Greek theatre masks were made of stiffened and painted linen so none have survived to the present day. We only know what they looked like because theatre was so popular in Greek and Roman times that models of actors and masks were made in other materials such as terracotta, stone and bronze and depicted on gems and in paintings and mosaics. With its exaggerated, grotesque features, this terracotta model shows the mask worn by the old man character in many comedies of the 300s BC and later. He has a wide grin, furrowed brow and bald head and wears a wreath with ivy leaves and clusters of berries. The masks worn in tragedies were different, with idealised features set in calm, serious, or sometimes pained expressions.
Masks had certain practical uses: their distinct features made characters recognisable at a distance; they made it easier for the three actors used in plays to play more than one part each; they enabled the all-male casts to play both men and women and some experts claim that the masks helped amplify the voice so that it could be heard at the back of the large open-air theatres. However, the most significant role of the mask was that of transformation: an ordinary man could go beyond his real identity and become a mythological hero or a lusty satyr, a foolish old man or a beautiful young woman, a god or a slave. In this disguise he could say and do things that could not be said and done in everyday life, and could present to the audience events, actions and ideas that were horrifying or ridiculous, inspiring or fantastic.
Throughout the Greek world, performances of plays were usually connected with worship of the god Dionysos. It is the idea of transformation that lies at the root of this association. Although Dionysos is often thought of simply as the god of wine, it is the transformational power of wine that most characterises him. Dionysos was fundamentally the god of changeability: grapes become wine, sober becomes drunk, human becomes animal, order becomes chaos.
While we refer to Greek theatre, almost all the Greek plays we have were written and first performed in Athens and it was in Athens that Greek theatre as we know it was invented, developed and reached its height. In Athens there were three annual festivals of Dionysos at which plays were performed, the most important being the City Dionysia, which took place in March. The festival lasted five or six days. Three sets of three tragedies, each followed by a so-called satyr play, and five comedies were performed. The productions were paid for partly by the state and partly by rich individuals as a form of contribution to the well-being of the city. Many aspects of Greek culture were very competitive and the festivals took the form of competitions with great prestige to be gained by the winning playwrights and citizen-producers.
First episode in BBC series on Greek theatre
First episode in BBC series on Greek theatre: excellent introduction to theatre in Athens; a further two episodes continue the story.
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Made from hinoki (cedar) wood that has been carefully treated and lacquered with gofun (powder) from shells and painted, often with whiskers or beards inserted to add character. They are a much valued object and are often signed by leading craftsmen who, from the late Muromachi period (1336-1573) onwards, passed their skills down through generations of makers. Over time, the masks gradually could be differentiated by their style and expression, according to the type of character being portrayed.
Today, there are more than 250 types of masks that have been conserved and passed down the centuries to be reproduced for Noh plays. The genres in the current repertoires can be categorised into roughly 60 basic types. Some of the main genres are okina (a ritual dance predating noh) type masks; jo (elderly) type masks, which are frequently worn for characters of elderly men in the first parts of dramas, as well as warriors. Other categories includes masks of demons or deities, young or grown men, and to represent children or adolescents.
One of the most eye-catching part of Noh dramas are the costumes. They are an important part of the spectacle and help identify a character for the audience, set a scene, reflect the season and the time of a festival or event. The first costumes were probably not very different from the attire worn in everyday life during the Muromachi period (1336-1573). In medieval times, compared to the preceding Heian period (794-1185), when many-layered clothes were worn by the court and aristocracy, the dress for men of military lineage (bushi) gradually began to change and became more informal, as did the formal attire for both genders of the aristocracy. This simpler structure allowed for more decorative top garments.
The kosode became the main costume of Noh and an ideal garment to show off elaborate patterns and the textures of the textiles. Gold and silver brocades were considered especially suitable for theatrical costumes and Noh actors took to wearing glittering gold costumes, which would have given an almost other-worldly ambiance to the drama. These lavish costumes bear witness to the remarkable developments in the fields of spinning, weaving, embroidering and painting of fabrics and designs and their decoration on silk.
These early textile makers became established in the Nishijin area of Kyoto, near the emperor and the court, to cater to the growing demand of the aristocracy. The technique that best advanced Momoyama ideals in colour and texture is known as surihaku. For this, gold leaf was pressed over designs built-up with paste, the result being something like gold brocade, but producing much freer designs than were possible in any kind of woven fabric.
When surihaku was combined with embroidery for a wider range of colour and textures, it was known as nuihaku. The creativity involved in the making of Noh costumes, which has always been considered an art form, flourished more during this period than at any other time. The finely woven and highly decorative Nishijin-ori is a traditional fabric that is still produced in this area of Kyoto today.
A smaller third of the exhibition explores the musical instruments used by the hayashi, the ensemble of four musicians that sit to the side of the state and accompany the drama. Comprising one wind instrument flute (fue or nokan) and three percussion instruments (kotsuzumi, otsuzumi, and taiko). The musicians highlight the entry and exit of the actors and accompany the singing and dance. This eerie whisper of the flute helps creates the other-worldly feeling necessary to Noh.
Black people, and other communities of color, are disproportionately impacted by COVID. Despite being more likely to take precautions than white people, we are more likely to end up in the hospital or die from the virus. We cannot build an anti-racist theatre while freely spreading COVID, knowing that Black, Indigenous, and people of color (BIPOC) are being harmed the most.
Elizabeth Molloy, Nathan Tubbs, and A.J. Baldwin in Theatre: A Love Story by Caridad Svich at Know Theatre of Cincinnati. Directed by Daryl Harris, Brant Russell, and Tamara Winters. Scenic and lighting design by Andrew Hungerford. Costume design by Noelle Wedig-Johnston. Choreography by Kim Popa. Choreographic collaboration by Pones. Sound design by Douglas Borntrager. Prop design and scenic art by Kayla Williams. Cinematography by Ryan Lewis. Stage management by Meghan Winter. Technical direction by Henry Bateman. Featuring Music by Yheti.
Theatremakers also have power in our storytelling. Right now, there is minimization from government officials about the risk of COVID and disinformation from federal agencies about the best steps for prevention. Many people are unaware of the risks and think they are safer than they are. As artists, we could create stories that cut through the propaganda and tell the truth, which is something some theatre artists have previously considered to be an important role of our work.
COVID is airborne and can linger in the air like smoke for hours. You can make a difference by cleaning the air. If someone in your audience has COVID but you have high efficiency particulate air (HEPA) filtration in the space, you are doing a lot to prevent further infection. A study showed that having two HEPA air filters close to an infected person reduced the chance of exposure by 65 percent. Layers of protection are the best, as we learned from the swiss cheese model earlier in the pandemic. Utilizing air filtration and masking can reduce the chance of exposure by 90 percent.
With this in mind, we need to have conversations about air quality in our theatres. We need to be transparent about where we are currently and make plans to improve if needed. This is not only important for COVID prevention. Air pollution has been plaguing certain parts of the United States for a while. This past summer, many more of us felt the impacts of poor air quality as a result of the Canada wildfires. As the climate emergency worsens, you are investing in the health of your audience and arts workers by cleaning the air.
I know not everyone reading this essay has the positional power to require masks or upgrade air filtration. But you likely have more power than you think. Be the voice in the room speaking up. I am a playwright who recently secured mask-required performances for my shows after asking about COVID precautions. Use your platforms, like Azure and Caridad. Ask about COVID precautions before signing a contract and be clear that you find them necessary.
We work in an industry where we are encouraged to say yes to any opportunity, as Sara Bozin recently highlighted in her essay. But we must be willing to advocate for what we believe in. When you advocate for COVID precautions, you are making the experience safer for BIPOC and disabled audiences, for the artists you are working with, and for the artists who will come after you.
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