Acting is a dark profession.
And by that I don't mean, that the ones who practice it made a pact with the Lord of the Darkness, who in return for talent only takes one's soul. This is an obvious and well-known fact. I am talking about something else: the concrete, physical circumstances of this job.
The concepts of theater and spotlight are so intertwined that probably most people think: the actors who work there are bathing in a blinding, warm ocean of light all day , but sadly, I have to demolish this childish dream. Truth is, that in some cases the "workers" are happy to even get a chance to bathe in warm water. :)
In reality the actors (at least my colleagues and myself) spend most of their working hours either on a poorly lit, chilly stage, or in a dressing room, waiting, or at the headquarters of social life: the "Designated Smoking Area" - also poorly lit and hazy with cigarette smoke - which in our case is a staircase behind the scene. Contents: grey oil paint on the walls, concrete stairs, iron bars, fire hose, iron door, and attempts to spice up the mood: plastic carpet that has seen better days on stage, second hand couch (exiled since the tragic club fire in Bucharest, for safety reasons), a work of art made of cardboard with some christmas lights (that don’t function), Ikea lamp shade. May contain traces of old posters and wardrobes. The fireplace – central element of tribal life – is replaced with a big ashtray made of iron and tin, left here from the 80’s.
This is where THE BIG NOTHING happens.
Waiting. Boredom. Cigarette. Small talk. Facebook. Cigarette. Sleeping. Eating. Reading. Cigarette. Foolin’ around. Cigarette. Blaming the system, conspiring, sharing recipes, flirting, arguing, learning lines, dance rehearsal, telling jokes, ripping costumes apart, sewing ripped costumes, shutting doors, comforting each other.
But mostly just idleness and cigarettes.
The main goal of this project is to take a look at the other side of the coin. Fancy costumes that serve to sustain an illusion on stage, worn by people with no illusions. The burning emotions of the characters translate into the slow smoldering of cigarettes. The price of a few minutes spent with The Calling (acting, creation) is paid for in hours of wasted time.