In the middle of the cranescape around Potsdamer Platz, one of the most questionable building projects of the reunified Berlin can currently be viewed. If one walks in an easterly direction along Potsdamerstrasse, on the left, just behind the Kammermusiksaal and the Philharmonie, one sees the scaffolding of Helmut Jahn's eleven-storey Sony Centre, which, in its triangular form, extends to the Potsdamer Platz. As can be gathered from the models and computer simulations found in the scarlet infobox on the adjoining Leipziger Platz, the Chicago architect is planning to construct a complex consisting of a forum, the Sony Europa Centre, an office tower and two office blocks. In conjunction with the Centre and the tower as the tallest element, these two office blocks—one pointing east toward Bellevuestrasse and the other pointing west toward the Philharmonie—form a triangle that circumscribes an oval forum. The office blocks, as well as the Centre and the tower, are steel and glass constructions whose rooms at the back will offer a view of the forum from floor to ceiling. The approximately 100-metre high office tower will assume dynamism and elegance by virtue of a glass façade that will extend sideways above and beyond the semicircular building.

As I ponder how we as performance theorists endeavour to analyse the question of context as it relates to theatrical activity, I am struck by the fact that this question has both micro and macro-cosmic implications. Certainly, we must address the far reaching ideological concerns that permeate any performance, but within specific parameters, within the confines of a particular performance, the interrelationship of material components demands that we deal with the physical presence that appears before us. This essay grapples with this problem of theatrical presence through adiscussion of visual perception.

The lack of constant speech is not contempt But silence measures those compelled to speak. What does not change is will to change, they say, Though changes do outrun the will's control. Each person has a story that rolls on Beyond the boundaries of the play in which they're placed, Unless they fall in love at last with limits And try to die into an old play's shape. Not even witches know what happens after, But once I met an actor, wild and broken, Who said, ‘The play is dead: long live the play’, with laughter, Then wept at faces he saw in the bracken.

Bulgarian radio drama first appeared in 1945, broadcasting live from the national studios. The immediate postwar years were difficult throughout the country, both in economic and political terms. The socialist revolution and takeover, on 9 September 1944, soon imposed strict criteria on dramatic creation and artistic achievement, presumably on world standards. Radio drama, as one of the key instruments in the new national, revolutionary symphony, could not but play in general harmony. It naturally developed according to patterns governed by the political authorities. It contributed to programmes devoted to promote conflict, action, heroes, virtues abounding in the young socialist doctrine. Russian plays and novels were selected and broadcast as master keys in the opening of popular minds to the new philosophy. Broadcasting slots allowed some room for the production of the emerging Bulgarian literature of the late nineteenth century. Plays and playwrights from other parts of the world remained ignored by those in power and, as a consequence, by the production teams and the general audience.

The art of directing has undergone great changes in Bulgaria over the last forty years. New trends appeared in the 1960s with the Theatre of Burgas, whose influence is felt to this day. Two generations are working alongside each other, and the younger directors are becoming more and more influential as the role of the director has gained increasing importance over the last few years, with the development of experimental theatre and the techniques of collage.

The first signs heralding the birth of the Bulgarian theatre date from the middle of the nineteenth century. The first people to put on plays and dramas written for special celebrations were amateurs, schoolmasters as well as other representatives of the Bulgarian intelligentsia, who would gather in their spare time. They may be considered as the first witnesses of the awakening of a national Bulgarian self-consciousness during the years of Ottoman power.

Primarily a melting-pot of influences and techniques, the rapid development of the Bulgarian puppet theatre into a series of achievements, over a relatively short period of time, may be regarded as archetypal of the enthusiastic quest of a young nation for new artistic modes of expression. An imaginative, vital flexibility characterizes this pervasive art form, aimed at children and adults alike, with its twenty professional companies across the country at the beginning of the 1990s.

Over the last three years there has been much talk about a reform of the theatres in Bulgaria, following the 1997 governmental changes which had a real impact on cultural policies. It has seemed interesting for the purposes of this survey to contrast the points of view of a representative of the Ministry of Culture, Stefan Yankov, and of the Deputy Secretary of the Union of Bulgarian Artists, Alexander Jekov.