Over the holidays we saw not one but two puppet shows put on by the Bob Baker Marionette Theater here in LA. Both were great, high recommend.
Puppet shows are one of those activities—like clown performances, singalongs, and campfire ghost story sessions—that our society classifies as kid fare. One of the great things about being a parent is receiving regular reminders of how stupid these distinctions are.
Getting to know this new-to-me artform, I’m learning about all the different bits of artistry you can enjoy. Some pleasures are obvious: the way certain puppets, in the hands of certain puppeteers, do briefly seem to come to life; the novelty of seeing different marionette designs and discovering what they can do. But I’m coming to appreciate some of the subtler pleasures, too: the way a show can play with size and timing and depth; the craftsmanship of the marionettes; the beautiful vacant expressions of the puppeteers.
I sometimes think about getting into opera, another medium in which I’m utterly unversed. It’s exciting to know that in just about any artform—or for that matter activity, profession, skill—there inheres an invitation expand your capacity for appreciation, enjoyment, and pleasure.
