auditorium seats


Theatre of Trimontium

Philippopolis (Plovdiv), Bulgaria

108 - 114 CE

Outer diameter - 82 m.

The spectator seats are orientated to the south, towards the ancient city in the lowland and the Rhodope Mountains. In outline, the theatre is a semi-circle with an outer diameter of 82 meters. The theatre itself is divided into the seating section (auditorium) and the stage (orchestra). The auditorium, the area in which people gathered, is hollowed out of a hill or slope, while the outer radian seats required structural support and solid retaining walls. The auditorium was not roofed. The spectator seats (cavea) surround the stage – the orchestra – which has the shape of a horseshoe, 26.64 meters long, includes 28 concentric rows of marble seats, divided into two tiers by an aisle (diazoma). The upper part of the tiers is interrupted by narrow radial stairways, which divide the cavea into wedge-shaped sectors (kerkides). The theatre also has a podium, which supports the columns of the scaenae frons.

Similar to all the theatres on the territory of the Roman Empire, in the theatre of Trimontium the honorary spectator seats were inscribed. There were inscriptions not only for the representatives of the city council but also for magistrates, friends of the Emperor, etc. Some honorary inscriptions show that the building was used as the seat of the Thracian provincial assembly. Built with around 7,000 seats, each section of seating had the names of the city quarters engraved on the benches so the citizens knew where they were to sit.

Sketch showing a Masquerade in the Palais Garnier main auditorium. The seats has either been removed or had a floor built over them (I suspect the latter, judging from the height from floor to boxes) to turn it into a giant dance hall. The sketch was photographed/scanned by Roger-Viollet, and that photo was in turn printed in George Perry’s “Complete POTO” book from 1987 (page 16).

It’s also clear Maria Bjørnson used this as part of her inspiration for costumes; at least three made it into her own designs, most prominent being the African tribe man in front.

I giggled a bit about the Phantom getting his box occupied like that. If I’ve understood it correctly, box 5 would be the one where the clown is standing on the rail, one floor up, looking into the grander box next door.

Then I zoomed in. Three boxes down. Shit.



Holy crap! The Monarch’s house is a real place!

From Wikipedia:

“The 40 room mansion was built in 1888 by Gottfried Krueger (1837–1926), founder of Newark’s Gottfried Krueger Brewing Company and owner of several other breweries.[4] The construction cost at the time was $250,000. The mansion was sold to the Valley of Newark Scottish Rite Freemasons in 1926 for $100,000. A 700-seat auditorium was added to the mansion to accommodate for various meetings. The mansion was purchased in 1958 by Louise Scott for $85,000. Scott operated a beauty school out of the first floor of the mansion while keeping the upper levels as her private residence. The mansion was added to the New Jersey Register of Historic Places and the National Register of Historic places in 1972. Scott died in 1982 and ownership of the mansion passed to the city of Newark.[5] In 1991, the New Jersey Historic Trust funded a bond for $625,812 to stabilize the exterior of the building.[6] The city of Newark matched that amount, and over the years devoted more than $4 million to turning the home into a center focusing on the black contribution to Newark’s development. The federal government contributed an additional $1.5 million.,[7] but afterer a decade of work, plans to turn the house into an African-American cultural center were frozen by the city’s Municipal Council, which refused to allocate any more money for the project.[8]”

So does this mean his full name is Malcolm Scott?

Storytime Again

Except this time, it’s true.  The kind of completely and horribly true that slowly sucks away your will to live.

The teachers of my school had been trying to stir up some measly smidgen of interest in the student body for the upcoming guest poetry reading, however, it was to little avail, because, well, guest poetry reading. I was expecting it to be a waste of my time at best, however, not even I could have prepared for the horrors that would await. 

We arrive in the auditorium. Find our seats.  The speakers wait on the stage in front of us. 

This is no normal poetry.





I lost count of the number of times “ patriarchy” was mentioned.

It seemed to be every third word out of their mouths.

And the actual poetry itself.

Gay. Straight. Lesbian. Fingering. Oral. Masturbation. You name it, they had it. Teachers, staring at the floor in shame, desperately trying to atone for their sins.  A gynecologist’s appointment, described in excruciating detail.

To be fair, there were a few, scattered here and there throughout, that weren’t “ERMAHGERD! SEXING WOMBYN TO DESTROY TEH PATRIARCHY!” That’s not to say, however, that they were any better.  One that particularly stood out to me, though, was from fairly early on in the program- a piece describing the stabbing of one man by his wife, and then taking the concept further, to reveal the author’s dreams of the violent slaughter of every man and boy on the planet, in gory and explict language I’d say outdid the porn in terms of graphic, horrifuc detail. I looked around to find the boys in the audience squirming in their seats uncomfortably. I have to hand it to them, they as a whole handled it far better than I would have, had I been forced to watch a screeching lunatic on a podium call for my genocide right in front of me. Since this lovely event was a treat shared by the Middle and High schools alike, I had the pleasure of seeing boys as young as twelve transfixed in terror at the gleam in the lady’s eyes as she relished in her craving for blood. 

So, so many descriptions of blood.

Some of them were pretty creative, I’ll give her that.

While I in general think “Feminazi” is a stupid term, this woman came pretty fucking close.

Thankfully, the worst had come to pass, and after the manic and terrified applause of an audience held captive subsided, the stupid bullshit I had to deal with from there on out was downright tame in comparison.

Obligatory “resist Trump!” BS.

An entire poem on the term “latinx” and the virtues thereof.

A redhead with skin the color of milk, talking about how hip hop represents her “amazing black African PoC heritage.” Though of course, it’s also misogynistic :((((((

Did I mention, of course, that these people all had the exact same undercut?  One could almost be convinced it was a gang symbol of sorts, used my members of the same deranged and sexist cult to identify each other.

As the program drew to a close after two and a half torturous hours, I exited the auditorium wondering if this scarring experience with pure sentient Tumblr did in fact happen, or if it was just too impossibly insane to have occurred in this realm. However, I soon received confirmation that this eldritch abomination of a performance did in fact occur- an email from the school, apologizing for the “ unexpected content” and offering free counseling to anyone who needs it.


Shoot me already.

-History Nerd Anon 

Fucking hell.

You know, poetry readings can be such amazing events. I’ve been to a large number and they’ve been really thought-provoking and showcase a lot of talent. Please don’t base your idea of “poetry readings” on something like this.


I’m so sorry this is so lengthy, I tried to get it to size correctly in a text post but it just wouldn’t cooperate, so I was stuck doing this!  D:   My apologies.  

Nevertheless, here it is!  These are the steps I take to get ready to perform in a 2,500 seat auditorium, and it’s an amalgamation of what I learned in college in makeup class and from personal experience out in the field.  I didn’t go into the nitty gritty of how to do a smokey eye look, as you can find tons of tutorials for that online.  

But the big thing that we’re trying to achieve here is making it so people can see your expression and see your eyes.  Your expression is going to be dictated by your cheeks, mouth, and eyebrows primarily.  Your eyes are going to be dictated by how you use your eyeliner, eyeshadow and eyelashes. That’s what we need to exaggerate. These are the basics, but we all find things that work for our own faces, because we’re all different!

Hope you all enjoy, let me know if this was helpful!

Anonymous prompt: high school teacher!dean and firefighter!cas. cas does a fire safety talk for deans class. fluffy stuff (✿◠‿◠)
Dean leaned back in the auditorium seat and kicked his feet up.

The conversations of the kids at the front of the room were echoing off of the walls and he spotted the glowing screens of several not so discreetly hidden cell phones. He really didn’t mind as long they settled down when the presentation started.

“Why is fire department coming to talk to high schoolers again?” Benny asked. Dean shrugged.

“Do you not remember how many times we almost burned shit down when we were kids?” Benny chuckled and nodded. They had been wild when they were younger. It was a wonder they made it to graduation alive.

The auditorium door opened and three firefighters came in, each one carrying something. Dean sat up when Cas, who had been holding the door, followed them in. Benny laughed at him and Dean hit him. Cas smiled at him before he joined the others at the front.

“You’ve got it so bad,” Benny murmured as Dean leaned forward to listen.

“Fuck you.”

“Good morning, everyone,” Cas said, his deep voice holding sway over the room. “I know that wondering why a bunch of 16 year olds need a refresher in fire safety, but it’s actually very important…”

Dean listened, as enraptured by Cas as he always was. The presentation was actually pretty interesting and he had a slide show of pictures to scare the kids.

“Would anyone like to try on our gear?” He asked at one point, a couple o people raised their hands and he chose a boy and girl. While they were putting the suit and gear on, Cas took questions.

“What’s the worst thing you’ve seen as fireman?” A boy asked.

“I’ve seen a lot of loss. I don’t care to talk about it.”

“Have you ever seen a miracle?”

“Yes. Every time we save some one.”

There were a few more questions thrown in about what Cas did exactly, how demanding the job was, and why he wanted to be a fireman.

“Someone I love very much lost someone to a fire. I don’t want anyone else to feel the way he did.” Dean’s eyes stung at the words. Cas met his eyes and Dean nodded minutely.

The bell rang and the kids got up, gathering their bags and trying to hide their phones as they put them away. The other two firemen stood at the doors, handing out keychains with the fire department’s information and Cas stayed at the front by the stage.

A few kids went up to him and Cas handed them papers. They were forms about a summer volunteer program with the department. Dean watched as they nodded at Castiel’s instructions and explanation. They tucked the papers away and called a goodbye to Dean and Benny.

When the room was clear, Dean walked up to Cas and wrapped his arms around him.

“You did awesome, babe,” He said. Cas hugged him back.

“Thank you. I was worried I was going to be boring.” He stepped back and looked up into Dean’s eyes.

“Was it too much to mention…I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“My mom loved you, Cas. And you loved her. It’s fine.”

Cas kissed him, a small peck since anyone could just walk in. Dean squeezed him one more time before he stepped back.

“Three more classes and we’re home free.” Cas smiled.

“Sounds good to me.” He kissed Dean again, then turned away to get prepared for the next class.

When the rang and everyone was seated, Castiel turned on the screen and smiled at the kids.

“Good morning. I’m Sergeant Winchester and we’re here today to talk to you about fire safety…”

1. some friends will leave you and you will find yourself in an auditorium seat literally looking up to them, but it’s okay because the ones you really care about are down in the pit with you
2. he could’ve broken your heart three years or two minutes ago and you will still want to throw something every time he texts you
 3. you’ll start to cry because songs and stories are there for you more than your own family, but once you stop crying those songs and stories will fix you
4. sometimes you need to just listen to static and pretend you don’t exist
5. real friends also have lives and priorities and problems, and you’ll be draped over your bed staring at your phone and realize that the only person you’ll always have with you is yourself
6. but a real friend will also stay up with you for hours on the phone and then wake up early the next morning while you’re still recovering and give you coffee and a smile
7. the answer to “are your parents good parents?” doesn’t have to be an immediate yes
8. sometimes it’s okay if you don’t go out, if you skip the party for starbucks and staring at the stars with your friends, realizing that you’re all so small but together you’re something so much more
9. but find new friends, make awkward small talk, make acquaintances, wave to people in the hallway, because they can’t like you if you don’t try to like them first
10. dying isn’t really sad and scary and sudden it’s more like piles of paper across an apartment, rotting food in a fridge, and a gated community where you can’t tell one building from the other
11. you are not the protagonist of this story and there are people who will always see you as a stereotype, but you get to decide what stereotype that is
12. sometimes you’ll lowkey want to die and sometimes you’ll highkey want to die but there’s always a little part of you that wants to live
13. it turns out wanderlust costs a lot of money but that doesn’t mean you can’t take it all in, learning as much as you can, seeing as much as you can see, and living as much as you can live in the little time you have here
14. suburbs are boring but being a girl in a suburb is far less eventful than being a girl in a city and for that i'm grateful
15. the person who locks themselves in bathroom stalls and doesn’t shower for a couple days and feels like they don’t exist sometimes is the same exact person who can make an entire room laugh, who feels life breathed into them as plants grow, who is thankful for what they have, who has finally learned what it’s like to be alive
—  15 things i’ve learned in 2015 (so far)

The ICTVR Social and Administrative Center in Dhaka by Studio 14 + Mehmet Doruk Pamir [1986]. The center is composed of a 500 seat auditorium, a cafeteria, 20,000 volume library, an administrative building, and a mosque. The architectural style is meant to reflect the country of Bangladesh as a whole. Straddled between the Ganges and the Bay of Bengal, large pools of water were created around the structures, likening to the land constantly veiled and exposed by a thin sheet of water. The structures built using eroded brick, a material ubiquitous in the region. The way these textures reflect off the water is reminiscent to practically every daily scene, both rural and urban, in Bangladesh. The buildings are arranged around a central courtyard enclosed on three sides by their interconnections. The structural identity reflects that of Bangladesh’s diverse history involving the trade of knowledge and resources. Persian arches, Arab planning, Indian building techniques, and East Asian fundamentals all play a role in shaping this magnificent display of conceptual architecture. 


A museum for Europe and the Mediterranean

Between city and sea, on the former J4 port pier, the 15,500 sqm building contains more than 3600 sqm of exhibition space, dedicated areas for children, an auditorium with 335 seats for the presentation of lectures, performances, concerts, film series, a bookstore, a brasserie and a restaurant boasting a panoramic terrace.

Want more architecture? Follow @prettyarchitecture

source: mucem

HERA looks nothing like you’d expect/beautiful only in the sense she’s unsettling/ but she keeps her loves/her jealousy/ saves every picture sent to her/people filed into folders/ wears the same stifling cheap black sweater/ rolls balls of lint and sees how far she can flick them

PERSEPHONE emerged from a robin’s egg/ has played every instrument plus a few more/ cries in stained auditorium seats/ pulls their friends from the edge/ watches them spin right back

HADES lost track of the boys he’s kissed long ago/they know this but/ climb up to be the seventeenth or twenty-second anyways/ reaches out/tucks hair back/ watches him glow until formless/nothing but/god he touched me/he touched me/ shatters into glowing shards of/he made me feel special/ picks up a piece/ touches it to his lips/it melts/like ice/we always do

HERMES watches them all/ he runs from Hera/ brings Persephone sour candies from the 5-below/ falls in love with Hades/ or loves the idea of loving him/ buys people with money/food/fun/someone to kick/ builds himself out of shoved-together cardboard pieces

young gods, d.t.w


Minnesota Symphony Orchestra’s Return to Cuba 86 Years Later

On May 15 and 16, 2015, the Minnesota Orchestra performed at the Teatro Nacional in Havana, but this wasn’t the MN Orchestra’s first visit to Cuba. With an official invitation from the Cuban government, and under the direction of conductor Henri Verbrugghen, the Orchestra—known then as the Minneapolis Symphony—made its first trip to Cuba as part of their sixteenth mid-winter tour in January 1929.

Hosted by the private and exclusive Sociedad Pro Arte Musical, the orchestra arrived by Clyde Line steamer on January 30, 1929 for a five-day stay in Cuba. Only the third American symphony to play in Cuba, their first two sold-out performances on January 31 and February 1 were so well-received that a third performance was immediately arranged in the 2600-seat Sociedad auditorium.

“The applause was deafening and the packed audience formed a colorful sea of waving hats, handkerchiefs and programs”

Minneapolis Morning Tribune, Feb. 3, 1929.

Invited back for a second tour in February 1930, and again requiring a third concert by popular demand, the musical program opened with the Cuban national anthem and featured Cuban pianist Jose Echaniz as a soloist. But not everyone in the symphony got to play: First clarinetist George Grisez fell ill upon arrival and spent days in the hospital following two surgeries, while first cellist Engelbert Roentgen developed bronchitis and influenza, forcing a longer than expected stay in Havana.

With a nod to history, today’s Minnesota Orchestra created an all-Beethoven program which included the “Eroica,” the work which closed the symphony’s 1929 concerts.

(Fan Account)Donghae Enlisting | 151015

151015 Donghae will greet fans inside the campsite at an outdoor field but there will be no photos/recording 😔They allowed us into the campsite. We are at an outdoor field/auditorium where there are seats. Hae will do greeting. No photos/recording.Ok. So not sure if donghae would do a proper greeting and come over to wave. But ELF are allowes into the venue to watch the ceremony.Fans at the venue. Please wait quietly, do not move from your spot, do not run and do not disturb the soldiers and the families..The chinese and japanese fan said things a little differently so not really sure. But most likely, photos and recordings are not allowed.I think its cause there were too many fans outside the gate. So they decided to allow the fans to enter in the end.The soldiers were actually really nice and polite about the whole thing -kyrill_