Make Me Feel: Sensing Technology in Contemporary Scenography

Theatre and Performance Design
ISSN: 2332-2551 (Print) 2332-2578 (Online) Journal homepage: http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/rdes20
Make me feel: sensing technology in

contemporary scenography
Nebojša Tabački
To cite this article: Nebojša Tabački (2017) Make me feel: sensing technology in
contemporary scenography, Theatre and Performance Design, 3:3, 119-139, DOI:
10.1080/23322551.2017.1390201
To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/23322551.2017.1390201
Published online: 04 Dec 2017.
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Download by: [UNIVERSITY OF ADELAIDE LIBRARIES] Date: 04 December 2017, At: 07:38
THEATRE AND PERFORMANCE DESIGN, 2017
VOL. 3, NO. 3, 119–139
https://doi.org/10.1080/23322551.2017.1390201
Make me feel: sensing technology in contemporary

scenography
Nebojša Tabački
Freelance Scenographer
Downloaded by [UNIVERSITY OF ADELAIDE LIBRARIES] at 07:38 04 December 2017
ABSTRACT
Mainstream entertainment and commercial attractions today
broadly exploit ideas that call for the kinetics of performance
space to forge a deeper connection between material and
immaterial scenography. In order to understand their relevance
for widening the scope of the audience’s sensory embodiment
into a spectacle, this article take a closer look at scenographic
practices that substantially rely on robotic and mechanical
structures to support digital projections. This case study examines
the sensory impact of ride seats in audience galleries (Hubei in the
Air, 2016), of robotic structures that manipulate large-scale screens
(The Han Show, 2014), of the kinetic stage as an interactive
projection surface (Ká, 2004), and of fountain systems as liquid
screens (The House of Dancing Water, 2010; Wonder Full, 2011;
Spectra, 2017). Exploring their mechanics, interaction and content
will echo Lyotard’s challenge regarding the use of power and
knowledge to destabilize previous concepts. Depending on the
applied strategy, scenographic approaches are considered from
the perspective of either the audience or the performers.
Examining whether these contemporary uses of technology in
scenography destabilize or reinforce past practices to create a
sensory impact on the audience, to make them ‘feel’ the
projected space, I explore questions of how performing
technology senses us, and how we, in return, sense technology.
… it would be possible in recent times to paint directly with light as well, thus to change a
two-dimensional surface into luminous architecture.
Moholy-Nagy 1936, quoted in Albertová 2008, 57
Sensing machines
The most popular attraction in the Wanda Movie Park cultural enterprise in Wuhan, an
indoor complex of exhibition spaces that promotes cultural tourism by showcasing
advanced projection and film technology, is the themed area Hubei in the Air.1 This area
contains a quarter-dome screen, and a small auditorium with three rows of ride seats
CONTACT Nebojša Tabački ntabacki@gmail.com

© 2017 Informa UK Limited, trading as Taylor & Francis Group
120 N. TABAČKI
that can host 70 visitors. The programme starts by tilting seats 90 degrees, which positions
three rows of audience members on top of each other, with the highest seats 8.8 metres
above the floor. Lifting the audience into the projection sphere is made possible through a
special ride system called True Flight Motion, developed and manufactured by Dynamic
Attractions, which uses electric instead of hydraulic power to achieve a fluid motion.
The audience seats can move one metre vertically up or down, and tilt up to 10
degrees sideways. The reconfiguration of the seating restricts peripheral vision left, right
and below to the edges of the projection screen, and the canopy seats limit the audience’s
view of the top edge of the screen (Anderson 2016). The flight simulation experience starts
with the projection of animated painted images that slowly transition into a strikingly rea-
listic perception of computer-generated time travel. This depicts the highlights of the
Hubei province, including its geographical and cultural heritage. Moving through the cen-
turies along the film’s flight route, the mechanical infrastructure supporting the flight
simulation synchronizes impressively. Unlike rollercoaster rides in theme parks, the
subtle movements of the seats create the perfect illusion of stepping into a traditional
Chinese brush painting and wandering through aquarelle landscapes. Resembling Ping
Chong’s embodiment of onstage performers into a projected painting (Dixon 2007,
337),2 the ride seats immerse the audience into digital artwork. The feeling of flying
increases when the paintings merge into realistic three-dimensional computer images.
The journey leads visitors through the clouds and over mountains, valleys and forests,
along river banks and through waterfalls, over famous temples and past martial artists
practising their skills, between ships restaging iconic sea battles, and back to the
present time, over the lake surrounding the Wanda Movie Park, and back into the building
where the story first began.
The Forrec design company, which led the teams of subcontractors, has combined
technology, art and multisensory effects to achieve an immersive experience and
engage as many of the viewers’ senses as possible. On behalf of Dynamic Attractions,
Kraftwerk Living Technologies was responsible for the audio-visual system integration,
including the installations of the screen, the audio and projection system featuring mul-
tiple 4K projectors, and the video playback and auto-alignment system, as well as the inte-
gration of wind, water and scent effects and the overall show control.3 Studio Pixomondo,
responsible for the postproduction of many Hollywood blockbusters, digitally developed
the entire film, using geographic references from the Hubei province area (Anderson
2016). James Anderson, a Lead Creative Director at Forrec, explains that the realistic
effects were achieved by using textures from high-resolution photos mapped out on
the computer-generated surface model (ibid.). Additional effects, such as fog as the audi-
ence is ‘flying’ through the clouds, water sprays while passing the waterfall, and the scent
of blossom when the flight path goes over valleys and meadows, were used ‘strategically –
and sparingly’ (ibid.). In their effort to step away from the excitement usually offered in
theme parks, Forrec created Hubei in the Air as a themed area that is ‘spectacular in an
unusual way, moving away from adrenaline and excitement towards a dreamy, experien-
tial, contemplative feel’ (ibid.).
A similar system is applied in The Han Show Theatre, just a few blocks away from the
Wanda Movie Park. For the aquatic spectacle, The Han Show,4 Stufish Entertainment Archi-
tects designed a flexible theatre space in cooperation with Theatre Projects Consultants
and Siemens AG. This custom-made performance space can be reconfigured from a
THEATRE AND PERFORMANCE DESIGN 121
Figure 1. (top) Hubei in the Air at Wanda Movie Park, Wuhan. Side view. Flying Theatre by Dynamic
Attractions. Courtesy of Dynamic Attractions.
Figure 2. (bottom) Hubei in the Air at Wanda Movie Park, Wuhan. Top view. Flying Theatre by Dynamic
Attractions. Courtesy of Dynamic Attractions.
122 N. TABAČKI
proscenium position into a thrust configuration with the pool in the middle by moving the
auditorium and stage segments. The seats are directed by SIMOTION D435 motion control-
lers, control units for multi-axis application with a range of up to 32 axes, and ‘driven by
hydraulic cylinders with a range of six metres’ (Müller 2014).5 In addition to the subtle
rearrangement of the audience segments during the show (two audience segments sep-
arate sideways while one descends vertically), three gigantic LED screens are attached to
robotic arms able to shift them up to 28 metres across the stage and the central pool in just
a few seconds. Stretching almost the entire 44-metre width of the main stage, three LED
screens cover an area of 75 square metres with their display surfaces, and weigh eight
metric tonnes each. They are almost constantly in motion, giving digital images physical
kinetic properties. The movements of the robotic arms are choreographed according to
the nature of displayed images, and correlate with the continuous movements of the per-
formers on the stage, in the water and in the air. Moving around on the multiple axes,
digital images and animations supported by motion-control robotics conquer this vast
performance space, reshaping it for each scene and continually changing the distance
between the audience and the screens, as well as shifting the positions of the images
themselves. To ensure precision of movement and avoid collisions, Siemens AG, one of
the companies responsible for the robots’ development and installation, used a system
similar to that used with industrial robots to weld metal sheets in the automotive industry,
though on a much larger scale. According to Bernd Müller (2014), ‘despite the weight the
[robotic] arms have to carry, they are almost as precise as their counterparts in the factory’.
To ensure the paths of the robotic arms are secure, and to keep screens from colliding, ‘the
control system has to coordinate six joints, 12 motors, and 14 axles on each robot – for a
total of 42 axles’ (ibid.). To accomplish this task, the SIMOTION D435 motion controller is
used in combination with the SINAMICS S120 drive system (ibid.).
Among solutions that combine projections with supporting robotic structures is the
increasing use of computer recognition software as an additional scenographic strategy.
For the 2004 Cirque du Soleil show Ká,6 at the MGM Grand, Las Vegas, interactive projec-
tion designer Holger Förterer and his team developed custom-made recognition software
that combines visual simulation and interaction. Using a projection-mapping technique,
interactive visual content follows the movements of the main hydraulic stage platform,
called Sand Cliff Deck, onto whose surface the digital images are projected. This 45-
tonne marvel of mechanical engineering (7.6 m×15.2 m×1.8 m) can tilt, spin and steer
in all directions within its vertical range of 20 metres. Projections include ‘a rain of
arrows, thundery clouds, sea waves, an underwater scene, stone and ice landscapes, the
glowing lianas of a forest, and the caustics of an artificial water surface’ (Förterer 2012).7
During the show, the projection ‘reacts’ to the performers’ movements by depicting a
landslide of rocks in the scene where the artists climb up the mountain, creating
bubbles in the underwater scene, and changing patterns when the artists land on the
stage surface after acrobatic jumps and flight stunts (ibid.). According to Förterer, the
show uses a projection system that is sensitive to the proximity of the main hydraulic
stage platform. The Large-Scale Surface Sensor (LSSS) technology used in the show is
developed by Philippe Jean from Les Ateliers Numériques. LSSS ‘is based on capacitive
sensing and embedded in a large-scale 2.5D multi-point sensing surface, allowing it to
track the shape and proximity of the performer’s body’.8 Captured data, including the
exact positions of the main deck and the performers in real time, are then translated
onto a virtual model of the deck and the theatre (Förterer 2012). These data are used to
generate the images that are then re-projected onto the stage. As Förterer explains, navi-
gating the virtual camera and the virtual deck on the computer translates to navigating the
projector and the deck during the show, thus enabling the projection to follow the move-
ments of the deck and interact with the performers.9 In order to achieve a smooth tran-
sition between sensory input and image output, and to avoid delays in projection
interaction, Förterer uses a Kalman filter to predict the stage’s position milliseconds
before the movement actually happens. The hydraulic stage is equipped with capacitive
sensors in the form of tiles underneath the stage surface. These enable the stage to func-
tion as a touch screen (Gaddy 2013). Through the constant changes of scenographic pic-
tures, the image-recognition software gives the impression that the performers are
interacting with their surroundings even when the stage deck is motionless. Additionally,
infrared cameras are used to enable an interactive projection response in the low-lighted
parts of the show, such as the underwater and forest scenes (Förterer 2012). Without being
observed by the audience, infrared lights illuminate the performers, allowing the move-
ments that trigger the interaction to be seen by the camera independently of the stage
lighting (ibid.).
The use of water as a projection screen is an increasingly widespread phenomenon in
the realm of mobile projection surfaces. This development can be followed in the commer-
cial entertainment industry, in particular in contemporary multimedia spectacles and
Figure 3. Ká by Cirque du Soleil at the MGM Grand, Las Vegas. Image of the battle scene. Photo: by Eric
Jamison. Courtesy of Cirque du Soleil.
124 N. TABAČKI
public events. In the aquatic show The House of Dancing Water (2010),10 designed by sce-
nographer Michel Crête, images are projected onto the splash created by the colliding
water beams of a powerful fountain system that reaches the height of 18 metres. In the
crossfire of the fountains, the image of a drowned princess who comes back as an
aquatic banshee appears and disappears in a split second. Following the ever-changing
pattern of splashes, a ghostly vision is formed of the revenge-seeking princess. The spheri-
cal projection system for this show was developed by Kraftwerk Living Technologies. The
system ‘implemented several high-resolution DML 1200 moving head projectors, each fea-
turing 12,000 Ansi Lumer’.11 Due to the constant variation of the projection surfaces, the
projection content is stored on a server that works with a 3D model of the stage, and can
be retrieved on demand by the light console.
A similar approach was developed by the Australian branch of the company Imagination
for Spectra, a 15-minute public show at Marina Bay in Singapore that opened in July 2017.
Fountain technology installed in the bay enables the creation of different spraying options
such as pyramids, gyroscopic arcs, straight jets, lava and mist. They are used to create water
screens for lasers, lights and animation projections. Four of the show’s acts are visually
abstract artistic reflections on Singapore’s roots, cultural history and future prospects.
This show, which took two years to develop, uses more than 110 types of LED lights and
lasers, as well as specially developed underwater 500w LED fixtures that provide a rich
colour spectrum (Wee 2017). The technology implemented includes timecode synchroniza-
tion software, which triggers the lasers, lighting, projection and fountains through the
sound of music composed for the show (ibid.).12 The previous Marina Bay public entertain-
ment piece, Laservision’s Wonder Full (2011), which ran for six years until April 2017, when it
was replaced with Spectra, used a more cinematographic visual approach. The show’s nar-
rative, which depicted the cycle of life, projected film footage, digital animation and lasers
onto three liquid ‘walls’ of fine droplets of water sprayed by a fountain system. The combi-
nation of music, light, water and pyrotechnic effects took three years to develop. The pres-
entation system was controlled by Laservision’s Digital∼Data Pump Series III via 20 media
servers. To create a projection surface out of fine water droplets required ‘18 individually
controlled fountains reaching up to 20 metres in height, in conjunction with independent
tilt mechanisms [to create] a wide range of stunning liquid patterns’.13
The WET Design company, which started the trend of the high-pressure fountain show
in the 1990s with their permanent spectacle in front of the Bellagio resort in Las Vegas,
designed a special nozzle for the occasion: the Oarsman. Nowadays widely used in
similar water shows, the Oarsman’s original purpose was to enable a variety of gracefully
waving water jets, and smooth transitions between the jets’ heights and movements in
accordance with the music (Mraz 2003). As WET Design’s Tony Freitas explains, it is ‘a
self-contained robotic nozzle that includes a variable-frequency drive, pump, and lights’
(ibid.). Fed by electricity and input data, the Oarsman positions its nozzle on an X-Y axis,
and adjusts the stream height according to the data while taking water directly from its
source (lake or water basin) without using pipes. According to Michael Connery from
Show Fountains, the creation of giant water screens, which was initially facilitated by
sending 300 pounds per square inch of water into an angled steel plate that propelled
the water droplets straight up, is refined by using less powerful pumps to create
screens 50 to 100 feet wide (ibid.). Connery emphasizes that the best image quality is
achieved using rear projection of larger film formats, such as 70-millimetre.
Figure 4. Spectra at Marina Bay Sands, Event Plaza, Singapore. Light and water show. Photo courtesy of
Marina Bay Sands.
Sensing the past: historical precedents

Combining dome projections with movable audience galleries and ride seats, or huge LED
screens with robotic arms, the themed area Hubei in the Air and the aquatic spectacle The
Han Show dynamically integrate projections into scenography. In doing so, they break the
static relationship between the audience and projected images in a way that avant-garde
scenographers and architects have aspired to since the beginning of the twentieth
century, when the first attempts at integrating projections and film into overall theatrical
design were made. To be able to determine how the latest developments relate to past
practices, it is necessary to recall the reasons behind previous attempts to connect the pro-
jected image with the materiality of the stage.
Early examples of how screens have been incorporated into scenography include
framing the projection screen as a window (the 1922 Berlin production of Methusalem),
creating a sense of vision (the 1925 Stuttgart production of Doctor Faustus), and establish-
ing a physical interaction with the screen, where the performers break through the projec-
tion surface at the end of the film (Sergei Eisenstein’s 1923 production The Wise Man)
(Giesekam 2007, 34–38; Kranich 1933, 132). In the hope of developing a live performance
from a film sequence, Traugott Müller included a system of pulleys and ropes in Erwin Pis-
cator’s Hoppla, wir leben! (1927) that enabled projection screens to slide backwards and
forwards in the scenographic structure. According to Piscator, this was an attempt to
achieve the quality of a film edit in the theatre, and to merge filmed or projected material
with the theatrical space (Piscator et al. 1986, 141). Eisenstein describes this effect as a
giant spider web that stretches between the projection screen and the audience, enabling
the film to ‘outpour’ its three-dimensional content into a three-dimensional space (Eisen-
stein, Glenny, and Taylor 1991, 198–199). Even though they stayed mostly unrealized,
Bauhaus experiments also aimed to integrate mechanical apparatuses and projections
to create ‘a total sensory experience’ and a ‘transformation of static performance space
into dynamic space by way of technical means’ (Salter 2010, 41). László Moholy-Nagy
described the Total Theatre (Theater der Totalität) as an organism uniting light, space,
surface, form, movement, sound and human individual (Moholy-Nagy 1925, 50–52). He
called for audience activity and a kinetic theatre environment. In Walter Gropius’s vision
126 N. TABAČKI
of Piscator’s Total Theatre (1927), circular projection screens wrapped around the auditor-
ium, with one circular segment positioned on a turntable to enable different spatial con-
figurations. This would put the spectator ‘directly into the centre of real and filmic action’
(Piscator 1977, 113; Salter 2010, 43).
The appropriation of kinetic stage platforms as screens that can take different positions,
including tilting on their axes and giving the displayed images dynamic physical proper-
ties, as in the Cirque du Soleil show Ká, inevitably recalls Josef Svoboda’s experiments with
projections. He used mechanical solutions to enable the screens to perform a variety of
movements, creating a performance space made of projection surfaces and light. Explor-
ing the aesthetic, compositional, spatial and kinetic aspects of the screen became just as
important to Svoboda as the interaction between staged and projected action. Some pro-
ductions, such as Their Day (1959), demonstrated the successful dramaturgical connection
between the staged action and the moving projection screen (Albertová 2008, 62). Svobo-
da’s most successful blend of stage kinetics and projections may have been his scenogra-
phy for the Ring Cycle at Covent Garden (1974–1976), which combined a kinetic stage
platform (9.8 m×11.3 m) raised on telescopic arms with projections on the cyclorama.14
However, his exploration of the relationship between performers and projections that
incorporated sliced screens, as in Wonderful Circus (1977) or Snow Queen (1979), did not
prove effective; Svoboda was left largely unsatisfied with the way in which the staged
action interacted with what was shown on film. Odysseus (1987), perhaps his most
daring undertaking, was an attempt to achieve the ultimate goal: to develop dramaturgy
and a whole play using scenography as the starting point (Albertová 2008, 83). Scenogra-
phy for the show included a large projection screen concavely connecting the front wall to
the stage floor, and a mobile platform that could move both horizontally and vertically
while suspended from the fly gallery.
The contemporary examples considered here still follow the same path as those past
attempts, namely allowing the audience an impression of a filmic experience of theatrical
design. This time around, however, a broader scope of possibility for sensory interaction
with the audience enriches the kinetic scenography, increasing the spectators’ immersion
in both the real and filmic aspects of the show. By opposing the traditional way of perceiv-
ing performance space, rooted in our embodied memories of previous experiences and
encounters with the world around us (Lefebvre 1991), the application of sensory technol-
ogy in scenography strives towards an experience of the unknown. Introducing different
kinds of perceptive and kinaesthetic impulses, this approach is not exactly trying to tap
into the audience’s sensory memory, but rather attempting to create new experiences
that take them beyond the familiar corporeal input of their everyday lives. After all, the
visitors’ experience amid the dynamics of the theatrical space is the primary focus of
shows such as Hubei in the Air, The Han Show and Ká. It is here that ‘the stage space
becomes transitional, always in a state of flux’ (Dixon 2007, 337).
Sensing the moment: holographic images

With the technology we have at our disposal today, ephemeral, kinetic projection surfaces
such as water, mist and haze have extended the range of traditional materials. Projections
on sprayed water droplets or fountain splashes, as in The House of Dancing Water, Wonder
Full and Spectra, have become increasingly popular due to the way in which they have
transformed the quality of image. They permit the pictures we see to be constantly
reshaped, giving an impression of movement and volume that distinguishes them from
the classic flatness of a screen. These ghostly images provide an aesthetic pleasure that
takes us back to the theatrical projections that succeeded the shadow play and magic lan-
terns used in phantasmagoria; their transparency perceptually recalls holographs, which
have a long tradition in scenography. Therefore, to understand the impact of projections
on water on the audience, it is crucial to examine how holograms have been applied as a
scenographic means in the past.
One of the earliest uses of theatrical projections was to generate a translucent holo-
graphic image of an actor that could appear and disappear within seconds, giving the
appearance of a ghost in the play. Its goal was to surprise, astonish or scare the audience,
creating a feeling of discomfort and unease. This usage goes back to 1862, when the
Pepper’s Ghost trick was first presented on stage with the help of a magic lantern
(Tretow 2003, 140). Following their origins in the visualization of unrealistic content, pro-
jected scenographic images and films were, at the start of the twentieth century, associ-
ated with the artistic re-creation of real or imaginary places. Some examples include a
fanciful route from Paris to Monte Carlo in Le Raid Paris-Monte Carlo en deux heures
(1904), a space trip in Les Pilules du diable (1905), both by Georges Méliès, and a represen-
tation of dreams in the Paris production of Methusalem (1927) by Jean Painlevé (Giesekam
2007, 27–35). They aimed to seduce with imaginative images, or gain access to unfamiliar
worlds, such as dreams, that were far from the reality of the spectator’s everyday life. In
fact, the appeal of dreamy, translucent projected images continues to the present. As Gie-
sekam notes, Svoboda used the Pepper’s Ghost trick in his last Laterna Magica production,
Graffiti (2002), to create a holograph, an illusion of a projection without a screen. In doing
so, he symbolically summarized 140 years of experience in working with projections as
scenography by returning to the beginnings of modern theatre (Giesekam 2007, 71).
This time, however, holographs did not aim to scare or astonish, but applied optic laws
to offer an experience of immaterial space and image, further expanding the spectators’
spatial perception. While thus reminiscing about the past, Svoboda also pointed out the
way to the future, towards the dematerialization of scenography.
Hologram projections are, indeed, still present in scenography today. However, the
technical infrastructure they require demands significant financial investment, limiting
their predominant use to the commercial entertainment and design industries. With
rare exceptions, the primary aim is to attract attention with an extravagant scenographic
solution, or to present a product’s new features by combining a hologram with 3D com-
puter technology, rather than to connect it with a show’s dramaturgical content. Holo-
grams are repeatedly visible in the music industry: Japanese synthetic-pop icon Miku
Hatsune, a Vocaloid, the first android diva to hold concerts as a 3D hologram; the perform-
ance given by Madonna and the Gorillaz at the Grammy Awards in 2006; Tupac’s reappear-
ance at the Coachella Music Festival in 2012; and the duplication of Iveta Mukuchyan at the
Eurovision Song Contest in 2016. Other examples can be found in fashion and industry
shows, such as the ghostly image of an airborne Kate Moss at Alexander McQueen’s
Paris show in 2006 or the presentation of the new Ford B-Max model by the Ford
Motor Company in 2012. It can also be found in popular entertainment venues, as with
burlesque performer Dita von Teese dancing at Studio City in Macau in 2016. Despite
the considerable cost, the peculiar sensation of seeing an image of someone who
128 N. TABAČKI
cannot be physically present, or of seeing something that cannot normally be seen, is a

compelling reason for the use of holograms in marketing or entertainment – industries
that traditionally rely on sight and hearing.
The effect of using holograms in these industries corresponds to Ashley Montagu’s
remark regarding the development of digital technology, which can restrict our percep-
tion to ‘distance senses’ such as sight and hearing (Montagu 1986, xiii). He argues that
excluding any of the senses reduces the dimensions of our reality. In order to overcome
these restrictions, some commercial shows recall early futurist ideas concerning technol-
ogy’s ability to transform the theatrical environment into a ‘dynamic, sensory-technical
apparatus’ (Salter 2010, 8). Combining robotic nozzles with projections that aspire to holo-
graphic quality, shows such as Spectra and Wonder Full actually go so far as to eliminate the
human performer.15 The futurist justification for this radical step was the creation of per-
sonified space ‘as a dynamic and interacting element between the scenic environment and
the public spectator’ (ibid., 10) that attempted to stimulate a direct sensory experience in
the audience. Spectacles such as The House of Dancing Water, Spectra and Wonder Full
provide a degree of physical distance from the projections, thus allowing visual aesthetic
pleasure, but also leave the option for the audience to come close enough to the tactile
sensation of water droplets fanned by the wind or splashes of water from the colliding
fountains. By including the sense of touch, this approach aims to increase the dimensions
of our reality, reminding the audience of their presence in the moment when the sublime
reveals itself on stage (Tabački 2017, 22–23).16
Sensing the interaction

Reflecting Svoboda’s method of searching for a fresh means of expression through the use
of new technologies, contemporary tendencies in scenography also include interactive
projection technology. Its utilization as a scenographic tool, as in Cirque du Soleil’s Ká,
is not solely the privilege of affluent institutions. Experiments are carried out both in main-
stream contexts, such as musicals, spectacles and multimedia events, and in avant-garde
theatre. The relevance of programming skills when it comes to exploring new possibilities
for interactive projections has resulted in increased cooperation between scenographers,
video artists and programmers. In turn, this has opened the way for a wide range of
approaches to projection as a scenographic medium. As a result of this change, digital pro-
jection techniques have become dominant, thus influencing the slow decline and eventual
disappearance of the solid architectural stage. Under these circumstances, concerns
regarding the physical spatial relation of the stage and the auditorium, a topic that occu-
pied progressive scenographers throughout the twentieth century, have been oversha-
dowed. While the physical performance space has been marginalized, scenographic
spatial visualization through interactive digital images has significantly expanded, giving
cyberspace a chance to show what it has to offer. Due to the fact that using interactive
digital projections as scenography is, at least for now, mostly limited to the interplay
between performers and projected images, we are challenged to look at this phenomenon
from the performer’s angle, but also to see how it appears from the audience’s perspective.
In contrast to the illusionistic and descriptive interaction visible in mainstream pro-
ductions, experimental dance companies have embraced the opportunity to work with
new technologies, using a more abstract approach to projected images. The application
of software such as Isadora, a digital tool for manipulating the projected image in real time,
or Unity 3D, used in the computer game industry, aims to enable video operators or the
performers themselves to animate the projected images. They hope to create a new
expression both bodily and spatially through a more flexible artistic decision-making
process, and by bringing about an interdependence between the performer’s body
and space.17 The projects The Movement in the Air (2015), Pixel (2014) and Hakanai
(2013) by Claire Bardainne and Adrien Mondot involve the animation of computer-gen-
erated images in real time. These are usually in the form of abstract graphic patterns,
which are created through the physical movements of the dancers. Pre-generated
images change their shape and appearance in reaction to the rhythm of the dancers’
movements. Minimalistic scenography is used that consists only of large rectangular
screens, projections and light, and dancers are positioned either in front of or behind
projection screens (Pixel), between two screens placed orthogonally to each other to
create an L-shaped wall (The Movement in the Air) or in a box whose vertical sides are
transparent screens (Hakanai). Projections on the stage floor are a regular component
of scenographic compositions, offering dancers the biggest surface with which to inter-
act. Despite the prolific use of these technologies, however, interaction in these projects
goes only in one direction, from the dancers to the projected images, making it merely a
monologue.
Opposing this one-way street, and in search of alternatives, Waltz Binaire has created
the experimental project Pathfinder, in which he uses an algorithm to ‘generate graphical
patterns to stimulate dancers’ creativity and open new perspectives’ (Binaire 2016). Using
Wassily Kandinsky’s Point and Line to Plane as a starting point, Binaire has developed a pro-
gramme to ‘generate logical transitions between all kinds of different geometric shapes’,
with the intention of helping dancers to explore new movements through conceptual
choreographic research (ibid.). Reminiscent of Svoboda’s attempt to develop a play and
dramaturgy from scenography in the Laterna Magica production of Odysseus (1987), this
approach aims to influence and inspire new pathways of choreographic expression
through an animated system of computer drawings exchanging with a scenographic chor-
eography, rather than using choreographed movements to animate projected graphic
patterns.
The aforementioned experiments with interactive projections in avant-garde works
reflect the playfulness of the postmodern tradition, which emphasizes the surface
(Sarup 1993, 132), by transforming three-dimensional scenography into screen(s) and
light. This strategy approaches the ideal of scenographic purity envisioned by Adolphe
Appia at the beginning of the twentieth century. Interactive digital images mirror the per-
formers’ self-referentiality,18 leaving the audience outside the filmic perception of the per-
formance space and unable to connect with the actual content of the projection. Even
with the conjoined kinetic properties of the projection surfaces, mainstream shows
have extended the interactive projections’ sensory impact from the performers to the
audience only to the extent to which the latter perceives the physical movement of
those surfaces. The challenge in working with interactive projections as scenography
still stands. It is grounded in the fact that from the audience’s point of view, there is no
significant difference between digital images manipulated by the performers or by tech-
nicians in real time; it is merely an aspect of technical proficiency.
130 N. TABAČKI
Sensing the visual content

With regard to content, the mainstream shows explored here use realistic digital or filmed
projections that relate literally to the narrative. The exceptions are Spectra, which features
kaleidoscopic digital animations in a more abstract manner, and Hubei in the Air, which
combines animated brush painting with computer-generated images at the beginning
of the show.
In the past, the use of projections was not limited to illusionistic, descriptive or surrea-
listic visualizations. During the 1920s, it became typical to comment on what was pre-
sented on stage, and to provide supplementary historical information. This was an
attempt to build an emotional bond with the audience by creating a broader context
for the play. Nevertheless, the connection to dramaturgy, beyond the use of the same per-
formers in both the filmed and staged action, stayed very loose. In addition to Eisenstein,
Tairov and Meyerhold experimented with projections in Russia. The projection of images,
text and film sequences was used in Meyerhold’s productions by Liubov Popova in The
Earth in Turmoil (1923), and by Ilya Shlepyanov in D.E. (Give Us Europe) (1924) as a
‘means of revealing the director’s attitude to what was taking place on stage’ (Rudnitsky
1988, 104). The attitude towards projection in Meyerhold’s political revues, communicated
directly to the audience through text or photographic images, resembles the use of
banners and placards in political demonstrations.
This documentary-style approach to projections on stage was also characteristic of Pis-
cator’s political theatre in the Weimar Republic (Piscator et al. 1986, 64). Images of text
documents, photographs and captions established new scenographic elements that
were used to foment political ideas, and, as such, provide a direct link to the reality
outside the theatre (Tretow 2003, 84–85). Catchphrases, quotes and slogans from the
Chicago labour movement were shown on projection screens to the left and right of
the stage in Fahnen (1924), referring directly to the working-class movement for an
eight-hour workday in Germany (ibid.). This aimed to affect the audience emotionally
through reflection on social and political injustice. The following year, Piscator expanded
the use of projected images by including film in the revue Trotz alledem! (1925) (Piscator
et al. 1986, 64). The utilization of this latter material was in the form of a montage of docu-
mentary film footage, which showed inserts of war, revolution, historical persons and
scenes, speeches, newspaper clippings and flyers in order to tell the story of the historical
circumstances leading to the foundation of the German Communist Party (ibid., 64–65).
Using film projection as a medium showed the interdependency (Wechselwirkung)
between the individual or class and their wider socio-political context (ibid., 64). Technol-
ogy was applied as an instrument to promote a political agenda by inspiring a new kind of
dramaturgy (Salter 2010, 34).
Scenographer Caspar Neher, who worked with several distinguished stage directors of
the Weimar Republic, including Max Reinhardt and Bertolt Brecht, at the same time as
Müller, took a line different from Piscator’s use of projections as social narration.
Instead, he started connecting them more closely with the play’s dramaturgy, and estab-
lished them as stylistic scenographic elements of Epic theatre. He applied projections to
enable the director to comment on the stage action, to emphasize text passages, and
to visualize scene titles and songs, for example, in productions of Die Dreigroschenoper
(1929) and Herr Puntila und sein Knecht Matti (1949) (Tretow 2003, 142). Instead of
restricting projection use to a documentary-style role, as Piscator and Müller did, Neher
employed it to enhance dramatization. For him, it was a medium to comment, polarize,
and shape structure and rhythm, and it functioned as a scenic tool that engaged indepen-
dently with the action on stage (ibid., 145). Interestingly enough, Neher only used film and
photography projections twice in his career: in Das Badener Lehrstück vom Einverständnis
(1929) and in Die Mutter (1951). This was in order to illustrate the action happening off
stage, and to create additional associations around the play’s context (ibid., 143). His
reasons for not using them more were rooted in the belief that film and photography,
as imprints of reality, were insufficient to transport the essence or metaphysical cognition
of theatrical art, and communicate its content to the audience. In his opinion, the main
task of scenography was to visualize the play’s atmosphere, which could only be trans-
mitted to the spectators through projected images that were painted or drawn by an
artist (ibid., 143–144). As opposed to Piscator’s and Müller’s use of projected images,
these established an artificial artistic performance space, an ‘alienated scenography’
(Verfremdungseffekt des Bühnenbildes) that distanced itself from the reality outside the
theatre in order to gain a meta-level from which it could comment on the outside
world (ibid., 145).
Svoboda, on the other hand, experimented with projections in both dramaturgical and
aesthetic attempts to connect staged action and projected images more closely. In doing
so, he concentrated on the compositional incorporation of screens into the overall stage
design, and introducing mechanical solutions for the more complex kinetics of projection
surfaces. While the emotional context of the projected images in the aforementioned
theatre productions was strongly anchored in dramaturgy, Svoboda created an additional
sensory impact on spectators in both theatre and exhibition projects that predominantly
focused on their spatial perception, changing the familiar way of seeing architecture and
images by giving them physical kinetic properties.
In this tradition, the contemporary examples of mainstream productions continue to
explore the screen’s kinetic possibilities. However, these now appear stripped of the
meta-level on which individual scenographers focused in previous generations, referring
to the wider socio-political context of the outside world. Contrary to individual artistic
content, which Neher once understood as the only means to transport the essence of
theatrical art, the projected content of shows today is the result of a collaborative
process of many individuals gathered around institutionalized artistic practices. This
socially conditioned historical process, which has been influenced by the rising complexity
of high-end mainstream shows and their investors, has caused a separation between pro-
jected content and life outside the theatre. Instead, the former has been reduced to a
purely aesthetic experience (Tretow 2003, 141–143).
Sensing the in-between

Using the projection screen as a scenographic element is a perfect metaphor for Fredric
Jameson’s remark on the flatness or depthlessness that has emerged with postmodernism.
However, thinking historically about the present through the prism of Lyotard’s challenge
regarding power and knowledge could seem like a contradiction (Jameson 1991, 9; Sarup
1993, 181).19 Recapitulating Jameson’s observation regarding the lost sense of history in
postmodern times, Madan Sarup (1993) reminds us of the quintessentially postmodernist
132 N. TABAČKI
refusal to think historically. Nevertheless, when discussing projections as scenography and

their relation to past practices, Jameson’s and Sarup’s opinion that history still has an
important function must be acknowledged. This is especially true in practical disciplines
such as scenography because only experiences ‘coped with as collective experiences
can be said to be truly experienced’ (ibid., 187). As historical precedents show, progressive
scenographers throughout the twentieth century applied projections that made the audi-
ence feel scared or astonished by ghosts and creatures of the night, politically aware of
social injustice, emotionally bonded to the historical context of the play, connected to
the rhythm of the stage action, and amazed by the kinetic possibilities of theatrical
space, all in order to communicate the essence of theatrical art. To achieve this goal,
the technology was always closely linked to scenographic practices. Contemporary main-
stream tendencies in the field, as shown in the examples given above, still implement the
latest technologies in order to achieve new means of expression, and this, in some cases,
with no regard for cost. Drawing upon Roger Copeland’s observation that no experience is
unmediated, Greg Giesekam reminds us that we currently live in a society that shapes our
perception ‘by exposure to media rather than immediate sensory experience’ (Copeland
1990, 42; Giesekam 2007, 6; Power 2008, 149). As a result, the sensory capacity of digital
images and robotic machines could play a crucial role in redefining spatial sensory
relations in scenography.
The mechanical system of adaptable galleries with ride seats in Hubei in the Air literally
brings the audience into the curved projection screen. It blurs the edges of the spectators’
peripheral view, which makes the illusion believable but still keeps them far enough away
to have the necessary distance for an aesthetic response. The subtle motion of supporting
mechanical technology during the ride activates the spectators’ senses as they move,
touch and smell, perfectly in sync with the motion of the projection that merges the
digital and the real. Drawing upon the notion of the ‘space in-between’ posited by Mar-
garet Morse, Elisabeth Grosz and Sarah Rubidge, Steve Dixon acknowledges ‘this sense
of in-between-ness’, created by merging projection and performance (of technology), as
‘a liminal space operating between the screen image and live performance’, a kind of
‘metatext’ of digital production (Dixon 2007, 337). LED displays on robotic arms and pro-
jections on kinetic stage platforms in The Han Show and Ká physically modify this space in-
between the digital and real scenographic environments, equally supporting impressions
of exploration, activity, and interaction between performance and digital space. Projec-
tions on sprays of water in The House of Dancing Water, Spectra and Wonder Full fill this
in-between-ness with droplets, adding a tactile aspect to the overall visual and audio
immersion in the spectacle.
As opposed to the practice of previous generations, experiments with technology in
scenography today, at least in the mainstream, seem to be heading towards indulging
the senses through immediate sensory experience, rather than confronting the audience
with content. In contrast to Lyotard’s suggestion that knowledge and, in the case of sce-
nography, applied science should be used to destabilize previous concepts (Sarup 1993,
153), contemporary scenographic solutions seem to reinforce rather than destabilize. Tech-
nological developments applied in mainstream shows are used to alter digital images by
changing the content according to performers’ movements and their proximity to the
screen, to reshape the performance environment using mechanical and robotic structures,
and to reposition the audience mid-show by shifting them through the performance
space. All of these uses enhance the ideas from the past. However, scientific knowledge
does not expand through proficiency, but in the search and invention of counterexamples
and in the legitimation of ‘new rules in the game of reasoning’ (Lyotard 1984, 54). Accord-
ing to Lyotard, grand narratives such as the history of the Hubei province (Hubei in the Air),
a homage to the Han Dynasty and its cultural heritage (The Han Show), the mythical
journey of separated twins (Ká), encounters between Europe and Asia (The House of
Dancing Water), the cycle of life (Wonder Full) or a display of domestic historical and cultural
roots (Spectra) have lost their credibility (Lyotard 1984, 37; see also Sarup 1993, 145). Post-
modern distrust of the meta-narrative only leaves space for the ‘fragmentation of reality’
and ‘pastiche’20 because stylistic innovation is impossible (Sarup 1993, 148). Nevertheless,
if knowledge should be used to refine ‘our sensitivity to differences and reinforces our
ability to tolerate the incommensurable’ (Lyotard 1984, xxv), the question remains as to
whether this approach offers new rules for how we think and feel about performance
space, and whether this leads towards the ultimate goal of transcending matter, as the
futurists hoped (Salter 2010, 10). Or is it just a distraction from everyday banality?
The initial romantic idea of a Gesamtkunstwerk, a synthesis of different media that
reached for the sublime, aimed to ‘communicate directly to the senses and, through
them, exclusively to the emotions’ (Salter 2010, 2). Nowadays, even with the widespread
use of capacity sensors embedded into supporting robotic and mechanical structures
that do, to a certain degree, appeal to the tactile and kinaesthetic senses, the predominant
way of sensing projections in theatres, museums, theme parks and open urban spaces is
still based on vision and hearing. Powerful surround-sound systems permit the direct
audio immersion of the spectators in their scenographic surroundings, regardless of
how far away they are from the stage. Meanwhile, however, visual apprehension, which
requires physical distance from the projections in order fully to experience what are
usually large-scale images, creates the simultaneous feeling of being displaced. Sight,
one of the senses required to experience projected images, is associated with distance,
because observed things are not where we are (Paterson 2007, 6). Audience displacement
is rooted in the binary relations regarding physical distance – the perceived distance from
a spectator’s seat to the screen, and from a spectator’s seat to the stage – from the spec-
tator’s reality to the reality of the projection. Pursuant to Lefebvre’s notion of produced
space, there is also a distance that separates the ‘real’ space of social practice from the
‘ideal’ space that has to do with ‘mental (logico-mathematical) categories’ (Lefebvre
1991, 14). Thus, using mapping projections to illustrate the characters’ worlds, to which
we do not have easy access, can emphasize their alienation from our world. Nevertheless,
successful communication with closed audio-visual systems, for example, as designed by
Bunny Christie in the critically acclaimed 2014 play The Curious Incident of the Dog in the
Night-Time, which depicts the inner reality of a boy’s autism, is rather rare. Svoboda, as
recounted by Helena Albertová, recognized the almost limitless possibilities of projections
when it came to directing and designing in the theatre after his first experiments with the
Laterna Magica and Polyecran in 1958. However, he also noted that they should not be
used indiscriminately, as they suited only some plays (Albertová 2008, 59).
One of the most widely discussed examples of almost entirely digital scenography is the
2004 musical The Woman in White, designed by William Dudley.21 Created using the
newest technology at that time, animated computer-generated images of scenographic
settings were projected onto a cyclorama, using the cinematographic techniques of
134 N. TABAČKI
panning and crane shots, and enabling fluent changes between scenes (Giesekam 2007,
10). While critics were divided in their opinions, this production received a fair amount
of scholarly criticism. Analyses acknowledged the discrepancy between the digital
image and space, the lack of audience response to the digital scenography (Aronson
2010, 86), and the paucity of audience interaction altogether, something commonly
associated with the application of new technologies (Jensen 2007, 78). These discussions
also looked at the use of sophisticated technology to create a series of flat images that
recalled the illusionistic painted backdrops utilized for centuries (McKinney and Butter-
worth 2009, 129; Giesekam 2007, 10). Although it was impressively executed with state-
of-the-art tools, Jensen noticed a lack of emotional and cultural information in the
digital scenery that left it unable to ‘perform’ and communicate with the audience
(2007, 78). Jensen points out the signifying, communicative and interactive nature of tech-
nology in our culture that is established through our daily use of digital media. Without it,
the scenery could only be observed, leaving the audience disconnected and alienated
(ibid.). It seems that the purely visual aspects of projections, namely the extension of
stage space and the creation of scenographic settings that cannot otherwise be convin-
cingly presented on stage, which were discussed in earlier examples from the twentieth
century, do not resonate with a contemporary audience. Considering the lack of emotional
response to projected 3D realities that contain familiar reference points, it is questionable
what kind of connection we can feel to the abstract virtual space, usually defined by ani-
mated graphics and patterns.
The modernist generation of architects and scenographers saw the architectural space
as an organism, walls as membranes, and materials as projection screens, aiming for a
filmic perception of the constructed environment (Haberer and Urban 2016, 169). The
space was seen as medial and adaptable to viewer perception and movement (ibid.).
However, in the contemporary examples provided here, even in those in which the
seating galleries move, the spectators themselves remain motionless in their seats,
thereby restricting the possibilities for them to adapt to a performance space dominated
by projections. As Sigfried Giedion has noted, only by walking through architectural space
can we truly experience it (1996, 180). An exploration of western theatrical history shows
that, throughout the twentieth century, scenographic experiments with projections in the
theatre had something in common: an ambition to break the flatness of the screen and
form a connection with the three-dimensional theatrical space and the audience. If sceno-
graphy’s ultimate goal is still the sensory seduction of the spectator, this is exactly what the
latest developments in mainstream theatrical technology are trying to accomplish. It is a
search for solutions that aims to bridge the gap between the abstract and the embodied,
and the digital and the sensory (Aronson 2010, 87). But this journey is not about restoring
an immediate, familiar sensory experience for the contemporary audience (Copeland
1990, 42; Giesekam 2007, 6). Rather, it is about creating a new kind of sensory impulse.
After all, we do not really know how it feels to fly over mountains and meadows, or
how it feels to inhabit a kinetic space that constantly reshapes itself. Even if we still
have not reached the cinematographic experience of constructed space, for as long as
this process keeps us emotionally bonded and does not lose sight of the projection’s
content, who knows what kind of feeling we may encounter in-between? As Svoboda
once said, there is no doubt that technology belongs to the stage and to scenography
(Burian 1970, 124). What matters is to learn how to use it meaningfully.
Conclusion
Taking into account the fact that computers still have a poor capacity for study, abstract
tasks, analysis and judgement, the World of Robots exhibition at the Shanghai Science and
Technology Museum makes a prediction for the future: development will substantially
depend on artificial intelligence memory, communication modules and sensors.22 The
sensors are able to detect chemical and physical changes and translate them into obser-
vable signals. This complex technique of image and pattern recognition has developed
rapidly, and has found its application in many aspects of our everyday lives. According
to the museum’s information board, this is especially the case in the fields of computer
vision and audition, including biometric recognition (fingerprints, iris, retina, face and
palm-vein recognition), handwritten-character recognition, printed-page analysis and rec-
ognition, speech recognition and robotics. With the application of mathematical methods,
patterns and images can be processed by identifying specific parameters, for example
colour or shape. They then extract these specific features from the object, compare
them to the database, and, after completing the matching process, ‘recognize’ them.23
In Ká, for example, the performers’ movements and their proximity to the stage are cap-
tured by Large-Scale Surface Sensor technology and sent to the computer. The computer
software subsequently uses this input data to trigger interaction with the images, and the
‘changed’ image is sent back to the stage via digital projector. In this case, the sensors reg-
ister motion, but react to it by generating a visual alteration of projected images. This kind
of ‘sensory substitution’ is characteristic of sensing technology, which receives signals
from one sensory modality and uses them to stimulate another sensory modality (Lenay
et al. 2003; Rohde 2010, 48). However, ‘sensory substitution’ may be a misleading term
here. According to the study ‘Sensory Substitution: Limits and Perspectives’ by Lenay
et al. (2003, 275–292), there is no substitution for the absent sense, but only a ‘new per-
ceptual quality’ and the ‘augmentation or supplementation of the perceptual world’
(Rohde 2010, 49).
Nowadays, chemical sensors such as temperature, smoke and humidity detectors are an
inseparable part of a building’s infrastructure. As such, they have become commonplace in
the theatre. On the other hand, using physical sensors in scenography, and meaningfully
translating them into a semiotic alphabet that has the capacity to establish a sensory con-
nection with the audience, is a challenging task,24 even for a discipline that traditionally
confronts the audience with the performative aspects of technology. Following recent
developments in the field, sensing technology could become more relevant for sceno-
graphic praxis in the future. Therefore, finding fresh means of expression could depend
essentially on how we sense technology, and how technology senses us. For scenogra-
phers, forging closer ties to computer programming and coding languages, built on a pro-
found knowledge of traditional spatial design techniques, could be a beneficial way to
prepare for ‘things to come’.25 According to Lyotard, the transfer of knowledge to
future generations should, above all, provide the ability to organize actualized data into
an efficient strategy, and arrange them in a new way (Lyotard 1984, 51; Sarup 1993,
139). This is a call to focus on the imagination, instead of on efficiency, as the key to
invent ‘a new game’ (Lyotard 1984, 43–44, 52; Sarup 1993, 139). Without this transition,
we are only scratching the postmodern surface, and the risk will remain that, one day,
as theatre critic Kenneth Tynan predicted, technology will rise like an army and expel
136 N. TABAČKI
the audience from the theatre. And how would this technology-led exodus make us feel?
Superfluous, frustrated, defeated, or, perhaps, liberated? My gut tells me that freedom
would feel different.
Disclosure statement
No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.
Notes
1. Hubei in the Air – concept phase: Forrec, Raven Sun Creative, and Rethink; schematic phase:
Forrec was responsible for the creative and media/story development alongside Super 78;
ride/attraction engineering by the TWT Group; show set development by Adirondack
Studios; lighting design by Visual Terrain; rigging design by LA Propoint; AV design by Enter-
tainment Techknowledgy; SFX design by AET; graphic design by WrenHouse Design; costing
by Cormier LLC, and scheduling by Cumming, Gina Yu (Project Manager); electrical engineering
by Bill Gnan; True Flight Motion System by Dynamic Attractions. DBV vendor – show sets, tech-
nical integration and supervision: Adirondack/Xiandai; media production: Pixomondo; media
consultant: Matilda Entertainment; ride platform: DSL; theatre screen/AV equipment: Kraftwerk
Living Technologies; music composition and sound: Yessian Music. See Anderson 2016.
2. Ping Chong immersed onstage performers into Van Gogh’s painting Crows in the Cornfield in
Deshima (1990) (Dixon 2007, 337).
3. From email correspondence with Jennifer Zika (Kraftwerk Living Technologies), August 2017.
4. The Han Show (The Han Show Theatre, Wuhan) – Director: Franco Dragone; Theatre and Equip-
ment Design: Mark Fisher; Set Designer: Francois Séguin; Costume Designer: Tim Yip; Director
of Creation: Line Tremblay; Associate to the Director and Choreographer: Anne Tournié;
Comedic Character and Act Designer: Wayne Wilson; Human Performance and Machinery
Designer: Jaque Paquin; Human Performance Designer: John Bradyl; Music: Benoit Jutras;
Make-Up Designer: Carmen Arbues; Lighting Designer: Alain Lortie; Fountain and SFX
Designer: Denis Lafontaine; Sound Designer: Vikram Kirby; Video Designer: Patrick Neys; Dra-
maturge: Vincent Engel.
5. For further technical details, see the Siemens website: https://mall.industry.siemens.com/mall/
en/WW/Catalog/Products/10168360 (accessed 30 July 2017).
6. Ká, Cirque du Soleil (MGM Grand, Las Vegas) – Creator and Director: Robert Lepage; Director of
Creation: Guy Caron; Theatre and Set Designer: Mark Fisher; Costume Designer: Marie-Chan-
tale Vaillancourt; Composer: René Dupéré; Choreographer: Jacques Heim; Lighting Designer:
Luc Lafortune; Sound Designer: Jonathan Deans; Interactive Projections: Holger Förterer;
Puppet Designer: Michael Curry; Props Designer: Patricia Ruel; Acrobatic Equipment and
Rigging Designer: Jaque Paquin; Aerial Acrobatic Designer and Head Coach Creation: André
Simard; Make-Up Designer: Nathalie Gagné.
7. See http://www.foerterer.com/ka/realization.htm (accessed 30 July 2017).
8. From email correspondence with Philippe Jean (Les Ateliers Numériques), August 2017.
9. The Making of ‘Ká’, DVD, Cirque du Soleil, 2005.
10. The House of Dancing Water (City of Dreams, Macau) – Artistic Director: Franco Dragone; Scenic
Designer: Michel Crête; Architect: Li Chung Pei; Costume Designer: Suzy Benzinger; Composer:
Benoit Jutras; Make-Up Designer: Carmen Arbues; Fountain/Special Effects Designer: Denis
Lafontaine; Acrobatic Performance Designer: Andrew Watson; Lighting Designer: Luc Lafor-
tune; Video-Content Designer: Patrick Neys.
11. See http://www.kraftwerk.at/en/references/show/dancingwater/ (accessed 31 July 2017).
12. ‘Spectra, Marina Bay Sands Light Show: New Water and Light Spectacular’, Little Day Out, 31
May 2017, http://www.littledayout.com/2017/05/31/spectra-marina-bay-sands-light-show-
new-water-light-spectacular/ (accessed 31 July 2017).
13. See http://www.laservision.com.au/portfolio/marina-bay-sands/ (accessed 31 July 2017).

14. For a detailed reconstruction of the scenography for the Ring Cycles (1974–1976) at the Royal
Opera House Covent Garden, see Tabački 2014, 153–181.
15. Hubei in the Air also eliminates the human performer while combining robotic structures with
projections. In this case, the quality of projected images is changed by using a concave screen
that offers different experiences than a holographic image.
16. For an explanation of the sublime, see Sarup 1993, 151.
17. Unity 3D: http://recipient.cc/work/unity3d-for-theatre; Isadora: http://troikatronix.com/
isadora/about/ (accessed 15 September 2016).
18. According to Sarup (1993, 132), self-referentiality is one of the recurring elements of postmo-
dern arts.
19. Lyotard rejected historical interpretations as being dogmatic (Sarup 1993, 154).
20. The fragmentation of reality refers to Walter Benjamin’s concept of allegory, which he calls
‘montage’. ‘Pastiche’, the imitation of a dead style, was established by Fredric Jameson. See
the ‘main features of postmodernism’ and the ‘totality of fragmentation’ in Sarup 1993, 144–150.
21. The Woman in White opened on 15 September 2004 in London’s West End, and closed on 25
February 2006. Adapted by Charlotte Jones; lyrics by David Zippel; score by Andrew Lloyd
Webber; directed by Trevor Nunn; stage and costume design by William Dudley; lighting by
Paul Pyant; choreography by Wayne McGregor. http://www.londontheatrearchive.co.uk/cgi-
bin/archive/secure/searchwestend.cgi?method=all&mytemplate=tp1&order_by=event1&ord
er=abc&header=event1&search=Woman+in+white (accessed 17 September 2016). The orig-
inal Broadway production opened on 17 November 2005, and closed on 19 February 2006.
https://musicalcyberspace.wordpress.com/musicals-s-z/woman-in-white-the/ (accessed 17
September 2016).
22. The Shanghai Science and Technology Museum, ‘Sensors’ [plate], World of Robots, April 2016.
23. Ibid.
24. According to Leeker, Beyes, and Schipper (2017, 11), technological performativity ‘refers to
deterministic operations without semiotic or affective qualities’.
25. Lyotard observed that ‘if education must not only provide for the reproduction of skills, but
also for their progress, then it follows that the transmission of knowledge should not be
limited to the transmission of information, but should include training in all of the procedures
that can increase one’s ability to connect the fields jealously guarded from one another by the
traditional organization of knowledge’ (1984, 52). He pointed out that the advantages of team-
work lie ‘in improving performativity within the framework of a given model’, not in imagining
new models on the level of conception (ibid., 53).
Notes on contributor
Dr. Nebojša Tabački is a freelance scenographer and a scholar, working for theatre, film and televi-
sion. He studied architecture in Belgrade and Berlin, stage and production design as postgraduate in
Munich and art and culture history as PhD student in Berlin. His scholarly interests focus on the
impact of technology on scenography and theatre architecture. His book Kinetic Stages (Transcript,
2014) examines visionary concepts of kinetic scenography and theatre buildings of the 1960s and
the 1970s influenced by modernist architecture heritage. His recent publications include articles
in Theatre and Performance Design (Volume 1, Issues 1-2, 2015), Theatre Arts Journal (Volume 4,
Issue 1 2017) and a chapter in Scenography Expanded (Bloomsbury, 2017).
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Make Me Feel: Sensing Technology in Contemporary Scenography

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Theatre and Performance Design

ISSN: 2332-2551 (Print) 2332-2578 (Online) Journal homepage: http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/rdes20

Make me feel: sensing technology in

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Make me feel: sensing technology in contemporary

CONTACT Nebojša Tabački ntabacki@gmail.com

Sensing the past: historical precedents

Sensing the moment: holographic images

cannot be physically present, or of seeing something that cannot normally be seen, is a

Sensing the interaction

Sensing the visual content

Sensing the in-between

refusal to think historically. Nevertheless, when discussing projections as scenography and

13. See http://www.laservision.com.au/portfolio/marina-bay-sands/ (accessed 31 July 2017).

Binaire, Waltz. 2016. “Pathfinder: A Generative Approach to Choreography.” http://waltzbinaire.com/

Gaddy, David. 2013. “Projection for the Production of Ká.” https://www.controlbooth.com/threads/

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