Journal articles on the topic 'Theatrical space architecture'

The article highlights the ideas of forming the architecture of scenographic pavilions at world exhibitions that demonstrate works of theatrical art on the example of those that presented theatrical art at one of the most famous forums in the world – the Prague Quadrennial in 1967-2019 (PQ), and in particular, the first Ukrainian ones. Quadrennial events are held every 4 years and present the development of various theatrical arts: architecture, scenography, performing arts, theatre skills, etc. But few of the interesting architectural solutions of national pavilions and installations are represented in professional, educational, popular and scientific publications. Therefore, the authors of the article decided to highlight various architectural ideas of national theatre pavilions (Belgium, the former USSR and Russia, Germany, Slovakia, Spain, Estonia), and in particular, the creation of the architecture of the first Ukrainian ones. The authors – teachers, postgraduates, students of the Department of Architectural Environment Design – relied upon and developed the architectural and scenographic ideas of the world-famous scenographer Y. Lysyk in 2015, 2019. The space of which in the first case was a stage, the horizon and wings of which were similar to the curtain from the performance of Lysyk's ballet "Romeo and Juliet", and in the second case, in 2019, space resembled the "amphitheatre" of the Ukrainian prehistoric theatre for Kupala drama. The horizon was enlarged based on the artist's sketch for the folk opera "When the Fern Blooms".

The article focuses on determining particular characteristic patterns of organization and human perception of space, regardless of whether it is anthropogenic, natural, closed or open, or whether it exists literally, or it is depicted on a canvas of theater curtains, or either conveyed through imaginative thinking of an artist. Understanding particular universal patterns of world and space perception ensure the possibility to use them as core principles for various techniques to be implemented by humans in modeling their own space.

The article discusses the role and functions of light in the space of modern theater buildings outside the auditorium and stage space. The architectural and structural factors of the formation of the lighting environment in modern theater buildings are determined; trends and features of the functioning of light in the space of modern theaters are revealed. The influence of the architectonics of buildings on the nature of the illumination of theatrical spaces is established. The experience of the formation of the lighting environment of theater buildings on the example of modern domestic and foreign theaters is analyzed.

The article deals with the history of development of the antique theatrical architecture in the context of the environment that forms the territory acquiring the status of a cultural landscape. The material of antiquity is interpreted in the aspect of the formation evolution of theater buildings, ranging from ancient Greek to ancient Roman, which, despite being in ruins, amaze us with their large-scale and unspoiled architecture. The article attempts to systematize the valuable evidence of the past, material (theater architecture) and non-material (theater art), since the repertoire is alive as long as it is performed, and the theater architecture remains to posterity. There is considered their relationship in space and time. The study’s methods (descriptions of the phenomena under study, field observation, problem-historical analysis) made it possible to focus on the construction specifics of the theater buildings located in open spaces representing cultural landscapes — vast areas of co-creation of man and nature. Over the epochs, the theater architecture, designed for spectacular performances and connected with the environmental factor and acting art, was transforming, just as the theater itself was changing, sometimes within a single performance on a single stage. Fragments of the lost cultural experience are today open systems in associative, semantic, historical aspects, as well as in terms of objects reconstruction. They form an attractive and popular place that goes beyond the limits of urban planning conditions and has the property of an important public space. The composition of theater construction and the principles of shaping that formed in the ancient period had a great influence on their subsequent development and have been preserved in modern design solutions. In this context, the experience of interpreting the architectural monuments belonging to the theatrical art has a great cultural and educational value, not only in terms of reconstructing the lost stratum of cultural heritage, but also, to a greater extent, in modeling a new vision of the emerging architectural culture of the world.

Keir Elam's observation in 1980 that ‘the theatrical text is defined and perceived above all in spatial terms’ reflected a growing attention to the significance of spatial organization and utilization in creative and perceptive processes in the theatre. In the last twenty years space has found its long-deserved status as a prominent feature of the theatrical experience and a key element in theatre studies. In this article Kinneret Noy focuses on a unique spatial component shared by two theatrical traditions – the Greek and the Japanese. By comparing and contrasting the function of the eisodos in the Greek theatre with that of the hashigakari in the Japanese Noh, she offers a fresh look at both forms. The spatial relation between the passageway and the main ‘stage’ create what Mitsuo Inoue terms a ‘movement space’. Noy borrows this term from Japanese architecture to point the connection between theatrical space and dramatic techniques. After discussing the main characteristics of a ‘movement space’ in the theatre she deals with the differences that exist between Noh and Greek theatres' spatial qualities, suggesting some connections between developments in the theatres and social and political changes. A graduate from the University of Pittsburgh (1997), Kinneret Noy studied with the Noh master Takabayshi Shinji in Kyoto, and currently teaches in the Theatre Department and East Asian Department of Haifa University and the Hebrew University in Jerusalem.

The purpose of the article is to study the peculiarities of the dynamics of the development of theatrical scenography by the solution of plot compositions, art forms, metaphorical images, specific features of mizantsen, national color. The methodology is based on the study of art history literature, conference materials, monographs, thematic literature, which corresponds to the disclosure of this work. The method of cultural and historical analysis helps to explore the tendencies of the development of Ukrainian scenography of the XX-XXI centuries. The comparative method, based on the consideration of the Ukrainian scenography in the context of world scenography. The scientific novelty of work is determined by a holistic analysis of the investigated processes and artistic features. The patterns of development of theatrical and decorative art are analyzed. Generalized preliminary studies in the art of scenography. Conclusions. Analyzing materials of research, a special phenomenon in scenographic art is the use of fundamental laws of science, fine arts, architecture and architectural styles, painting, sculptures, art design, bulky three-dimensional projections, colorful properties, national color. The evolution of the modern theatrical performance reflects the rains and the fall of this type of art, which specifically expresses the contradictions of man and society that are constantly updated. The world and national scenography are built on the global basis of the artistic design of stage space. The development of scenography is undoubtedly a continuous dynamic process, where the main component of the theater and its purpose is to build an artistic space of organization of action and its design, in other words, scenography. Undoubtedly important are personal indicators of the historical development of scenography art, using the experience of predecessors, adapting various architectural styles, artistic, applying harmonization and aesthetics in the stage space of theatrical action.

The architectural forms of Jacopo Sansovino's Libreria di San Marco in Venice, begun in 1537, have generally been interpreted in terms of a revival of the ancient Roman forum. Another way of looking at the building, suggested here, concentrates on its theatrical nature, both in terms of the typology of architectural forms and in terms of use. Sansovino's library completed the Piazzetta in Venice as a theatrical space, and it did so at the same time that the modern theater with boxes was first developed in Venice. The great seventeenth-century scene designer Giacomo Torelli in turn used the space completed by Sansovino as a set for the opera Bellerofonte, produced in Venice in 1642. In Torelli's scene, Venice is shown as a theater of justice.

In this article we seek to understand the role of architecture in the theatrical process and the uses of old structures to house three contemporary productions: Zé Celso staged Os Sertões (The Hinterlands) in 2007 in a huge warehouse near the wharfs of Rio de Janeiro’s Docklands where he arranged the building as if it was his own Oficina Theatre in São Paulo; Miguel Vellinho staged Peer Gynt (2006) at the readapted SESC Copacabana Arena, and the Brazilian performance of Romeo and Juliet directed by Gabriel Villela was staged in 2000 at the reconstructed Globe Theatre not far from the real spot of the Shakespeare’s Globe. This version of the play combines circus acts, music, dance and Brazilian folk culture with the traditional story of the unlucky lovers. The perfect inner space of the playhouse and its architecture are discussed through the analysis of the many possibilities explored by Villela, who reinterpreted the spaces surprising the audience with a car on the stage.

The article considers the history of the origin and formation of the town hall architecture as the first building of local governments. Over the past century, most town hall buildings have lost their historical significance. This process is due to the improvement of local government in Europe. In addition, the reason for this was the development of autonomy of city government and civil liberties. This process was also influenced by the democratization of the life management procedures of the urban community. From the beginning of its existence, the town hall was formed as the main public space of the city. This space was a place of judicial and public gatherings; the town hall was a centre of trade, as well as a core of theatrical and cultural events. Some town halls had a system of spaces of social interaction, such as closed halls, open and semi-open public rooms. The tendency of concentration of administrative institutions and service enterprises developed. This development took place through the integration of functional, spatial, organizational and technological structures into a single public-administrative complex. In modern town hall buildings, such components as assembly halls, session halls, exhibition halls, museum premises, offices of the City government and offices of fractions are kept until now.

The paper tackles the impact of the stage performance upon the public, the algorithm through which the theatrical event entered in the captivity of mass manipulation and the development of the dramatic concepts, aiming to decode the implied power relationship between scene and audience, thanks to the evolution of philosophical thinking from genuine scepticism to modern rationalism, from judgment of taste to critical judgment and social activism. Further, in the psychological key, the consequences of the dual division of the show space, the sociological markers in theatre architecture and the pattern of the Wagnerian scenic space were studied, allowing insights into the history of mentalities and into the pattern of art reception.

The paper tackles the impact of the stage performance upon the public, the algorithm through which the theatrical event entered in the captivity of mass manipulation and the development of the dramatic concepts, aiming to decode the implied power relationship between scene and audience, thanks to the evolution of philosophical thinking from genuine skepticism to modern rationalism, from the judgment of taste to critical judgment and social activism. Further, in the psychological key, the consequences of the dual division of the show space, the sociological markers in theatre architecture, and the pattern of the Wagnerian scenic space were studied, allowing insights into the history of mentalities and into the pattern of art reception.

The article is devoted to the problems of landscape theaters architecture formation on the territory of Ukraine in the realities which have developed in the course of typology development and an arrangement of the cultural data and entertaining and leisure establishments in modern conditions. The article examines the specifics of the landscape theaters location depending on the functional purpose, capacity of the auditorium and attendance level of various theatrical performances in the open air in Ukraine. Based on the results of professional questionnaires and analysis of statistical data on the theater and concert network in Ukraine, the author proposes 15 factors that shape the modern architecture of Ukrainian landscape theaters. The author investigates how these factors modify the spectator environment and shows the tools and techniques that allow you to create a harmonious space of the theater. The list of the above factors influencing the formation of the landscape theaters architecture in Ukraine should include such factors as: the capacity of the auditorium; functional purpose of the building; location of the theater; the mode of the auditorium openness and stage; special conditions of the open-air theater location zone. In addition, the author investigates the following factors in the formation of landscape theaters architecture, such as: organizational schemes of the stage; the configuration of the amphitheater in relation to the stage; ways to evacuate visitors from the auditorium in case of emergencies; determination of the optimal angle of the auditorium; architectural and constructive solution of the theater location (on a natural or anthropogenic basis). The author analyzes the influence on the formation of the landscape theaters architecture due to the system of the stage layout and arrangement; when using special technological techniques and technical means; by considering the mobility of the theater; under the conditions of synthesis at the location of the stage relative to the spectator amphitheater; using the means of green architecture and design solutions in the organization of theater space.

Los grandes almacenes clásicos del siglo XIX se inspiran en parte en las colmenas. La actividad humana en su interior se compara con la de las abejas. Su espacio es clasificador, compartimentado en alveolos. Pero sobre todo, lo que acerca los primeros grandes almacenes a la idea de la colmena es que se trata de una arquitectura del trabajo. Esto no resulta evidente, ya que en estos edificios la visión del trabajo es ocultada bajo la apariencia de lo festivo, necesaria para la actividad comercial. Su desafío consiste en compatibilizar consumo y trabajo en un mismo lugar. Esta dualidad se resuelve generando escenarios teatrales donde se representa la función de la venta, detrás de los cuales se esconden bastidores técnicos destinados a intenso trabajo. Esta trastienda tiene una nobleza arquitectónica en los orígenes que decrece conforme el tipo arquitectónico evoluciona. Abstract Classics department stores of the nineteenth century are inspired by ruffles. Inside those buildings, human activity seems the bees. Furthermore, the space is classified and compartmentalized into alveoli. But more importantly, the buildings department stores generate an architecture for the work. This is not very clear, since in these buildings vision of the work is hidden under the guise of the festive. Activity in retail stores need a festive atmosphere. Reconcile consumption andwork in one place is a challenge of this architecture. This duality is solved generating theatrical scenarios where the sales function is represented. Secondary spaces for the work hide behind these scenarios. In the beginning, this back spacehad architectural nobility, but decreases as the architectural type evolves.

The aim of the paper is to answer the question: what image of a professional role does the vision of a court trial as a theatre contain? In carrying out such a task, first of all, I will present the reasons that justify comparing the theatrical practice to a court hearing. When carrying out this procedure, I will pay attention to the concept of role, the ritualization of activities, the architecture of space, and functions of the role performers’ clothing. From these findings, a dramatical vision of a court trial emerges, modelled on a theatrical performance. It assumes that the performing of a role by the actor and the judge or the lawyer is largely defined by factors external to the interpreter. Such an approach to the exercise of the profession can be related to the dramatic vision of the role in Erving Goffman’s theatrical metaphor. In this perspective, it is assumed that exercising a role is a performance that can lead to two images of the professional ethos. They are characterized by an attitude of identification with the role and an instrumental distance to the profession. I intend to question both of these views. By carrying out this task, I will show that presenting a court trial as a theater does not have to assume the image of a judge, a lawyer whose task is to develop the ability to adapt to the rules of the profession and faithfully reproduce them in the cases under consideration. In presenting this position, I use the findings of theatrologist Jerzy Grotowski and the anthropological research of Victor Turner, focusing on the idea of liminality.

This article is dedicated to examination of art synthesis as a phenomenon that extended to various spheres of culture and art of the XIX–XX centuries. This period marks the emergence of a different visual language and new forms of perception of artistic expression. Analysis is conducted on the  forms of implementation of the idea Gesamtkunstwerk, and their development throughout the XX century: mythologization as a peculiar method of thinking, strive to go beyond the purely artistic imagery, subjectification of the perception of time and space, creation of the organized aesthetic environment, aesthetic dimension of humanism, synthetism of mentality and universalism of the artist. Special attention is given to the historical-cultural context, from the views of the Jena Romantics and musical theory of R. Wagner to the works of the masters of Art Nouveau, avant-garde and innovators of the theatrical scenery. The author also reviews the advent of the new forms of artistic expression. The analysis of the key trends allows determining the broad sense of the idea of art synthesis for the culture: philosophy, poetry, architecture, visual arts, design, and performance. The novelty of this study consists in description of the idea of art synthesis as one of the key meaning-forming factors in the European culture of the XIX–XX centuries. The article examines the problem of performativity of modern art as the logical continuation of the evolution of forms of artistic expression. Modern theatrical and performative practices (“live” exhibitory spaces, “museum of senses”, “theater of plentitude”, exploratory theater, promenade theater, and other) can be viewed as the reconceived version of the idea of art synthesis that originated in the culture of German Romanticism.

It is received theatrical wisdom – indeed, a self-evident truth – that performances of a particular production differ not only night by night, depending on the chemistry between actors and audience, but in the case of touring productions, in response to the changing relationship between the driector's approach and the venue for which it must be freshly adapted. Yet studies of the theoretical or practical effects of such differences are rare – and can rarely draw on such a range of performing venues as those in which the Out of Joint company presented Max Stafford-Clark's production of Chekhov's Three Sisters in 1995. Originally staged at the ornate, tradition-steeped Bristol Old Vic, the production was taken on tour to modernist, hangar-like auditoria in India, and presented in the unusual yet apt ‘found’ environment of an English country house, before reaching its final home at the Lyric Theatre, Hammersmith, with its renovated Victorian interior surrounded by a modernist shell. Exploring the terminology used by lain Mackintosh in his Architecture, Actor, and Audience, Sylvia Vickers compares and contrasts the conception, realization, and reception of the production in these varying venues. Sylvia Vickers worked as an actress in a wide range of theatre before co-founding and creating the Brighton Actors' Workshop and Studio Twelve in the 'seventies. She then took a first in English at Sussex, and now teaches in the Drama Department at Roehampton Institute while continuing her work as a director, most recently for the Orange Tree Theatre in Richmond.

Abstract In the mid to late seventeenth century the New Exchange shopping mall on the Strand was one of London’s most important social and commercial spaces. Its significance is reflected by the number of references to it in various contemporary sources, including, prominently, Restoration comedies. There have been a number of modern studies of the building in relation to its architecture, commercial history, and cultural significance, but none examines how the building was represented theatrically. This essay corrects this omission by discussing all the plays that have scenes set in the New Exchange. Focusing on two of these—She Would If She Could (1668) by George Etherege and The Country Wife (1675) by William Wycherley—this essay considers dramaturgical approaches to the staging of real places in the period. In particular, it draws on period illustrations of the New Exchange and close theatrical readings of the plays to suggest correlations between the architectural structure of the building and its theatrical representation.

The article is devoted to W. Baranoff-Rossine’s (1888–1944) optophonic art and the art of light and color invented by G. Gidoni (1895–1937). The achievements of the artists in the field of art synthesis are compared on several overlapping levels: concepts of new art forms they created; institutions they managed to partially implement, and projects of institutes they planned to realize; theoretical insights; light and color apparatus (optophone; light orchestra) and patents for the inventions. In her comparative analysis of the artists’ concepts, the author concludes that in their reference points, the ideas of Baranoff-Rossine and Gidoni were very close. The following provisions are common for the artists: contributing rhythm and dynamics to painting; bringing pictural art out of the plane onto a screen/transparent screen or into space; combining light and color with sound; bringing fine art closer to music. However, in their aspiration to bring light and color beyond the limits of pictural art (into time and space), they acted in different directions. In its operation principle, Baranoff-Rossine’s instrument was closer to cinematography (all colors and drawings were projected on the screen). Gidoni’s light and color device, which assumed no screen at all (the screen was implied to be transparent), was more of a theatrical thing. The artist dreamed of creating a light theater which would incorporate light music, light architecture, light declamation, and light choreography.

Cultural mapping reflects a spatial turn broadly taken in related areas of urban studies, all of which, in different ways, care about the interaction between social and material space. This article will contribute to this emerging interdisciplinary field by exploring applications of cultural mapping as tools for more inclusive forms of urbanism. The main argument holds that particular forms of cultural mapping can help bridge certain constraints of ethnographic methodologies of social sciences, on one hand, and spatial analysis and design methodologies, on the other hand, as they can operate in the same interstices of social and material space. This article is the result of a three-year and ongoing collaboration between the Research Group on Urbanism and Architecture of the University of Leuven and theatre company Teatro Oficina, located on a highly contested urban site in São Paulo’s central neighbourhood of Bixiga, which for thirty years has been part and parcel of a Lute Urbaine (‘urban battle’) between the cultural group and a major real estate development firm. Both the theatre building and the surrounding terrain present themselves as pars-pro-toto for a theatrical city paradigm, offering insights on the dialectic vicissitudes of socio-cultural actions vis-à-vis the material transformation of the city.Keywords: urban activism, participatory urban design, modernism, urban stage, theatre cultureRésumé: La cartographie culturelle reflète un tournant spatial dans le champ des études urbaines et disciplines associées qui sont à tout le moins toutes concernées par les interactions entre les espaces sociaux et les espaces matériels. Cet article tente d’apporter une contribution à ce débat interdisciplinaire en explorant les applications de la cartographie culturelle dans le cadre des projets d’urbanisme participatif, voire d’urbanisme plus socialement inclusif. Certaines formes de cartographie culturelle peuvent permettre de répondre à certaines contraintes émanant des méthodologies ethnographiques en sciences sociales et ce, en comblant les lacunes découlant de la rencontre des espaces sociaux et matériels. Les résultats de cet article découlent de trois années de collaboration entre le Research Group on Urbanism and Architecture de l’Université de Leuven et le Teatro Oficina, situé dans un espace contesté du quartier Bixiga, au coeur de São Paulo. Ce quartier en question a été au coeur de plusieurs luttes urbaines (Lute Urbaine) entre groups sociaux culturels et promotteurs immobiliers. L’immeuble du théâtre et ses environs se présent en tant que pars-pro-toto pour le paradigme de la ville théâtrale, offrant des points des perspectives sur la dialectique de l’action culturelle vis-à-vis la transformation matérielle de la ville.Mots clé: l’activisme urbain, dessin urbain participative, modernism, scène urbaine, culture théâtrale

The study examines the expressive means of dance and architecture, establishes common and specific areas in the nature of their artistic language, identifies the extent of interaction between architectural principles with dance dramaturgy and choreographic composition, and analyzes examples of interpretation of dance production solutions in the architectural space. Through a simultaneous review, the author examines the expressive means of dance and architecture, establishing the common and the specific in the expressive and pictorial nature of their artistic language. The focus is on identifying the degree of influence of architectural principles on the dance drama, choreographic composition, and the reverse impact. The analysis provides examples of the interpretation of dance staging solutions in the architectural space, including innovative modern practices of the 20th‑21st centuries. The artistic and imaginative metamorphoses of staged choreographic solutions occurring in different kinds of architectural spaces are considered. Starting with the perspectivism of the scenery on the stage and the light architecture of the 18th century, the author moves on to the monumental construction of the large stage performance of the 19th century and concludes with the choreographic experiments of the early 20th century. The article points out that modern times offer the most curious design solutions. There are examples of bold, original methods of interaction between choreography and architecture: dances are staged directly in the interiors of buildings, bypassing the traditional stage platform. The implied idea of human movement in space, encompassing the viewer, appears here because of successively changing impressions. Finally, the author explores the directorial approach, where the choreography itself masters and constructs the architecture, helping the viewer to perceive themselves as if within its own spatial structure. This peculiar artistic and visual synthesis appears in the dynamics of genre and style of the author’s stage context. The study of the specifics of ballet as a dramatic phenomenon seems to be a fundamental research task, because, more than any other theatrics genre, it is the ballet that provided extremely diversified artistic samples of space and stage creativity in the heritage of the 20th century, and probably, will continue to do so in the 21st. The question of dance interpretation in the architectural space is a significant independent subject of research in connection with the structure and evolution of the artistic image in contemporary choreographic art. Against the background of postmodernist modern style trends as a global creative principle of post-culture, this topic includes broad general aesthetic associations. It is vital to the understanding of the artistic process in contemporary art in general.

The terms ‘Performative’ and ‘Performance’ are more and more emerging in the spatial design discourses, from exhibition, to interior, arriving to urban design. These notions are not clearly defined yet. They are characterized by a semantic width and multiple applicative possibilities. Between the different interpretations and uses of ‘performance’ and ‘performative’ in architectural discourses, this paper will focus on two main dimensions of a particular importance: The first refers to the concepts of the scenic, the narrative, and the theatrical qualities in architecture. The second relates to the ‘event-character’ of spatial interventions, and the relation between event, and soft intervention, which tackles the concept of the ‘transformative power of the performative’, which indicates to the capacity of architecture to activate spaces and processes.

The first decade of the 20th century witnessed two revolutions in the world of arts: firstly, the upcoming of Avant-Garde art, and secondly - the birth of cinematic art. In painting, architecture and literature new revolutionary languages actually finalized the process of onthologisation which has begun much earlier. ttis process signaled its appearance with Modernity itself and reached its climax in the late 19 th century. We can observe since then a new species of artists whose artworks actually defy ideological meanings. Meanings and messages of artworks clearly distance themselves from convictions shared by authors. Visual and verbal arts as well as important strata of musical and theatrical productions embrace the discourse of Nature and Universe (i. e. primary components of Being). Avant-garde art makes the final accent in this development of Modernity. tte newly born film art seems to compensate functions ignored or denied by other artistic activities. Cinematic productions start realizing the human and cultural tasks (ideological propaganda, sentimental comfort, entertainment and other social functions). Elite-bound taste and high cultural pretentions seemingly fall out in early cinema. tte break-through in film art reaches its peak around 1910 parallel to the upheaval of Early Avant-Garde in painting. Handling of camera, constructing of visual field, as well as experimental boundlessness in space-and-time transformations bring the socially acceptable film narrative to the kind of onthological explosion on screen. In fact, film language itself (independently from any ideology or sociability) develops new methods of seeing. A decade before film art would enter its stormy marriage with Surrealism, masters of the screen already detected ways of hypnotic charm and irrational hurricane passing before our eyes. As examples of such inherent onthologization of means in film art we can see the structure itself of the picture and deliriumlike narration in several early films, i. e. Cabiria directed by Italian Giovanni Pastrone in 1914 as well as American masterpiece of 1915 - The Birth of a Nation by D.W. Griffith.

The emergence of cinema brought about the issue of forming a comfortable environment for film screenings. This essay analyzes the characteristics of the first spaces used for film exhibition in St. Petersburg and Moscow and the architecture of the movie theaters built in these cities in the first decades of the 20th century and characterized by a combination of theatrical architectural traditions, eclectic restaurant design and elements of the fading Art Nouveau style. Film exhibition was a profitable business. Initially, screenings were held in rented spaces but soon specialized buildings were designed and constructed. The essay looks at the largest and most popular movie theaters built in St. Petersburgs main street, Nevsky Prospect, and in the center of Moscow, discussing their architectural features and their historical development. Thus, during the 1920s and 1930s, large movie theaters included a foyer with a stage for variety shows and a theater-like auditorium with a high-mounted, dark-framed screen; the spectators entered the auditorium via the main entrance and, after the screening, exited directly to a street or a yard.

Erin Hurley and Sara Warner in their insightful study “Affect/Performance/Politics” (2012) remind us that the humanities and social sciences today experience a new sweep of theoretical inquiry, focusing on studying affect or thrill experience as a leading mechanism of our cognition and communication, as well as the making and reception of art works. Today, “the affective turn signals [our] renewed interest in embodiment and sensorial experience” (2012 : 99), allowing scholars to examine a theatrical performance as a venue to reinforce the subjectivity of the artist and that of the receiver. A theory of affect strives to describe the mechanisms of reception in theatre as our psycho-physical experience, regardless of our linguistic, cultural, social, or ethnic background, and thus aspires to bring the question of universals back to the rehearsal hall and the theatre auditorium. This article takes such a theoretical framework further to argue that in today’s theatre it is the multiple soundscapes of performance–actors’ voices, music, artificially produced and live sound, the architecture of performance aurality–that has the most potential for instigating the audiences’ visceral experience. Hans Thies Lehmann (2006) in his influential book on post-dramatic theatre aesthetics names this phenomenon aschora, the sonoric space of the performance, which possesses the great power to deconstruct the semantic meanings of words, turning them into mechanisms of performative psycho-physical affect as xperienced by the audience (ibid. : 145). In order to illustrate how words (as poetry) and sounds (as singing and music) generate affect in today’s performances, an example of Lehmann’schora-graphy(2006 : 146), I examine Wajdi Mouawad’stheatre of compassion(Naugrette 2008 : 88), emphasizing his dramaturgy, directorial choices (mise-en-scene), use of sound, and work with actors, as an artistic project called to shock and shake audiences emotionally. In the first section of my study I outline the major principles of the theory of affect; in the second, I discuss Mouawad’s approach to staging a canonical dramatic text and investigate how sound serves as the leading compositional element of affect in his 2011 productionDes Femmes, an adaptation of Sophocles’ three tragediesLes Trachiniennes,AntigoneandÉlectre.

Background. The image of Green Man (Green Man — “the spirit of the forest”), which embodies a mythological forest deity, undoubtedly entered the city's architecture along with new Western stylistic tendencies and immediately gained popularity among the Lviv architects of that time. Mythological images, which were formed during the ancient history of mankind, have often remained topical for subsequent epochs, but it should be noted that in the 19th century these mask-images acquired exclusively a decorative function and canonicity of their depiction was altered by interpretations of the author's vision. Despite the fact that Lviv architectural decor of the 19th century is a rather studied topic, so far Lviv Green Man mascarons of the 19th century have not been the subject of a special study, which predetermines the scientific novelty of the chosen topic. Objectives. The purpose of the article is to analyze the main theories of the origin of the Green Man image in the architecture of Western Europe, to reveal its symbolic meaning, to highlight the main typological groups of green man masks in Lviv architecture of the 19th century, to reveal and analyze their figurative and plastic solutions. Methods. The article applies the general scientific methods of research: method of analysis is used in the study and systematization of scientific literature in terms of the subject of research; comparative method is used for the analysis of stylistic features of 19th century Lviv Green Man mascarons in comparison with Western European tendencies; method of synthesis is used in the development of typology of Lviv Green Man mascarons of the period in question; method of art analysis is used in the analysis of stylistic and plastic features of Green Man masks on Lviv facades of 19th century. Results. Green Man is a fiction image that combines human appearance and the flora. In the ancient world cultures, Green Man sometimes was identified as the vegetative deity of the nature. First of all, it is interpreted as a pagan spirit of forest and the symbol of nature revival. It is rather paradoxical that most depictions of this pagan symbol of nature are in the interiors and exteriors of temple architecture of medieval Europe. Pre-Christian pagan traditions were closely associated with nature. Worshipping sacred trees was intrinsic for many ancient cultures that directly influenced artistic culture of Christian Europe. Accordingly, the masks of “green men” were, perhaps, only one of the pagan symbolic images, which gained the right to exist in the space of medieval ecclesiastical architecture. A new wave of interest in Green Man's image dates back to the 19th century. The reason for its revival could be an environmental crisis, and in this respect the image of Green Man present in architecture can be regarded as the archetype of “nature guardian”, whose role is to remind people of their responsibilities to nature. During this period various Green Man mascarons, deprived of symbolism, again started to be used by architects as decorative elements of secular buildings. Undoubtedly, such popularity of the “green man” masks in Victorian architecture has influenced the use of this image in European eclecticism, from where it came to Lviv architecture. Motive of the green man has many variations, which, depending on the author's conception, can be either interpreted as naturalistic or stylized. The authors of Green Man mascarons placed great importance on specific species of plants. To a large extent their choice depended on the local flora and symbolic associations they caused. Among Lviv Green Man mascarons, one can distinguish certain common features characteristic for certain types of face reliefs of the green man. Most often the authors of Lviv mascarons portrayed Green Man's face, hair, mustache and beard turning into leaves. Particular importance was attached to the mood of this bizarre creature. A deep, pensive look and a half-open mouth convey specific facial expression reflecting a special meditative condition that forces these masks to “speak”. A wide spectrum of moods of forest deity mascarons is conveyed by means of facial expressions. Some faces are friendly and smiling, others look sad, fierce, and at times even threatening, approaching theatrical feelings and emotions, thereby turning into “leafy grotesque”. Individual masks have more in common with demons or beasts than with humans. Horny faces of the “green man”, which are close to the image of an ancient god Pan, can be referred to a separate typological group of masks. Sometimes these masks stand out with an ominous look and a wry smile that bring them closer to the image of demonic forest deity, wild spirit of forest. Less often in Lviv architecture one can see the relief heads of Green Man dressed in stylized leaf crowns or from the mouth of which plant sprouts are growing. The last type of masks usually serves as an ornamental motive in the exterior decor and is characterized by small size. On the facades of many Lviv eclectic buildings, the mascarons of the green man can be complemented with ornamental compositions of plant sprouts, flowers and fruits, garlands or fruit bundles hanging on the lace out of Green Man's mouth. Similar to European art, there are Green Man mascarons in Lviv architecture depicting a human face decorated with separate leaves or surrounded by a leaf wreath. The atypical attribute of Lviv masks of nature deity are wings. In addition to all the above-mentioned images in Lviv architecture, there are also mascarons of green lions whose symbolic significance is associated with force and power. Conclusions. Consequently, Green Man mascaron is a strange symbiosis of a human face and flora, a pagan spirit of nature, the guard of forests, embodiment of the connection between the world of plants and the world of people. Together with its mysterious roots the “Green man” also entered the facade decoration of Lviv architecture of the 19th century. Analyzing the typology of Lviv mascarons images of the 19th century, we make certain that the image of Green Man was one of the most popular in the toolkit of architects and sculptors of that time. Variation of “neo” Green Man's masks is characteristic for Lviv architecture of the late the 19th century. The authors of Lviv masks attached a great importance to the facial expressions of forest deity. Its attributes can be horns, wings, sprouts growing from the mouth of Green Man or garlands of fruits and flowers, which compositionally complement the image. The choice of plant-like forms was equally important. Performing an exclusively decorative function on the facades of Lviv buildings, this image remains a mystery up to now.

This article will examine the case of National Theatre of China, one of the most iconic buildings that have been looming in the skyline of Chinese metropolises in recent years. They are known to the Chinese public for their unprecedented, and often nicknamed, architectural types. Critics tend to deem such examples of contemporary Chinese architecture from recent waves of urban development as merely “bizarre,” taking wacky building forms as the dishonorable outcome of a corrupt conspiracy between capital and politics. Instead of making a similar judgment, this article will discuss the case of the National Theatre as a wishful cultural practice in the context of a complicated sociopolitical drama. The discussion will elaborate on three core issues emerging in the transformation of contemporary Chinese public space: (1) how the meaning of the architectural “face” changes as the urban “body” is redefined, (2) how formal and technical means enhance or weaken the psychological impact that an innovative and adventurous building might have on its patrons, and (3) how rigid urban planning is reconciled with a more dynamic and active theatric space that turns the city itself into an improvised stage.

Dear readers,We are pleased to present to you Issue 2, 2021, of the scientific and analytical journal Burganov House. The Space of Culture. Upon the recommendation of the Expert Council of the Higher Attestation Commission, the journal is included in the List of Leading Peer-reviewed Scientific Journals and Publications in which the main scientific results of theses for the academic degrees of doctor and candidate of science must be published. The journal publishes scientific articles by leading specialists in various humanitarian fields, doctoral students, and graduate students. Research areas concern topical problems in multiple areas of culture, art, philology, and linguistics. This versatility of the review reveals the main specificity of the journal, which represents the current state of the cultural space. The article by the outstanding American historian of architecture, Robert Ousterhout, is devoted to the Russian architecture formation and questions of church construction development. E. Menshikova analyses the issues of ancient aesthetics and philosophy through the prism of the realities of the modern world in the article “The Paradox of a Liar – an Incredible Repetition. Part II. The Aristotle-Anokhin Diphthong”. Characteristic of the religious consciousness and philosophy of Confucianism, the ideas of the immortality of the spirit, filial piety, and etiquette, which have become firmly established in the burial culture of Ancient China, are explored by Xiang Wu in his article “Cultural Preconditions for the Formation of Stone Carved Sculpture in Ancient Chinese Mausoleums”. Qiu Mubing continues the theme of the Chinese funerary tradition of the Han period in the article “Items of Burial Cult in the Han Period. Bronze Items. Bronze Aesthetics in the Han Period”. The author analyses bronze items and concludes that the Bronze Age in China began with the emergence of Chinese civilisation and lasted, developing in stages, until the end of the period in question – the Han period. E. Vostrikova analyses the stylistic evolution of the Flowers and Birds genre in her article “The Hwajohwa Genre (“Flowers and Birds”) in Korean Traditional Painting of the Early and Middle Joseon Periods (Late 14th – Late 17th Centuries)”. The study identifies the historical and cultural context and the main terms for its designation, presents individual artistic trends, examines the techniques used in Korean traditional painting. Moreover, the author outlines the leading artists who worked in this genre during the indicated period. P. Kozorezenko investigates the artistic searches of the masters of the Severe style in the article “The Image of an Icon in the Art of the Artists of the Severe Style”. The author believes that ancient Russian art and its main embodiment, an icon, are one of the vivid elements of the creative palette of the Severe style masters. N. Beschastnov and E. Dergileva present the graphic heritage of Moscow artist A. Dergileva, limited by the period between 1980–1990, in the article “The Moscow Metro of Alena Dergileva: the Image of Stability and Features of Change”. The seemingly simple theme, “man and a city”, is developed in a multitude of complex relationships between plastic and compositional research. In the article “History and the Picturesque Image in Sergei Eisenstein’s Film Alexander Nevsky”, N. Lushchenkov examines the theme of picturesque images in films. The author analyses the dialogue of different types of art on the example of the film Alexander Nevsky, believing that these not so obvious, but deep in their idea and artistic structure, allusions to works of painting, book illustration and graphics manifest themselves most vividly and consistently in the context of the film. The fundamentals of the sacred space reconstruction on the example of the play Shakuntala are considered by P. Stepanova in the article “Reactualization of the Ritual Structure in the Performance of Jerzy Grotowsky’s Shakuntala by Kalidasa (1960)”. The author explores the main methods of working on new connections between the actor and the audience in a theatrical performance as a special form of complicity. The author considers the deconstruction of the stage space and the removal of a clear division into the stage and the audience to be one of the main means of expression at this stage of work. In the article “Design Culture of Team Strategies”, Y. Vaserchuk analyses modern forms of design activity that contribute to professional design development and compares the principles of designers’ teamwork that are similar in form but differ in content. The author identifies the types of project design thinking: from engineering and creative types to artistic and resource-based ones. The publication is addressed to professionals specialising in the theory and practice of the fine arts and philology and all those interested in the arts and culture.

The performance of Bartholomew Fair at the Hope Theatre in 1614 was the play's first and only recorded public performance in Jonson's lifetime, and the playtext still bears the stamp of this theatrical debut. Using the spatial theories of Foucault, de Certeau, and Lefebvre, I suggest that Jonson takes advantage of the liminal spaces of his performance venue, the ideologically ambiguous space of the Liberty that contained it, as well as his play's fictive setting (the Fair itself), to pass comment on the more ideologically solid and austere environment of the City of London. I also argue that in some ways this first performance can be read as ‘proto-site-specific,’ inasmuch as the play relies on the particularities of its environment to achieve Jonson's aim—to exhort his audience into a more sophisticated ‘understanding’ of the play's action—an understanding that he hoped would, in turn, affect their reading of the real urban space outside the playhouse. The Jonsonian ‘third way’ between represented and representational spaces takes advantage of the heterogeneous environment of the playhouse and elides together the heterotopian environments of Fair and Liberty to invite a correspondingly unstable interpretive response from its audience. This experiential division is enforced in the space of the stage and auditorium, with Jonson's use of inductive techniques, staging, and direct address—which frequently privileges some groups of spectators, to the detriment of others—helping to enforce divisions within the audience. The interpretive openness of Jonson's spatial practice becomes in effect a microcosm for the vast number of spatial practices performed by the inhabitants of the real city beyond the Hope's walls. However, in his emphasis on ‘understanding’ spectators Jonson provides his audience with the cognitive tools to be the actors rather than the acted-upon in the dog-eat-dog environment of London's urban space, and it is within the triangulation between text, playhouse and suburban environment of the play's first performance that this effect is most pronounced.

Scenography is a special kind of fine art and a visual aspect of a theatrical spectacle. Its task is to form the space of the stage with the help of plastic, painting and light-colour effects, which are inextricably linked with each other and theatrical action. In a theatrical performance, it is a way to immerse the spectator in something special - the atmosphere conceived by the director, created by the theatrical artist, director of light and actors. The purpose of the publication is to try to reveal the role of light and colour in the stage decisions of Yevhen Lysyk, to establish how these means formed a unique painting style of the artist, which turned his scenography into an independent component of opera and ballet performances. For the scenography of Y. Lysyk, a characteristic method is the use of optical illusions. He uses architectural and light-coloured optical illusions as a means of enhancing the perception of forms and space of scenography. Such optical illusions include the law of light irradiation, illusions of magnification of vertically arranged elements in comparison with horizontal ones, colour contrasts, subjective perception of colours (chromatic stereoscopy), etc. His stage solutions differ in their colour scheme. In most performances, the artist's scenography dominates the structure of theatrical action. The play of colour contrasts and bright spots on the huge monumental canvases causes the audience a reflexive desire to open their eyes, thereby sharpening the hearing and "turns on" the imagination. The subjective tendency to colour testifies to the inner world of the artist and at the same time to the way of his thinking, the peculiarities of his creative manner. The following research methods were used: visual, comparative, philosophical, artistic, stylistic and iconographic. Analysis of individual stage solutions Y. Lysyk allowed us to draw a theoretical conclusion: light and colour play an important role in shaping the creative concept of an outstanding theatrical artist, and contribute to the formation of his unique style and manner of performing artistic and monumental stage solutions. The theoretical assumption is made that their integral performance, in the context of composition, perspective system, proportions, ways of using light and colour approaches the basic principles of construction in iconographic images of the Christian tradition.

The article deals with the formation of avant-garde as an alternative to the academic artistic paradigm in the Kharkiv Art School. The contribution of Kharkiv artists to the world culture is determined primarily by the avant-garde art. Its agents, who steadily carried the baton of modernization of artistic culture, were V. Yermilov and B. Kosarev. During 1915–1916 a group of artists, The Union of Seven, was formed at the Art School; their work reflected the diverse palette of changes that accompanied the formation of Cubo-Futurism in Kharkiv. Fundamental changes took place in the artistic culture of Ukraine in the 1920s. The initiative to transform Kharkiv Art School into an Art Technical School with the rights of an institution of higher education in 1921, is attributed to Yermilov (it actually became an institute in 1927). In the 1920s–1930s his teaching team was joined by such artists as Mykola Burachek, Ivan Padalka, Oleksander Khvostenko-Khvostov, Anatol Petrytsky, and Borys Kosarev. Studios were established: easel painting (Mykhailo Sharonov), monumental (Lev Kramarenko), and theatrical (Oleksander Khvostenko-Khvostov). From 1922 to 1934 Yermilov led the graphics studio (together with Padalka starting in 1925). The key figures in the creation process of artistic avant-garde culture in Kharkiv after the 1930s were V. Yermilov and B. Kosarev, who influenced the formation of the next generation of artists. Yermilov’s work in Kharkiv (including teaching at Art Institute) had an impact on the creative features of O. Shcheglov, V. Platonov, V. Savenkov, and defined the horizon of effective development of design in the region. Among those who continued Yermilov’s design traditions are M. Molochynsky, І. Krivoruchko, V. Lesnyak, O. Bojchuk, V. Danilenko, O. Veklenko. Launched by the latter International Environmental Forum of Eco Poster “The 4th Block” has found quite a resonance in the world. “Yermilov’s Mansard” appeared on Kharkiv cultural space as an artistic centre and an original example of artistic design in the spirit of Bauhaus. Due to B. Kosarev a constellation of talented artists appeared in Kharkiv artistic culture and defined its uniqueness. Among his students in the theatre and decorative department there were such people as a teacher Konstantinov; a theater artist, a Doctor of Architecture, corresponding member of the AAU V. Kravetz; the Main artist of Kharkiv State Academic Ukrainian Drama Theater named after T. Shevchenko T. Medvid; theatre artists M. Kuzheliev, G. Nesterovska, P. Osnachuk, L. Pisarenko, N. Rudenko-Krayevska and others. Among the artists, whose creative work shaped under the influence of B. Kosarev, were Honoured Artist of Ukraine, member and Vice President of AAU V. Sidorenko, and Honored Artist of Ukraine, famous graphic N. Myronenko.

S. Zoruk was a bright representative of the artistic circle with an original view and individual ap- proach to art. His innovative methodological theories on academic drawing are organically included in the concept of scientific and methodological base of the Department of Drawing NAOMA and drawing school in general. S. Zoruk constantly studied and improved the technique of drawing, built his personal style. It is in the pictorial compositions that his authorial style with an emphatically refined aesthetic and philosophical subtext is most vividly revealed. The line, the stroke, the spot are combined and intertwined, creating elegant images of his paintings. His style of drawing is characterized by a light, free line. It is extremely interesting to see the evolution of the Zoruk artist: "Game-4" (1991), "Breath of the Wind" (1993), diptychs "Farewell to the Hat" (1993) on carnival themes and "Time to scatter stones, time to collect stones" (1993) for biblical motives. They are made in the technique of drawing. Thanks to the compositional techniques of including large sizes of clean planes of paper and the clarity of the line, the artist achieves the effect when the viewer’s imagination continues to paint the plastic life of the image. S. Zoruk’s creative style is characterized by refinement and detail of the image, elegance and lightness of the line and, at the same time, there is a pause, a colon in the story, which gives space for plot fantasizing. An important place in the artist’s creative activity was occupied by his teaching work, which he began in 1989 at the Department of Drawing KDHI. He alternately taught drawing at the Faculty of Architecture, and later at the restoration, theater, and graphic departments. He took a direct part in the forma- tion of the scientific and theoretical basis for the methods of teaching drawing and introduced methodological development, namely "Double productions in the 5th year" in the working program of the drawing. The level of professional qualification of the artist was marked in 1986 by admission to the National Academy of Arts, the rank — Honored Artist of Ukraine (1996), in 2000 the academic rank of associate professor, and since 2003 S. Zoruk held the position of professor. He successfully combined pedagogical and exhibition activities, repeatedly visited and collaborated with art galleries in Suzhou, Wu Xi (PRC). He has about 40 exhibitions in Ukraine and abroad. His works are in the funds of the Ministry of Culture of Ukraine, the National Union of Artists of Ukraine, the museum "Kachanivka" and the Museum of Contemporary Art (Kaliningrad), in private collections in the Netherlands, Russia, Belgium, France, Germany, Austria, USA, China. S. Zoruk’s creative and pedagogical activity were awarded in 2002 by the award of the Ministry of Culture of Ukraine "For out- standing merits in the development of culture and art". Philosophical sound in combination with intellectual- ism, together with high professional skill gave S. Zoruk’s works of extraordinary artistic value, made them an important phenomenon of Ukrainian art of the last quarter of the XX — beginning of the XXI century. His works have a sense of the space of the theatrical stage: the images, which is raised up to generalization are united by a certain game moment, the artist slowly unfolds in front of the spectator the dramaturgy of the plot, leaving a field for his own interpretations.

Cities are live performances. How people behave in the streets, in the parks, in the outdoor markets, in stadiums, and inside buildings gives cities their unique character, ambience, and tone. It is not only what physical spaces and structures signify about urban organization, hierarchies, and aesthetic invention but the imaginative behavior that people perform in and around those structures that is also important for understanding cities. The interdisciplinary field of performance studies can be instrumental in analyzing how cities are produced and performed precisely because the field and its methodological diversity bridges social, political, theatrical, and architectural forms of thought.

It could be argued that architecture has an inherent social responsibility to enrich the urban and spatial environments for the city’s occupants. However, how we define quality, and how ‘places’ can be designed to be fair and equitable, catering for individuals on a humanistic and psychological level, is often not clearly addressed. Lefebvre discusses the idea of the ‘right to the city’; the belief that public space design should facilitate freedom of expression and incite a sense of spatial ownership for its occupants in public/commercial precincts. Lefebvre also points out the importance of sensory experience in the urban environment. “Street-scape theatrics” are performative activities that summarise these two concepts, advocating the ‘right to the city’ by way of art as well as providing sensual engagement for city users. Literature discusses the importance of Street-scape Theatrics however few sources attempt to discuss this topic in terms of how to design these spaces/places to enhance the city on both a sensory and political level. This research, grounded in political theory, investigates the case of street music, in particular busking, in the city of Brisbane, Australia. Street culture is a notion that already exists in Brisbane, but it is heavily controlled especially in central locations. This study discusses how sensory experience of the urban environment in Brisbane can be enriched through the design for busking; multiple case studies, interviews, observations and thematic mappings provide data to gather an understanding of how street performers see and understand the built form. Results are sometime surprisingly incongruous with general assumptions in regards to street artist as well as the established political and ideological framework, supporting the idea that the best and most effective way of urban hacking is working within the system. Ultimately, it was found that the Central Business District in Brisbane, Australia, could adopt certain political and design tactics which attempt to reconcile systematic quality control with freedom of expression into the public/commercial sphere, realism upheld. This can bridge the gap between the micro scale of the body and the macro of the political economy through freedom of expression, thus celebrating the idiosyncratic nature of the city.

Materiality of the sign/sound in theatre appears when various sensory materials remain on the side of the signifier, not trying to reach the signified but energetically pulsating from the stage instead. The semiotics of sound would benefit from exploring the process where the theatrical sign or sound is caught naked in its flight between deliverance and reception, not yet clothed in its signifying dress. Such a semiotics follows oral/aural signs becoming other signs in the area where the senses signify. I suggest that voice and stage sound/noise figure as catalysts of an intermedial flux between sensual, visual, kinetic, and architectural elements of performance, marking a legacy of the avant-garde recognition of the materiality of sound. I demonstrate this using Artaud’s concept of a hieroglyphic idiom as the “expression in space [in which] objects themselves begin to speak through the collusion of objects, silences, shouts and rhythms,” and through Boehme's aesthetics of atmospheres as the art of the set that creates a poetics/technèof postdramatic theatre focused on orality/aurality.

Purpose The purpose of this paper is to focus on Sarajevo, the capital of Bosnia and Herzegovina, giving a general overview of its urban context through five historical periods, as part of a research study on its modernist architectural heritage. Design/methodology/approach Designed to mimic the theatrical process which unfolds through acts and intervals, the paper combines literary, architectural, journalistic and historical sources, to sketch the key periods which characterise the city’s urban morphology. Findings The sequence of acts and intervals points to the dramatic historic inter-change of continuities and ruptures, in which the ruptures have often been less studied and understood. This explains the frequent conceptualising of Sarajevo through East–West binary, which synthesises it as a provincial capital from Ottoman and later Habsburg rule, a regional centre within two Yugoslav states and a capital city of a young state of Bosnia and Herzegovina. This highlights the need to study the ruptures as clues to the flow of continuities, in which the care and after care for built environment provide a field of evidence and possibilities for diverse perspectives of examination. Research limitations/implications Corroborated by secondary sources, the paper examines the accounts of urban heritage destruction in the 1990s war, as recorded by a writer, an architect and a journalist, and outlines a pattern of unbroken inter-relations between urban and architectural space (tangible) and sense and identity of place (intangible). Practical implications This discourse is relevant to the current situation where the city of Sarajevo expands again, in the complexity of a post-conflict society. Social implications Challenged by the political divisions and the laissez-faire economy, the public mood and interest is under-represented and has many conflicting voices. Originality/value Inspired by Italo Calvino’s Invisible Cities and the accounts from the siege of Sarajevo in the 1990s, this conceptual paper contributes to the formulation of a cross-disciplinary discursive prism through which the fragments of the city and its periods come together or apart, adding, subtracting and changing layers of meaning of the physical space.

Stage design is the design of decor, costumes, accessories, lights, effects and all other audio-visual environments for the enactment of a theatrical play on the stage. Stage design is the general name of the design of all counted areas. This art branch, which started in the Middle Ages in accordance with today's understanding as stage painting and stage decoration in the West, lived its brightest and most glorious period in the 19th century. The stage mechanics created by applying it to scenes that could be created in the 20th century, by inserting the visual illusion on purpose, cause the audience to see these false worlds with surprising and astonished glances. Stage decoration is a branch of art that incorporates all branches of plastic art, especially painting and architecture, but its function is to create spaces that will provide the necessary action on the stage, in accordance with the drama text written by the author. However, today, it continues to function with a new structuring like other developing and changing art branches. Now the stage designer must have a very good art background as well as being a good İnterior Architect. Their current and social cultural background, which is sensitive to the problems of the country and world societies he lives in, is an important factor in the emergence of a good stage design. It is no longer a stage decoration that is suitable for the dramatic text and it’s visually is in the foreground, but a stage design enriched and meaningful with the artistic interpretation of the artist and the expression of his feelings. In this article, the applicability of the interior architecture process and stage design process in the field of theater plays has been tried to be revealed.

During the Imperial Roman period, thousands of theatres were built. The theatres have three principal elements: the scene building (actor position), the orchestra and the cavea (spectator seating). The theatres were built without a roof, so they were open-air spaces. The theatres were abandoned afterward the barbarian invasions, and during the Middle Ages, homes were built inside the cavea. The theatres were rediscovered during the Renaissance period. Today, ancient theatres are the center of cultural events and are used for various kinds of shows. This work discussed the acoustics of the Roman theatre of Benevento, which was built during the Imperial Age. The theatre was destroyed after the barbaric invasion and it was rebuilt in the first half of the 1900s. The theatre was opened in 1957, and today it is the center of social and cultural activities. Acoustic measurements were carried out according to ISO 3382 standard, placing an omnidirectional sound source on the scene building and in the orchestra, with the measurement microphones along three directions in the cavea. The acoustic characteristics in various seating areas of the cavea were evaluated. Therefore, it possible to understand in which sectors of the theatre the acoustic characteristics are optimal for different types of theatrical performances.

The famous acoustics of ancient Greek theatres rely on a successful combination of appropriate location and architectural design. The theatres of the ancient world effectively combine two contradictory requirements: large audience capacity and excellent aural and visual comfort. Despite serious alterations resulting from either Roman modifications or accumulated damage, most of these theatres are still theatrically and acoustically functional. Acoustic research has proven that ancient theatres are applications of a successful combination of the basic parameters governing the acoustic design of open-air venues: elimination of external noise, harmonious arrangement of the audience around the performing space, geometric functions among the various parts of the theatre, reinforcement of the direct sound through positive sound reflections, and suppression of the delayed sound reflections or reverberation. Specifically, regarding the acoustic contribution of the stage building, it is important to clarify the consecutive modifications of the skene in the various types of theatres, given the fact that stage buildings were almost destroyed in most ancient Greek theatres. This paper attempts to demonstrate the positive role of the scenery in contemporary performances of ancient drama to improve the acoustic comfort using data from a sample of twenty (20) ancient theatres in Greece.

The article reveals and highlights the methods of adaptation of castles for cultural and tourist complexes. Examples from the practice of adapting European castles, in particular for cultural and tourist complexes, are analyzed. The main methods of adaptation of castles, identified as a result of research, after the necessary conservation and restoration of buildings are the following: museification, theatrical performance, mythologizing, adaptation to modern needs. Additional methods of revitalization, in particular the activation of cultural and tourist functions should be: the creation of a hotel on or near the complex, cafes and restaurants, arrangement of a system of paths, stairs and observation decks, ordering and ensuring the transformability of prefabricated structures for festivals, use of lighting installations and projections on the facades of castles, it is also important to place souvenir and grocery stores, parking spaces. Based on this experience, NSAU “Competition for the best design proposal for the restoration of the adaptation to the cultural and artistic center of the architectural monument of national importance - the castle of the XV - XVII centuries. (oh.№481) in the village. Svirzh, Lviv district, Lviv region ”the authors of the article developed a project to adapt the castle in Svirzh, Lviv region. Thus, analytical research and systematization of European experience are introduced into the real adaptation of the castle and its integration into the cultural life of the region.

The study The Shakespeares of Jozef Ciller tackles the Renaissance manner of the expression in the topic defined by its title using historical and comparative analyses. The author of the study analysed the way the scenographer projected general attributes of the European Renaissance (visual art, architecture) into specific theatre productions based on the remaining archive material (stage designs, production photographs, video recordings, production reviews and similar) and personal communication with Jozef Ciller. The analyses also contain the identification of the transfer of the architecture and the scenography of the Elizabethan theatre Renaissance. Another line thanks to which the scenography for Shakespeare has been traced is the analyses of the Renaissance elements according to the location of the scenography – whether it was aiming for interior or exterior space. The scenography of Jozef Ciller elaborates on characteristics of renaissance exterior and interior architecture or creates, by its means, a new theatrical reality. Even the original dramatic reality often works with motives of plays in the renaissance Elizabethan style: the space of the stage and the auditorium is united through an active display for the actors and their presentation. Such approach is typical for Ciller’s scenography in general, not just for Shakespeare’s plays. The result of the study is the that Ciller uses Renaissance (theatrical and nontheatrical) elements as motives while retaining the awareness of the Renaissance spirit and greatness of human beings.

IntroductionThe European will to modify the natural world emerged through English landscape design during the eighteenth century. Released from the neo-classical aesthetic dichotomy of the beautiful and the ugly, new categories of the picturesque and the sublime gestured towards an affective relationship to nature. Europeans began to see the world as a picture, the elements of which were composed as though part of a theatrical scene. Quite literally, as I shall discuss below, gardens were “composed with ‘pantomimic’ elements – ruins of castles and towers, rough hewn bridges, Chinese pagodas and their like” (McGillivray 134–35) transforming natural vistas into theatrical scenes. Such a transformation was made possible by a habit of spectating that was informed by the theatrical metaphor or theatrum mundi, one version of which emphasised the relationship between spectator and the thing seen. The idea of the natural world as an aesthetic object first developed in poetry and painting and then through English landscape garden style was wrought in three dimensions on the land itself. From representations of place a theatrical transformation occurred so that gardens became a places of representation.“The Genius of the Place in All”The eighteenth century inherited theatrum mundi from the Renaissance, although the genealogy of its key features date back to ancient times. Broadly speaking, theatrum mundi was a metaphorical expression of the world and humanity in two ways: dramaturgically and formally. During the Renaissance the dramaturgical metaphor was a moral emblem concerned with the contingency of human life; as Shakespeare famously wrote, “men and women [were] merely players” whose lives consisted of “seven ages” or “acts” (2.7.139–65). In contrast to the dramaturgical metaphor with its emphasis on role-playing humanity, the formalist version highlighted a relationship between spectator, theatre-space and spectacle. Rooted in Renaissance neo-Platonism, the formalist metaphor configured the world as a spectacle and “Man” its spectator. If the dramaturgical metaphor was inflected with medieval moral pessimism, the formalist metaphor was more optimistic.The neo-Platonist spectator searched in the world for a divine plan or grand design and spectatorship became an epistemological challenge. As a seer and a knower on the world stage, the human being became the one who thought about the world not just as a theatre but also through theatre. This is apparent in the etymology of “theatre” from the Greek theatron, or “seeing place,” but the word also shares a stem with “theory”: theaomai or “to look at.” In a graceful compression of both roots, Martin Heidegger suggests a “theatre” might be any “seeing place” in which any thing being beheld offers itself to careful scrutiny by the beholder (163–65). By the eighteenth century, the ancient idea of a seeing-knowing place coalesced with the new empirical method and aesthetic sensibility: the world was out there, so to speak, to provide pleasure and instruction.Joseph Addison, among others, in the first half of the century reconsidered the utilitarian appeal of the natural world and proposed it as the model for artistic inspiration and appreciation. In “Pleasures of the Imagination,” a series of essays in The Spectator published in 1712, Addison claimed that “there is something more bold and masterly in the rough careless strokes of nature, than in the nice touches and embellishments of art,” and compared to the beauty of an ordered garden, “the sight wanders up and down without confinement” the “wide fields of nature” and is “fed with an infinite variety of images, without any certain stint or number” (67).Yet art still had a role because, Addison argues, although “wild scenes [. . .] are more delightful than any artificial shows” the pleasure of nature increases the more it begins to resemble art; the mind experiences the “double” pleasure of comparing nature’s original beauty with its copy (68). This is why “we take delight in a prospect which is well laid out, and diversified, with fields and meadows, woods and rivers” (68); a carefully designed estate can be both profitable and beautiful and “a man might make a pretty landskip of his own possessions” (69). Although nature should always be one’s guide, nonetheless, with some small “improvements” it was possible to transform an estate into a landscape picture. Nearly twenty years later in response to the neo-Palladian architectural ambitions of Richard Boyle, the third Earl of Burlington, and with a similarly pictorial eye to nature, Alexander Pope advised:To build, to plant, whatever you intend,To rear the Column, or the Arch to bend,To swell the Terras, or to sink the Grot;In all, let Nature never be forgot.But treat the Goddess like a modest fair,Nor over-dress, nor leave her wholly bare;Let not each beauty ev’ry where be spy’d,Where half the skill is decently to hide.He gains all points, who pleasingly confounds,Surprizes, varies, and conceals the Bounds.Consult the Genius of the Place in all;That tells the Waters or to rise, or fall,Or helps th’ ambitious Hill the heav’ns to scale,Or scoops in circling theatres the Vale,Calls in the Country, catches opening glades, Joins willing woods, and varies shades from shades,Now breaks or now directs, th’ intending Lines;Paints as you plant, and, as you work, designs. (Epistle IV, ll 47–64) Whereas Addison still gestured towards estate management, Pope explicitly advocated a painterly approach to garden design. His epistle articulated some key principles that he enacted in his own garden at Twickenham and which would inform later garden design. No matter what one added to a landscape, one needed to be guided by nature; one should be moderate in one’s designs and neither plant too much nor too little; one must be aware of the spectator’s journey through the garden and take care to provide variety by creating “surprises” that would be revealed at different points. Finally, one had to find the “spirit” of the place that gave it its distinct character and use this to create the cohesion in diversity that was aspired to in a garden. Nature’s aestheticisation had begun with poetry, developed into painting, and was now enacted on actual natural environments with the emergence of English landscape style. This painterly approach to gardening demanded an imaginative, emotional, and intellectual engagement with place and it stylistically rejected the neo-classical geometry and regularity of the baroque garden (exemplified by Le Nôtre’s gardens at Versailles). Experiencing landscape now took on a third dimension as wealthy landowners and their friends put themselves within the picture frame and into the scene. Although landscape style changed during the century, a number of principles remained more or less consistent: the garden should be modelled on nature but “improved,” any improvements should not be obvious, pictorial composition should be observed, the garden should be concerned with the spectator’s experience and should aim to provoke an imaginative or emotional engagement with it. During the seventeenth century, developments in theatrical technology, particularly the emergence of the proscenium arch theatre with moveable scenery, showed that poetry and painting could be spectacularly combined on the stage. Later in the eighteenth century the artist and stage designer Philippe Jacques de Loutherbourg combined picturesque painting aesthetics with theatrical design in works such as The Wonders of Derbyshire in 1779 (McGillivray 136). It was a short step to shift the onstage scene outside. Theatricality was invoked when pictorial principles were applied three dimensionally; gardens became sites for pastoral genre scenes that ambiguously positioned their visitors both as spectators and actors. Theatrical SceneryGardens and theatres were explicitly connected. Like “theatre,” the word “garden” was sometimes used to describe a collection, in book form, which promised “a whole world of items” which was not always “redeemable” in “straightforward ways” (Hunt, Gardens 54–55). Theatrum mundi could be emblematically expressed in a garden through statues and architectural fabriques which drew spectators into complex chains of associations involving literature, art, and society, as they progressed through it.In the previous century, writes John Dixon Hunt, “the expectation of a fine garden [. . .] was that it work upon its visitor, involving him [sic] often insidiously as a participant in its dramas, which were presented to him as he explored its spaces by a variety of statues, inscriptions and [. . .] hydraulically controlled automata” (Gardens 54). Such devices, which featured heavily in the Italian baroque garden, were by the mid eighteenth century seen by English and French garden theorists to be overly contrived. Nonetheless, as David Marshall argues, “eighteenth-century garden design is famous for its excesses [. . .] the picturesque garden may have aimed to be less theatrical, but it aimed no less to be theater” (38). Such gardens still required their visitors’ participation and were designed to deliver an experience that stimulated the spectators’ imaginations and emotions as they moved through them. Theatrum mundi is implicit in eighteenth-century gardens through a common idea of the world reimagined into four geographical quadrants emblematically represented by fabriques in the garden. The model here is Alexander Pope’s influential poem, “The Temple of Fame” (1715), which depicted the eponymous temple with four different geographic faces: its western face was represented by western classical architecture, its east face by Chinese, Persian, and Assyrian, its north was Gothic and Celtic, and its south, Egyptian. These tropes make their appearance in eighteenth-century landscape gardens. In Désert de Retz, a garden created between 1774 and 1789 by François Racine de Monville, about twenty kilometres west of Paris, one can still see amongst its remaining fabriques: a ruined “gothic” church, a “Tartar” tent (it used to have a Chinese maison, now lost), a pyramid, and the classically inspired Temple of Pan. Similar principles underpin the design of Jardin (now Parc) Monceau that I discuss below. Retz: Figure 1. Tartar tent.Figure 2. Temple of PanStowe Gardens in Buckinghamshire has a similar array of structures (although the classical predominates) including its original Chinese pavillion. It, too, once featured a pyramid designed by the architect and playwright John Vanbrugh, and erected as a memorial to him after his death in 1726. On it was carved a quote from Horace that explicitly referenced the dramaturgical version of theatrum mundi: You have played, eaten enough and drunk enough,Now is time to leave the stage for younger men. (Garnett 19) Stowe’s Elysian Fields, designed by William Kent in the 1730s according to picturesque principles, offered its visitor two narrative choices, to take the Path of Virtue or the Path of Vice, just like a re-imagined morality play. As visitors progressed along their chosen paths they would encounter various fabriques and statues, some carved with inscriptions in either Latin or English, like the Vanbrugh pyramid, that would encourage associations between the ancient world and the contemporary world of the garden’s owner Richard Temple, Lord Cobham, and his circle. Stowe: Figure 3. Chinese Pavillion.Figure 4. Temple of VirtueKent’s background was as a painter and scene designer and he brought a theatrical sensibility to his designs; as Hunt writes, Kent particularly enjoyed designing “recessions into woodland space where ‘wings’ [were] created” (Picturesque 29). Importantly, Kent’s garden drawings reveal his awareness of gardens as “theatrical scenes for human action and interaction, where the premium is upon more personal experiences” and it this spatial dimension that was opened up at Stowe (Picturesque 30).Picturesque garden design emphasised pictorial composition that was similar to stage design and because a garden, like a stage, was a three-dimensional place for human action, it could also function as a set for that action. Unlike a painting, a garden was experiential and time-based and a visitor to it had an experience not unlike, to cautiously use an anachronism, a contemporary promenade performance. The habit of imaginatively wandering through a theatre in book-form, moving associatively from one item to the next, trying to discern the author’s pattern or structure, was one educated Europeans were used to, and a garden provided an embodied dimension to this activity. We can see how this might have been by visiting Parc Monceau in Paris which still contains remnants of the garden designed by Louis Carrogis (known as Carmontelle) for the Duc de Chartres in the 1770s. Carmontelle, like Kent, had a theatrical background and his primary role was as head of entertainments for the Orléans family; as such he was responsible for designing and writing plays for the family’s private theatricals (Hays 449). According to Hunt, Carmontelle intended visitors to Jardin de Monceau to take a specific itinerary through its “quantity of curious things”:Visitors entered by a Chinese gateway, next door to a gothic building that served as a chemical laboratory, and passed through greenhouses and coloured pavilions. Upon pressing a button, a mirrored wall opened into a winter garden painted with trompe-l’œil trees, floored with red sand, filled with exotic plants, and containing at its far end a grotto in which supper parties were held while music was played in the chamber above. Outside was a farm. Then there followed a series of exotic “locations”: a Temple of Mars, a winding river with an island of rocks and a Dutch mill, a dairy, two flower gardens, a Turkish tent poised, minaret-like, above an icehouse, a grove of tombs [. . .], and an Italian vineyard with a classical Bacchus at its center, regularly laid out to contrast with an irregular wood that succeeded it. The final stretches of the itinerary included a Naumachia or Roman water-theatre [. . .], more Turkish and Chinese effects, a ruined castle, yet another water-mill, and an island on which sheep grazed. (Picturesque 121) Monceau: Figure 5. Naumachia.Figure 6. PyramidIn its presentation of a multitude of different times and different places one can trace a line of descent from Jardin de Monceau to the great nineteenth-century World Expos and on to Disneyland. This lineage is not as trite as it seems once we realise that Carmontelle himself intended the garden to represent “all times and all places” and Pope’s four quadrants of the world were represented by fabriques at Monceau (Picturesque 121). As Jardin de Monceau reveals, gardens were also sites for smaller performative interventions such as the popular fêtes champêtres, garden parties in which the participants ate, drank, danced, played music, and acted in comedies. Role playing and masquerade were an important part of the fêtes as we see, for example, in Jean-Antoine Watteau’s Fêtes Vénitiennes (1718–19) where a “Moorishly” attired man addresses (or is dancing with) a young woman before an audience of young men and women, lolling around a fabrique (Watteau). Scenic design in the theatre inspired garden designs and gardens “featured prominently as dramatic locations in intermezzi, operas, and plays”, an exchange that encouraged visitors to gardens to see themselves as performers as much as spectators (Hunt, Gardens 64). A garden, particularly within the liminal aegis of a fête was a site for deceptions, tricks, ruses and revelations, assignations and seductions, all activities which were inherently theatrical; in such a garden visitors could find themselves acting in or watching a comedy or drama of their own devising. Marie-Antoinette built English gardens and a rural “hamlet” at Versailles. She and her intimate circle would retire to rustic cottages, which belied the opulence of their interiors, and dressed in white muslin dresses and straw hats, would play at being dairy maids, milking cows (pre-cleaned by the servants) into fine porcelain buckets (Martin 3). Just as the queen acted in pastoral operas in her theatre in the grounds of the Petit Trianon, her hamlet provided an opportunity for her to “live” a pastoral fantasy. Similarly, François Racine de Monville, who commissioned Désert de Retz, was a talented harpist and flautist and his Temple of Pan was, appropriately, a music room.Versailles: Figure 7. Hamlet ConclusionRichard Steele, Addison’s friend and co-founder of The Spectator, casually invoked theatrum mundi when he wrote in 1720: “the World and the Stage [. . .] have been ten thousand times observed to be the Pictures of one another” (51). Steele’s reiteration of a Renaissance commonplace revealed a different emphasis, an emphasis on the metaphor’s spatial and spectacular elements. Although Steele reasserts the idea that the world and stage resemble each other, he does so through a third level of abstraction: it is as pictures that they have an affinity. World and stage are both positioned for the observer within complementary picture frames and it is as pictures that he or she is invited to make sense of them. The formalist version of theatrum mundi invokes a spectator beholding the world for his (usually!) pleasure and in the process nature itself is transformed. No longer were natural landscapes wildernesses to be tamed and economically exploited, but could become gardens rendered into scenes for their aristocratic owners’ pleasure. Désert de Retz, as its name suggests, was an artfully composed wilderness, a version of the natural world sculpted into scenery. Theatrum mundi, through the aesthetic category of the picturesque, emerged in English landscape style and effected a theatricalised transformation of nature that was enacted in the aristocratic gardens of Europe.ReferencesAddison, Joseph. The Spectator. No. 414 (25 June 1712): 67–70. Eighteenth Century Collections Online.Garnett, Oliver. Stowe. Buckinghamshire. The National Trust, 2011.Hays, David. “Carmontelle's Design for the Jardin de Monceau: A Freemasonic Garden in Late-Eighteenth-Century France.” Eighteenth-Century Studies 32.4 (1999): 447–62.Heidegger, Martin. The Question Concerning Technology and Other Essays. Trans. William Lovitt. New York: Harper and Row, 1977.Hunt, John Dixon. Gardens and the Picturesque: Studies in the History of Landscape Architecture. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press, 1992.———. The Picturesque Garden in Europe. London: Thames and Hudson, 2002.Marshall, David. The Frame of Art. Fictions of Aesthetic Experience, 1750–1815. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 2005.Martin, Meredith S. Dairy Queens: The Politics of Pastoral Architecture from Catherine de' Medici to Marie-Antoinette. Harvard: Harvard UP, 2011.McGillivray, Glen. "The Picturesque World Stage." Performance Research 13.4 (2008): 127–39.Pope, Alexander. “Epistle IV. To Richard Boyle, Earl of Burlington.” Epistles to Several Persons. London, 1744. Eighteenth Century Collections Online.———. The Temple of Fame: A Vision. By Mr. Pope. 2nd ed. London, 1715. Eighteenth Century Collections Online. Shakespeare, William. As You Like It. Ed. Agnes Latham. London: Routledge, 1991.Steele, Richard. The Theatre. No. 7 (23 January 1720).

IntroductionIn this article, I discuss the potential of sound to construct fictional spaces and build relations between bodies using two performance installations as case studies. The first is Invisible Flock’s 105+dB, a site-specific sound work which transports crowd recordings of a soccer match to alternative geographical locations. The second is Atelier Bildraum’s Bildraum, an installation performance using live photography, architectural models, and ambient sound. By writing through these two works, I question how sound builds relations between bodies and across space as well as questioning the role of site within sound installation works. The potential for sound to create shared space and foster relationships between bodies, objects, and the surrounding environment is evident in recent contemporary art exhibitions. For MOMA’s Soundings: A Contemporary Score, curator Barbara London, sought to create a series of “tuned environments” rather than use headphones, emphasising the potential of sound works to envelop the gallery goer. Similarly, Sam Belinafante’s Listening, aimed to capture a sense of how sound can influence attention by choreographing the visitors’ experience towards the artworks. By using motorised technology to stagger each installation, gallery goers were led by their ears. Both London’s and Belinafante’s curatorial approaches highlight the current awareness and interest in aural space and its influence on bodies, an area I aim to contribute to with this article.Audio-based performance works consisting of narration or instructions received through headphones feature as a dominant trend within the field of theatre and performance studies. Well-known examples from the past decade include: Janet Cardiff’s The Missing Case Study B; Graeme Miller’s Linked; and Lavinia Greenlaw’s Audio Obscura. The use of sound in these works offers several possibilities: the layering of fiction onto site, the intensification, or contradiction of existing atmospheres and, in most cases, the direction of audience attention. Misha Myers uses the term ‘percipient’ to articulate this mode of engagement that relies on the active attendance of the participant to their surroundings. She states that it is the participant “whose active, embodied and sensorial engagement alters and determines [an artistic] process and its outcomes” (172-23). Indeed, audio-based works provide invaluable ways of considering how the body of the audience member might be engaged, raising important issues in relation to sound, embodiment and presence. Yet the question remains, outside of individual acoustic environments, how does sound build physical relations between bodies and across space? Within sound studies the World Soundscape Project, founded in the 1970s by R. Murray Schafer, documents the acoustic properties of cities, nature, technology and work. Collaborations between sound engineers and musicians indicated the musicality inherent in the world encouraging attunement to the acoustic characteristics of our environment. Gernot Böhme indicates the importance of personal and emotional impressions of space, experienced as atmosphere. Atmosphere, rather than being an accumulation of individual acoustic characteristics, is a total experience. In relation to sound, sensitivity to this mode of engagement is understood as a need to shift from hearing in “an instrumental sense—hearing something—into a way of taking part in the world” (221). Böhme highlights the importance of the less tangible, emotional consistency of our surrounding environment. Brandon Labelle further indicates the social potential of sound by foregrounding the emotional and psychological charges which support “event-architecture, participatory productions, and related performative aspects of space” (Acoustic Spatiality 2) these, Labelle claims enable sound to catalyse both the material world and our imaginations. Sound as felt experience and the emotional construction of space form the key focus here. Within architectural discourse, both Juhani Pallasmaa and Peter Zumthor point to atmospheric nuances and flows of energy which can cause events to furnish the more rigid physical constructs we exist between, influencing spatial quality. However, it is sensorial experience Jean-Paul Thibaud claims, including attention to light, sound, smell and texture that informs much of how we situate ourselves, contributing to the way we imaginatively construct the world we inhabit, even if only of temporary duration. To expand on this, Thibaud locates the sensorial appreciation of site between “the lived experience of people as well as the built environment of the place” (Three Dynamics 37) hinting at the presence of energetic flows. Such insights into how relations are built between bodies and objects inform the approach taken in this article, as I focus on sensorial modes of engagement to write through my own experience as listener-spectator. George Home-Cook uses the term listener-spectator to describe “an ongoing, intersensorial bodily engagement with the affordances of the theatrical environment” (147) and a mode of attending that privileges phenomenal engagement. Here, I occupy the position of the listener-spectator to attend to two installations, Invisible Flock’s 105+dB and Atelier Bildraum’s Bildraum. The first is a large-scale sound installation produced for Hull UK city of culture, 2017. The piece uses audio recordings from 16 shotgun microphones positioned at the periphery of Hull City’s soccer pitch during a match on 28 November 2016. The piece relocates the recordings in public space, replaying a twenty-minute edited version through 36 speakers. The second, Bildraum, is an installation performance consisting of photographer Charlotte Bouckaert, architect Steve Salembier with sound by Duncan Speakman. The piece, with a running time of 40-minutes uses architectural models, live photography, sound and lighting to explore narrative, memory, and space. In writing through these two case studies, I aim to emphasise sensorial engagement. To do so I recognise, as Salomé Voegelin does, the limits of critical discourse to account for relations built through sound. Voegelin indicates the rift critical discourse creates between what is described and its description. In her own writing, Voegelin attempts to counteract this by using the subjective “I” to foreground the experience of a sound work as a writer-listener. Similarly, here I foreground my position as a listener-spectator and aim to evidence the criticality within the work by writing through my experience of attending thereby bringing out mood, texture, atmosphere to foreground how relations are built across space and between bodies.105+dB Invisible Flock January 2017, I arrive in Hull for Invisible Flock’s 105+dB programmed as part of Made in Hull, a series of cultural activities happening across the city. The piece takes place in Zebedee’s Yard, a pedestrianised area located between Princes Dock Street and Whitefriargate in the grounds of the former Trinity House School. From several streets, I can already hear a crowd. Sound, porous in its very nature, flows through the city expanding beyond its immediate geography bringing the notion of a fictional event into being. I look in pub windows to see which teams are playing, yet the visual clues defy what my ears tell me. Listening, as Labelle suggests is relational, it brings us into proximity with nearby occurrences, bodies and objects. Sound and in turn listening, by both an intended and unsuspecting public, lures bodies into proximity aurally bound by the promise of an event. The use of sound, combined with the physical sensation implied by the surrounding architecture serves to construct us as a group of attendees to a soccer match. This is evident as I continue my approach, passing through an archway with cobbled stones underfoot. The narrow entrance rapidly fills up with bodies and objects; push chairs, wheelchairs, umbrellas, and thick winter coats bringing us into close physical contact with one another. Individuals are reduced to a sea of heads bobbing towards the bright stadium lights now visible in the distance. The title 105+dB, refers to the volume at which the sound of an individual voice is lost amongst a crowd, accordingly my experience of being at the site of the piece further echoes this theme. The physical structure of the archway combined with the volume of bodies contributes to what Pallasmaa describes as “atmospheric perception” (231), a mode of attending to experience that engages all the senses as well as time, memory and imagination. Sound here contributes to the atmosphere provoking a shift in my listening. The importance of the listener-spectator experience is underscored by the absence of architectural structures habitually found in stadiums. The piece is staged using the bare minimum: four metal scaffolding structures on each side of the Yard support stadium lights and a high-visibility clad figure patrols the periphery. These trappings serve to evoke an essence of the original site of the recordings, the rest is furnished by the audio track played through 36 speakers situated at intervals around the space as well as the movement of other bodies. As Böhme notes: “Space is genuinely experienced by being in it, through physical presence” (179) similarly, here, it is necessary to be in the space, aurally immersed in sound and in physical proximity to other bodies moving across the Yard. Image 1: The piece is staged using the bare minimum, the rest is furnished by the audio track and movement of bodies. Image courtesy of the artists.The absence of visual clues draws attention to the importance of presence and mood, as Böhme claims: “By feeling our own presence, we feel the space in which we are present” (179). Listening-spectators actively contribute to the event-architecture as physical sensations build and are tangibly felt amongst those present, influenced by the dramaturgical structure of the audio recording. Sounds of jeering, applause and the referees’ whistle combine with occasional chants such as “come on city, come on city” marking a shared rhythm. Specific moments, such as the sound of a leather ball hitting a foot creates a sense of expectation amongst the crowd, and disappointed “ohhs” make a near-miss audibly palpable. Yet, more important than a singular sound event is the sustained sensation of being in a situation, a distinction Pallasmaa makes, foregrounding the “ephemeral and dynamic experiential fields” (235) offered by music, an argument I wish to consider in relation to this sound installation.The detail of the recording makes it possible to imagine, and almost accurately chart, the movement of the ball around the pitch. A “yeah” erupts, making it acoustically evident that a goal is scored as the sound of elation erupts through the speakers. In turn, this sensation much like Thibaud’s concept of intercorporeality, spreads amongst the bodies of the listening-spectators who fist bump, smile, clap, jeer and jump about sharing and occupying Zebedee’s Yard with physical manifestations of triumph. Through sound comes an invitation to be both physically and emotionally in the space, indicating the potential to understand, as Pallasmaa suggests, how “spaces and true architectural experiences are verbs” (231). By physically engaging with the peaks and troughs of the game, a temporary community of sorts forms. After twenty minutes, the main lights dim creating an amber glow in the space, sound is reduced to shuffling noises as the stadium fills up, or empties out (it is impossible to tell). Accordingly, Zebedee’s Yard also begins to empty. It is unclear if I am listening to the sounds in the space around me, or those on the recording as they overlap. People turn to leave, or stand and shuffle evidencing an attitude of receptiveness towards their surrounding environment and underscoring what Thibaud describes as “tuned ambiance” where a resemblance emerges “between what is felt and what is produced” (Three Dynamics 44). The piece, by replaying the crowd sounds of a soccer match across the space of Zebedee’s Yard, stages atmospheric perception. In the absence of further architectural structures, it is the sound of the crowd in the stadium and in turn an attention to our hearing and physical presence that constitutes the event. Bildraum Atelier BildraumAugust 2016, I am in Edinburgh to see Bildraum. The German word “bildraum” roughly translates as image room, and specifically relates to the part of the camera where the image is constructed. Bouckaert takes high definition images live onstage that project immediately onto the screen at the back of the space. The audience see the architectural model, the taking of the photograph, the projected image and hear both pre-recorded ambient sounds by Speakman, and live music played by Salembier generating the sensation that they are inhabiting a bildraum. Here I explore how both sound and image projection can encourage the listener-spectator to construct multiple narratives of possible events and engage their spatial imagination. Image 2: The audience see the architectural model, the taking of the photograph, the projected image and hear both live and pre-recorded sounds. Image courtesy of the artists.In Bildraum, the combination of elements (photographic, acoustic, architectural) serve to create provocative scenes which (quite literally) build multiple spaces for potential narratives. As Bouckaert asserts, “when we speak with people after the performance, they all have a different story”. The piece always begins with a scale model of the actual space. It then evolves to show other spaces such as a ‘social’ scene located in a restaurant, a ‘relaxation’ scene featuring sun loungers, an oversize palm tree and a pool as well as a ‘domestic’ scene with a staircase to another room. The use of architectural models makes the spaces presented appear as homogenous, neutral containers yet layers of sound including footsteps, people chatting, doors opening and closing, objects dropping, and an eerie soundscape serve to expand and incite the construction of imaginative possibilities. In relation to spatial imagination, Pallasmaa discusses the novel and our ability, when reading, to build all the settings of the story, as though they already existed in pre-formed realities. These imagined scenes are not experienced in two dimensions, as pictures, but in three dimensions and include both atmosphere and a sense of spatiality (239). Here, the clean, slick lines of the rooms, devoid of colour and personal clutter become personalised, yet also troubled through the sounds and shadows which appear in the photographs, adding ambiance and serving to highlight the pluralisation of space. As the piece progresses, these neat lines suffer disruption giving insight into the relations between bodies and across space. As Martin Heidegger notes, space and our occupation of space are not mutually exclusive but intertwined. Pallasmaa further reminds us that when we enter a space, space enters us and the experience is a reciprocal exchange and fusion of both subject and object (232).One image shows a table with several chairs neatly arranged around the outside. The distance between the chairs and the table is sufficient to imagine the presence of several bodies. The first image, though visually devoid of any living presence is layered with chattering sounds suggesting the presence of bodies. In the following image, the chairs have shifted position and there is a light haze, I envisage familiar social scenes where conversations with friends last long into the night. In the next image, one chair appears on top of the table, another lies tilted on the floor with raucous noise to accompany the image. Despite the absence of bodies, the minimal audio-visual provocations activate my spatial imagination and serve to suggest a correlation between physical behaviour and ambiance in everyday settings. As discussed in the previous paragraph, this highlights how space is far from a disinterested, or separate container for physical relations, rather, it underscores how social energy, sound and mood can build a dynamic presence within the built environment, one that is not in isolation but indeed in dialogue with surrounding structures. In a further scene, the seemingly fixed, stable nature of the models undergoes a sudden influx of materials as a barrage of tiny polystyrene balls appears. The image, combined with the sound suggests a large-scale disaster, or freak weather incident. The ambiguity created by the combination of sound and image indicates a hidden mobility beneath what is seen. Sound here does not announce the presence of an object, or indicate the taking place of a specific event, instead it acts as an invitation, as Voegelin notes, “not to confirm and preserve actuality but to explore possibilities” (Sonic 13). The use of sound which accompanies the image helps to underscore an exchange between the material and immaterial elements occurring within everyday life, leaving a gap for the listener-spectator to build their own narrative whilst also indicating further on goings in the depth of the visual. Image 3: The minimal audio-visual provocations serve to activate my spatial imagination. Image courtesy of the artists.The piece advances at a slow pace as each model is adjusted while lighting and objects are arranged. The previous image lingers on the projector screen, animated by the sound track which uses simple but evocative chords. This lulls me into an attentive, almost meditative state as I tune into and construct my own memories prompted by the spaces shown. The pace and rhythm that this establishes in Summerhall’s Old Lab creates a productive imaginative space. Böhme argues that atmosphere is a combination of both subjective and objective perceptions of space (16). Here, stimulated by the shifting arrangements Bouckaert and Salembier propose, I create short-lived geographies charting my lived experience and memories across a plurality of possible environments. As listener-spectator I am individually implicated as the producer of a series of invisible maps. The invitation to engage with the process of the work over 40-minutes as the building and dismantling of models and objects takes place draws attention to the sensorial flows and what Voegelin denotes as a “semantic materiality” (Sonic 53), one that might penetrate our sensibility and accompany us beyond the immediate timeframe of the work itself. The timeframe and rhythm of the piece encourages me, as listener-spectator to focus on the ambient sound track, not just as sound, but to consider the material realities of the here and now, to attend to vibrational milieus which operate beyond the surface of the visible. In doing so, I become aware of constructed actualities and of sound as a medium to get me beyond what is merely presented. ConclusionThe dynamic experiential potential of sound installations discussed from the perspective of a listener-spectator indicate how emotion is a key composite of spatial construction. Beyond the closed acoustic environments of audio-based performance works, aural space, physical proximity, and the importance of ambiance are foregrounded. Such intangible, ephemeral experiences can benefit from a writing practice that attends to these aesthetic concerns. By writing through both case studies from the position of listener-spectator, my lived experience of each work, manifested through attention to sensorial experience, have indicated how relations are built between bodies and across space. In Invisible Flock´s 105+dB sound featured as a social material binding listener-spectators to each other and catalysing a fictional relation to space. Here, sound formed temporal communities bringing bodies into contact to share in constructing and further shaping the parameters of a fictional event.In Atelier Bildraum’s Bildraum the construction of architectural models combined with ambient and live sound indicated a depth of engagement to the visual, one not confined to how things might appear on the surface. The seemingly given, stable nature of familiar environments can be questioned hinting at the presence of further layers within the vibrational or atmospheric properties operating across space that might bring new or alternative realities to the forefront.In both, the correlation between the environment and emotional impressions of bodies that occupy it emerged as key in underscoring and engaging in a dialogue between ambiance and lived experience.ReferencesBildraum, Atelier. Bildraum. Old Lab, Summer Hall, Edinburgh. 18 Aug. 2016.Böhme, Gernot, and Jean-Paul Thibaud (eds.). The Aesthetics of Atmospheres. New York: Routledge, 2017.Cardiff, Janet. The Missing Case Study B. Art Angel, 1999.Home-Cook, George. Theatre and Aural Attention. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015.Greenlaw, Lavinia. Audio Obscura. 2011.Bouckaert, Charlotte, and Steve Salembier. Bildraum. Brussels. 8 Oct. 2014. 18 Jan. 2017 <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eueeAaIuMo0>.Daemen, Merel. “Steve Salembier & Charlotte Bouckaert.” 1 Jul. 2015. 18 Jan. 2017 <http://thissurroundingusall.com/post/122886489993/steve-salembier-charlotte-bouckaert-an-architect>. Haydon, Andrew. “Bildraum – Summerhall, Edinburgh.” Postcards from the Gods 20 Aug. 2016. 18 Jan. 2017 <http://postcardsgods.blogspot.co.uk/2016/08/bildraum-summerhall-edinburgh.html>. Heidegger, Martin. “Building, Dwelling, Thinking.” Basic Writings. Ed. David Farrell Krell. Oxford: Routledge, 1978. 239-57.Hutchins, Roy. 27 Aug. 2016. 18 Jan. 2017 <http://fringereview.co.uk/review/edinburgh-fringe/2016/bildraum/>.Invisible Flock. 105+dB. Zebedee’s Yard, Made in Hull. Hull. 7 Jan. 2017. Labelle, Brandon. “Acoustic Spatiality.” SIC – Journal of Literature, Culture and Literary Translation (2012). 18 Jan. 2017 <http://hrcak.srce.hr/file/127338>.———. “Other Acoustics” OASE: Immersed - Sound & Architecture 78 (2009): 14-24.———. “Sharing Architecture: Space, Time and the Aesthetics of Pressure.” Journal of Visual Culture 10.2 (2011): 177-89.Miller, Graeme. Linked. 2003.Myers, Misha. “Situations for Living: Performing Emplacement.” Research in Drama Education 13.2 (2008): 171-80.Pallasmaa, Juhani. “Space, Place and Atmosphere. Emotion and Peripheral Perception in Architectural Experience.” Lebenswelt 4.1 (2014): 230-45.Schafer, R. Murray. The Soundscape: Our Sonic Environment and the Tuning of the World. Vermont: Destiny Books, 1994.Schevers, Bas. Bildraum (trailer) by Charlotte Bouckaert and Steve Salembier. Dec. 2014. 18 Jan. 2017 <https://vimeo.com/126676951>.Taylor, N. “Made in Hull Artists: Invisible Flock.” 6 Jan. 2017. 9 Jan. 2017 <https://www.hull2017.co.uk/discover/article/made-hull-artists-invisible-flock/>. Thibaud, Jean-Paul. “The Three Dynamics of Urban Ambiances.” Sites of Sound: of Architecture and the Ear Vol. II. Eds. B. Labelle and C. Martinho. Berlin: Errant Bodies P, 2011. 45-53.———. “Urban Ambiances as Common Ground?” 4.1 (2014): 282-95.Voegelin, Salomé. Listening to Sound and Silence: Toward a Philosophy of Sound Art. New York: Continuum, 2010.———. Sonic Possible Worlds. London: Bloomsbury, 2014.Zumthor, Peter. Thinking Architecture. Basel: Birkhäuser, 1998.———. Atmosphere: Architectural Environments – Surrounding Objects. Basel: Birkhäuser, 2006.

AbstractThe study of contemporary art is one of the main means of implementing aesthetic education in China. This discipline allows a student to develop a system of spiritual values, reveal talents and acquire skills needed for professional growth. Chinese art is an integral part of the global cultural space, and Chinese contemporary art performs the functions of cultural reflection, occupying an important place in developing the state’s cultural identity. In the process of globalization, it is extremely important to study not only Chinese, but also world contemporary art, as well as the peculiarities of its teaching in the educational institutions of the PRC within the framework of the multiculturalism movement. The study objectives are to develop a unique online platform for teaching and learning contemporary art in China, to identify the features of art teacher training, to identify the methods of and trends in teaching contemporary art in the Chinese system of secondary and higher education, as well as to determine the most effective method of teaching contemporary art in China based on the experiment. In the course of the study, a plan and structure of the website containing audio and video materials, graphic editors and a conference system for students and teachers were developed. An innovative classification of the contemporary art movements was made in accordance with the tools and methods of creating art works. The styles of contemporary art were divided into groups: painting, sculpture/architecture, photography, cybernetic art, literature, optical art, theatrical art, mass culture, and hybrid art. The database was compiled by the masters of Art from China and Ireland, which emphasizes the internationality and multiculturalism of the project. An experiment was conducted to determine the level of effectiveness of different methods of teaching contemporary art in China. In the course of the experiment, the Spark platform developed for the study purpose was recognized as the most effective (56.1%). The effectiveness of the active method and passive method of teaching was 27.2% and 16.7%, respectively. The study results can be used in the study of various trends in contemporary art in the process of modernization and within the framework of pedagogical and commercial activities related to the work of exhibitions and galleries. In addition, they can be used to improve the methods of teaching contemporary art online and offline to the broad public audience and improve the professional skills of graphic or UI/UX designers, 3D modeling experts, engineers, editors, and IT developers. The practical significance of the developed online platform lies in the possibility of database use, practical application of the knowledge gained, and taking online lessons with Chinese and foreign teachers as part of a multicultural experience exchange.

IntroductionThe Sydney Opera House is Australia’s, if not the world’s, most recognisable building. It is universally recognised as an architectural icon and as a masterpiece of the built environment, which has captured the imagination of many (Commonwealth of Australia 4). The construction of the Sydney Opera House, between 1959 and 1973, utilised many ground-breaking methods and materials which, together, pushed the boundaries of technical possibilities to the limits of human knowledge at the time (Commonwealth of Australia 36, 45). Typical investigations into the Sydney Opera House focus on its architects, the materials, construction, or the events that occur on its stages. The role of the illumination, in the perception and understanding of Australia’s most famous performing arts centre, is an under-investigated aspect of its construction and its use today (Dwyer Backstage Biography 1; Dwyer “Utzon’s Use” 131).This article examines the illumination of the Sydney Opera House from the perspective of light as a construction material, another element that is used to ‘build’ the structure on Bennelong Point. This article examines the illumination from an historical view as Jørn Utzon’s (1918-2008) concepts for the building, including the lighting design intentions, were not all realised as he did not complete the project. The task of finishing this structure was allocated to the architectural cooperative of Hall, Todd & Littlemore who replaced Utzon in 1966. The Danish-born Utzon was appointed in January 1957 having won an international competition, from a field of over 230 entries, to design a national opera house for Sydney. He quickly began the task of resolving his design, transforming the roughly-sketched concepts presented in his competition entry, into detailed drawings that articulated how the opera house would be realised. The iteration of these concepts can be most succinctly identified in Utzon’s formal design reports to the Opera House Committee which are often referred to based on the colour of their cover design. The first report, the ‘red book’ was issued in 1958 with further developments of the architectural and services designs outlined in the ‘yellow book’ which followed in 1962. The last of the original architects’ publications was the Utzon Design Principles (2002) which was created as part of the reengagement process—between the Government of New South Wales and the Sydney Opera House with the original architect—that commenced in 1999.As with many modern buildings (such as Eero Saarinen’s TWA Flight Center, Richard Meier’s Jubilee Church or Adrian D. Smith’ Burj Khalifa), concrete was selected to form the basic structural element of the Sydney Opera House. Working with the, now internationally-renowned, engineering firm Ove Arup and Partners, Utzon designed some of the most significant shapes and finishes that have become synonymous with the site. The concrete elements range from basic blade walls with lustrous finishes to the complex, shape-changing beams that rise from under the monumental stairs and climb to terminate in the southern foyers. Thus, demonstrating the use of concrete as both a structural element and a high quality architectural finish. Another product used throughout the Sydney Opera House is granite. As a hardwearing stone, it is used in a crushed form as part of the precast panels that line the walls and internal flooring and as setts on the forecourt. As with the concrete the use of the same material inside and out blurs the distinction between interior and exterior. The forecourt forms a wide-open plaza before the building rises like a headland as it meets the harbour. The final, and most recognisable element is that of the shell (or roof) tiles. After many years of research Utzon settled on a simple mix of gloss and matt tiles of approximately 120mm square that, carefully arranged, produced a chevron shaped ‘lid’ and results in an effect likened to snow and ice (Commonwealth of Australia 51).These construction elements would all remain invisible if not illuminated by light, natural or artificial. This paper posits that the illumination reinforces the architecture of the structure and extends the architectural and experiential narratives of the Sydney Opera House across time and space. That, light is—like concrete, granite and tiles—a critical component of the Opera House’s build.Building a Narrative with LightIn creating the Sydney Opera House, Utzon set about harnessing natural and artificial illumination that are intrinsic parts of the human condition. Light shapes every facet of our lives from defining working and leisure hours to providing the mechanism for high speed communications and is, therefore, an obvious choice to reinforce the structure of the building and to link the built environment with the natural world that enveloped his creation. Light was to play a major role in the narrative of the Sydney Opera House starting from a patron’s approach to the site.Utzon’s staged approach to a performance at the Sydney Opera House is well documented, from the opening passages of the Descriptive Narrative (Utzon 1-2) to the Lighting Master Plan (Steensen Varming). The role of artificial light in the preparation of the audience extends beyond the simple visibility necessary to navigate the site. Light provides a linking element that guides an audience member along their ‘journey’ through several phases of transformation from the physicality of the city on the forecourt to “another world–a make believe atmosphere, which will exclude all outside impressions and allow the patrons to be absorbed into the theatre mood, which the actors and the producers wish to create” (Utzon Descriptive Narrative 2) in the theatres. Utzon conceived of light as part of the storytelling process, expressing the building’s narrative in a way that allows illumination is to be so much more than signposts to points of activity such as cloaking areas, theatre entries and the like. The lighting was intended to delineate various stages on the ‘journey’ noted above, to reinforce the transition from one world to another such that the combination of light and architecture would provide a series of successive stimuli that would build until the crescendo of the performance itself. This supports the transition of the visitor from the world of the everyday into the narrative of the Sydney Opera House and a world of make believe. Yet, in providing a narrative between these two ‘worlds’ the lighting becomes an anchor—or an element held in suspension – a mediator in the tension between the city at the beginning of the ‘journey’ and the ‘other world’ of the performance at the end. There is a balance to be maintained between illuminating the Sydney Opera House so that it remains prominent in its harbour location, easily read as a distinct sculptural structure on the peninsular separate from, but still an essential part of, the city that lies beyond Circular Quay to the south. Utzon alludes to the challenges of crafting the illumination so that it meets these requirements, noting that the illumination of the broardwalks “must be compatible with the lighting on the approach roads” (Utzon Descriptive Narrative 68) while maintaining that “the floodlit building will be the first and last impression for [… an audience] to receive” (Utzon Descriptive Narrative 1). These lighting requirements are also tempered by the desire that the “night time [...] view will be all lights and reflections, [that] stretch all along the harbour for many miles” (Utzon Descriptive Narrative 1) reinforcing the use of light as an anchor that provides both a point of reference and serves as a mediator of the Sydney Opera House’s place within the city.The narrative of the materials and elements that are combined to give the final, physical form its striking sensory presence is also told through light, in particular colour. Or, perhaps more precisely in an illumination sense, the accurate reproduction of colour and by extension accurate presentation of the construction materials used in the creation of the Sydney Opera House. Expression of the ‘truth’ in the materials he used was important for Utzon and the faithful representation of details such as the fine grains in timber and the smooth concrete finishes required careful lighting to enhance these features. When extended to the human occupants of the Sydney Opera House, there is a short, yet very descriptive instruction: the lighting is to give “life to the skin and hair on the human form in much the same way as the light from candles” (Utzon Descriptive Narrative 67). Thus, the narrative of the materials and their quality was as important as the final structure and those who would occupy it. It is the role of light to build upon the story of the materials to contribute to the overall narrative of the Sydney Opera House.Building an Experience through IlluminationUtzon envisaged that light would do much more than provide illumination or tell the narrative of the materials he had selected – light was also to build a unique architectural experience for a patron. The experience of light was to be subtle; the architecture was to retain a position of centre stage, reinforced by, rather than ever replaced by, the illumination. In this way, concealed lighting was proposed which would be “designed in close collaboration with the acoustical engineers as they will become an integral part of overall acoustic design” and “installed in carefully selected places based on knowledge gleaned from experimental work” (Utzon Descriptive Narrative 67). Through concealing the light source, the architecture did not become cluttered or over powered by a dazzling array of fixtures and fittings that detracted from the audience’s experiences. For instance, to illuminate the monumental steps, Utzon proposed that the fittings would be recessed into the handrails, while the bar and lounge areas would be lit from discreet fittings installed within the plywood ceiling panels (Utzon Descriptive Narrative 16) to create an experience of light that was unified across the site. In addition to the aesthetical improvements gained from the removal of the light sources from the field of view, unwanted glare is also reduced reinforcing the ‘whole’ of the architectural experience.During the time that Utzon was conceptualising the illumination of the Sydney Opera House, the Major Hall (what is now known as the Concert Hall) was envisaged as what might be considered as a modern multipurpose venue, one that could accommodate among other activities: symphonic concerts; opera; ballet and dance; choral concerts; pageants and mass meetings (NSW Department of Local Government 24). The Concert Hall was the terminus for the ‘journey’—where the actors and audience find themselves in the same space, the ‘other world’—“a make believe atmosphere, which will exclude all outside impressions and allow the patrons to be absorbed into the theatre mood, which the actors and the producers wish to create” (Utzon Descriptive Narrative 2). This other world was to sumptuously explode with rich colours “which uplift you in that festive mood, away from daily life, that you expect when you go to the theatre, a play, an opera or a concert” (Utzon Utzon Design Principles 34). These highly decorated and colourful finishes contrast with the white shells further highlighting the ‘journey’ that has taken place. Utzon proposed to use the illumination to reinforce this distance and provide the link between the natural colours of the raw materials used outside the theatre and highly decorated colours of the performance spaces.The lighting treatment of the theatres extended into the foyers and their public amenities to ensure that the lighting design contributed to the overall enhancement of a patron’s visit and delivered the experience of the ‘journey’ that was envisaged by Utzon (Dwyer “Utzon’s Use” 130-32). This standardised approach was in concert with Utzon’s architectural philosophy where repetitive systems of construction elements were utilised, for instance, in the construction of the shells. Utzon clearly articulated this approach in The Descriptive Narrative, noting that “standard light fittings will be chosen […] to suit each location” (67), however the standardisation would not compromise other considerations of the space such as the acoustical performance, with Utzon noting that the “fittings for auditoria and rehearsal rooms must be of necessity, designed in close collaboration with the acoustical engineers as they will become an integral part of over acoustic design” (Utzon Descriptive Narrative 67). Another parallel between the architectural development of the Sydney Opera House and Utzon’s approach to the lighting concepts was, uncommon at the time, his preference for prototyping and experimentation with lighting effects and various fittings (Utzon Descriptive Narrative 67). A sharp contrast to the usual practices of the day which relied upon more straightforward procurement processes with generic rather than tailored solutions. Peter Hall, of Hall, Todd & Littlemore, discussed the typical method of lighting design which was prevalent during the construction of the Sydney Opera House, as a method which “amounted to the electrical engineers laying out on a plan sufficient off-the-shelf light fittings to achieve the desired illumination levels […] the resulting effects were dull even if brightly lit” (Hall 180). Thus, Utzon’s careful approach to ensure that light and architecture were in harmony as “nothing is introduced into the scheme, before it has been carefully investigated and has proved to be the right solution to the problem” (Utzon Descriptive Narrative 2) was highly innovative for its time.The use of light to provide an experience was not necessarily new, for example RSL Clubs, theme parks and department stores all used light to attract attention to their products and services, however the scale and proposed execution of these concepts was pioneering for Australia in the 1950s and 1960s. Utzon’s concepts provided a highly experiential unified design to provide the patron with a unique architectural experience built through the careful use of light.Building the Scenery with LightArchitecture might be considered set design on a grand scale (for example see Raban, Rasmuseen and Read). Both architects and set designers are concerned with the relationship between the creative designs and the viewers and both set up opportunities for interactions between people (as actors or users) and structure. However, without light, the scene remains literally, in the dark, isolated from its surroundings and unperceetable to an audience.Utzon was acutely aware of the relationship between the Sydney Opera House and the city in which it stands. The positioning of the structure on the site is no accident and the interplay between the ‘sails’ and the sun is perhaps the most recognised lighting feature of the Sydney Opera House. By varying the angle of the shells, the reflections and the effects of the sunlight are constantly varying depending on the viewer’s position and focus. More importantly, these subtle variations in the light enhance the sculptural effect of the direct illumination and help create the effect of “matt snow and shining ice” (Commonwealth of Australia 51): the ‘shimmer of life’ so desired by Utzon as the sunlight strikes the ceramic tiles. This ‘shimmer’ is not the only natural lighting effect. The use of the different angles ensures variation in the light, clouds and resulting shadows to heighten interest and create an ever-changing scene that plays out on the shells as the sun moves across the sky, as Utzon notes, “something new goes on all the time and it is so important–this interplay is so important that together with the sun, the light and the clouds, it makes it a living thing” (Utzon Sydney Opera House 49). This scene is enhanced by the changing quality of the sunlight; the shells appear to be deep amber at first light their shadows long and faint before becoming shorter and stronger as the sun moves towards its midday position with the colour changing slowly to ‘pure’ white before the shadows change sides, the process reverses and they again disappear under the cover of darkness. Although the scene replays daily, the relative location of the sun and changing weather patterns ensure infinite variation in the effect.This changing scene, on a grand scale, with light as the central character is just as important as the theatrical performances taking place indoors on the stages. With a mobile audience, the detailing of the visual scene that is the structure becomes more important. The Sydney Opera House competes for attention with shipping movements in the harbour, the adjacent bridge with the ant-like procession of climbers and the activities of the city to the south. Utzon foresaw this noting that the “position on a peninsular, which is overlooked from all angles makes it important to maintain an all-round elevation. There can be no backsides to the building and nothing can be hidden from the view” (Utzon Descriptive Narrative 1). The use of natural light to enhance the sculptural form and reinforce isolation of the structure on the peninsular, centre stage on the harbour is therefore not a coincidence. Utzon has deliberately harnessed the natural light to ensure that the Sydney Opera House is just as vibrant a performer as its surroundings. In this way, Utzon has used light to anchor the Sydney Opera House both in the city it serves and for the performances it houses.It is not just the natural light that is used as such an anchor point. Utzon planned for artificial lighting of the sails and surrounding site to ensure that after dark the ‘shimmer’ of the white tiles would be maintained with an equivalent, if manufactured, effect. For Utzon, the sculptural qualities of structure were important and should be clearly ‘read’ at night, even against a dark harbour on one side and the brighter city on the other. Through the use of artificial lighting, Utzon set the scene on Bennelong Point with the structure clearly centred in the set that is the Sydney skyline. This reinforced the notion that a journey into the Sydney Opera House was something special, a transition from the everyday to the ‘other’ world.ConclusionFor Utzon light was just as essential as concrete and other building materials for the design of the Sydney Opera House. The traditional bright lights of the stage had no place in the architectural illumination, replaced instead by a much more subtle, understated use of light, and indeed its absence. Utzon planned for the lighting to envelope an audience but not to smother them. Unfortunately, he was unable to complete his project and in 1968 J.M. Waldram was eventually appointed to complete the lighting design. Waldram’s lighting solutions—many of which are still in place today—borrowed or significantly drew upon Utzon’s original illumination concepts, thus demonstrating their strength and timeless qualities. In this way light builds on the story of the structure, reinforcing the architecture of the building and extending the narratives of the construction elements used to build the Sydney Opera House.AcknowledgementsThe author acknowledges the assistance of Rachel Franks for her input on an early draft of this article and thanks the blind peer reviewers for their generous feedback and suggestions, of course any remain errors or omissions are my own. ReferencesCommonwealth of Australia. Sydney Opera House Nomination by the Government of Australia for Inscription on the World Heritage List. Canberra: Commonwealth of Australia, 2006.Cleaver, Jack. Surface and Textured Finishes for Concrete and Their Impact upon the Environment. Sydney: Steel Reinforcement Institute of Australia, 2005.Dwyer, Simon. A Backstage Biography of the Sydney Opera House. Proceedings of the 7th Annual Conference of the Popular Culture Association of Australia and New Zealand (PopCAANZ) 2016: 1-10.———. “Utzon’s Use of Light to Influence the Audience’s Perception of the Sydney Opera House”. Inhabiting the Meta Visual: Contemporary Performance Themes. Eds. Helene Gee Markstein and Arthur Maria Steijn. Oxford: Inter-Disciplinary P, 2016.Hall, Peter. Sydney Opera House: The Design Approach to the Building with Recommendations on Its Conservation. Sydney: Sydney Opera House Trust, 1990.NSW Department of Local Government. An International Competition for a National Opera House at Bennelong Point Sydney, New South Wales, Australia: Conditions and Program (“The ‘Brown’ Book”). Sydney: NSW Government Printer, 1957.Raban, Jonathan. Soft City. London: Picador, 2008.Rasmuseen, Steen. Experiencing Architecture. Cambridge: Massachusetts Institute of Technology P, 1964.Read, Gary. “Theater of Public Space: Architectural Experimentation in the Théâtre de l'Espace (Theater of Space), Paris 1937.” Journal of Architectural Education 58.4 (2005): 53-62.Steensen Varming. Lighting Master Plan. Sydney: Sydney Opera House Trust, 2007.Utzon, Jørn. Sydney Opera House: The Descriptive Narrative. Sydney: Sydney Opera House Trust, 1965.———. The Sydney Opera House. Zodiac, 1965. 48-93.———. Untitled. (The ‘Red’ Book). Unpublished, 1958.———. Untitled. (The ‘Yellow’ Book). Unpublished, 1962.———. Utzon Design Principles. Sydney: Sydney Opera House Trust, 2002.

Don't be afraid - it's only a flesh wound. The organs are intact although there is a threat of amputation, which we all know can easily be tolerated if the remaining bones are plentiful and sound and they are held in place by a tough skin. Where there's a will there's a will not and the National Museum of Australia (NMA) will not lie down in the face of Australian Government attempts to cut off its funding blood and give its guts a good going over. Not yet. Not for eternity. The NMA opened in March 2001 in Canberra, Australia's national capital. The buildings were designed by ARM (Ashton Raggatt McDougall), an architectural firm based in Melbourne, with landscape design by Room 4.1.3. Like other galleries and museums constructed in the last 20 years such as the Gugenheim in Bilbao and Libeskind's Jewish Museum, the NMA buildings and landscape are as much an exhibit as that which they contain. In fact the Jewish Museum first opened without containing anything other than space; the proper concern of architecture, some say. The strong colours and shapes of the NMA stand out in the grey, Modernist-inspired, concrete environment that is Canberra - some say this place is a perversion of Walter and Marion Burley Griffin's original plans for a garden wonderland; others marvel that the spirit of the original plan has even partially survived. I say, good bones and plenty of them. Bernard Tschumi says that society expects architecture to reflect its ideals and domesticate its deeper fears(72). This is certainly the brand of architecture that the Australian government thought it was ordering when it allocated funds for the building of a national museum. Not that Aussies have fears which need domesticating. No fear. A few secrets, some dirty laundry, a scar or two. But it can be argued that ARM have excoriated fear; they have tattooed it across the national forehead and said “read me if you can and if you dare”. ARM have provided a building which appears to be mostly skin. Hide the national scars under a national symbol that is all surface. A skin, but one which encases an undifferentiated body; of work, of nationhood, of stuff. The skin of the NMA is a site for writing; giant Braille dots the surface of the building, a confusion between writing and reading. For most, the dots are impossible to read – too large and too high to touch with human fingers and indecipherable by most who visit even if the scale and location would allow them to be touched. How did they have the nerve ending to write a writing that only hands can read; only hands so big that they have lost the delicate sense of touch, thereby rendering the Braille unreadable. Make a ceiling so high that it takes twenty million to change a light-bulb. Make a statement so clever that no-one gets it. Along with the Braille, the word eternity winds under and over, across and through the guts of the NMA. Howard Raggatt of ARM writes that having designed the shapes of the building forms, they “laid them out like dressmaking patterns, to press upon them this single stencilled script” – using software they superimposed the forms over a graphic of Arthur Stace’s Eternity and wrapped the Museum in it (45). Arthur Stace claimed that he was divinely inspired to write the word in ephemeral chalk an estimated 500,000 times on the footpaths of Sydney over a thirty-year period. He summoned the citizens to acknowledge the power of God. Raggatt says that its use on the outside of the NMA “encourages our hope to read this land”. And the text thickens. Is the writing of eternity on the national skin of the NMA a tattoo or stigmata? Derrida talks of these – tattoo and stigmata - in Writing and Difference in discussing the relationship between critical discourse and clinical discourse and focuses on Antonin Artuad’s “theatre of cruelty” (Artaud also inspired Deleuze and Guattari’s metaphor of the body without organs). Derrida begins with an exploration of the tendency to associate the work of art with the mental state of the artist. However from his specific critique of structuralism, he moves into much broader territory. Artuad’s attempts to make a verbal, not a grammatical theatre, “a graphism which …[is] an incarnation of the letter and a bloody tattoo” are judged by Derrida (and Artaud himself) to have been wanting precisely because such a tattoo “paralyzes gesture and silences the voice … represses the shout and the chance for a still unorganised voice” (235). Where the text (or in Artaud’s terms, breath) is “spirited/stolen…in order to place it in an order” the text is tattoo and it cannot hope to overturn the effects of power because it is on the surface rather than in opposition to it. By contrast, stigmata is a wound that cuts beneath the surface, “substituted for the text” that “undertakes neither a renewal, nor a critique” but “intends the effective, active, and non-theoretical destruction of Western civilization and its religions” (227). Text as stigmata is spirited/inspired rather than spirited/stolen. Granted, this section of Writing and Difference speaks of Artaud’s work in the context of theatre, however the theatrical metaphor is appropriate for the NMA – stand in the middle of the Garden of Australian Dreams surrounded by viewing platforms, and you understand that you are in the middle of a performance. But what does eternity do in this arena, on and under this skin? I have already described the writing of eternity around the NMA’s structure. Within the museum (in its stomach, it seems, when one seeks it out) is the small exhibition space built around the theme of eternity. Of course, it is a permanent exhibition – how could it be anything else. This space speaks to the people aspect of the NMA’s land, nation, people themes through “emotions” of separation, mystery, hope, joy, loneliness, thrill, devotion, fear, chance, and passion. The exhibits here are the stories of individuals. The black dress of Baby Azaria Chamberlain (who is alleged to have been killed by a dingo, a wild Australian native dog) (mystery) and an elaborate costume from the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras (thrill) are examples of the representations of Australian individuals. The eternity theme was chosen after the individual stories were selected and the curator realized that the NMA collection included one of the few remaining examples of Stace’s handiwork – one preserved on the back of the door of an outdoor toilet (if only there were space in this article to explore the significance of this in terms of Derrida’s linking of God and shit!). Marion Stell, the exhibition curator, writes that she believed this provided a link between the emotions as well as representing a fascinating individual story in its own right. Interestingly, the recentre view of the NMA that recommends the de/recon-struction of the Garden ofAustralian Dreams , a teleological recasting of the Circa multimedia theatre(criticized for presenting too episodic a view of Australian history) and the Horizons gallery (allegedly too limited in its presentation of the stories of migrants), commends the Eternity gallery, despite its depictions of gays and lesbians, those who have taken on the courts and won and other transgressors. The private sphere of individual lives seems too unimportant to take on? And if so, is this a strength of eternity at NMA or a weakness? Eternity slips under the radar as only such a slippery word can. And the review makes no mention of the writing on the outside of the building. How could you miss a word so big, so utterly big? Did the review panel confuse BIG with BenIGn? This word eternity, this script eternity. Inside the museum in the eternity gallery it is the street tattoo, the written surface of the traditional museum which reflects, mirror-like, what the visitor wishes to feel. There, it is Aussie icon-become-cliché. Attached firmly to the maker of the original marks, Arthur Stace, footpath font designer and illiterate messenger of God, it carries the trace of the God on whose behalf he wrote. And who in the current world political climate would dare to take on God’s messenger, no matter whose God. In that gallery it is spirited/stolen and, tattoo-like, it represses the uninhibited shout of difference through imposition of an order; the somewhat transgressive stories of individuals such as Lindy Chamberlain (Azaria’s mother, who was first convicted of her murder and then pardoned) and indeed, Arthur Stace, are rendered “safer” by the direct reproduction of Stace’s script. Originally, in Walter Benjamin’s terms, Stace’s eternity assumed auratic qualities that ironically it acquired, rather than lost, through repetition and reproduction on Sydney’s footpaths. However it’s use more recently– remember it was emblazoned on both the Sydney Harbour Bridge for the Millenium celebrations and in the2000 Sydney Olympic opening ceremony for its ability to call up a trace of the sublime – have turned it into an Australian brand name, designed to re/produce thoughts of a grand and glorious Australia, an Australia which neither Lindy Chamberlain nor Arthur Stace might have experienced. (The City of Sydney has gone so far as to copyright the Stace eternity script). But outside, scarred into the skin, too big to read, too black to ignore, eternity operates paradoxically at a more subtle level. Appearing as if pure ornament, black squiggles on a blatantly referential structure, with this use of Stace’s eternity ARM have tackled the issue of timelessness and architecture through invoking time in its entirety. They have invoked the quasi-religious contemplative response that the Stace rendering of the word engenders when it takes us by surprise. Eternity written on the surface of the NMA is stigmata, Stace’s eternity spirited/inspired rather than spirited/stolen. It is a flow of meaning that invokes the evangelistic incantations of Stace at a size which multiplies the possible meanings through its appeal to illiteracy and illegibility, and with a resilience which refuses to be washed away by reviews and revisions of the Museum. Derrida says that “to overthrow the power of the literal work is not to erase the letter, but only to subordinate it to the incidence of illegibility or at least of illiteracy” (225). Eternity. Legend has it that for a while some larrikin followed in Stace's footsteps changing eternity to maternity. Perhaps in the fullness of eternity a Government-appointed review panel can retrospectively declare the stigmata a harmless word better suited to a bland Australia. Like tomato or cricket or captain cook. For the foreseeable past and future, it remains eternity. Works Cited Benjamin, Walter. The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1993.Deleuze, Gilles and Guattari, Felix. Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. New York: Viking, 1972Derrida, Jacques. Writing and Difference. Trans. Alan Bass. London:Routledge, 2001. Raggatt, Howard. "Rabbits, Dogs and Butterflies." National Museum of Australia: Tangled Destinies. Melbourne: Images, 2002. 44-47. Stell, Marion, ed. Eternity: Stories from the Emotional Heart of Australia. Canberra: National Museum of Australia,2001.Tschumi, Bernard. Architecture and Disjunction. Cambridge: MIT P,1994. Links http://www.a-r-m.com.au/ http://www.daniel-libeskind.com/projects/pro.html?ID=2 http://www.nma.gov.au/ http://www.nma.gov.au/aboutus/council_and_committees/review http://www.room413.com.au/Museum/Museum.html http://www.skewarch.com/architects/gerhy/gerhy-gug.htm Citation reference for this article MLA Style Williams, Jordan. "The Stigmata or the Tattoo" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture <http://www.media-culture.org.au/0401/06-williams.php>. APA Style Williams, J. (2004, Jan 12). The Stigmata or the Tattoo. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture, 7, <http://www.media-culture.org.au/0401/06-williams.php>

The article studies the basic approaches to the project activities in the preparation of "Hospitality" and "Tourism” bachelors’ graduation qualification thesis (GQT). The study revealed that trends in tourism and hospitality associated with the concept of the experience economy, which requires not only an integrated knowledge of basic training, but also knowledge from various related scientific fields. Author’s approach to the concept classification of the hotel companies was proposed for GQT in the form of a startup. This classification includes theme of hotels, where it can be implemented in the form of development on the territory of tourist and hotel complexes, private museums, comprehensive centers, (archaeological, ethnographic, architectural, natural landscape), museums in the open air, the Park hotels, village houses, ecological farms and all forms of private, family business. For projects there was proposed to use the model of the concept development including tourist areas and tourist and hotel complexes, compiled by the author. It consists of the following stages of design: development of a themed space, separated areas and exhibitions; means of formalization-themed space and the creation of interactive zones; development of interactive programs of theatricality, role-playing games, reconstruction of historical and cultural situations of different periods; development of art and craft workshops and learning crafts, traditions, rituals, dances etc. The article proposes the structure of the GQT in the form of a startup in the following content: marketing research of the investment attractiveness of the region; design solutions and feasibility study; development of measures to launch tourist and hotel enterprises; calculations of the efficiency of the project. A group of universal competencies can be implemented in the development of a startup at the GQT. These competencies are "UK-2 – development and implementation of projects" identified in the new Federal state educational standard (3++) in Hospitality and in the new Federal state educational standard (3++) in Tourism. The article proves that the future graduate needs to understand not only basic technologies but also in the concepts of development of tourist and hotel complexes as from the point of view of the development of space-planning decisions, interior design, as from the point of view of quality development of interactive, entertainment and corporate programs; theatrical process; promotiton through the use of innovative technologies, etc.

A logical sequence of bright-lit, white-walled spaces has become the dominant architectural model of presenting modern and contemporary art and design around the globe. However, since its first appearance in the early decades of the twentieth century, the introduction of this “white cube” model has been paired with its disruption: artists and curators have created chaotic structures in which the art breaks out of its increasingly sanitized cage and visitors are asked to engage physically, getting lost in what can best be described as labyrinthine exhibitions that often meander, both inside and outside the vicinity of the museum territory. Multiple layers instead of optical clarity, immersion instead of spectatorship, proximity as opposed to distance, chance versus rationality; these are some of the dichotic terms that come to mind when considering the relationship between the labyrinthine exhibition and its white cube alter ego. The theme of this issue of Stedelijk Studies digs deeper into both the history and topicality of labyrinthine exhibitions as curatorial model. Renewed interest in this topic arose in conjunction with the large-scale retrospective of Jean Tinguely organized in 2015–2016 by the Kunstpalast in Düsseldorf and the Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam. In the Stedelijk’s version of the exhibition several rooms were dedicated to the exhibitions Tinguely had (co-)curated at the Stedelijk and the Moderna Museet, Stockholm, in close collaboration with museum directors Willem Sandberg (Dylaby) and Pontus Hultén (HON), as well as artists such as Martial Raysse, Robert Rauschenberg, Niki de Saint Phalle, Daniel Spoerri, and Per Olof Ultvedt. The first exhibition, Bewogen Beweging (Rorelse Konsten), the lively overview of kinetic art which traveled from the Stedelijk to Moderna Museet and the Louisiana Museum in Humlebaek in 1961/1962, was overwhelming, chaotic, and participatory. The two following exhibitions, Dylaby (1962) in the Stedelijk Museum and HON – en katedral (1966) in the Moderna Museet, have become truly remarkable exhibitions in the history of curating. Walking into a large vagina, shooting paint, gazing at the stars in a planetarium, dancing the twist, plowing a path through a room filled with balloons… the exhibitions might easily be considered more as theme park attractions than serious art shows, comprising theatrical props instead of works of art.

Introduction 2021 was the year that NFTs got big—not just in value but also in terms of the cultural consciousness. When digital artist Beeple sold the portfolio of his 5,000 daily images at Christie’s for US$69 million, the art world was left intrigued, confused, and outraged in equal measure. Depending on who you asked, non-fungible tokens (NFTs) seemed to be either a quick cash-grab or the future of the art market (Bowden and Jones; Smee). Following the Beeple sale, articles started to appear indicating that the film industry was abuzz for NFTs. Independent filmmaker Kevin Smith was quick to announce that he planned to release his horror film Killroy Was Here as an NFT (Alexander); in September 2021 the James Bond film No Time to Die also unveiled a series of collectibles to coincide with the film’s much-delayed theatrical release (Natalee); the distribution and collectible platforms Vuele, NFT Studios, and Mogul Productions all emerged, and the industry rumour mill suggests more start-ups are en route (CurrencyWorks; NFT Studios; NewsBTC). Blockchain disciples say that the technology will solve all the problems of the Internet (Tewari; Norton; European Business Review); critics say it will only perpetuate existing accessibility and equality issues (Davis and Flatow; Klein). Those more circumspect will doubtless sit back until the dust settles, waiting to see what parts of so-called web3 will be genuinely integrated into the architecture of the Internet. Pamela Hutchinson puts it neatly in terms of the arts sector: “the NFT may revolutionise the art market, film funding and distribution. Or it might be an ecological disaster and a financial bubble, in which few actual movies change hands, and fraudsters get rich from other people’s intellectual property” (Hutchinson). There is an uptick in the literature around NFTs and blockchain (see Quiniou; Gayvoronskaya & Meinel); however, the technology remains unregulated and unstandardised (Yeung 212-14; Dimitropoulos 112-13). Similarly, the sheer amount of funding being put into fundamental technical, data, and security-related issues speaks volumes to the nascency of the space (Ossinger; Livni; Gayvoronskaya & Meinel 52-6). Put very briefly, NFTs are part of a given blockchain system; think of them, like cryptocurrency coins, as “units of value” within that system (Roose). NFTs were initially rolled out on Ethereum, though several other blockchains have now implemented their own NFT frameworks. NFTs are usually not the artwork itself, but rather a unique, un-copyable (hence, non-fungible) piece of code that is attached, linked, or connected to another digital file, be that an image, video, text, or something else entirely. NFTs are often referred to as a digital artwork’s “certificate of authenticity” (Roose). At the time of writing, it remains to be seen how widely blockchain and NFT technology will be implemented across the entertainment industries. However, this article aims to outline the current state of implementation in the film trade specifically, and to attempt to sort true potential from the hype. Beginning with an overview of the core issues around blockchain and NFTs as they apply to film properties and adjacent products, current implementations of the technology are outlined, before finishing with a hesitant glimpse into the potential future applications. The Issues and Conversation At the core of current conversations around blockchain are three topics: intellectual property and ownership, concentrations of power and control, and environmental impact. To this I would like to add a consideration of social capital, which I begin with briefly here. Both the film industry and “crypto” — if we take the latter to encompass the various facets of so-called ‘web3’ — are engines of social capital. In the case of cinema, its products are commodified and passed through a model that begins with exclusivity (theatrical release) before progressing to mass availability (home media, streaming). The cinematic object, i.e., an individual copy of a film, is, by virtue of its origins as a mass product of the twentieth century, fungible. The film is captured, copied, stored, distributed, and shared. The film-industrial model has always relied on social phenomena, word of mouth, critical discourse, and latterly on buzz across digital social media platforms. This is perhaps as distinct from fine art, where — at least for dealers — the content of the piece does not necessarily matter so much as verification of ownership and provenance. Similarly, web3, with its decentralised and often-anonymised processes, relies on a kind of social activity, or at least a recorded interaction wherein the chain is stamped and each iteration is updated across the system. Even without the current hype, web3 still relies a great deal on discourse, sharing, and community, particularly as it flattens the existing hierarchies of the Internet that linger from Web 2.0. In terms of NFTs, blockchain systems attach scarcity and uniqueness to digital objects. For now, that scarcity and uniqueness is resulting in financial value, though as Jonathan Beller argues the notion of value could — or perhaps should — be reconsidered as blockchain technology, and especially cryptocurrencies, evolve (Beller 217). Regardless, NFT advocates maintain that this is the future of all online activity. To questions of copyright, the structures of blockchain do permit some level of certainty around where a given piece of intellectual property emerged. This is particularly useful where there are transnational differences in recognition of copyright law, such as in France, for instance (Quiniou 112-13). The Berne Convention stipulates that “the subsistence of copyright does not rest on the compliance with formal requirements: rights will exist if the work meets the requirements for protection set out by national law and treaties” (Guadamuz 1373). However, there are still no legal structures underpinning even the most transparent of transactions, when an originator goes out of their way to transfer rights to the buyer of the accompanying NFT. The minimum requirement — even courtesy — for the assignment of rights is the identification of the work itself; as Guadamuz notes, this is tricky for NFTs as they are written in code (1374). The blockchain’s openness and transparency are its key benefits, but until the code can explicitly include (or concretely and permanently reference) the ‘content’ of an NFT, its utility as a system of ownership is questionable. Decentralisation, too, is raised consistently as a key positive characteristic of blockchain technology. Despite the energy required for this decentralisation (addressed shortly), it is true that, at least in its base code, blockchain is a technology with no centralised source of truth or verification. Instead, such verification is performed by every node on the chain. On the surface, for the film industry, this might mean modes of financing, rights management, and distribution chains that are not beholden to multinational media conglomerates, streamers like Netflix, niche intermediaries, or legacy studios. The result here would be a flattening of the terrain: breaking down studio and corporate gatekeeping in favour of a more democratised creative landscape. Creators and creative teams would work peer-to-peer, paying, contracting, servicing, and distribution via the blockchain, with iron-clad, publicly accessible tracking of transactions and ownership. The alternative, though, is that the same imbalances persist, just in a different form: this is outlined in the next section. As Hunter Vaughan writes, the film industry’s environmental impact has long been under-examined. Its practices are diverse, distributed, and hard to quantify. Cinematic images, Vaughan writes, “do not come from nothing, and they do not vanish into the air: they have always been generated by the earth and sun, by fossil fuels and chemical reactions, and our enjoyment of them has material consequences” (3). We believe that by watching a “green” film like Avatar we are doing good, but it implicates us in the dirty secret, an issue of “ignorance and of voluntary psychosis” where “we do not see who we are harming or how these practices are affecting the environment, and we routinely agree to accept the virtual as real” (5). Beyond questions of implication and eco-material conceptualisation, however, there are stark facts. In the 1920s, the Kodak Park Plant in New York drew 12 million gallons of water from Lake Ontario each day to produce film stock. As the twentieth century came to a close, this amount — for a single film plant — had grown to 35-53 million gallons per day. The waste water was perfunctorily “cleaned” and then dumped into surrounding rivers (72-3). This was just one plant, and one part of the filmmaking process. With the shift to digital, this cost might now be calculated in the extraction of precious metals used to make contemporary cameras, computers, or storage devices. Regardless, extrapolate outwards to a global film industry and one quickly realises the impact is almost beyond comprehension. Considering — let alone calculating — the carbon footprint of blockchain requires outlining some fundamentals of the technology. The two primary architectures of blockchain are Proof of Work (PoW) and Proof of Stake (PoS), both of which denote methods of adding and verifying new blocks to a chain. PoW was the first model, employed by Bitcoin and the first iteration of Ethereum. In a PoW model, each new block has a specific cryptographic hash. To confirm the new block, crypto miners use their systems to generate a target hash that is less than or equal to that of the block. The systems process these calculations quickly, as the goal is to be “the first miner with the target hash because that miner is the one who can update the blockchain and receive crypto rewards” (Daly). The race for block confirmation necessitates huge amounts of processing power to make these quick calculations. The PoS model differs in that miners are replaced by validators (or staking services where participants pool validation power). Rather than investing in computer power, validators invest in the blockchain’s coins, staking those coins (tokens) in a smart contract (think of this contract like a bank account or vault). When a new block is proposed, an algorithm chooses a validator based on the size of their stake; if the block is verified, the validator receives further cryptocurrency as a reward (Castor). Given the ubiquity and exponential growth of blockchain technology and its users, an accurate quantification of its carbon footprint is difficult. For some precedent, though, one might consider the impact of the Bitcoin blockchain, which runs on a PoW model. As the New York Times so succinctly puts it: “the process of creating Bitcoin to spend or trade consumes around 91 terawatt-hours of electricity annually, more than is used by Finland, a nation of about 5.5 million” (Huang, O’Neill and Tabuchi). The current Ethereum system (at time of writing), where the majority of NFT transactions take place, also runs on PoW, and it is estimated that a single Ethereum transaction is equivalent to nearly nine days of power consumption by an average US household (Digiconomist). Ethereum always intended to operate on a PoS system, and the transition to this new model is currently underway (Castor). Proof of Stake transactions use significantly less energy — the new Ethereum will supposedly be approximately 2,000 times more energy efficient (Beekhuizen). However, newer systems such as Solana have been explicit about their efficiency goals, stating that a single Solana transaction uses less energy (1,837 Joules, to be precise) than keeping an LED light on for one hour (36,000 J); one Ethereum transaction, for comparison, uses over 692 million J (Solana). In addition to energy usage, however, there is also the question of e-waste as a result of mining and general blockchain operations which, at the time of writing, for Bitcoin sits at around 32 kilotons per year, around the same as the consumer IT wastage of the Netherlands (de Vries and Stoll). How the growth in NFT awareness and adoption amplifies this impact remains to be seen, but depending on which blockchain they use, they may be wasting energy and resources by design. If using a PoW model, the more valuable the cryptocurrency used to make the purchase, the more energy (“gas”) required to authenticate the purchase across the chain. Images abound online of jerry-rigged crypto data centres of varying quality (see also efficiency and safety). With each NFT minted, sold, or traded, these centres draw — and thus waste, for gas — more and more energy. With increased public attention and scrutiny, cryptocurrencies are slowly realising that things could be better. As sustainable alternatives become more desirable and mainstream, it is safe to predict that many NFT marketplaces may migrate to Cardano, Solana, or other more efficient blockchain bases. For now, though, this article considers the existing implementations of NFTs and blockchain technology within the film industry. Current Implementations The current applications of NFTs in film centre around financing and distribution. In terms of the former, NFTs are saleable items that can raise capital for production, distribution, or marketing. As previously mentioned, director Kevin Smith launched Jay & Silent Bob’s Crypto Studio in order to finish and release Killroy Was Here. Smith released over 600 limited edition tokens, including one of the film itself (Moore). In October 2021, renowned Hong Kong director Wong Kar-wai sold an NFT with unreleased footage from his film In the Mood for Love at Sotheby’s for US$550,000 (Raybaud). Quentin Tarantino entered the arena in January 2022, auctioning uncut scenes from his 1994 film Pulp Fiction, despite the threat of legal action from the film’s original distributor Miramax (Dailey). In Australia, an early adopter of the technology is director Michael Beets, who works in virtual production and immersive experiences. His immersive 14-minute VR film Nezunoban (2020) was split into seven different chapters, and each chapter was sold as an NFT. Beets also works with artists to develop entry tickets that are their own piece of generative art; with these tickets and the chapters selling for hundreds of dollars at a time, Beets seems to have achieved the impossible: turning a profit on a short film (Fletcher). Another Australian writer-producer, Samuel Wilson, now based in Canada, suggests that the technology does encourage filmmakers to think differently about what they create: At the moment, I’m making NFTs from extra footage of my feature film Miles Away, which will be released early next year. In one way, it’s like a new age of behind-the-scenes/bonus features. I have 14 hours of DV tapes that I’m cutting into a short film which I will then sell in chapters over the coming months. One chapter will feature the dashing KJ Apa (Songbird, Riverdale) without his shirt on. So, hopefully that can turn some heads. (Wilson, in Fletcher) In addition to individual directors, a number of startup companies are also seeking to get in on the action. One of these is Vuele, which is best understood as a blockchain-based streaming service: an NFT Netflix, if you like. In addition to films themselves, the service will offer extra content as NFTs, including “behind the scenes content, bonus features, exclusive Q&As, and memorabilia” (CurrencyWorks). Vuele’s launch title is Zero Contact, directed by Rick Dugdale and starring Anthony Hopkins. The film is marketed as “the World’s First NFT Feature Film” (as at the time of writing, though, both Vuele and its flagship film have yet to launch). Also launching is NFT Studios, a blockchain-based production company that distributes the executive producer role to those buying into the project. NFT Studios is a decentralised administrative organisation (DAO), guided by tech experts, producers, and film industry intermediaries. NFT Studios is launching with A Wing and a Prayer, a biopic of aeronaut Brian Milton (NFT Studios), and will announce their full slate across festivals in 2022. In Australia, Culture Vault states that its aim is to demystify crypto and champion Australian artists’ rights and access to the space. Co-founder and CEO Michelle Grey is well aware of the aforementioned current social capital of NFTs, but is also acutely aware of the space’s opacity and the ubiquity of often machine-generated tat. “The early NFT space was in its infancy, there was a lot of crap around, but don’t forget there’s a lot of garbage in the traditional art world too,” she says (cited in Miller). Grey and her company effectively act like art dealers; intermediaries between the tech and art worlds. These new companies claim to be adhering to the principles of web3, often selling themselves as collectives, DAOs, or distributed administrative systems. But the entrenched tendencies of the film industry — particularly the persistent Hollywood system — are not so easily broken down. Vuele is a joint venture between CurrencyWorks and Enderby Entertainment. The former is a financial technology company setting up blockchain systems for businesses, including the establishment of branded digital currencies such as the controversial FreedomCoin (Memoria); the latter, Enderby, is a production company founded by Canadian film producer (and former investor relations expert in the oil and uranium sectors) Rick Dugdale (Wiesner). Similarly, NFT Studios is partnered with consulting and marketing agencies and blockchain venture capitalists (NFT Investments PLC). Depending on how charitable or cynical one is feeling, these start-ups are either helpful intermediaries to facilitate legacy media moving into NFT technology, or the first bricks in the capitalist wall to bar access for entry to other players. The Future Is… Buffering Marketplaces like Mintable, OpenSea, and Rarible do indeed make the minting and selling of NFTs fairly straightforward — if you’ve ever listed an item for sale on eBay or Facebook, you can probably mint an NFT. Despite this, the current major barrier for average punters to the NFT space remains technical knowledge. The principles of blockchain remain fairly opaque — even this author, who has been on a deep dive for this article, remains sceptical that widespread adoption across multiple applications and industries is feasible. Even so, as Rennie notes, “the unknown is not what blockchain technology is, or even what it is for (there are countless ‘use cases’), but how it structures the actions of those who use it” (235). At the time of writing, a great many commentators and a small handful of scholars are speculating about the role of the metaverse in the creative space. If the endgame of the metaverse is realised, i.e., a virtual, interactive space where users can interact, trade, and consume entertainment, the role of creators, dealers, distributors, and other brokers and players will be up-ended, and have to re-settle once again. Film industry practitioners might look to the games space to see what the road might look like, but then again, in an industry that is — at its best — somewhat resistant to change, this may simply be a fad that blows over. Blockchain’s current employment as a get-rich-quick mechanism for the algorithmic literati and as a computational extension of existing power structures suggests nothing more than another techno-bubble primed to burst (Patrickson 591-2; Klein). Despite the aspirational commentary surrounding distributed administrative systems and organisations, the current implementations are restricted, for now, to startups like NFT Studios. In terms of cinema, it does remain to be seen whether the deployment of NFTs will move beyond a kind of “Netflix with tchotchkes” model, or a variant of crowdfunding with perks. Once Vuele and NFT Studios launch properly, we may have a sense of how this all will play out, particularly alongside less corporate-driven, more artistically-minded initiatives like that of Michael Beets and Culture Vault. It is possible, too, that blockchain technology may streamline the mechanics of the industry in terms of automating or simplifying parts of the production process, particularly around contracts, financing, licensing. This would obviously remove some of the associated labour and fees, but would also de-couple long-established parts and personnel of the industry — would Hollywood and similar industrial-entertainment complexes let this happen? As with any of the many revolutions that have threatened to kill or resurrect the (allegedly) long-suffering cinematic object, we just have to wait, and watch. References Alexander, Bryan. “Kevin Smith Reveals Why He’s Auctioning Off New His Film ‘Killroy Was Here’ as an NFT.” USA TODAY, 15 Apr. 2021. <https://www.usatoday.com/story/entertainment/movies/2021/04/15/kevin-smith-auctioning-new-film-nft-killroy-here/7244602002/>. Beekhuizen, Carl. “Ethereum’s Energy Usage Will Soon Decrease by ~99.95%.” Ethereum Foundation Blog, 18 May 2021. <https://blog.ethereum.org/2021/05/18/country-power-no-more/>. Beller, Jonathan. “Economic Media: Crypto and the Myth of Total Liquidity.” Australian Humanities Review 66 (2020): 215-225. Beller, Jonathan. The Cinematic Mode of Production: Attention Economy and the Society of the Spectacle. Hanover, NH: Dartmouth College P, 2006. 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