Theatre Design & Technology - Spring 1978 - 18

the Met, but in the avant-garde it is an extraordinary amount
to spend on a single production. The money that is gradually
becoming more available to avant-garde artists has allowed
their productions to become much more ambitious technically. In many cases, Einstein among them, the ambition has
developed more quickly than the technical sophistication
needed to fulfill it.
Wilson approaches his theatre like a painter-it is a visual
creation. He sees the show in his head long before any work
actually begins on it. "When he first described the show to
me," recalls Kathleen Norris, the managing director of the
production, "he did it on a napkin over lunch. I should have
saved that napkin, because the show we presented two years
later was exactly what he put on that napkin." He has a very
precise notion of what he wants to see onstage, and no
approximation will do. "It's difficult to convey to you how
certain Bob is once he's certain," says Norris. "Sometimes
you wish he weren't so damn certain, because you want to
say, 'but Bob, it would be so much easier if only .. .' But he
sees it, and it's got to be that way." What he is generally not
certain of is how to get his visions onto the stage. Wilson is a
designer, but he is not a technician. As a result, he has to
communicate what he wants to a large technical staff, which,
considering the preciseness and the detail of his ideas, is not
always easy to do. For the most part, he does it by drawing
pictures, often on whatever is at hand-napkins, tablecloths,
place mats, or loose pieces of paper. "I used to find myself
always thrusting a piece of paper into his hand," recalls Norris. "He would start to sort of wave around in the air, and I
would know that meant he needed a paper and pencil."
His ideas seldom demand anything technically innovative
(he claims that the reason twentieth-century artists do twentieth-century art is that nobody will give them the money to do
nineteenth-century art) but because they are so specific, they

do present some unusual problems. In the case of Einstein,
the foremost of these was the need for expert scene painting.
Wilson does not treat his drops as theatre drops, which only
have to look good from a distance. He sees them as paintings. He wants them to look finished. He wants someone to be
able to come up to his drops and stand ten inches awayeven if nobody ever does-and still see a finished painting.
"Bob said to me at one point that he didn't care if the audience consciously knew that it was right and perfect and
balanced," recalls Norris, "because unconsciously, or subconsciously, they did know and it affected their perception of
it. It's like a mandala-everything has to be in exact balance.
If it's out of balance, the audience will know. They may not say
to themselves that it's out of balance. but some portion of
them will know and it will lessen their enjoyment." Italian
scene painters are reputed to be the best in the world, so
Wilson decided to have the sets for Einstein built in Italy.
There were other reasons. For one thing, it was cheaper,
especially since the show was opening in Avignon, and having it built in Europe saved an overseas shipment. But the
main reason was that the level of craftsmanship available in
Italy was unavailable in New York.
Christina Giannini was asked to design the sets, She had
worked briefly with Wilson when he presented his earlier
opera, A Letter for Queen Victoria, in Spoleto. She is primarily a costume designer, but has also done sets, and was
chosen in this case because she speaks Italian and has
worked extensively in Italy. In 1975, Wilson gave her a series
of small sketches to work from, each about two inches
square, They portrayed the central visual idea of each scene,
showing, for instance. a train disappearing into the distance,
or a train coming onstage and then receding again. "He had it
very carefully worked out," recalls Giannini, "how many minutes it would take for the train to come onstage, and then how

The title photograph is of the chorus singing a capella in the orchestra pit. All performance photographs accompanying this article
were taken in Brussels, September 28, 1976.

Bill Simmer has published in The Drama Review, where he serves as assistant editor, and the Soho Weekly News. As playwright and
director, his work has been presented by The Structuralist Workshop in New York.

Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of Theatre Design & Technology - Spring 1978