Theatre Design & Technology - Fall 1992 - 13

in a srormy sky. The best I could do in
my theatre was ro rub rogether two carbon rods that had been plugged into rhe
electric circuit. Later, I became fascinated by the light coming through a window curtain; the beam of lighr cast
through a partially opened door into the
darkness; the oblong parrern of light
from windows; and I walked behind the
lamplighter along darkened streets as he
lit the gas lamps with a long pole. In
other words, I was becoming aware of
the inexhaustible power of light. And
one day, much, much later, as I gazed
spellbound at rhe rays streaming
through a gothic window, I conceived of
the principle of theatrical contralightcurtains of light. I

[I'll never forget my] realization that
space could be captured on drawing
paper; not only the space that I can see
bur also space that I imagine. And the
harder lesson that while it's possible ro
calculate how to make a bridge that
won't collapse, it's absolutely impossible
ro calculate how to make a thing beautiful.

In the plains around Caslav I ... loved
the dominating presence of the city
tower, the meadows and dales, the roads
bordered by plum trees, pheasant yards,
stone quarries, and sand pirs. I became
fascinated by any defined space, the
beautiful sensuousness of which I unforgerrably realized once in Tyn nad
Vltavou when at the top of a hill I discovered a very small country graveyard
bordered by a white wall and wonderfully set in the surrounding countryside.

When I finished my basic academic
courses in 1935, I got into an irreconcilable conflict with my father. He wanted
me ro continue my academic studies,
while I persisted in my ambition to be a
painter. I wanted ro go ro art school, but
father didn't relent. In defiance [ set
about learning ro be a carpenter in his
workshop. Our mutual stubbornness
did nor make my appremiceship a sweet
experience. I wasn't spared a single
apprentice assignment, from starting the
heating in the morning to cleaning up at
night. With clenched teeth, in full view
of the whole rown, 1 delivered finished
orders on a handcart and wem ro special

classes in carpentry theory. The stalemate wem unbroken.

The furrher I gOt inro the craft work
itself, the more 1 enjoyed it, but 1 also
paimed and read as if obsessed. On the
whole, these three years of defiant learning had a priceless significance for me.
Working with a master craftsman, my
father, I acquired the essence of a basic
craft and learned to think in terms of its
systematic order. My painring, rhanks ro
my new grasp of one discipline, began ro
acquire a more thought through appearance. I also began ro read the basic canon
of world literature. After receiving my
apprentice and my journeyman papers
three years later, I entered a two. year
master's school of carpenrry in the ZiZkov
district of Prague.

entire scenography on seven hyperboloids of scrim material that were able
ro carry lighr along their surface. The
scrim made the construction of the
hyperboloids easier and also served as
the basic background of the scene. The
scenography-for which I had a detailed scenario-evoked the impression
of a subterranean cave (for us it was the
environmenr of the Nazi protecrorate),
bur it also had ro be able to change, and
these changes were made solely by
means of lighting and film and slide
projection, with the awareness that the
acrors on the stage and on film had ro
be the same ones. Needless ro say, I also
drew from everything that E.F. Burian'
had tried before me.
Indeed, this production forced me ro

WORKING WITH A
MASTER CRAFTSMAN,

On September 8, 1943, our Prague
group presented itself in the Smetana
Museum under the name of The New
Ensemble, and for the cenrennial of the
poet Holderlin's death staged dramatic
fragmems of his Empedokles. It was rather
arrogant of us ro begin with a writer as
difficult as Holderlin, but thanks ro the
help of a philologist we were able ro cope
with the text and express ourselves by
means of the production.
Our second prem iere in 1943 was
Strindberg's Crown Bride. I made the set
from twO sets of stairs in the form of a
hip roof, the rop of which also provided
an acting area sixty centimeters wide,
running the length of the roof. Because
the stairs had no risers, you could see
right through them, transforming a hip
roof of lathing into a stairway. A low
platform with a ramp leading to it,
which was the basic acting surface, was
incorporated inro the fronr staircase. In
short, even in those early efforts I tried
to encode all necessary functions and
meanings into a single construction, ro
create an artifact that became an environment only as a result of the dramatic
action. And thar's what happened: what
seemed at first an abstract space became
transformed through the play of the
acrors inro a building, inro a path ro a
lake, into a lake itself. And it was, by the
way, the first time I used a staircase as a
drama ric element.
Scenography based on lighting is
something I first tried seriously in 1944
for the [finally unperformed] production of Jiff Karnet's Astray. I based the

MY FATHER,
I ACQUIRED THE
ESSENCE OF A
BASIC CRAFT
AND LEARNED TO .
THINK IN TERMS OF
ITS SYSTEMATIC
ORDER.

become more knowledgeable abour the
relationship of mathematics and
physics, and once and for all ro remember that any SOrt of searching, any SOrt
of breakthrough or even improvisation
must be based on a thorough knowledge
of the essenrial characteristics or pri ncipies inherenr in a given space and in the
materials to be used within it.
Once as I was helping an architect
with some drawing in his atelier, I came
across a box full of Soviet theatre periodicals from the twenties and thi rties,
especially Teatr i dramaturgija and
Kamerny teatr. I already knew the names
of famous scenographers like Vasiljev,
Rindin, Tarlin, Goncharova, Eksterova,
and the names of direcrors like Tairov,
Meyerhold, Stanislavski, and OkhlopTD&T

1992 FAll

Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of Theatre Design & Technology - Fall 1992