Theatre and Performance Design

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(Re)performing scenography: Josef Svoboda as a

tutor

Sofia Pantouvaki

To cite this article: Sofia Pantouvaki (2020) (Re)performing scenography: Josef Svoboda as a
tutor, Theatre and Performance Design, 6:3, 199-220, DOI: 10.1080/23322551.2020.1856303

To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/23322551.2020.1856303

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THEATRE AND PERFORMANCE DESIGN
2020, VOL. 6, NO. 3, 199–220
https://doi.org/10.1080/23322551.2020.1856303

(Re)performing scenography: Josef Svoboda as a tutor

Sofia Pantouvaki
Department of Film, TV and Scenography, Aalto University, Helsinki, Finland

ABSTRACT
The document presented here was part of the curriculum offered in
1997 by the Department of Stage Design of the Theatre Faculty
(DAMU) in Prague to the international exchange students from
the Master of Arts in European Scenography at Central Saint
Martins College of Art and Design (London, UK) and the
University of the Arts in Utrecht (Netherlands). It is based on two
lecture-presentations by Josef Svoboda delivered at DAMU on 15
January and 22 January 1997, offering a rare opportunity for
early-career designers to discuss scenography in detail and in
context with him. The lectures provided a flowing narrative as a
presentation and a sharing of Svoboda’s design experiences; they
included scenographic work presented by the designer himself
with detailed descriptions and their technical solutions. This
document is an edited selection of excerpts from the lectures
accompanied by editorial commentary. The content of the
discussion provides not only a vivid document of Svoboda’s
personal trajectory, but also a historical record of twentieth-
century stage technologies and collaboration on an international
scale. Given that Josef Svoboda’s pedagogical involvement is
rarely discussed, this document aims to contribute to Svoboda’s
legacy by bringing to light this lesser-known side of the great
designer.

Context: Josef Svoboda as an international tutor (DAMU, 1997)

The document presented here was part of the curriculum offered by the Department of
Stage Design of the Theatre Faculty (DAMU) of the Academy of Performing Arts in Prague
to the exchange students from the Master of Arts in European Scenography at Central
Saint Martins College of Art and Design (CSM) in London and the University of the Arts
in Utrecht, Netherlands (HKU), who spent a period of three and a half months in
Prague between January and April 1997. I was one of them. The programme included
two lecture-presentations by Josef Svoboda, followed by a few sessions of one-to-one
tutoring with him, which offered a rare opportunity for early-career designers to
discuss scenography in detail and in context with him.

CONTACT Sofia Pantouvaki sofia.pantouvaki@aalto.fi

I would like to dedicate this document to Pamela Howard, Barbara Tumová and to my fellow colleagues from the 1996–97
MA Scenography year and especially to Edwin Erminy who was with us in Prague attending Svoboda’s lectures, but not
here anymore.
© 2020 The Author(s). Published by Informa UK Limited, trading as Taylor & Francis Group
This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives License
(http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/), which permits non-commercial re-use, distribution, and reproduction in any
medium, provided the original work is properly cited, and is not altered, transformed, or built upon in any way.
200 S. PANTOUVAKI

The two lectures were delivered at DAMU on 15 January and 22 January 1997. They
were attended by the international students of the ESC exchange1 as well as by Czech stu-
dents of scenography who were then studying at DAMU. The presentation was given pri-
marily in Czech with the help of an interpreter, Chris Cowley (today Associate Professor at
the School of Philosophy of University College Dublin). The lectures took a free form as a
flowing narrative, being simultaneously a presentation, a discussion and a sharing of Svo-
boda’s design experiences. They included scenographic work presented by the designer
himself with detailed descriptions, related concepts and their technical solutions. In that
sense, they were not formal theoretical lectures but an insight into the designer’s mind
through his own words. Given that Josef Svoboda’s pedagogical involvement is quite
rarely discussed,2 this document aims to contribute to Svoboda’s legacy by bringing to
light this lesser-known side of the great designer.

The recorded materials – notes on the oral record

The two lectures were recorded with Svoboda’s permission. Svoboda spoke primarily in
Czech, conversing comfortably with the interpreter and the Czech students; however,
he shifted to English when he wanted to connect with the international students or to
answer some of their questions. Hence, the recording is a combination of two languages
with English spoken mainly by the interpreter. In the second lecture, Svoboda admitted
that he is actually used to talking about his work in German even more than in Czech.
As the language is partly Czech and partly English, the transcription needed to be
done by someone who understood both of these languages as well as the topic. This
was done by Dr Barbora Příhodová, who is a Czech native with good knowledge of
English and a Svoboda scholar herself.
Each lecture lasted approximately two and a half to three hours including the English
interpretation, a break and questions from students. The document provided here is a
condensed and edited selection of excerpts from the lectures, although we have
attempted to remain as close as possible to Svoboda’s narrative style.3 The transcript is
further annotated with comments, where appropriate, to provide information and
clarity. Large sections of the lectures were dependent on slides of various productions
and drawings that Svoboda did on a chalkboard while talking. Because his comments
would be difficult to understand without the visuals, much of that material, sadly, had
to be omitted.
Listening to Josef Svoboda’s lectures was a unique, powerful experience. The record-
ings, more than 20 years old, clearly convey the designer’s talent for storytelling that
accompanied his talents for scenography. Prompted by the photographs and renderings
he projected, Svoboda embarked on a fascinating journey of ideas, memories and associ-
ations. It is worth noting that these oral performances were unique points of access to his
work up to this point in his life. Although he worked in a considerable number of inter-
national venues, political and economic realities severely limited the possibility for
many to follow his work. Re-performing his own work to an international audience was
a way of expanding the reach of his ideas, providing us with the opportunity to experi-
ence his work, offering a precious source of knowledge.
The content of the discussion provides not only a vivid document of Svoboda’s per-
sonal trajectory, but also a historical record of twentieth-century stage technologies
 THEATRE AND PERFORMANCE DESIGN 201

and creative collaboration on an international scale. I hope this document will enrich the
research on Svoboda’s work by providing oral materials for further study and adding a
new dimension to the scenographer’s work, showing a lesser-known side of him as
tutor for a younger generation of designers.

Edited excerpts from Svoboda’s lectures at DAMU (1997)

First lecture: 15 January 1997
Josef Svoboda: I want to start with a video that shows what I call ‘kinetic scenography’,
which develops through the course of the time.4 It is Romeo and Juliet (1963) by Shakes-
peare, directed by Otomar Krejča, the Czech director.5 The architecture has been invented
completely and very precisely for this dramatic action. There is nothing redundant. The
architecture is designed for the action and has the same psycho-plastic quality that the
play does. The material, which this set is made of, is ordinary jute – the material used
for making sacks. It’s not expensive. The important thing is that the square6 that moves
up and down and that represents the fountain means different things. For example, [it
means] the place where students come together; it’s also the marital bed of Romeo
and Juliet; it’s also their grave. So, this scenographic element has three different functions.
The fact that it has three functions is the poetic quality of it (Figure 1).

Working method
For your information, I work alone. I don’t use any assistants. Because I work on the principle
that before I explain it to the assistant, I have done the job myself. I’ve been trained in a
really different way than normal stage designers. I was trained as a carpenter. I’ve also
been accredited as an academic architect – for interior and exterior architecture. And I
studied mathematics, physics, chemistry. So, I can move through the particular professions
freely. Because if you know something, you are free. I require this knowledge because if I
want to learn something new and different, then I need this freedom. It bothers me if I
can’t understand something. [ … ] If I can’t figure out how to [do something], I invent
some solution, which may even be a stupid solution, but I follow it through to the end,
and only in this way I can get rid of the stupidity. Because then, I can see what is wrong
with it; and once I know what is wrong with my solution, then I know what to do next.
[…]
I’m an old man, I’m 77. I’m still working, but I do 10 productions per year; I used to do
16 per year … all around the world. I do everything [by myself] at home, and if you could
only see my workshop … It’s a small miracle … Everything is there. There is a small
theatre, all different workshops, all different fields. There is the most modern equipment
there. That’s where I go and that’s where I work by myself. That’s my little world. [ … ] Ever
since I was a child, I was trained to use my hands. I was making my own toys; we had a
cabinet-making workshop. I never received any purchased toys because my father said it
was nonsense, that we should make them ourselves. That was a great upbringing.
So, the models [for the sets] are something I can put together in two days. The problem here
is not making the model, but figuring it out technically so that it works. The model can help you
to catch all the mistakes that you might be making. It’s also about calculating things.
[…]
202 S. PANTOUVAKI

Figure 1. Production photograph from Romeo and Juliet (1963) at the National Theatre in Prague,
depicting the platforms of the set. Photo: Jaromír Svoboda. © Národní divadlo Praha.

I’m not just interested in scenography and direction. I’m interested in the analysis of
the play.

Atomtod (1965)
Next, we will see an opera called Atomtod.7 [ … ] It’s a complete experiment in terms of
music. This was in a time when people were afraid of atomic war and they were hiding
in bunkers. [On the stage] I created bunkers as [large] black balls, and I put the chorus
inside the black balls. But you won’t see this with your eyes. The balls have holes like a
 THEATRE AND PERFORMANCE DESIGN 203

strainer … You’d think they’re full, the balls, but they are not. They are empty, and inside
them is the chorus. [I placed the chorus there] because I’m not too fond of choruses; they
don’t move around very well. When I can stick them somewhere, I usually do. And in this
case, I stuck them into the balls.
So here is one ball [pointing to the slide] (Figure 2). They spin around and therefore
create the image of a sphere, but a transparent one. In there, stands the main soloist.
And the circles must spin faster, a bit faster than the period of light.8 This is the same prin-
ciple when you have an aircraft propeller turning fast enough, suddenly you see a disk.
That is the principle. And once you see the ball, then I can project anything I want
onto it. I was able to project a singer, a beautiful singer, onto this ball, who was
singing to the soloist inside. This was projected by means of something like a video,
but at the time there had not been video yet … what was its name … I’ll remember
… .9 I was already able to make video pictures 6 by 4 metres – this was in 1965.

Hamlet (1965)10
[You] must find the philosophy of the performance … what happens; you cannot play
this realistically; you must find some philosophy that will allow you to perform it differ-
ently. It must be stylistically clear. We discussed this with the director, and we agreed
upon several principles.

Figure 2. Photograph of the stage model of the original scenography for Atomtod (1965) at Teatro alla
Scala, Piccola Scala, Milan. © Josef Svoboda/Josef Svoboda’s Archives.
204 S. PANTOUVAKI

You know the story. Old Hamlet dies. The brother-in-law marries his wife. And it’s all
such a nasty business. Into this steps young Hamlet. It’s in Denmark, in the Middle
Ages, before the Renaissance. Meanwhile, in German universities the Renaissance has
already begun. That’s where Hamlet studies. He finds out in a German university that
his father has died. He doesn’t believe in ghosts anymore. When Horatio and the soldiers
come along and talk about seeing a ghost, he doesn’t believe them, but doesn’t talk them
out of it either. [ … ]
I did [the Ghost of Hamlet’s Father] in a completely different way. I based it on an
inclined mirror. It was 15 metres wide and 8 metres tall, and inclined at 45 degrees.
Hamlet comes to the fortification of the castle with his friends. Leaves the friends in
one corner. And stands and faces the mirror. And looks up into the mirror. When the
old Hamlet [the Father] speaks to him, we see that Hamlet sees his face, but that face
goes against him and his body appears horizontally.11 It is a right angle of two figures.
One is alive, and the other one is a phantom. But that is him [Hamlet], it is not his
Father. That is his perspective,12 his opinion, young Hamlet, you see. He talks to
himself. That is where the philosophy is. That is how the whole performance is conceived.
He loves his mother, he protects her. Of course, it’s unfortunate that she got involved with
that guy. He is no ruler, I think. But she is his mother. This psychology must be very clear.
This makes it modern; this makes it contemporary.
[ … ] The reason why Shakespeare is so great and so successful – and I have done many
Shakespeares in my life – the reason is that you can interpret it in so many ways; you can
find the psychology that’s in it, and you will never harm the drama and the beauty.

Carmen (1965)13
[Let’s focus on] the last scene of Carmen. The steps are transparent. There is no vertical
construction, they are transparent14 (Figure 3). And [under the steps] Carmen and José
are talking. The heat, the corrida, and people are going to the arena. They are going
along the stairs. Women, they have these scarfs, these costumes. They come to the
stairs and we see them walking up the stairs. The women take their scarf, put it under
their bottom and sit on it. They suddenly … cover the whole space.15 It’s quite simple.
The scarfs are red like blood, kind of flowers. Carmen is [dressed in] ‘white’ with black
hair, José is [in] ‘black’. On her chest is a red rose. He kills her. She falls to his feet. And
all you can see is José and her black hair and the red rose. Because of her white dress
and my lighting, it’s a fire – she is burning in the light and you don’t discern the plasticity
– and so the dress mingles with the background; you don’t see the body. You only see the
guy, José. This is dramatic lighting.
Art means drama, understanding what is happening. Going with it and crying with it –
or being unhappy with it. You must feel the drama, otherwise there is no way you can do it.
The lighting, that is the principle. The lighting of the set is not just an ordinary light …
[…]

Carmen (1972)16
[I did] another Carmen at the Metropolitan Opera in New York, conducted by Leonard
Bernstein. He said: ‘Mr. Svoboda, we need some way to get the crowd here [on stage,
or close enough, to sing]. When the crowd cheers and cries, we need to make it invisible’.17
I made a white wall. And then I asked for 300 soldiers. They sent me the soldiers, and I put
 THEATRE AND PERFORMANCE DESIGN 205

Figure 3. Artwork (tempera on paper) of the original scenography for Carmen (1965) at Theater der
Freien Hansestadt, Bremen. © Josef Svoboda/Josef Svoboda’s Archives.

them behind the wall. I gave each of them a Spanish hat. When they roared, they all threw
the hats up. You could see the hats above the wall, flying up and falling down, and again
up. This is scenography. Not the wall. The wall – that’s just the means. [ … ] (Figure 4).

The Insect Play (1965)18

When I first read it, I was captivated by the theme … I saw the text as a hexagon, as a
biological grid. That captivated me. The insects were ants, butterflies, various insects … I
needed the ants to be on the ground.19 So, I used a mirror [to reflect them to the audi-
ence]. At that time, it was not so easy to make a mirror like the one I have here, 8 metres
tall. At the time, glass was not allowed on stage because if, for example, it shattered, it
could easily hurt the actor. I wasn’t able to come up with any solution. And then I did: I
found a transparent foil. I thought I would braze it; I would cover it with silver. I bought 3
kilograms of silver, very expensive at the time – 80,000 Czech crowns. We sprayed the
foil with the silver. The transparent foil was very greasy, so the silver didn’t stick to it.
So, we tried to dry it hard, to take the grease out. Then I learned that in England,
they were developing a similar sort of mirror for aircrafts, lightweight. I wrote to
them,20 they sent [a sample] to me. They made it into the size of a sheet of paper. It
still wasn’t working. In the end, I succeeded by using the silver bromate … I thought
I’d make the mirrors small – 1 metre in diameter each. And I told myself it would be
good in the shape of a biological cell, a hexagon. I made a huge wall [made up of hex-
agonal mirrors placed one next to another]. I placed the walls [with these mirrors] so that
they joined together irregularly, while below a turntable was spinning21 (Figures 5a–b).
206 S. PANTOUVAKI

Figure 4. Production photograph from Carmen (1972) at the Metropolitan Opera in New York, depict-
ing Don José and Carmen in the final scene outside the wall of the corrida. © Josef Svoboda.

Everything reflected in the mirror was visible [to the audience]. The actors were visible.
There were carpets on the turning floor painted like grass, a meadow, the Earth.
When you peeled off one layer of the carpet, there was another layer. But this wasn’t
enough for me.
[…]
Let’s take one of the hexagonal cells … [he starts drawing on a board, he shows ‘this is
the cell in cross section, seen from the side’ … ]. I made the cell as a box. Imagine that this

Figures 5a–b. Production photographs from The Insect Play (1965) at the National Theatre in Prague,
depicting the hexagonal mirror cells of the set. Photo: Jaromír Svoboda. © Národní divadlo Praha.
 THEATRE AND PERFORMANCE DESIGN 207

box is 10 cm deep. The foil is stretched across the front of the box and there is plywood on
the back. In between the plywood and the foil, there is a space: I made a hole into [the
space] and there I placed an electric pump. This inflated the front foil and then deflated
… so when the actors were crawling on the floor, they became large, and then they were
small again.22 It was a totally kinetic theatre. The composition was great. Each [element]
has been thought through in detail in terms of the kinetics. Nothing was solid in this world
and that was the beauty of it.
[…]

Andorra (1996)23
This play was very simple. Imagine you are in Italy in a small Italian town … maybe with
1000 inhabitants. There is a square, a church, a school. The fascists – maybe you didn’t live
it, but they were bastards – they made women go to clean the square, on their knees, with
brushes. And this was in the play. But this is very difficult to see on the stage. So I did it this
way [he says this while drawing on the board]: I created a city background that represents
the main square.24 There [on the audience’s left] was a white wall, dirty and decayed; there
[on the right] was a window to the church, a door which was not visible, just its outline
(Figure 6). But the important thing is the action. What I don’t like is when something
stands on the stage, and it keeps standing there, and it doesn’t do anything. I like mean-
ingful action that has its dynamics. There is a priest, for example, who opens the door of
the church and crosses the street to visit his neighbour … As he opens the door, on the
other side you can see that this is a real door. So suddenly the door says, means some-
thing. [ … ] Notice how simple it is, simple language, it’s theatrical language in my opinion.

Figure 6. Photograph of the realized scenography for Andorra (1996) at Saarländisches Staatstheater
in Saarbrücken. Photographer: Josef Svoboda. © Josef Svoboda/Josef Svoboda’s Archives.
208 S. PANTOUVAKI

And now the women get this order to scrub the square, and everything must be clean
… I thought of an excellent trick. The set looked dirty … I had a paint made, which, when
you painted it, it would be white, [but] in 10 minutes, it would turn black. And now
imagine 20 people painting the set [with that paint]. It was Sisyphus’ work, because in
ten minutes it would be black, it was just hopeless. This was the meaning of the resistance.
This was the best trick I have been able to make up, so dramaturgically precise.
The important point here is you can put absolutely anything on the stage; as long as it’s
not risky for the actor, for the workers, for the audience, you can use it. Nowadays people
only use materials like cloth … You have to learn how to think, get information, and use
your imagination … you have to find it yourself.
[…]
[At this point of the lecture, Svoboda discussed the 1958 Brussels World’s Fair - Expo 58. The Cze-
choslovak Pavilion included the debut of Laterna Magika, created by Svoboda and director Alfréd
Radok, and Polyekran, a multi-screen audio-visual presentation.]

. About collaboration

I always say that the director and the scenographer must be so close that when he starts a
sentence, I finish it. We read each other’s thoughts. That’s a dialogue about art. The main
thing when you make a production is that you will learn to understand working with the
actor. Normally, when you are a designated designer, you are asked to do [a set] and then
you go away. But that means nothing. There is nothing like sitting there during the rehear-
sals to watch the actors and see what the actors are doing. If you can’t be there during the
rehearsals to see the actor’s work and his thinking, you have no idea. But if you are there,
you will start to understand it. Then scenography can help the actors, and the actors can
help you. The result can be something completely different.
[…]

. About theatre making

You must fight for it; there is no other way. Even when there is no money, and there is
nothing there, you must find something, some trick, to show them that it does work,
and bugger off. Theatre will always be poor; theatre will never be rich. Capitalists
spend money on other things, not on culture. Communists spent money on propa-
ganda. It is always the same problem. When you didn’t do propaganda during Com-
munism, you didn’t have a chance. Now when you don’t do advertisement, you
don’t have a chance.
A performance can be beautiful if the forces can be mobilized, but within reason. Then
it becomes harmony, then it becomes beautiful. Twice I did a performance in Bayreuth;25
it is the best theatre in the world; everything is at your disposal. But that’s the thing: even
though you have everything, everything must have sense. [ … ]

Second lecture: 22 January 1997

JS:26 [ … ] If I had the chance now to begin from A, then I would begin with architecture. I
didn’t want to be a stage designer. But I had no chance to make good architecture in our
 THEATRE AND PERFORMANCE DESIGN 209

country. It was rational architecture,27 a stupidity. It was not for me. [ … ] In theatre [I
found an] asylum. It was fantastic. Very nice people, very good people, very good
actors, very intelligent, talented, they had the same problem like me. But industrial archi-
tecture … [ … ]

. The Magic Flute (1970)28

[In The Magic Flute I used a] laser. You may be familiar with laser as a straight line; that was
the simplest at the time. But I was bored by the idea, I wanted to come up with something
different. But as early as the 1960s, at the beginning when the laser emerged, I tried
[experimenting with it]. A laser beam is made up of hundreds and thousands of rays. [ … ]
I wanted to use it for The Magic Flute in Munich when they [Pamina and Tamino] go
through the fire and water (Figure 7).
At the time, laser beams [were already being used]. However, I don’t like to use things
that already exist. So, I came up with the idea of breaking [up] the laser beam. I had a laser
beam set up at my workshop at home. First, I tried primitive techniques, like placing a
shard of glass into the beam. [The light was] scattered by the broken glass. When I saw
[what kind of effect was created], I got it. [ … ]
This was a more complicated machine that had a series of shards of glass [that frag-
mented] the laser [beam]. Because it [had to function] precisely to the music by

Figure 7. Documentation of the realized scenography for The Magic Flute (1970) at Bayerische Staat-
soper in Munich, depicting Pamina and Tamino going through ‘fire and water’. © Josef Svoboda/Josef
Svoboda’s Archives.
210 S. PANTOUVAKI

Mozart, it had to be thought through precisely. It cost $200,000. It had to be synchronized

with the music. That’s when I worked with the Siemens company; I had to get their
support. I don’t like the normal things. Nothing can stop me. When I want something, I
go after it. If it’s possible, there must be a way to do it.
This final scene lasts only five minutes, when Tamino and Pamina walk through fire and
water. They warned me that it was dangerous; it was life-threatening. So, we had to keep
the energy of the laser very low. The energy was 5 mW; and yet it made a picture that was
7 by 7 metres square. This was a spatial picture, not a flat projection. This means that there
were different projection surfaces which had different consistencies and transmitted the
laser to different surfaces. I used parallel strips of netting. So it became as if you were pro-
jecting on smoke, for example. The simplest thing is to project it on the smoke. This is now
done at discos. The only thing they know how to do is fill the space with smoke and put
the lights on. But these are my lights that they are using; I worked it out. But because [the
discos] use them I haven’t used those lights in a long time, because I would be ashamed to
do it. [ … ]
My lights are a hit now, but everybody tends to use smoke with them so that they make
the light beams visible. We are not allowed to do this when on the stage in opera, because
the actors wouldn’t allow it. But I know how to create a smoke effect yet at the same time
not to interfere: I use water. I send little drops of water, 5 microohms wide, into the atmos-
phere of the stage. It makes a fog. I give each of these drops an electrostatic charge, either
plus or minus. Pluses and minuses don’t like each other; and they repel each other. There-
fore, they distribute themselves equally in the atmosphere. They fill the stage absolutely
equally. That’s the qualitative difference between the disco and my way …
If this effect is necessary in a certain situation in an opera or a performance – if I want
this effect there – I use the plus and minus drops. I send them through electrostatic circles
that charge the fog. When I want the fog to disappear … I give it only five minutes to do
that. In five minutes, it must disappear from the stage. For example, I can flood the stage
with more drops, charged with minus. They attract each other, they become larger and
larger, they weigh more and more … and, like fog, they fall to the ground. The atmos-
phere is then absolutely clean.

Student: Is the floor wet?

JS: It is a bit wet. It is not visible … it is moist, but not wet. If it is not a lino,29 you won’t
recognize it. The fact is I can control the atmosphere on the stage. I see this as a great
victory, because when the poor guy fogs the stage for the whole night, and there is
nothing he can do with it, then it is of no use. [ … ]. I call [this] intangible scenography.

[…]
This is my idea of scenography. I don’t like to do just backdrops. I have never done that.
I always look for something that drives on the dramaturgy of the play. [Something] that
helps the actors and that provides the director with a tool – an instrument. I say ‘instru-
ment’ intentionally. Because the instrument, you can play [with] it.30 Sometimes like a vir-
tuoso, sometimes maybe not, but you play. [ … ] I could give you many other examples of
when scenography becomes an instrument. That, I think, is important, because there its
function is essential, 100 per cent. I always say that, if the scenography can’t disappear
 THEATRE AND PERFORMANCE DESIGN 211

from the stage, it’s not worth a thing. Once it has no function, it just stands there and it’s
bad; there is no point having it there at all. This means that good scenography must
evolve in the flow of dramatic action.
[…]

. About directors and designers

A designer must be a 100 per cent designer; and also, a 50 per cent director. And the
director must be a 100 per cent director; and a 50 per cent designer. Then they can com-
municate with each other. If this is not the case, the dialogue is not possible. Then it
becomes difficult. It’s very important that the scenography be contained in the direction,
and the direction be contained in the scenography. [ … ]

. About projections

I made progress in this field. I established all sorts of new conditions and laws for good
projection theatre. I developed a lot of completely new projection surfaces. I know
how to do magic with these surfaces. They exist and suddenly don’t exist. They are
walk-through or not walk-through. It’s about the angle of the light hitting the surface,
the material, the structure, etc. It is good to master physics in the theatre. To understand
light and to understand reflection. Then you have a chance. Otherwise, you’ll be a slave of
what there is, of what exists already, and there isn’t much of what exists already.

. About working with music

When I compose [the set], my greatest inspiration is music. There you have repetition of
motifs. I compose a space in the same way. I know exactly why you see red here and
yellow there … Because it’s all connected to what’s going on; because the psycho-
plastic quality of the colour is very important. To achieve this sort of purity on the
stage implies you must give it your best. And a person has to work, it’s hard work.
I didn’t bring any with me, but, if I were to show all the diagrams and sketches that I
make for one single production … [He switches to English for the remainder of this para-
graph] Thousands and thousands of designs. Thousands. For me, it’s not a problem. I
make complete a set in colour – in gouache, in pastel, it’s not a problem. That is my
job. I am master in that. I can do it. It is not a problem. This is very important. When
you cannot draw, there is no chance, because you cannot try something. With pastel,
gouache, aquarelle, oil and photo. I make big models. I have a studio with many spots
and projection apparatuses. I can make anything in my studio. It’s not reality, but I can
make perfect models with all projections perfect. I was sometimes in discussions with
designers in the United States, and they showed me their models. And I asked: ‘How
many productions do you do here?’ And one said, ‘five’. I make 13, 16 [productions a
year]. I asked him: ‘What do you do the whole year?’ I don’t understand. And now, in
the end, 10 or 15 designs, not ready designs, you know, but sketches. It is necessary to
go into the material, to understand the problem, the technology.

. On the basic principles of Laterna Magika

212 S. PANTOUVAKI

[Showing an image of a Laterna Magika production.] It is not that the picture is blurred. It’s
deliberately done. Various colours are being projected onto themselves and creating new
patterns. Because you have subtractive composition. I would put blue and yellow, I create
green; that is subtractive. The additive composition is more complicated.
That’s why I use slides. I photograph certain lights and certain structures. I can achieve
much better plasticity. It’s not a surface, it’s not a yellow surface, green surface, blue …
but it is three-dimensional. Like light on a surface, what I can see with my eyes when I walk
through a park through trees and I can see the lights on the leaves, and I can see the
different structures. Take a look at French impressionists: what they could find in the
parks on the pathways. When you step back a bit, you can see it’s nicely yellow and
when you get closer, you will see a thousand different yellows. This is my secret. I
approach it in the same manner. I don’t like too flat, very simple lighting. It has to have
some materiality to it. [ … ]

Student: Who photographs the slides?

JS: I take photographs, I paint, I draw … I have a photo studio with all the equipment.
Everything I do myself. The leaves that you saw I painted first in pastels and then photo-
graphed and made the slide.

Student: Is this projected from the front?

JS: From front and behind. If you project from both sides, you will have better results.

I can also project from the front and from the side, the result will be different, and it will
depend on the structure of the material, because there will be absorption or reflection.
There are various reflections depending on the materials and this is what makes the
miracle. The reflected light is what you see as a spectator, but if a ray of light is
reflected in the corner, you won’t see it. You see everything that is reflected into your
eyes.
In the theatre, it is different than in painting because we work in space, we work with
space. That’s a different structural matter. [ … ]
Laterna Magika is my biggest invention. I can do miracles. I mastered this a long time
ago.
[…]

. The Bartered Bride (1978)31

[The backdrop for this production] was my greatest contribution to the theatre. When I
did The Bartered Bride in America, I wanted to have a backdrop of blue sky. They
worried about the folds: ‘Please don’t do it, Mr. Svoboda. You want a blue sky to the
ground, and that is impossible’. I said, ‘Yes, I want a backdrop like this, but I want to
cut it like this … ’. So that the actor could go through it. I wanted it with no wrinkles,
with no folds, and semi-circular. So, I designed it, sent them sketches, I calculated it.
But I told them not to change anything, not even by a millimetre. ‘Otherwise I will
come with my people, [ … ] we will weld it in America. To make sure it is how it’s supposed
 THEATRE AND PERFORMANCE DESIGN 213

to be … ’, that it would be done properly. My people from my theatre. ‘You would have
to pay for six people to go there, not just for me.’ They said, ‘We will do it ourselves’. So,
they did it, and then said, ‘We are ready. Can we suspend it?’ And I said, ‘No, no, wait for
me to get there, I will hang it with you; there are certain little secrets’. They said, ‘No, what
sort of secrets could there be … ?’ I had various rehearsals here in Prague, I couldn’t go
right away. They phoned me and said, ‘It’s suspended’, and I said, ‘Well, how does it look?’
And they said, ‘It’s amazing, we are just staring at it, and there is not even the slightest
wrinkle, the slightest fold’. And there was not. ‘We can walk through it, and nothing is dis-
rupting the effect’ (Figure 8).
Mathematics is a beautiful thing. It’s based on the specific weight of the material. It’s
the formula, the equation that I use, that depends on the weight. It doesn’t work for all
materials. It’s a very specific formulation. And that needs to be put in service of stretching
the backdrop … [ … ]
I arrived there and told them, ‘I’m not even the best mathematician, I’m better at
physics. But I can count’. I am still amazed now that I see that it works. [ … ] [drawing]
The material is made up of several sections, and each section has a certain shape. I
know how to make it so that the backdrop comes and curls over into the surface of
the stage. And then you get very top results without folds. [ … ] When I cut it, you can
jump through it, it will fly apart and then close again, without a wrinkle.
Even sewing is a problem because the sewing machine has the shuttle and as it moves,
they sew together a seam and [drawing] there are small wrinkles around the seam. It is
very difficult to sew. When it’s welded together, then the plastic adapts. That is the
thing – to think through the material and go with it.

Figure 8. Photograph of the realized scenography from a rehearsal of The Bartered Bride (1978) at the
Metropolitan Opera, New York. © Josef Svoboda/Josef Svoboda’s Archives.
214 S. PANTOUVAKI

This is what I have been collecting for 45 years. These little tricks. I have an amazing
‘direction alphabet’. I can just reach and pick something that I know will work.
[…]

. About lighting and working with precision

Lighting is not just a question of turning on a spotlight and sticking in a filter. It doesn’t
mean you’re going to get the result that you want … because it’s connected to how it
falls, the angle of the lighting, the material …
I never use a lighting designer; I do everything myself. Because how am I supposed to
explain to a lighting designer what I want? How can he know what I want? In America, I
have big problems with this. I had to pass certain exams in the US to become a lighting
designer, stage designer and an architect, otherwise they would never let me do what I
wanted to do. They were providing a specialist for everything. The theatre paid me
twice as much because I didn’t want [to work with these specialists]. So, I had to pass
the exams; they gave me a sheet of paper, multiple choice questions … This is a
matter of unions in America, everything is union-controlled. That’s fine, that’s their
custom there. If you want to work there, you need to pass the exam. That’s your
problem; I’m not complaining about that.
[…]
It would bother me if couldn’t calculate a normal equation. I would find it silly. I’m an
architect, so it would be disgrace not be able to calculate. [Theatre is] nothing like archi-
tecture where everything has to be solid. In architecture, there are very precise laws. In
theatre, you can get away with much greater flexibility. I brought in some of the order
of architecture. I brought in a great order. In all my books, if you read them, you will
find a great sense of order. I transferred knowledge from other fields.
[…]
I did great in physics and chemistry in high school, for example; so, I know that the laws
are always the same. You have to understand the principles; then it works. This [also]
applies to scenography and all components of theatre. What is the theatre space?
What is the limited theatrical space? How can I define it? I can define it as endless [but]
I can limit it and make it finite. These are tricks that once you discover and start
working with, you will discover that theatre is a sensational thing.
They always ask me, what sort of stage do you want? And I say, I don’t really care, just
give me a play. Once I have a play and something to do, then I make the space as I want to.
You can always find a solution, depending on the building and its possibilities. I always
draw on what the theatre can offer, I don’t push it. I don’t try to insert something in it
that does not fit. It’s not difficult for me to do it differently.

. Idomeneo (1981)32

A very beautiful opera. The main character is the god Poseidon, god of the sea. A nasty
bastard, by the way. If he doesn’t like a boat, he sinks it, and he makes difficulties. Some-
times, the Greek gods were a lot of fun. So, this gentleman [Poseidon] was offended. I
won’t talk to you about the action [of the opera], but I’m going to explain to you how
space was formed.
 THEATRE AND PERFORMANCE DESIGN 215

You come into the theatre and this is what you see: a statue, already lit, [in the form of]
a face, 7 metres by 7 metres, like a cube. The cube was divided into five pieces; all of it was
three-dimensional. [ … ] (Figure 9a).
Now, look what has happened: this middle section moved one metre to the back. Do
you see what sort of beautiful effect it makes? The beard of Poseidon is steps and you can
go through the middle gap and into the sculpture (Figure 9b).
So now Poseidon is pissed off, because the inhabitants [actually: the sailors] are not lis-
tening to him; so he brings on a storm and he says, ‘I’m gonna show you, bastards … ’.
In comes the storm, the boats stop, everything is destroyed. This is all live projection.
[…]
Look at this detail. I count on adding a counter light here that connects the yellow light
to create the points that add to the sense of the space; I’m also very careful to include
them into the effect. It absorbs into the space, into the three-dimensionality …
The boat was in movement, shaking back and forth; now, after the storm, the people
and priests managed to persuade Poseidon to calm down. The priests promised that the
people would behave now.
[Svoboda continues while showing slides from difference scenes]

Here we have large waves in the back of the sea (Figure 9c). When you see the architec-
ture like this, you can see how it works; and it always reminds you of the Greek god.
You probably wonder how it moved; inside of each block is a Renault car.
So here is the interior; this is where they thanked the priests. [ … ] In every regime,
there is always a system of sycophancy – everyone has to kiss the feet of the ruler.
That’s a completely different interior. This is the entrance foyer; they resemble Sphinxes
(Figure 9d).
That is a different change; there are many changes. There’s still the sea. And here, we’re
back at the royal court.
This is the exterior court. Now it looks like some historical construction. It reminds me
of the pyramids. But that’s not when the play takes place.
This [opera is set] shortly after the Trojan War; Electra runs away to Crete. There is
anger; the pain of the stone is cultural; it’s something more. The effect is similar to discov-
ery of a vase in the ruins of Pompeii. The vase is going to be all broken into bits and pieces,

Figures 9a–9b. Production photographs from Idomeneo (1981) at the National Arts Center in Ottawa,
depicting the scenographic element of Poseidon’s sculpted cubic head consisting of five pieces.
© Josef Svoboda/Josef Svoboda’s Archives.
216 S. PANTOUVAKI

Figures 9c–9d. Production photographs from Idomeneo (1981) at the National Arts Center in Ottawa,
depicting variations in the use of the main scenographic element. © Josef Svoboda/Josef Svoboda’s
Archives.

and with jagged edges, but it still has a beautiful design. Because this opera by itself in
principle is quite stupid. The text is silly and the action is quite pointless. But the music
– I love Mozart. He was great, he was a rebel. I love him. The way Forman made him is
great. I worked with Forman on the film.33 In the Forman version, everything that was
based on theatre, I did it, it was my work. The way Forman conceived Mozart, I agree
with 100 per cent. He was such a talented bohemian; he didn’t even know what he
[was able to] do. That’s why he was such a rebel. When you are that talented, you
don’t even know how you do it, you just do it.
This is an example of art. You have to know how to translate it. I have to translate every-
thing into my own language to understand it. Into my cultural knowledge and into my
memories or how you call it … This is how I live; it is what leads me in my work. And
then I can’t slip away, I can’t go wrong; I can’t be mistaken if I translate it into my
language, because everything becomes a question of feeling. As well as rational, of
course, because a person can be educated … but when you create, the emotional
aspect must win. You have to be accommodating with your feelings. You must work
with the other language. You have to be able to sense it with a sixth sense. But of
course, you must draw on your knowledge.
[…]

Student: Do you usually finish the design before the rehearsals?

JS: I don’t change anything during the rehearsals. Because I think everything through. I
can’t afford to make changes because these are quite complicated things and any
change would be very expensive. Sometimes the rhythm can be changed; light, I can
change a little bit … But the whole idea, the conception is there. Because my collabor-
ation with the director is perfect.

I always rely on being able to talk to the director very thoroughly before, and we under-
stand each other. I do not like to be called in by a director who says, ‘Give me a landscape’,
and then sends me away. We work on it together and work through it before the perform-
ance. It [the scenography] must be thought through in terms of direction. Sometimes I
have comments on the direction and on the rhythm. And the director of course has his
advice on the scenography. It’s just us two; at the beginning it’s a collective work.
 THEATRE AND PERFORMANCE DESIGN 217

. Faust (1989, 1991)34

Now it’s Faust. I have brought this to you because I wanted to show you the spiral.
Twenty-two metres across. And the stripe is 4 metres wide, made of artificial silk. If you
do it normally in the theatre, the edge would not be so sharp … it would be with
folds and wrinkles. And yet, it’s hanging by its own weight (Figure 10). [ … ] It’s important

Figure 10. Production photograph showing the realization of the scenography and the use of projec-
tion in Faust – Fragments (Part I) (1989) at Piccolo Teatro, Milan. © Josef Svoboda/Josef Svoboda’s
Archives.
218 S. PANTOUVAKI

that the edge is very sharp because this is heaven. This is where God lives. This is symbolic.
That must be perfect.

Student: Why does it not make wrinkles?

JS: Because I’m clever. Because I calculated it. I will explain it to you; it’s a very simple
process. The diameter of the fabric [in the structure of the overhead spiral] gets smaller
and smaller, each time it goes … and that’s why it has a tendency to stretch. No other
adjustments are necessary. You see, look at it. It’s in the theatre, this is the stage, and
this is the auditorium. That’s not all, though. Suddenly with projection, it becomes the uni-
verse. This is the philosophy of things …

[ … ] You have just seen the spiral. Imagine that out of the original spiral, another spiral
emerges that is black. It makes circles, and it’s smaller and smaller; falls right to the
ground.
There is Faust standing; threatening the God. The black spiral suddenly comes rushing
in; it covers him and Faust stands inside the spiral, we can see him. Projected, a tree on top
of it that surrounds Faust. The black spiral then falls to the ground in its entirety, and Faust
stands in the middle of the old folded material of the black spiral; and he looks up to God
and doesn’t say anything. Because what can a person say?
Suddenly the floor opens up and sucks in the black spiral cloth. This is the end.
So you understand now the difference between the kinetic theatre here that is different
than in a normal theatre? Movement … the way I work. The fabric falls down, the spiral
falls down … and it must disappear. It is sucked by the Earth.
[…]
And this is God. You see?

Notes
1. This partnership was framed under the name ‘European Scenography Centres’ (ESC) and was
represented at international events including the Prague Quadrennial 1999, where an inde-
pendent exhibit featured the work of its international alumni.
2. During his international work, Svoboda gave numerous lectures and masterclasses at univer-
sities, drama schools and theatres globally. For a comprehensive list of Svoboda’s inter-
national presentations, see Albertová (2008, 249–254 and 256). A collection of Svoboda’s
lectures has been published in Italian (Svoboda 1989) and later translated into Russian
(Svoboda 1990; 1999; and 2nd ed. in 2005).
3. What is unfortunately lost in a transcription are changes in tone and rhythm. When Svoboda
became excited by an idea, his pace became fast – an unstoppable river of words. His speech
often unfolds in a staccato rhythm, but when he describes a dramatic situation to explain his
vision of scenography he becomes quieter, almost to the point of whispering, to create sus-
pense, and then boom: he suddenly raises his voice to re-present his memory of the breath-
taking change that happened on stage.
4. Through dramatic action.
5. At the Národní divadlo (National Theatre), Prague.
6. For this production, Svoboda built a kinetic stage that consisted of three platforms which
raised up to a height of three metres that metamorphosed to different spaces alongside
sliding vertical walls. The word ‘square’ here refers to the second cubic platform, which
‘transformed itself into a fountain on the square in Verona, into a catafalque and at the
 THEATRE AND PERFORMANCE DESIGN 219

end, slowly sinking below the level of the floor, into the tomb for the lovers’ (Albertová
2008, 108).
7. Atomtod (Giacomo Manzoni), Teatro alla Scala, Piccola Scala, Milan, 1965; director Virginio
Peucher.
8. A large globe was placed in the middle of the stage rotating around the performer, creating a
central projection screen. According to Svoboda’s narration, this represented a fallout shelter
(see also Albertová 2008, 73).
9. He is referring to eidophores. An eidophor was a television projector used to create large-scale
(theatre-sized) images from an analogue video signal; the name eidophor is derived from the
Greek word-roots eido and phero meaning ‘image’ and ‘bearer’ (carrier).
10. Hamlet, Théâtre national de Belgique, Brussels, 1965; director Otomar Krejča.
11. The mirror was placed above the back part of the stage at an angle of 45 degrees. When
Hamlet turned to the mirror, his reflection took a horizontal form, ‘as though it were a
Ghost rising into space’ (Svoboda 1990 quoted in Albertová 2008, 117). The appearance of
the Ghost of Hamlet’s Father was interpreted as Hamlet’s alter ego, presented as a reflection
in the mirror.
12. Svoboda here refers to Hamlet seeing the distorted reflection of himself in the mirror.
13. Carmen (Georges Bizet), Theater der Freien Hansestadt, Bremen, 1965; director Götz Friedrich.
14. This set featured a sloping roof that dropped from the upper edge of the proscenium arch
into the back of the stage at an angle of 45 degrees (Albertová 2008, 137) and consisted
of a timberwork raster which enabled lighting effects through it; this is what Svoboda
defines as ‘transparent’ here.
15. This is the closing scene in the corrida in which the chorus spread large colourful shawls along
the full height and width of the timberwork, sitting on them with their backs to the audience
(Albertová 2008, 137).
16. Carmen (Georges Bizet), Metropolitan Opera, New York, 1972; director Bodo Igesz (Goran
Gentele).
17. Bernstein refers to the closing scene in the corrida, where the chorus sings inside the walls of
the old arena and a bullfight is about to take place, thus they should be placed close enough
to be heard, but not seen.
18. The Insect Play (Karel and Josef Čapek), National Theatre, Prague, 1965; director Miroslav
Macháček.
19. Svoboda here uses artistic slang to express his wish for how the staging should suit his (and
his director’s) interpretation.
20. It is unclear who exactly he refers to, probably the factory producing this material.
21. Two large-scale irregular quadrangular walls put together from separate hexagonal mirrors
would lean towards each other, inclined towards the audience. This arrangement allowed
the audience to see a distorted reflection of the stage in the hexagonal mirror cells.
22. The oral narrative provided in this lecture can be better understood when combined with
Svoboda’s edited published lectures (Svoboda 1990, 97–98 quoted in Albertová 2008, 120).
23. Andorra (Max Frisch), Saarländisches Staatstheater, Saarbrücken, 1996; director Henning
Brockhaus.
24. This was a simple, cut-out background depicting the silhouette of a town.
25. The Flying Dutchman (1969) and Tristan and Isolde (1974), both directed by August Everding.
26. In the following paragraph Svoboda is speaking in English; transcript edited from Svoboda’s
original phrasing.
27. Svoboda is referring to the architectural movement Rationalism, and especially neo-rational-
ism which emerged in the 1960s and focused on structure, typology and monumentality.
28. The Magic Flute (Wolfgang A. Mozart), Bayerische Staatsoper, Munich, 1970; director Günther
Rennert.
29. A linoleum dance floor.
30. Transcriber’s note: Czech has the same word for both ‘tool’ and ‘instrument’. Svoboda’s usage
suggests both playing the instrument, and playing with it.
220 S. PANTOUVAKI

31. The Bartered Bride (Bedřich Smetana), Metropolitan Opera, New York, 1978; director John
Dexter.
32. Idomeneo, Re di Creta (Wolfgang A. Mozart), National Arts Center/Opera House, Ottawa, 1981;
director Václav Kašlík.
33. Director Miloš Forman; Svoboda created period stage sets for Mozart’s operas depicted in
Forman’s film Amadeus (1984).
34. Faust – Fragments (Part I, II) (Johann W. Goethe), Piccolo Teatro, Milan, 1989, 1991; director
Giorgio Strehler.

Acknowledgements
I would like to thank my colleague and transcriber of the materials, Dr Barbora Příhodová, for her
careful work on the original transcript and especially for the helpful revisions and corrections to
the original (interpreter’s) translation of Svoboda’s narrative and additional language-related com-
mentary on the content. Many thanks go to my longstanding friends Barbara Tumová and Leah
Gaffen for helping to trace the interpreter who mediated Svoboda’s words to the audience of
the lectures. I am grateful to Ing. arch. Jaromír Svoboda and to the National Theatre in Prague,
especially Josefina Panenková, Head of the Theatre Archive, as well as to Jakub Hejna and Petr
Tošovský from Josef Svoboda’s Archives for granting permission to publish photographs and art-
works of Josef Svoboda’s work. Thanks also to Lassi Savola, AV Specialist and to Aalto Studios for
the digitization of the original tapes.

Disclosure statement
No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.

Notes on contributor
Sofia Pantouvaki is a scenographer and Professor of Costume Design at Aalto University, Finland.
She is an awarded practising designer with over 85 design credits in major European venues and
curator of international projects including the Finnish student exhibit (Gold Medal at PQ2015).
She is Vice-Head for Research of the OISTAT Costume Sub-commission, Chair of Critical Costume,
co-Convenor of the IFTR Scenography Working Group and a founding editor of the international
peer-reviewed journal Studies in Costume and Performance. She led the research project ‘Costume
Methodologies’ funded by the Academy of Finland (2014–2018) and is lead editor of Performance
Costume: New Perspectives and Methods (2021).

ORCID
Sofia Pantouvaki http://orcid.org/0000-0002-1205-3818

References
Albertová, Helena. 2008. Josef Svoboda – Scenographer. Prague: Theatre Institute.
Svoboda, Josef. 1989. Architetture dell’immaginario - un seminario di scenografia di Josef Svoboda.
Lectures collected and translated by Flavia Foradini. Series Lezioni milanesi 2, quaderni della
Scuola d’arte drammatica Paolo Grassi. Milan: Ubulibri.
Svoboda, Josef. 1990; 1999; 2005 second edition. Tajna teatrolnogo prostanstva: lekcii po scenografii
(Lezioni milanesi). Translated by A. Časonikova. Moscow: GITIS.