Josh Tessler has designed lighting for plays of all kinds—happy, sad, and downright wacky. However, he has never designed for something quite like The Skriker. The world first envisioned by Caryl Churchill and now brought to the stage by Anya Ruzicka is unlike any other.

The goal for this lighting design was twofold. First, to create clear and distinct changes in location throughout the show. Second, to bring the world of The Skriker to life. The use of shadows in the underworld scenes was a deliberate choice to enhance the horror elements. Additionally, heavy top lighting was used for The Skriker’s six monologues to emphasize the otherworldly nature of the character.

Josh hopes all of these elements come together to create a cohesive visual experience for the show. Finally, I would like to thank everyone who contributed to this production, including Anya Ruzicka (Director), Ty Richardson (Stage Manager), and the many electricians who assisted throughout the process.

Enjoy the Show!

In Caryl Churchill’s The Skriker, the distressing of props serves as a visual representation of the decay and corruption that the Skriker inflicts upon the world and her victims. The play exists in a liminal space between reality and nightmare, where objects and people alike deteriorate under her influence. As the “Spastic fairy” preys on Josie and Lily, her presence manifests physically in the worn, broken, and grotesque state of the props, reinforcing the relentless erosion of stability and innocence.  

Throughout the play, Josie and Lily struggle against forces beyond their control, caught between their fractured realities and the Skriker’s relentless grasp. The props, particularly those that should signify comfort or familiarity, instead appear warped and ruined, reflecting their descent into madness and entrapment. Everyday objects take on an eerie, decrepit quality, mirroring the characters’ psychological and physical suffering. This visual degradation heightens the sense of unease, making the Skriker’s influence not just an abstract threat but a tangible, ever-present force of destruction.  

The Marie doll, with its orange hair and big feet, becomes the culmination of this distress, an emblem of everything the Skriker has tainted. Dolls traditionally symbolize childhood innocence, yet in The Skriker, the Marie doll appears as something unsettling, its exaggerated features rendering it grotesque rather than comforting. Its presence underscores the unnaturalness of the world Josie and Lily are trapped in, where even symbols of safety have been perverted. The Marie doll is not just a toy but a haunting reminder of what they have lost, embodying both the Skriker’s corruption and the inescapable fate awaiting those ensnared in her grasp.

Special thanks to Anya Ruzicka for entrusting me with executing her vision for this other world and for all her help and support during this process. Additional thanks to Kathleen Khorn, Ty Richardson, Hal Wenk, and David Garrett. 

The projections in The Skriker occur primarily during the monologues of the Skriker, driven by the language itself. Caryl Churchill’s text is fragmented and layered, blending words in unexpected and uncanny ways. This linguistic disorientation demands a visual counterpart, and projections serve as an extension of the Skriker’s power and influence over reality.

The projections seem to emerge from nowhere, materializing like magic to reflect the chaos and unpredictability of the Skriker’s presence. Words and images burst forth suddenly, as if conjured by the sheer force of the Skriker’s speech. This visual eruption mirrors how the Skriker weaves spells with language, bending reality to its will.

The choice to render all projections in gold is deliberate and symbolic. Gold is directly tied to the legend of Rumplestiltskin, the figure who could spin straw into gold—a power that evokes greed, transformation, and manipulation. By coloring the projections gold, the production aligns the visual aesthetic with the Skriker’s role as a deceiver and manipulator. The shimmering, alluring quality of gold also hints at temptation and the dangerous allure of the supernatural.

Furthermore, gold projections emphasize the Skriker’s struggle for power and control. The language is not just spoken but visually manifested, highlighting the supernatural energy embedded within the creature’s monologues. The fleeting and magical quality of these golden words and images underscores how language itself becomes a weapon and a trap—something that captivates and consumes those who listen.

Through these projections, the audience is immersed in the Skriker’s distorted reality, where language and imagery intertwine to shape perception. The golden hue constantly reminds the audience of the central motif of transformation, both literal and metaphorical, as the Skriker continues its relentless quest for dominance.

I would like to especially thank my major advisor, David Garrett, for teaching me how to use QLab, experimenting with me on all of the different platforms we used, and for going on this projection journey with me. 

Setting the show in a playground underscores the tension between childhood innocence and the loss of belief in mythological creatures. A playground represents a space of imagination, wonder, and unstructured exploration—where children create entire worlds out of sand, swings, and slides. It’s a space where the fantastical feels possible and tangible, where rules are fluid, and reality is shaped by the child’s mind. This makes it an apt setting for a story that grapples with mythological beings and the erosion of belief that comes with growing up.

In contrast, the loss of belief in mythological creatures coincides with the development of logic and a more concrete understanding of the world. The playground, then, becomes a poignant metaphor—a place where belief once thrived, but now feels distant and almost foreign to the adult characters. It visually and emotionally juxtaposes the characters’ current realities with their faded sense of wonder, making the audience constantly aware of what has been lost.

Additionally, the playground setting highlights how social and cultural pressures lead to the abandonment of mythological thinking. Just as older siblings or skeptical adults might claim the playground as a space for “kids,” dismissing its imaginative potential, the show’s characters navigate a world where the belief in magic is similarly dismissed. The playground becomes a battleground between childlike wonder and adult disillusionment, emphasizing how society’s insistence on rationality has stripped away the magic once inherent to the space.

By situating the story in a playground, the production reminds the audience of the persistence of wonder, even in a world that has outgrown it. The playground becomes both a relic of childhood innocence and a haunting reminder of imagination lost—suggesting that while belief may fade, its impact and the longing for it endure.

I would like to thank my major advisor, David Garrett, for teaching me all about Vectorworks, my Stage Management Team, Ty Richardson and Kathleen Khorn, my Technical Director Matt Landry, my Assistant Technical Director Reid Rasmussen, and all of the carpenters and painters for making my playground dreams come true.