The following tale was recounted in the Dublin University magazine in 1868 concerning Molière. This occurred in 1662:
But instead of settling the company at the Tuilleries they made over to them the theatre built by Cardinal Richelieu at the Palais Royal, for the performance of his poor play “Mirame.” Alas! it was now in a deplorable plight, the great beams nearly rotten and the audience portion half unroofed.
Leave was given by Monsieur to transport the loges, and other accessories of the Salle (audience portion) of Le Petit Bourbon to the Palais Royal. Moliere might also have taken the scenery, machinery, properties, and other furnishing of the theatre behind the curtain, but the detestable vandal, Vigarani, machinist to the king, put an effective veto on the removal. These ingenious and splendid scenes and pieces of machinery designed by Torelli, were the wonder of the age, and had contributed to the glory of L’Orpheo of the Italian company, and L’Andromède of Corneille. Vigarani, despairing of producing anything like them for the king’s private theatre, had them destroyed. We read in the Register of La Grange, “He made these decorations be burned, ay to the very least, in order that nothing should remain of the invention of his predecessor, the Sieur Torelli, whose very memory he wished to bury in oblivion.
So here were our poor theatrical friends driven to the ruinous house, now a thorough desert behind the curtain. As to the Salle and its parcel-roof the inconvenience was not beyond remedy. Had not the ingenious and gifted company often performed in more wretched places in the provinces? But scenery and some simple machinery were absolutely necessary, and till these were forthcoming Moliere and his people remained “on the flags,” as they say in Paris.
I hate the word “green”. I believe the “green” movement has largely been co-opted by marketers and advertisers in an attempt to sell the same stuff in a new feel-good form. “Green” bottled water and “greener” disposable packaging still has a negative effect on the environment and community.
That being said, I whole-heartily subscribe to what “green” should mean. We can’t pretend that things disappear when you put them in the garbage, and you have to understand that everything comes from somewhere else; how it is made (or mined, or harvested, etc.) has a real impact on people’s lives.
Every bit of lumber we use means less trees somewhere else. In some cases, they come from a place where trees are replanted to replace the ones taken, and a whole group of people are able to make a living for their families. In other cases, entire ecosystems are destroyed as forests are removed, and the native people who live there are pushed aside and left with nothing to sustain them. This is true of all materials. Being green is not some feel-good philosophy to make animals smile. Choosing greener products is a declaration that the materials you buy for making props are less important than razing a village and giving cancer to children.
As props people, we are already predisposed to being green. We collect and reuse things from the past that were destined for the dumpster. We keep our budgets down by trolling thrift stores, eBay, and Craigslist. We let others borrow, rent and buy the items we’ve accumulated. We are largely pack-rats; the only reason we get rid of things is because we physically run out of room to store it in our already overstuffed storage areas.
Being green is also safer. If a product releases toxic chemicals when being used, chances are it also damages the environment in its creation. A shop which chooses less-toxic alternatives in its materials and supplies, which provides proper safety equipment and ventilation, and which is aware of the affects of what it uses (by studying and maintaining its MSDS collection) is already greener than a shop which doesn’t.
For more practical tips and additional information about green theater, you can explore the following links. None of them have to do with props specifically, but combining the information on scenery, costumes, and offices will give you a good start.
Check out the 50 things you can do towards being a green theater. Some suggestions are great – make fabric mock-ups with thrift store sheets rather than new muslin. Others are somewhat counter-intuitive – print brochures to let the public know what you’re doing.
I briefly mentioned the ecoTheater blog last year in a post about careers in technical theater. Though updates there have slowed down a bit, it’s still a great jumping off point for a cornucopia of other sites and information about sustainable theater practices.
Originally published in Dwight’s Journal of Music, 1861.
Now let us step into the “property room.” This is under the charge of an individual known as the “property man” of the theatre, and “theatrical properties” are the various articles other than dresses used in the representation of plays; consequently the property room of a large theatre is quite a museum, and really a very curious sight to one who visits it for the first time.
Here are embroidered purses of gold (filled with broken china and tin), fat pocket books of (newspapers) bank notes by rich old uncles in farces, kings’ golden sceptres, fairies tinselled wands, goblets of gold, flagons of silver, tin cups for peasants’ revels, and papier mache chickens and roast beef for dinner scenes, caskets of jewels, gorgeous Dutch metal candelabras, signet rings for monarchs, and staffs for beggars and witches, Othello’s handkerchief, the witches’ cauldron, Romeo’s vial of poison, Shylock’s scales and knife, Falstaff’s jug of sack, Friar Laurence’s rosary, Prospero’s wand, clubs for mobs, shillelaghs for Irishmen, writing aparatus for lovers to write hurried letters, kings to sign death warrants, and spendthrift’s heirs to draw bills, the “letters” used in different standard plays, all alphabetically arranged and properly superscribed ready for use, so that they serve whenever the play is performed, wills and deeds with broad seals and black marks made to look well “from the front,” crown jewels, jugs of ale without the ale, and a thousand other things used in mimicking life and representing romance.
We must not, however, forget the armory part of the property man’s charge, not the least curious part of his collection. Hero the visitor finds stands of muskets enough for a company, glittering spears for a Roman legion, gleaming battle axes for barbarians, curved scimitars for Moslems, and straight blades for true cavaliers, Spanish rapiers, Highland claymores, Toledo blades, and English broadswords. The fasces of tho Roman lictors and pole-axes of the Queen’s guard stand side by side, the executioner’s big axe and block repose grimly in a corner, while on the walls are daggers of all sorts and sizes, from the delicate one which the maiden draws as a protection against dishonor, to the broad blade bared by the murderer or ‘front wood robber,’ who steps softly over the stage when the lights are turned down, to thuds of the big fiddle; pistols, tomahawks, and other murderous implements in glittering profusion.
One hundred and nineteen years ago, Jerome K. Jerome took a trip through a prop room. Jerome is an English writer who began his career as an actor. In the following excerpt, he gives a very comprehensive view of a props stock at this time period.
Between the yard and the stage was a very big room, containing so heterogeneous a collection of articles that at first I fancied it must be a cooperative store in connection with the theater. It was, however, only the property room, the things therein being properties, or, more commonly, “props,” so called, I believe, because they help to support the drama. I will give you some of the contents of the room haphazard as I recollect them. There was a goodly number of tin cups, painted black up to within half an inch of the rim, so as to give them the appearance of being always full. It is from these vessels that the happy peasantry carouses, and the comic army get helplessly fuddled. There is a universality about them. They are the one touch of (stage) nature which makes the whole world kin. They are used alike by the Esquimaux and the Hottenot. The Roman soldiery appear never to have drunk out of anything else: while, without them, the French Revolution would lose its chief characteristic. Besides these common cups, there were gold and silver ones, used only for banquets, and high-class suicides. There were bottles, and glasses, and jugs, and decanters. From these aids to debauchery, it was pleasant to turn to a cozy-looking tea service on a tray with a white table cloth: there was a soothing suggestion of muffins and domestic bliss about it. There was plenty of furniture, a couple of tables, a bedstead, a dresser, a sofa, chairs half dozen of them, high-backed ones, for “hall in the old Grange,” etc.; they were made by fixing pasteboard backs on to ordinary cane chairs. The result was that they were top heavy, and went over at the slightest touch; so that picking them up, and trying to make them stand, formed the chief business of the scenes in which they were used.
I remember the first time our light comedy attempted to sit down on one of these chairs. It was on the opening night. He had just said something funny, and, having said it, sat down, crossed his legs, and threw himself back, with all that easy, negligent grace so peculiarly his own. Legs were the only things that could be seen for the next few minutes.
Other “props” were, a throne, gorgeous in gilt paper and glazed calico; a fire-grate, stuffed with red tinfoil; a mirror, made with silver paper; a bunch of jailer’s keys; handcuffs; leg irons; flat irons; rifles; brooms; bayonets; picks and crow, bars for the virtuously infuriated populace; clay pipes; daggers made of wood; stage broadswords – there is no need to describe these, everybody knows them, they are like nothing else on earth; battle axes; candlesticks; a pound or two of short dips; a crown, set with diamonds and rubies each as big as a duck’s egg; a cradle empty, an affecting sight; carpets, kettles, and pots; a stretcher; a chariot; a bunch of carrots; a coster-monger’s barrow; banners; a leg of mutton, and a baby. Everything, in short, that could possibly be wanted, either in a palace or a garret, a farm-yard or a battle-field.
We’ve been cleaning out a bit lately at the Public Theatre. One reason is we’re about to undergo major construction and renovation, and need to clear out spaces that haven’t been cleared out in decades. Another reason is we finally have all our shows open for the year and have a bit of a breather at the moment. Finally, storage space is expensive in New York City, and we don’t have that much to begin with, so we continually need to reevaluate what we keep.
my own private idaho by phil h
Like most props people, I’m a bit of a pack-rat, so it can be almost physically painful to throw things out. There are of course, alternatives to just trashing things. The easiest solution, depending on the item, is to send out an email to everyone in your theatre and offer it up for free on a first-come first-serve basis. You can also try to sell it on Craigslist or eBay, or through another venue. There are also a number of charities you can donate certain things to, such as Salvation Army or Goodwill. Here in New York City, we also have a place called Materials for the Arts.
So how do you go about determining what to keep and what to toss? Unfortunately, no two theatres can use the same set of guidelines. If you do mainly new works, you’ll have different prop needs then if you do mostly Shakespeare. Likewise, the capabilities of your shop will determine what props can be built in the future. While you may come across your own set of guidelines after maintaining a storage space for a few years, if you’re new to your stock, you can run through a series of questions to determine whether a prop is trash or treasure.
How show-specific is the prop? Is it something common that can be used in a number of shows or as a rehearsal prop? Or is it a painting of a unicorn on a piece of black velvet… in a forced perspective picture frame.
How large is it? If it takes up the space of several smaller props, you may need extra justification to keep it around.
How much does a new one cost? If it’s inexpensive, especially if it’s already showing some wear and tear, you may want to just buy a new one when you need it… that is, if you need it.
How hard would it be to build another one? Some props are constructed so simply, it would almost take more time to walk to the prop storage, dig around until you find it, and carry it back, then it would to build a new one. This is especially true when I come across props whose construction can be improved upon.
Do you already have some of the same thing in stock? Sometimes you need multiples, but sometimes there’s no conceivable reason why you would need a hundred brown paper grocery bags; and if you did, you should demand the budget for it.
Is the item in good condition? You have to figure that anything in your stock will need some tightening and dusting when you pull it out, but if it’s beyond repair, why are you keeping it?
Is there anything useful or valuable that can be taken off and used again? If you can remove large, sections of usable raw materials, do it. Sometimes, you have pieces which you feel can be incorporated into future props, such as knobs or dials. In these cases, I’d rather keep these “found object” building materials with the rest of the building materials; keep knobs with knobs, dials with dials, and the rest in containers such as “brass stuff” or “wood pieces”. It’s a lot easier than filling your prop storage with random vacuum cleaner parts and broken prop pieces.
Is it going to be difficult or dangerous to store? We all have at least one prop like that in our storage; no matter what we need to get, it always seems to be in the way some how, and it weighs more than you can lift. No matter where you put it, you’re doomed to be kicking a dead horse whenever you need to get a chair.
How adaptable is it? Chairs can always be reupholstered, refinished, or painted; they can even be made taller or shorter. Compare that with a carved piece of solid marble.
Will it attract mice and ants in storage? I’m looking at you, shellac-ed piece of real bread.
How well-made is it? This is a little different from whether it’s in good shape or not. A crude and ugly piece is still crude and ugly even when it’s undamaged. An exceptional prop, in addition to serving your limited storage well, can also have instructional value for future prop building endeavors.
Can you make money or develop karma by renting it out to other companies? If you have an iron lung, you can almost make a full-time job out of renting it to theatres who are putting on “City of Angels”.
I’d love to hear what everyone else does to determine what to keep and what to get rid of, as well as more alternatives to simply throwing things away.
Making and finding props for theatre, film, and hobbies
