About this "Ghost Light"

In my post, "Mission Statement II," I quoted Mark Chemers's book, "Ghost Light," which is an introductory handbook on dramaturgy:

"The ghost light's lonesome existence is dedicated to protecting us, just in case we wish to venture into the dangerous space." (9)


I talked, in that post, about the dangers of the dark, empty theater, about the perils inherent to wandering in the dark, about the "shadow selves" we meet in theatrical space -- the dangerous, uncivilized versions of ourselves, the raw versions.  I love this idea of the ghost light, this idea that the ghost light's existence is lonely, that it exists to protect us IN THE EVENT that we venture into the dangerous space.

And I thought "yes, we playwrights, we're the ghost lights!"

Then I realized -- oh.  No.  Of course that isn't what he's saying.  Chemers is saying that the dramaturg is the one with the torch, the one in the lead who invites the audience to follow, the bearer of light.

That didn't sit as well with me -- first, because it sounded, then, like the dramaturg was the one in charge, the one who got to direct an entire audience's attention to whatever seemed worthy of the glare of the limelight.  I wasn't sure whether I liked that relationship, that authority.  Where the hell was the director in this scenario?  Where the playwright?

Then it hit me:

If the dramaturg is the one shining his/her light to shepherd the audience through the dangerous dark...then...the playwright is the one who had to wander in first.  Without the aid of light.  Scared shitless.  Not sure whether to pray that she steers clear of an unseen abyss...or whether to pray that she falls in.

Because...if the dramaturg is going to help guide an audience through whatever's in the dark, it's only because the playwright got there first.

So...yeah...we don't get a ghost light.