What struck me most was how convincingly the sets created entire worlds while remaining, at their core, temporary and agile. As interior designers, we often work toward permanence, but set design embraces the opposite—and there is a real lesson there. Materials are chosen not only for beauty, but for weight, speed, and adaptability. Painted timber becomes masonry; layered gauze suggests depth far beyond its physical dimension; light does as much work as structure. In The Nutcracker, shifts from domestic intimacy to dreamlike grandeur happened in seconds, reminding me that atmosphere is often less about what is added and more about how intelligently elements are layered and revealed.
The evolution of theatre design mirrors a broader design trajectory: from decorative object to responsive system. Modern stagecraft relies on collaboration between architecture, engineering, lighting, costume, and choreography. Nothing exists in isolation. As an interior designer, I find that deeply affirming. It reinforces the idea that our work is not just about creating beautiful rooms, but about choreographing experiences over time.
Leaving the opera house, I felt inspired not by grandeur alone, but by intelligence—design that understands movement, transformation, and emotion. Theatre reminds us that the most powerful spaces are not static. They breathe, adapt, and, when done well, leave a lasting impression long after the curtain falls.