Nine hours, no performers, no cues. A room that changes so slowly nobody sees it happen.
An empty room with salt on the floor. The lighting runs a nine-hour cycle from cold and even to warm and raking, and every transition is slow enough that no visitor perceives a change while standing in it.
Visitors who stay ten minutes see nothing move. Visitors who come back in the afternoon are certain someone has changed it.
Nothing may move faster than one percent per minute. That number came from testing: at two percent people notice, at one they do not, and the difference between noticing and not noticing is the entire work.
A staging that puts the underworld above rather than below, so every descent in the text is a physical ascent into the flies.
Side light only, for fifty minutes. No front, no down, no cyc. Six booms and a great deal of argument.
Sixteen years pass in one cue. The first half is lit almost entirely from behind and above; the second admits front light for the first time.
That is genuinely enough to start a conversation. Dates and budget help, but they are not the first question — the first question is what the room is being asked to do.