Remember bulletin boards? Not cork boards-the online kind. According to Techopedia, “A Bulletin Board System (BBS) refers to text-based online communities that users can log into over the internet using dedicated software.”
The BBS originated in the ’70s; by 1994, there were 60,000 in existence, with about 17 million users typing away. This was before the World Wide Web was widely adopted, and so users were connected directly to one another, somehow, through cyberspace. It is estimated that there are 3.58 billion users on the web today.
It wasn’t long before programmers had developed the capacity to add graphics and allow us to exchange audio clips and files while we simultaneously chatted. I do not purport to have even the most rudimentary understanding of what happened next, but it was something about dynamic page implementation that led to the HTML web page, which led to the demand for faster modems, which led to an explosion of internet Service providers. Many more forward·thinking people imagined a thousand other things, and here we are.
My husband was a big BBS user. I was managing a LORT theatre at the time, clumsily figuring out where to plug in my first-generation desktop. Knowing my passion for storytelling, he thought I should produce a serial that people could watch on their computers. I remember being completely confused about what that would even look like. I like to believe my lack of imagination was stunted by my love of the live experience. I thought, if I wanted to make work on a screen, there was TV, wasn’t there? And why would I want to do TV? Of course, back then, it didn’t seem so interesting. Besides, no one was watching anything on their computers at the time. All I saw was text. But, mostly, I could not imagine doing anything that didn’t involve the moment when the lights went down and then came up in a space where people had gathered to watch a story unfold-together.
Fast-forward to my work today, where I spend considerable time working through how the digital world is changing the ways in which directors’ and choreographers’ work is both made and exploited. It is a thrilling and perplexing moment. I can’t allow myself to dismiss any possibility because we are here to ensure you and your work are protected, however it is manifested. In this issue, when I read Bay Raitt talk about a time in the nottoo-distant future when we will be able to watch a live performance, in 3-D, on our coffee table, I think, why, of course! Although, if it weren’t for the fact that I have been in Bay’s studio and experienced some of his work firsthand, I am not sure I would believe it. How it will happen will likely always be a mystery to me, but I’ll bet it will be sooner rather than later. With advances in technology, the work now does lift off the screen, I’ll admit. There are audiences for your work in digital form and we have the tools to both create and capture your vision.
In this issue, we attempt to share a mere fraction of what’s rolling around out there as technology advances and affects theatremakers. The tools sound designers have at their fingertips today have exponentially expanded these artists’ capacity to contribute to the very center of your process alongside your other design partners. Whether it be previz software’s ability to allow creative teams to “collaborate in a virtual world,” according to Lee Wilkins; Lap Chi Chu working with “intuitive” design tools; or what photogrammetry means for projection designing, new technology and tools for design and collaboration are changing the nature of your work.
It’s good to hear that even as we lean heavily into technology, many artists will continue to seek a grounding in the present, the live. It is great to have production meetings via Skype, preliminary designs viewable in Dropbox, and notes by way of texting, but I know many directors and choreographers who are not ready to forgo the model on the table-to touch and move, much like Ann Hou Id-Ward’s pen and paintbrush-and the flow of energy.
Clearly, we are amid a technological revolution in the theatre and in our culture. I am not certain where in the revolution we are-the beginning, middle, or the end, as the possibilities of what is still to come seem limitless-and yet the changes in the past decade are so profound. We are also likely in the early stages of another kind of revolution: of voices, culture, style. Ideas. Values. A way of working.
Camille A. Brown, Rachel Dickstein, and Kholoud Sawaf are but three of many SDC Members taking us someplace new. Camille has clearly brought a kind of sensibility, style, and strength to our stages; Rachel offers insight into her ingenious blend of art, feminist politics, and technology; and Kholoud, a “rising” director, as she self-identifies, calls out to writers to do better in the stories they tell as she shares the power of “no.” We also share last spring’s celebration
of Julie Taymor, when SDCF bestowed the coveted “Mr. Abbott” Award on her for lifetime achievement.
Revolutions. Revolutionaries.
High-tech or no tech. You call us together into the lightwhether around a fire, an LED par can, or a laser hologramto hear a story and know we are not alone in our laughter, our fears, and our desire to understand and, in turn, impact our world.
In Solidarity,
Laura Penn
Executive Director