Ygraine, wild with joy. “Tintagiles, look! Look!... He is saved!... Look at his eyes.... You can see the blue.... He is going to speak.... They saw we were watching.... They did not dare.... Kiss us!... Kiss us, I say!... All, all!... Down to the depths of our soul!...”
A silence, a long silence. Then ... the boards creak as the operators stand up to rest their aching backs.
“Well, Belangere mounted the steps pretty well that time. But don’t forget to take a stitch in her left leg; she still has a tendency to pivot.”
“Yes, I’ll do it and I’ll lengthen her back string; I think that’s it ... and take away some of Aggie’s hump.”
From the sublime to the absurd, no doubt. But there are the puppets hung up ... quietly and sternly gazing, each little character.
No, they are not absurd, patiently, almost scornfully awaiting the subtler grasp of some master hand to bring out the rare potentialities sleeping within them. Awkward, silly dolls they may appear in a clumsy hand, but even we amateurs who serve them faithfully sense more than this in them. So, while we pull the strings and move these singular, small creatures in measured gestures we feel that we are handling crude but expressive symbols of large, fine things.
THE MAKING OF A MARIONETTE
The puppets used in the Cleveland Playhouse are neither realistic, humorous, nor clever. They are very simple, somewhat impressionistic and quite adequate and effective for certain types of drama. They appeal to the imagination of the spectator. Under favorable conditions one forgets their diminutive size, their crude construction, even their lack of soul.
Patterns for the Marionette Body drawn by the Sculptor, Mr. Max Kalish