A scenographic sustainability guide for ‘in-betweeners’ – Jiahui Cai

A scenographic sustainability guide for ‘in-betweeners’ By Jiahui Cai

To anyone currently staring at a blank CAD screen, a pile of cardboard in a draughty rehearsal room, or endlessly refreshing Arts Jobs: I see you.

As we look toward the 2027 UK National Exhibition, there is inevitably much talk about ‘The Future of Design.’ But for those of us navigating the messy, confusing, “how-am-I-going-to-pay-rent” stage of their performance design careers, the future can feel a little blurry. I recently caught up with my friend Naomi, a designer I met at the Linbury Portfolio review, to decompress.

We didn’t talk about grand concepts or high-budget aesthetics; we talked about the reality of working on the fringe, the politics of the skip-find, and the radical act of staying in this industry by building a community to keep each other going. We wanted to share this chat not as “experts,” but as peers, in the trenches. Because if the post-uni transition into professional life teaches you anything, it’s that the most sustainable thing in theatre isn’t just thinking about the materials we use, it’s the support network we build.

Jiahui: I’ll be honest—it’s been a week. I just got the ‘we regret to inform you’ email from the fund for my food scenography project. I was so excited about using butter as a medium for brutalist vessels and exploring housing issues through something temporary and fragile. It felt like the perfect metaphor, but now it’s just another ‘no.’ Any good news from your side? How’s life going, Naomi?

Naomi: Honestly? I’m in the same boat. After the short film wrapped, the phone just stopped ringing. I’m currently looking for a part-time job, anything with a steady paycheck, just so I can keep the lights on while I hunt for the next design gig. My parents called the other day, and the pressure is mounting. They’ve been supportive, but they can’t keep it up forever. It feels like I’m constantly justifying why I’m still trying to do this.

Jiahui: That pressure is so heavy. And the irony is, the moment you get a stable job with fixed hours, a great design opportunity pops up with three days’ notice. You end up having to turn down the work you want because you can’t get the shift covered. It’s a total catch-22.

Naomi: It feels unavoidable at our stage. We’re asked to be ‘available,’ but availability is a luxury. If you don’t have a financial safety net, how are you supposed to wait around for a fringe show that might pay you £300 for a month’s work?

Jiahui: Exactly. When we talk about “sustainability” in theatre, we usually talk about recycled wood or low-energy LEDs. But what about a sustainable life? We’re learning to build sets that can be disassembled and reused, now we just need to build a career path that doesn’t break the person building it.

Naomi: Right, because right now, the price of admission into this industry isn’t just talent; it’s the ability to survive on nothing for months at a time.

Jiahui: That’s what hit me lately. When I was training, I imagined theatre was this ultimate inclusive space where only ideas mattered. But in London, you realize that if entry-level roles are unpaid or low-pay, the industry is accidentally ‘deciding’ who gets to stay. If you’re burning your passion at night and working a soul-crushing shift for bills by day, you eventually hit a wall.

Naomi: And while you’re at that shift, someone else, someone who doesn’t have to worry about rent, is at the pub with a director, or available for that last-minute assistant gig. The door opens simply because they could afford to be in the room.

Jiahui: Precisely. It makes the industry less accessible than we imagined as students. If being a designer requires a private safety net, we’re just a club for people who can afford to be here. Human sustainability is a social justice issue. We need to ensure the “entry-level” isn’t a “luxury-level.”

But… despite the stress and the shifts, I still find myself looking at a pile of discarded timber and seeing a palace. Do you think being broke actually makes us more resourceful designers?

Naomi: I think so! In one of the first fringe productions I worked on, the entire visual language emerged from reclaimed materials we sourced ourselves. We collected discarded timber and re-cut it to construct wooden frames that defined the spatial structure of the stage.

Jiahui: I love that. There’s a specific ‘theatre-magic’ in something that’s been rescued.

Naomi: Exactly. We sourced white bed sheets through Facebook giveaway groups – honestly, those groups are a designer’s best friend – and stretched them across the frames. Suddenly, we had these incredibly versatile surfaces that worked as projection screens and backdrops for shadow-puppetry. It was far more interesting than anything I would have designed if I’d just bought a roll of expensive canvas. Now, I consider the feasibility from the very beginning. I’m constantly balancing aesthetics with: “Can I find this? Can I reclaim it?”

Jiahui: This is exactly it! Sustainability isn’t just a box to tick; it’s a tool that forces us to think creatively from the first sketch. Instead of ‘green washing’ a design after it’s done, the lack of resources actually motivates us to make more exciting work. We aren’t just making do; we’re innovating because we have to.

Naomi: It turns the “budget problem” into an “artistic solution.”

Talking to Naomi made me realize that while our bank accounts might be empty, our toolkits are overflowing. We are part of a generation that is redefining what spectacle looks like.

To the designer currently scrolling through Freecycle at 2:00 AM, or the graduate feeling “lost” because they haven’t landed an assistant gig yet: you are not alone, and you are not failing. The ‘in between’ stage of a performance design career can feel brutal, and the industry’s lack of inclusivity is a real wall we have to climb.

But as we look toward the 2027 UK National Exhibition, let’s remember that our resilience is our greatest asset. We are the ones who know how to turn a pile of scrap timber into a spatial structure and a bedsheet into a cinema screen. ‘In-betweeners’ aren’t just the future of the industry; we are the ones demonstrating that a sustainable theatre must be built on both reclaimed wood and a commitment to each other.

Editors note: Readers – if you would like to contribute your experiences to the next newsletter, please get in touch – news@theatredesign.org.uk

About Jiahui Cai & Naomi Zhang