Stage props in papier-mache and foam: metal and stone finishes

I start with a sketch and a conversation with the director. A prop has to read from the back row, sit well in the actor's hand and survive being picked up twenty times a night, so before I cut anything we agree on silhouette, scale, colour and how the object will be handled on stage. Then I sculpt the form, layer papier-mache over it, carve and sand foam where volume is needed, and build a light internal frame so the piece can be carried through the whole performance without wearing anyone out.

Painting is a separate craft. Patinated bronze wants green settled into the hollows and polished highlights on the edges; worn stone wants chips, dust in the pores and a dry chalky surface; old wood wants cracks, tool marks and a greasy sheen where hands have held it. Weight and balance are tuned to the actor: a goblet that feels cast but weighs almost nothing reads as solid from the house and never fights the performer. I make chests, goblets, scrolls, boxes, shop signage and market-stall clutter, plus stands, brackets and mounts, runs of matching pieces for the crowd scenes, repairs after touring and crates for transport.

What I do not make: replicas of real weapons, nothing that shoots, cuts or is thrown, nothing with open flame or pyrotechnics. Props are light, with soft edges and no sharp corners so the actor cannot be injured; stage materials are treated with a flame-retardant coating, and I check the venue's fire safety requirements in advance. A heavy object is never suspended above people.

— sketch, approval with the director, estimate and schedule
— sculpted form, papier-mache and foam over a light frame
— finishes in patinated bronze, worn stone and aged wood
— weight and balance tuned to the actor's hand
— stands, brackets and safe placement on stage
— matching runs of props for crowd scenes
— repairs after touring, packing and transport crates