Ephemera Genesis:The Powerful Immersion of Escenografía Viva

The initial concept for Ephemera Genesis was born from a desire to create Escenografía Viva—living scenography. This framework centers on the interaction between the human body and elements like material, light, costume, and projection. The idea came from a series of personal experiences: growing up, I traveled to many places where I was struck by how different cultures integrated sculpted bodies into their architecture and how sacred art across religions often used the human form to tell stories. These encounters made me see space not just as something built, but as something shaped by presence and movement.

This inspiration led my collaborators and me to explore a series of experiments—iterations where we investigated how bodies could interact with different materials, from soft elements like stretched fabric to more rigid structures made of metal and silk. Through five iterations, the concept evolved both practically and philosophically. Each phase taught us something new about how scenography could emerge from action rather than serve as a backdrop. Eventually, these explorations culminated in Ephemera Genesis, a performance rooted in escenografía viva and guided by the theme of origin—the starting point of everything, including movement, form, and meaning.

In the early stages of planning Ephemera Genesis, I approached the process as an extension of my thesis on escenografía viva. Instead of designing a fixed set, I began with a question: how can scenography become something that lives and transforms through interaction?

Together with collaborators Venese Alcantar and Deen Rawlins, we explored this question through movement-based experimentation. Brainstorming sessions turned into embodied research, supported by sketches, scale models, and rapid prototyping. The rehearsal space became a workshop, where ideas were tested in motion, not just imagined on paper.

One of our earliest material discoveries came from shower curtains. Their reaction to light and shadow opened up new ways to think about fabric and projection as responsive scenographic tools. We also worked with a diverse movement insturments, and I even took trapeze classes to better understand how the body engages with dynamic structures.

Throughout the process, we created artifacts from both light metal and heavy steel—structures that could support and respond to multiple bodies. These weren’t just scenic pieces; they became choreographic partners.

Planning this piece was less about locking in visuals and more about cultivating relationships—between performers and materials, structure and improvisation. Each iteration brought us closer to a scenography that doesn’t illustrate the story but evolves with it—breathing, shifting, and transforming in real time!

One of our biggest challenges during the creative process was realizing how much our initial plan relied on large, specific structures—scaffolding, oversized dollies, and rolling platforms. We imagined a performance where both performers and audience would move continuously, with the audience’s perspective shaped by their position on mobile platforms. It was ambitious… and incredibly dependent on access to equipment we didn’t yet have.

When rehearsals began without these elements, we faced a choice: wait, or adapt. We chose to move forward.

What started as a limitation became a breakthrough. Without the full structures, we began focusing on what we did have—bodies, light, and material. And that’s where the real scenography started to emerge. We discovered that shifting the audience’s attention could be done through choreography alone. That levels and perspectives could be built with fabric, movement, and shadow. That scenography could breathe without wheels.

This shift reminded us that escenografía viva doesn’t begin with objects—it begins with action. Stripping things down brought clarity. The performers and materials began to lead, and the space followed.

A pivotal shift happened when we began thinking seriously about how the audience would experience the piece—standing, walking, or seated—and ultimately decided they should move freely through the space. That decision reshaped how we approached movement and blocking. It wasn’t about creating fixed choreography for a stage—it was about crafting actions that could be discovered from different angles, in real time.

To deepen the performers’ connection to their movement, we began asking them simple but personal prompts: “Show us a movement that feels like you.” “Tell us who you are without words.” These intimate gestures became the foundation for more abstract physical explorations. Movement grew from a place of truth, and because of that, it carried weight—even in the most surreal or symbolic moments.

Another breakthrough came when we finally had access to the wireless, mobile lights. Suddenly, the full potential of escenografía viva clicked into place. Light became a performer. Shadows stretched, danced, and reshaped the space in response to movement. In those rehearsals, we felt everything accelerate—the dialogue between body, light, and material came alive.

Those moments reminded us that scenography isn’t built first and inhabited later. It emerges through presence, perception, and interaction.The initial concept for Ephemera Genesis was born from a desire to create Escenografía Viva—living scenography. This framework centers on the interaction between the human body and elements like material, light, costume, and projection. The idea came from a series of personal experiences: growing up, I traveled to many places where I was struck by how different cultures integrated sculpted bodies into their architecture and how sacred art across religions often used the human form to tell stories. These encounters made me see space not just as something built, but as something shaped by presence and movement.

Collaboration was at the heart of Ephemera Genesis. From the very beginning, it was never a solo journey. My first conversations about the concept were with Josafath Reynoso, my advisor at UT, who challenged and encouraged me to dig deeper. That spirit of exchange continued with movement experts, dancers, and designers I consulted—each conversation uncovering new ways to think about the relationship between body and scenography.

A pivotal moment came during a short creative residency in Barcelona with the founders of La Fura dels Baus. That experience showed me what it truly means to let space be shaped by bodies and for audiences. It wasn’t about spectacle—it was about presence.

Collaboration with Venese Alcantar and Deen Rawlins began in other projects, and naturally grew into Ephemera Genesis. Their insights, instincts, and patience helped ground the process and open it up in all the right ways. And when the performers and musicians joined, everything shifted again. Their personal gestures, rhythms, and vulnerabilities became the raw material of the piece.

Every person brought knowledge—sometimes in long conversations, sometimes in passing comments. Escenografía viva is alive not just in concept, but because of the people who shaped it day by day. The work carries all of them.

When the piece began, audiences often entered a contemplative state—quiet, in awe, and curious. That response felt deeply rewarding. People wanted to admire, to take in the details, but also seemed unsure about how much freedom they really had. Even though Deen announced that the audience was free to move, most people remained still—until our final performance.

That night, we decided to change our approach. Instead of waiting for the audience to move, we began walking ourselves—slowly, intentionally—interacting with the space as we had always envisioned the audience doing. And it worked. People followed. The shift was subtle but powerful: once someone took the first step, others felt they had permission to explore too.

This discovery was essential. In our final moment, when the dancers shine lights directly at the audience, the piece transforms. The silhouettes of the spectators are cast onto the theater wall, becoming part of the scenography. The audience becomes the image. But for that to work, they had to be standing, participating, in the space.

We learned that giving permission isn’t always enough—you have to model the behavior. You have to invite play. And sometimes, that invitation is stronger when it comes from someone who helped create the piece. That’s how escenografía viva works—it only comes alive when people step into it.

Daniel Ruiz Bustos
He/Him
Scenic & Performance Designer

Scenic designer with over a decade of multidisciplinary experience across film, interactive media, drama, dance, and music, Daniel’s collaborative and interdisciplinary approach is central to his design philosophy. Recent highlights of his work include an innovative collaboration with La Fura dels Baus in Barcelona, where he co-created an interactive performance exploring the physicality of artificial intelligence. Daniel’s research project, Escenografía Viva explores the integration of scenic elements with human movement, seeking to redefine traditional theatrical experiences. His dedication to artistic collaboration continuously inspire him to push boundaries and expand the possibilities of live performance.