Scenography to me is about emptiness. Like in the Hindu parable, where a vase is defined by the space within it and not by the clay that entraps it, a set is more about hinting at what cannot be seen than about the elements on stage. It is a character, not a context. Its raw materials are not the wood and paint that shape it, but the emotions that are conveyed through the dramaturgy. It should never keep its secrets from the uninformed audiences, but invites the most discerning parishioners to look further. A set exists only between the rising of the curtain and the moment it falls. It derives its life from the action on stage. When inhabited, it converses with the audience. It speaks in poetry; the poetry of the right-time-at-the-right-place. Most beautiful of all is its capacity to reconstitute. Once every project is done and the final curtain falls on it, it returns to the emptiness of the vase- the bare stage- and then begins again with each play. In my designs, through an emotional approach and intense analysis, I try to capture the poetics of the ephemeral. On stage, a chair is an anchor that connects us to reality when in it, a living, breathing character makes a great realization; a lamppost exists only to frame the single second of perfect love; the floor dances with the music, and even the most monumental structures are but fragile hints of an even greater emotion.