Pig's Head

Pig’s Head

Sabrina Lute

My relationship with IUSB has existed since the early to mid-1990’s. As an John Adams High School student, our neighbor to the south was like an extension to our campus. One could argue that Adams High School was a feeder school for IUSB. For example, Adams had open-lunches and many of us would frequent the Grille in the Administration Building and spend our time on campus. Adding to the relationship between the two schools, Adams band, orchestra, and choir would use the Campus Auditorium for large concerts and special events.

Backstages are mystical, magical places, however, given that they are usually pitch dark, they can also seem terrifying. Curtains hang, heavy and thick drowning out light and sound. As you look up the walls you see staircases and catwalks, but as you drag your eyes up further, everything disappears into an endless abyss of nothing. Spend a moment or two alone in that environment and you begin to doubt reality. Welcome to the theatre: anything can happen.

As with any performance, it was necessary to have ample rehearsal time. It was during my first rehearsal as a freshman that an upperclassman asked a small group of us, “Would you like to see a pig’s head?” I cannot speak for my cohorts, but the words “pig’s head” triggers images of gruesomeness and slaughterhouses. Reluctant, but curious, we agreed to see this pig’s head. We were led further backstage. Our guide pointed a shadowed finger up past the first set of stairs and catwalks. We struggled to adjust our eyes in the dim light. My eyes climbed higher until I saw it.

The large cartoon-like pig’s head hung 30-40 feet above the stage on a wall. For my recollection, I estimate that the original was approximately three to four feet wide and likely no thicker than a foot. This simple prop, became our “urban legend.” We travelled back across the street, sharing the story of the pig’s head to the rest of the school. We omitted the cartoon-like aspect and let imaginations run rampant. Until three weeks ago, I didn’t know that it was simply a remnant prop from a production of Charlotte’s Web. Having the mystery, having a legend was fun.

The connection I bridged with IUSB occurred because as an institution, IUSB doesn’t feel exclusive and closed off from the city. I was invited into the mystery and have added to the legend. I’ve experienced a sense of engagement to the campus. This city is fortunate to have IUSB in the neighborhood.