole world. A proscenium could carry a message. Outstanding artists, therefore, were asked to create Main Drapes. The drape, at this point, transformed into an original work of fine art .

With such a beautiful painting to behold, a proscenium was now a frame in its own right. Every element of the Main Drape was painted in, even replacing the tassels, fringe, and folds of the drapery with its trompe-l'oeil counterparts. This development was also aided by the progress of stage technologies – with the use of the counterweight fly system, the Main Drape began to slowly and majestically rise upon opening instead of dropping into a pit. The professional artistic work on the draperies could also be considered as a part of the director's plan because it intensified the audiences' theatergoing experience, making an expectation of a miracle that much stronger.

In the 20 th century, three new theatrical developments changed the importance of the Main Drape yet again:

•  the draperies began to disappear behind the proscenium in a sliding motion instead of flying out. Upon opening, the wave-like motion of the folds added drama to the moment when reality and illusion fuse to form one.

•  we witnessed the birth of cinema, that two-dimensional variation on theatre. As many directors turned to the new medium, scenic designers aimed to become co-producers of stage spectacles, using the Drape in new ways.

•  an increasing number of artistic trends mushroomed worldwide. Every trend looked for ways to leave its mark with a “manifesto,” a statement of its own worth and purpose. A proscenium drapery became a natural canvas for the visual representation of such a manifesto.

The director's point of view was rarely disputed in 20 th century theatre. Some directors were only happy to proclaim: “theatres have no need for the Main Drape.” These people seemed to see the border between reality and illusion as having been erased (melted, completely permeable, etc.) But could it be that our border had just slightly shifted ? May it have moved to where this director may not see it anymore? After all, there are at least three ways to look at the Drape (see above)…

Since our firm began producing scenic draperies in 1987, we have created more than 160 Main Drapes. Our chief artist, Tatyana Burakova, began in this business with draperies made specifically for Soviet Palaces of Culture . This is an interesting point because such a client needs a unique Main Drape, one that must:

- unify and accentuate the architecture and decor of the auditorium and the building as a whole, as well as compliment its style, colour scheme, and elements of decor.

- be a work of art that the spectator would be glad to see. This work of art should also make the viewer feel warm and welcomed and think well of his or her life, work, hometown, etc.

- be quite a dramatic piece of scenery in itself – an organic opening act to any performance on the stage.

Having worked in our Workshop for a long time, I would like to be so bold as to conclude the following: the border between the worlds of reality and illusion does not occur at the proscenium line, but rather on the surface of the Main Drape. This is fully realized in the artistic compositions of Tatiana Burakova, who wrote the following about her artistic vision:

The theatrical performance dynamically expands the stage box/cube in space and time. The stage borders extend as we play with time: from the present to the past or the future, still not yet performed, only sketched out, and suddenly felt by the audience as real. This centripetal performance force fragments the stage space, leading the audience away from the daily routine.

I can imagine this movement of space physically as a tree in the center of the stage, moving apart the fabric folds with its branches, and growing into infinity. This sideways movement seems to be programmed into the functions of the draperies – the action of throwing the folds open, being the moment of energy release. This is akin to the main function of theatre where the actor gives himself, his energy, his soul to the spectator. This opening of the draperies cuts through the ether and disappears in another dimension, having hypnotized the spectator into an attentive state.

A different dynamic can be found in the composition of the Main Drape as the fourth wall of the auditorium. There is a centrifugal movement, a direction towards a central point. The audience is directed there, having already passed through an enfilade of spaces, beginning at the cloak-room . This force is no less dynamic than the previously discussed lateral movement, and is almost primal in the theatre. I see the centrifugal force that pulls the space into one point, almost soaking it up, as a circle/square/vertical line in the center of a balanced composition.

Aside from the dynamic diagonal lines, and static circular lines, I am interested in the vertical lines of the folds, lines that hold up the static character of the composition and hide the potential movement of fragmented space. Such a composition could be quite mysterious, secreting a number of movements and spaces within itself, while reflecting the energy of the audiences and the performers alike.

To sum up, the composition of a drape is made up from stasis and centrality on one side, and dynamicity and centrifugalism on the other. By combining these elements in a composition, one achieves the movement on the surface of the drape, and the inherent dramatic effect of its artistic character.

When the spectator takes in the Main Drape as a whole, they pay the most attention to the center bottom part of the composition. This means the surface [of that area] should be accented more [than the rest of the drape] with colour, pattern, and decor. The colour scheme and the style of the drape is closely connected to the interior of the auditorium, but being the main wall of the space, it should also have independent expressiveness. I believe the colour schemes of even the traditional drapes could be unorthodox, so as to excite the viewers' anticipation all the more. To that same end one uses the multitude and variety of scale of different form, rhythm, and mass. An entire monumentality could be created in the composition of the drape using complexity and lavishness of colour choices and variety and stylization of patterns.

But unlike other forms of monumental arts, the Main Drape is radically different in one regard. Its tonality “holds up” an entire wall of an auditorium, and acts as a “membrane” between two worlds: stage and audience. These worlds, full of two types of energy: giving and receiving, could be seen as opposites, but instead are one, united by the word and meaning of “THEATRE”.

In Russian, the proscenium arch is referred to as a “stage mirror” – transl.

With the advent of the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia, the Christian temples were destroyed. In almost every village and town, they were replaced with a Palace of Culture. These are basically spiritual centers for amateur art that one can find in many European cities. Seen as multi-purpose spaces, these palaces usually showcase the accomplishments of local art groups, host touring productions and concerts, and are rented out for official municipal business.

This is a reference to a popular Russian phrase (coined by Stanislavski) that exemplifies the cultural importance of theatre: “Teatr nachinaetsya s veshalki” – “Theatre begins from the cloak-room.” – transl.