The acoustic characteristics of a space can be defined through subjective terms and precise physical measurement. By correlating these subjective terms with the physical characteristics of a space, a sound designer is able to implement specific techniques in altering the acoustic response of a space to reach an artistic end result, such as a warm, inviting environment. For example, a space that is considered warm has increased reverberation of lower frequencies, and by altering the amount of reverberation at other frequencies a sound designer could change how warm a theatre feels.

In the production of The Gradient the design team imagined that the audience should enter into a welcoming space and that the space would feel less comfortable as the play progressed. To achieve this, the sound design included a series of area mics run through a tightly filtered reverb engine that artificially enhances the reverb at specific bands of frequencies. At the beginning of the show, lower frequency reverb was produced to create a warmer, more welcoming space. Over the course of the play, the frequency of the filter was increased to produce reverb at higher frequencies, ending the play in a space with a cold and clinical feel. By utilizing this technique of artificially adjusting the reverb response of the theater, the sound design successfully shifted the audiences emotional reaction to the space in sync with the dramatic arc of the play.

In my time at the University of California, San Diego, I have experimented with how sound physically affects the human body. There has been a swarm of research that not only suggests that sound therapy re-aligns your brain and helps with mindset changes, but that the sound waves and vibrations can alter your body physically.

The same concepts used in sound healing and therapy practices, such as sound baths, intention focus, and low frequency sound stimulation, can be translated into theatrical practices. This dissertation will lead you through a few practical applications of using sound healing ideas in theatre, but also examples of how and why sound is not just an aural based medium.

Emotions are rampant when one considers the non-physical form of lighting design. I often had to feign laughter with others in the room when I decided to introduce myself as an Emotional Support Designer.

Pieces of me go into every design, one could say I should be heightening the emotion of the character’s, But I have never once tried to accomplish that task. I most likely will never be that character, and I will never feel the same in the exact way that they are feeling, that is the actor’s job. I put my emotions on stage, how I feel in that moment, I want to heighten the viewers emotions, not the character’s.

Being born male I fell into the stereotype of not being able to (or maybe it would be better to say not wanting to) express my emotions. While studying to obtain my undergraduate degree I collected the practical skills of Lighting Design. Here at The University of California, San Diego, I expanded the skill of true emotional expression. I have created some of the most fulfilling pieces of art, but they slowly destroy me when my emotions cannot be fully understood.

Color has been theorized to effect emotion and is the world I live in. When my emotions are passionate my designs are deep in hue and vulgar, and when my emotions are dulled my designs are pale and stolid.

I hope my emotions constantly change throughout my career, and I hope to die, full of emotions.

The distance between an actor and their audience can have considerable impact on the audience’s emotional involvement with the drama. In theatre, when an actor stands some distance away from the audience both intimacy and connection can be lost because of the depth of the space between the audience and the action. In film, that issue is not present because of camera shots such as close ups that can minimize the distance between the audience and the actor. By combining theatre and film through the use of live video and projections on stage we can be provided with a solution to this undesirable loss of intimacy in theatre. By integrating filmic techniques into theatre, we are able to use cameras to zoom in on an actor who could be standing far away from the audience and project the resulting imagery onto a new surface at a larger scale. The face of the actor could now be 30 feet tall allowing the audience to see all the subtleties in the actors’ expressions and emotions, something we would have struggled to see without the help of the live video projections. By using these techniques, we have regained our connection and intimacy with the actor and the ability to see the minor changes in expression, the tilt of the eyebrow, the blush in the cheeks and the water in their eyes. This outweighs the notion that they are now represented as a giant digital collection of pixels on a solid and static surface.

In this paper I will discuss how video design can be used as a tool for expressing the mental state of a character when used in live performance. Video as a medium in American theatre has been evolving and expanding in recent years. Designers are searching for a way to integrate this discipline into their work that enriches storytelling. The medium of video can feel at odds with live performance, yet it can also be a successful tool for investigating a character’s psyche. I will touch on artists whose work explores the use of video as a storytelling medium and breakdown two productions I designed during my time at UCSD. Those productions are Branden Jacobs Jenkins’ Everybody directed by Daniel Jáquez in 2022 and Charles Mee’s Orestes 2.0 directed by Joseph Hendel in 2020.

Theater has always reflected the life of the people that surrounds it. Therefore, being able to understand, absorb and expand the “American experience” as a first-generation immigrant was one of the main challenges during my time at UCSD. I start these projects assuming I'm distanced from the theme. Turn out there are multiple access points in each production. Those design processes are valuable to me as an emerging set designer in the US because they immersed me in the culture that is around me now and will always be part of American theater.

The three productions I designed that deal with “Americanness” the most are 53% Of, A Beautiful Day in November on the banks of the Greatest of the Great Lakes and Balm in Gilead. Each of them presents different aspects of American Life. 53% Of is about 53% of women voted for Trump, a microscope on the grand US political scene. A Beautiful Day is a Thanksgiving dinner narrates by sports commentators, portraying the marrow of family in stylized acting. Balm in Gilead is about the low-life in the decaying 1960s New York City center, harsh realism poses the question of how to be compassionate in the bad times.

The world has become closer and relationships between people has always been universal. When designing A Beautiful Day, I relate Thanksgiving dinner to Chinese New Year: awkward conversations between generations and that Aunt who is always late. Globalization has also affected out collective memory. Growing up reading tons of US home decoration magazines, I was able to produce the stereotypical living space in 53% Of. One lesson I've also learned is that personal experiences are valuable research. The nuanced design of Balm in Gilead comes from early discussions with the director about her experience being an young artist in New York City and the fine-tuning during technical rehearsal when the whole team absorbs the space and developed the details as collectives.

The role of the scenic designer is to craft space for an event to occur. In this paper I examine how honesty is presented in a theatrical setting both by utilizing real objects which carry their own history and by presenting empty space in such a way that the audience becomes a co-imaginer of the world. By being creatively engaged, the audience puts more investment into the performance, and the performers are elevated by the deeper connection. This paper uses two productions as case studies. First is “Bunny Bunny”, produced by UC San Diego where I was a key collaborator. Second is “Is It Thursday Yet?”, produced by La Jolla Playhouse, where I served as an associate. I begin by articulating a theory of design. Then I delve into the process of creation for both shows drawing on my own records along with an interview conducted with Rachel Hauck, the set designer for “Is It Thursday Yet?”. Though the pieces were very different in style and scope, they overlapped in how the use of the real, or the feeling of truth accessed audience memory, and therefore audience response. By examining both the creation processes and pulling out specific details of the final presentation, I hope to illustrate how scenic design is able to effect audience experience.

Unlike painting and sculpting and other traditional artistic mediums, scenic design can help create the dramatic space or environment for story telling. This invented space can be regarded as an “installation” for a specific text with a clear cultural message. Some of them are plays, musicals, operas or interpretive movement and dances. The shape, the material, the color and the texture bring about a tangible identity defining the space where the story takes place.

Theatre, as opposed to movies and television shows, has a conventional limited space, therefore the audience becomes aware of the piece, message and meaning in a more direct and intimate way. Productions vary in size, some require constant scenic changes, some are more static, but they all convey meaning, mood, emotional state that ultimately enhances the story. This becomes difficult, especially when we are trying to create infinite possibilities in a limited space. Scenic design is not a solitary or selfish art form. It requires strength and endless capacity for invention, nor is it for the weak hearted. The designer’s vision, is a cohesive part of a bigger reality, which is always a team effort. It is never complete in itself, and it is just one important facet among many that completes the universe of a production. My passion for scene design embodies two key components, collaboration and creativity. This for me is totally magical, and also defines me and my lifelong lifestyle.

Rhinoceros is an enormous play on many levels. Everybody in the play turned into a rhinoceros except Berenge who was the only person left in the world. The biggest challenge of designing this play in Shank Theatre as a small black box was how to take advantage of the intimacy of the space. We established a muscular, poetic world with those truss pieces. Instead of masking or hiding the space, we wanted to be honest with it. So the theatre structures, the lighting fixtures, the speakers, the cables, every single element was treated as a part of the scenery. When the actors climbed on those trusses, you could feel the whole world shake, that was the feeling that we wanted to give to the audience.

For the second half, we moved half of the audience onto the stage. So we turned the space into an arena. Everybody in the house became a witness to the transformations of the rhinoceros.

The initial conversation between a director and a designer is the foundation upon which an eventual world will be built. While the path of that the design process might shift wildly from one idea to the next, the foundation built in that initial meeting can act as guiding force towards a clear final goal. The system I’ve developed to help establish a foundation are to ask the following three questions:

When the audience arrives into the theatre, what expectations do we want to build?

During the show, what moment is the emotional core of our story?

As the audience travels home, what discussions do you want them to have?

Notice that each of these questions do not pertain to any design area specifically, nor do they even answer anything directly about the design. The goal of asking the larger questions in this initial meeting is to establish a common language between the director and the rest of the team separated from any design field's specific way of communicating. This then allows the team to think about the problems that arise without having to worry about seperate design goals.

Questions one - “When the audience arrives into the theatre, what expectations do we want to build?” - explores the idea of world building. What is being communicated to the audience before the text begins? How does this space feel similar or seperate from our own world? Is there any pre established ideas about the show that this production might want to push back against and how do we prepare the audience for that discussion?

Question two - “During the show, what moment is the emotional core of our story?” - puts emphasis on emotion versus plot points. This helps design break away from attempting to fulfill the requirements of the text and instead makes the process about trying to maximize the key emotional moments in the show.

Question three - “As the audience travels home, what discussions do you want them to have?” - turns the discussion now towards the intellectual goal trying to be achieved by the show. Every good show should have a goal whether that be encouraging heated debate over hot button issues or to give the audience the opportunity to experience joy in the company of others in a dark theatre. By now, the stylistic and emotional goals of the show have been established by the first two questions, so the conversation around the intellectual goals of the production can be framed around audience experience instead of personal desires.

In many cases, the questions can’t be fully answered from the first meeting, but by centering the developmental process around them, a clear framework for the shows development has been created and helps continue to place the design process on a solid foundation.

I started with three questions and a list of lighting designers.

1. From the time you were 25 years old to where you are now, what have been the major high and low points in your life?

2. What were your goals when you were 25 and what was important at that time? How have your goals developed and changed through the process?

3. What would you say to your 25-year-old self? About anything, either advice, encouragement, criticism, etc.

And as a bonus question, is there a secret formula for being a happy and successful lighting designer?

More than a research paper, I wanted to have conversations with lighting designers at varying career stages. The responses helped me understand and appreciate the process, collaboration and endurance of working as a theatre artist and freelance lighting designer. Most importantly, I reflect on what “success” means to me, and the differences between current and future goals.

Amazingly enough, right when I am getting ready to graduate and all the showcases, portfolio reviews, and graduations have been cancelled due to COVID-19, I found comfort and hope in the community and mentorship of the designers I interviewed. This paper is a curation of some of the most impactful quotes from the interviews; framed by a reflection on my process and goals through the start of my career.