A PROJECT FOR A THEATRICAL PRESENTATION OF he, THE DIVINE COMEDY OF DANTE ALIGHIERI By NORMAN -BEL GEDDES dee A PROJECT FOR A THEATRICAL PRESENTATION OF The Divine Comedy OF DANTE ALIGHIERI By NORMAN-BEL GEDDES The Foreword by MAX REINHARDT The Photography by FRANCIS BRUGUIERE MCMXXIV THEATRE ARTS, INc. NEW YORK ACKNOWLEDGMENT This book, an incomplete sketch of the idea and serving only as a resume of the work as it has progressed to date, is written and published only through the interest and the insistence of Edith J. R. Isaacs and with the cooperation of some of my pupils: Francesca Gayne, Levio Smilari, Honor Leeming, Mordecai Gorelick, Herbert Radus, Alida Schwab, Frederick Jones, 3rd. Copyright, 1924 THEATRE ARTS, INC. TABLE OF CONTENTS BIR ECOR Pouca Mee ed ae ie Seon ti sf PAGE 5 By Max Reinhardt BelEsCRIPTION OF THH PROJECT. | 0, +0»... » . 4 BAGE.7 By Norman-Bel Geddes ere a Gia er eee eM nee ce ales cece A Plates LetO, 5 crs MeLRNO@. er re tre. et oe tb lates 6 to 18 Ea URGATOR aes we lies ote Wie dori iate: 2 Platesargito’22 ee eA DISh ee eG toe ray ee ot lates 23 and: 2.4 EUR ANT hee ot ne ee oe PE ates 2500.3 2 De MeRR POROV ARG IDA gig he ues ye blates.33to 36 DromsIPORTDEATRICR 20 oh 5.03 Os) steed eat Platessamand 38 CostuMEs FoR SotpigER OF Dis . . . . . . . . Plates 39 and 4o ~~. ah , ‘ _ ty oo taba aes eee ee Hi) aie e i athe’ Ls i ,* . s i etn Mee Acted Sie ued a hype fe ; dobbaby ie Sater! i a Hot par! ‘ cane Y. | FOREWORD ORMAN-BEL GEDDES has those qualities which I most N cherish in Americans, the inborn power, the natural pride, the childish delight essential to begin everything at the begin- ning, to discover the world anew, and with clear comprehension to establish himself practically in it. He is a master builder in the widest sense of the word. He builds castles in the air but he lays their foundations solidly in the ground. He draughts the plan, he places the bricks, and himself mixes the mortar. He is at once a visionary and an organizer. His love for the theatre is fortunate, it is sensuous and fruitful. In the middle ages he would have built cathedrals and made of them the cradle of our theatre. : The multiformed, many-headed, enigmatical entity of the theatre is at bottom incalculable. Begotten by the immortal playfulness of the children of men, it may be conquered only in the spirit of play. It eludes the academic wisdom of yesterday, all the fashionable rules of today, winged with the primitive passion to reveal itself to the utmost and to transform its inmost being, in magical haste to live a thousand lives, to suffer a thou- sand deaths, and gather timeless destinies into hours. It can be degtaded into a house of joy, exalted into a house of God. Itisa world that man has created with divine energy in hisown image. It revolves about our earth, receiving from it light and life, but turning at the same time on its own axis and describing its own [5] path in the will of its maker like a constellation. The natural dweller in the world of the theatre is and always will be the player, no matter if he also is poet, musician, director, painter or architect. Geddes is a native of this world. He knows that three things ate necessary to the living theatre: actors, collaborators, onlookers. With voluntary humility he bows before this trinity. Without losing himself he has the most perfect understanding, the most ardent devotion, the most sensitive adaptability to the work of others. He transforms and reveals himself simultaneously. He loves his neighbor in art as himself. Blessed by sun and rain he will mature as the strongest man in the theatre of this time. Max REINHARDT. November 23, 1923 [6 ] A PROJECT FOR THE DIVINE COMEDY that I took up the subject of The Divine Comedy. My last production had been the revival of Erminie. Some months had elapsed without anything being offered to me except similar revivals. I was not in a position to refuse, having neither fame nor fortune to lean back upon, nor was I inclined to accept, for attistic reasons. If I had not done Erminie, either The Merry Widow ot The Chocolate Soldier would have been very enjoyable. But I wanted to avoid getting into a rut, and the natute of these three was too similar. Not only managers but people in general have a way of cataloging things, including the work of an artist. An actor who acquires a reputation by playing a certain part will have a hard time convincing a manager that he can play a totally dif- ferent part equally well. Wishing to avoid a similar difficulty, I refused to consider another musical comedy until I had done a play. Eventually I won out. One morning a telegram came from Mr. Winthrop Ames inquiring if I would be interested in doing The Truth About Blayds. But that wasa year after Erminie. At about the ninth or tenth month the strain of waiting in idleness had become intense. My imagination worked both for better and for worse. All through my life there have been times of great discouragement. They are a natural event to anyone work- ing in unknown quantities and trying to create conditions which do not exist. I realized this at the time, but not quite so clearly as 1do now. For hours I would sit at my desk and make every tee} T WAS AT THE period in my life when I was most discouraged effort to work at something, anything. Concentration was impossible and it seemed to be the material things about me that were distracting, so I gradually eliminated them. Eventually my table faced a bare wall, and for weeks I looked at nothing else. The bareness of the wall and of my mind had something in common. Bareness did not indicate emptiness. The wall and I had been clearing for action. As I looked into it, day or night, a vague palpitation as of some sort of life was there. I could see it. There would have been no gain in asking any one else if he could see it. I was perfectly awate that it was in my imagination, but in my imagination it was real. It was as clear to me as any object in front of me now. The wall pulsated just as surely as my own body did. I touched it with my hand and could feel nothing, but I could see it. The whole thing seemed absurd and fascinated me the more because of its absurdity. I must have stared at that one place for an hour without a break, time after time. The spot would glow as a coal that is breathed upon. The harder I looked the hotter it would burn. Gradually it took on the form of light focussed through a glass and burning through from the other side. It was weitd the way this illusion came back day after day. Its intensity would increase until suddenly it would reverse itself optically, as when we look directly at the sun and it turns black. One night, the whole form was turning slowly round and round converging inwatd. The room and the wall became unbearable. Another night the rhythm reached a tempo, as aboard a railway train, when it seemed that it was motionless and I was whirling in the opposite direction. I was being drawn toward that burning hole in the cee wall, all the time, turning round and round, like a corkscrew. My body grew hotter and hotter. I rose to my feet, to throw the illusion off, and reeled dizzily into the next room and across it into a bookcase. I grabbed a book without reading the title. It made no difference what it was. I opened it anywhere and read this passage over and over before it meant anything to me: “As flowerets, bent and closed by the chill of night, after the sun shines on them, straighten themselves all open on the stem, so I became with my weak virtue. And such good daring hastened to my heart, that I began like one enfranchised.” Sitting down, I looked for the title of the book. It was the first volume of Norton’s Translation of Dante's Divine Comedy. Before the night was over I had read The Divine Comedy from beginning toend. The next day I was reconciling it with the sun spot on the bare wall. From that day to this, I have devoted to a dramatic visualization of the poem all the time I could, which amounts to about a third of my working hours and aggregates — approximately twelve months. The work has reached the half- way point. With another year’s work it will be ready for pro- duction. The general visualization and outline are established. The adaptation in writing is about half done. The stage is de- signed, planned, and a model made of it, to test its dramatic prac- ticability. My original intent was to dramatize the subject in as nearly itsown form as possible although I realized that the localisms, po- litical and personal, would have tobe omitted. Any form of copy, imitation or translation, is futile as far as a truthful transcription in another art is concerned, and an artist wastes his time attempt- Lee] ing it. In undertaking to present The Divine Comedy in the form of the theatre I have made no attempt to be literal. I have tried to find and to hold the essence of Dante’s spirit in its broad sense. It is this universal quality that has brought The Divine Comedy through the ages and it is this quality that has inspired me. I had the disadvantage of: not being able to read Dante in the otiginal. To offset this as best I could I have worked continuously with translations by Norton, Longfellow, Tozer, Anderson and Johnson. I began by using the Norton copy as a working script. My notations, eliminations and reatrangements were made in the margins. I constructed a general outline by going through the entire work and determining what incidents would be used, since, obviously, the major part of the original work would have to be eliminated for presentation in the time of a theatrical per- formance. I considered doing it in two or three performances, treating the Inferno, Purgatory and Paradise separately but this would have defeated its own ends. The only thing gained by the prolonged version would have been a nearer approximation of the literary form. The effect of the production would be heightened with the continuity unbroken. After completing a preliminary visualization of the work as a whole I began detailed study of the Inferno. This I determined upon as the first act or first half of the performance. The process of writing was slow and resulted, with the no- tations and eliminations, in filling the margins of the entire vol- ume so that further notes and elaborations were impossible. Blank pages were added but as transpositions of passages and [ 10 } ideas from one part to another were made, this too became un- wieldy. Moreover to indicate the handling of the various the- atrical mediums together it became necessary to evolve a more flexible writing method. So I borrowed from the method used by the composer in orchestration and divided my various ele- ments into groups mote or less as the strings, brass, wood winds and drums are divided in the orchestra. My group divisions were: first, the spoken word; second, lighting; third, the move- ment of the principals; then the movement of the subordinates or chorus; then the voices of the principals; followed by the voices of the subordinates; and lastly, music. These major group- ings are sub-divided into minor groups which in turn divide into separate instruments of expression. The groups as my score now shows them are listed from the top to the bottom of a page. Each page represents one minute’s time and is divided into quarters so that everything is considered in units of every fifteen seconds throughout the performance. By reading a page from left to right the synchronization of each element with every other element at any specific moment 1s clearly defined. All the various parts of the work, rewriting the script and making the drawings and models, have been carried on simultaneously. This has resulted in an organic development of the idea in its broadest sense as well as in detail. The pet- spective drawings have been restricted almost entirely to the Inferno episodes. They have developed from small sketches two or three inches in diameter to an intermediate size and finally to twenty-four by twenty inches. Some of these drawings, in red [ 11 } chalk, have been made five or six times each, and all drawings published up to this time are from this set which ate only ad- vance studies for the final set now in process. This set of draw- ings will illustrate an incident from every alternate minute throughout the performance. None of this final set has been either exhibited or published, nor will they be until the set is complete. The construction drawings have developed in a similar way. The stage was sketched out in plan to an eighth inch scale and developed to the half inch scale of the working drawings. The elevations were developed not from the plans but were projected from the perspectives. The only variations from the early draw- ings have been with regard to the upper tower heights, which have been reduced to permit of their erection indoors. The plans of the stage, upon which the entire production takes place, have been carried on only far enough to construct the model, which is to the scale of one half inch to one foot, ot one twenty- fourth full size. The model is inclusive of all details which had been considered up to the time of its construction, includ- ing all means of entrance and exit. The stage had to be planned from the standpoint of the Inferno, Purgatory and Paradise. Its general shape is circular. The audience sits in a half citcle facing it as it faced the orchestra in a Greek Theatre. This circular stage, which is a hundred and thirty-five feet in its width and a hundred and sixty-five feet on its longitudinal axis, is composed entirely of steps. Its center is a pit, the slope of which rises on the far side to a height of fifty feet. On the near side the slope terminates in a ledge, only one-fourth as high, [12 ] which steps down toward the audience in a series of terraces un- til it reaches the level of the bottom of the pit, where it termi- nates in a valley running half way around the circle. Separating this valley from the audience is a wall seven feet high. This wall is solid on the audience’s side and composed of swinging doots on the valley side. It is wide enough to permit two people to pass inside it or on itstop. It runs half way around the stage connecting at either end with a tower which rises from the slope in a series of terraces made up of steps. Another pair of these towers, rising from the rear slope, reach a height of seventy-five feet. The stage is designed for this production alone. It could of course be used for other drama on a similar scale, but it has been designed with no other production in mind. I set out to design a stage that would fulfill the necessary dramatic requirements of The Divine Comedy without the additional use of scenery. The structure grew out of repeated readings of Dante's poem. Influ- enced, without a doubt, by the mental impressions immediately preceding my starting the work, the form that I could not for- get was the never ceasing movement round and round. No mat- ter where I started to read, Dante seemed always to be traveling and writing that way himself. It was not unlike a fly entering a funnel through the neck. When he emerges into the body he finds the sides falling away in all directions. The farther in the fly goes the farther and faster the walls grow apart. This, in a less definite way, is what I felt in studying The Divine Comedy. This is the feeling that I want to give the audience. So the stage is designed on a funnel form, and so is my dramatization. The action begins slowly and in parallel lines. Gradually the tempo [ 13 ] increases and the straight lines are bent. Eventually the speed becomes unfollowable. The angles have long since vanished. The whole unit spins round and round. The stage may be erected and the performance performed in or out of doors. The indoors location would have to be some large structure such as Madison Square Garden, the Chicago Coliseum, the London Olympia, or a large armory. The con- struction could be either permanent or portable. In either case the main frame should be of steel. In a portable structure the remainder would be of wood. No scenery is used except those pieces carried in by actors during the course of their performance, and these are classified as costume. Under that portion of the stage previously spoken of as the slope, which is its entire rear portion, all of the space is utilized. Each of the four towers contain wide stairways which rise from the ground, or bottom of the pit level, to the top, with floors every ten feet above the ground. A considerable amount of space is taken up by dressing rooms, occupying four floors and connecting the under structure of the tall and short towets on each side. The men’s rooms are on one side and the women’s on the other. Five assembling rooms, each with a capacity of two hundred people are located at different positions connecting directly with the entrances to the stage. Large rooms for the stotage of properties and costumes when not in use adjoin the assembling rooms to save the actors carrying them to theit dressing rooms. The largest part of the area is taken up by three vibrating chambets and their supplementary rooms. These vibrating [14] chambers are for the purpose of multiplying the sound waves and magnifying them to a desired intensity prior to their release through one or all of nine tubes. A member of the orchestra controls the shutters by which he diminishes or silences the sound waves which must pass through to reach the audience. One tube terminates at the top of each tower; others at the bot- tom of the pit, below the seats at either side and the rear of the auditorium,and directly overhead in the center of the auditorium. The three supplementary rooms adjacent to each vibrating cham- ber are where the sounds are created. A different set of instru- ments or people may be in these rooms and the sounds produced may be released independently or in unison. They ate released by a series of pivoted panels into the vibrating chamber where they are reflected about until multiplied into a series of echoes, and at the proper moment are projected to any of the nine localities of the stage or auditorium. | All sound other than the spoken word comes under the head- ing of music. Since the music is of major importance in the pro- duction, running continuouslythroughout the entire performance except fora certain few moments, and since it differs from what is ordinarily called music, it may be as well to give, in passing, a few hints of what is intended. It must not only coordinate ex- actly in rhythm and color with the dramatization, but it must be free from any conspicuousness in itself. It must be an organic part of the whole production, as inseparable as the lighting. The most radical treatment is necessary if it is to express what I feel with regard to it. Ido not care whether it is considered beautiful or not so long as it expresses what it should in sound in relation [15 J to the idea as a whole. It must be restrained. There must be no blatant bursts of anything that resembles earthly music, for here isadramaof unearthly emotions. Ido not want to heara trumpet, a violin, a flute, a drum, as such. Something must be wotked out so that we do not recognize an instrument but feel a vibration that reaches a din, that reaches a tone, exquisite and terrible, but above all not common. No one is ordinarily less concerned than [about “new ideas.” The expression has neither merit nor interest for me. It is not the newness but the eternalness of a thing that attracts me toward it. And so it is here. Surely in this music there must be a quality not of the outer earth. The sound is like a greater speaking voice. It says what the voice cannot say. There is no overture or interlude between the two partsof the performance. The music only accompanies the action. A con- siderable part of the orchestration must depend on new means. The instrumentation must be capable of drowning five hundred voices. It must be able to produce a volume of sound beyond the capacity of the human ear, as in the case of certain loud noises when our ear fills up as though with water. The instruments must likewise be capable of the most delicate shadings. Experi- ments have been started on new types of sound producing instruments which, regardless of their size, can be controlled by individuals. As an example—one of the most interesting is a shaft with two rows of flexible steel bands maintained apart at regular intervals, and resembling a pair of ladders. A steel ball, of the same dimension as the space between the bands, dropped from above falls between the bands. In its descent it isin continual contact with at least one band so that the sound is sustained and [ 16 ] vibrant. With the shaft fifty feet high and many balls following one another in quick succession the sound is intensified. Eight different sizes of these instruments form the octave, the balls varying from six to twenty-four inches in diameter. When the ball reaches the bottom it is caught in a net and automatically recarried to the top where it may be released again. A second use of the balls is a series of shelves in steps, the tilt of which may be varied. The balls drop from one step to another. A variance of the distance between the steps or their angle changes the thythm. These would also be used in a series of eight. Drawings and models of costumes have also been started. I define costume as scenery worn by people. Whether the apparel resembles clothes or something else, or nothing at all makes no difference, as long as it is worn or carried by a person. The costum- ing of this production is of great variety. Many of the garments would be ordinary enough in the making while others are more experimental. The earth forms, totaling eighty-six figures, sug- gest costumes least of all. The long pointed garment is made of a wite frame, covered with canvas. It is supported at the waist and shoulders by belts and balanced so as not to be either heavy ot awkward to the wearer, who is always on his knees. Our models of these balance themselves. The longest form reaches out over the pit thirty feet. It is thirty-three feet long and only reaches a height of two feet three inches. The shape and balanc- ing requirements of the forms on one side of the pit are the same as on the other, but every form on each side is slightly different from evety other oneon thesame side. The shortest one is nineteen feet long but reaches a height of twelve feet. Its position is at [17 ] the center of the ledge. The longest form's position is at the op- posite side of the pit. Their points meet over the center of the pit. (Clearly shown in plate eight.) The soldiers of the city of Dis (Plates thirteen and thirty- nine) are dressed in body masks, that is a costume composed of masks for different parts of the body. These are modeled in papet and supported on a wire frame. Another distinct costume form is a great serpent made up of eight men ctawling one after another, and covered with a single slimy looking garment. And there ate giant objects who sprout telescopic wings like bats, (Plates fifteen and sixteen) that open and close at will. The wings are worn on either side of the kneeling actor, concealing his body. His head is concealed with a mask. In the Purgatory the shape of the towers is altered by actors carrying forms of different shapes, which conceal them, and are suggestive in their combination of symbols such as the two giant angels (Plates twenty and twenty-two). In the Paradise episode, the actors are covered completely by gauze continuing to eliminate the human element as much as possible. (Plates twenty-three and twenty- four). Masks are not confined to the chorus. None of the three ptincipals ever appear without one. The scale of the stage and auditorium is so large that the expression of the face would be lost, except through opera glasses, and no one should be required to use binoculars in the theatre. This is only one reason for the use of masks, the conveying of an expression which would otherwise be lost to the majority of the audience. Another reason is that the expression can be intensified to a point attain- [ 18 ] able by the imagination but not by the human face. A third teason is that the mask can be so constructed as to magnify the voice, as a megaphone does. Following some pencil sketches, the masks were begun and developed in a similar fashion to the other work. Small models, about an inch and a half long, were modeled in clay. The second stage in the making of the masks was remodeling them, half full size. It is these models which have been photographed for this book. (Plates twenty-five to thirty-eight.) The masks are designed to be used in sets. Dante has a set of eight. Virgil has four. Beatrice requires only two. The range of expression in the Dante set progresses from the passive state of the first to a state of emotional terror experienced by no living mortal. The masks when not in use will be worn on the actor's belt and concealed by his robe. It is never necessary for him to carry more than three with him at one time. The process of removing one and adjusting another can be done so as not to interrupt the mood. The acting company totals five hundred and twenty-three. The three are the principals, Dante, Virgil and Beatrice. The twenty are secondaries who play individual rdles and each of whom is in charge of a group of twenty-five supernumeraries. All acting is schemed broadly and stylized sufficiently to fit the - general plan. The actor’s arms and legs are as important as his voice in this performance. He must not only be able to move individually but in accord with the many others. The acting ensemble must move with the rhythm of a great orchestra. - Another important element in the project is illumination. The lighting varies every moment of the performance. The [29 | mechanism required is considerable, but no more so than many other productions have required. Artificial smoke is utilized to accentuate the rays and increase the feeling of space. In the Inferno all of the lighting comes from within the pit. As the Inferno proceeds the area covered by the light increases until the entire stage and auditorium are included in the whirling nebulous glow. The Purgatory episode is illuminated from the rear, in silhouette. As the performance goes on the source of ‘Humination rises until finally it is overhead. The light comes from all sides, flattening all relief and eliminating shadows to give a feeling as thin, filmy, and as much that of unending space as possible. When actually realized it should be like looking into millions of stars on a clear night only it should not be night. At the very end, when the light reaches an apparent maximum intensity, Dante exclaims: O abundant Grace, by the Eternal Light, let my sight be consumed! Simultaneously the light is directed into the audience, dazzling them for the instant. Then total darkness. Gradually asoft glow returns over the auditorium. The place where the stage was is a dark void. This is the end. The whole performance is controlled from a position at the center of the stage just inside the wall. Here in an obscure booth are the stage manager, the chief electrician, and the chief musician. Each is in telephonic connection with his assistants. They are in a position to catch any ertor prior to the audience and - have the means to correct it before the unknowing eye is aware. This project is altogether the result of an idea. The idea is to express emotional beauty through the unification of certain elements. Each element must translate into its own medium the [ 20 ] quality of each varying moment and produce this sensation simultaneously with the other elements. The general structure of all these elements is broad and powerful, but the shadings are many and delicate. Not only the feeling but the form, as it is in the Inferno, grows into a different thing by the time it reaches Paradise. There is a gradual crescendo as the composition pro- gresses. The end must leave no taint of fantasy in the minds of the audience. With the cold, rigid dignity of the last few mo- ments must come an appalling sense of vastness beyond the earth and indefinable. NorMAN-BEL GEDDES. June 14, 1923 [ 21 ] ie ite aust ‘ bas evento i if ir a hh sit uti é veopande Gabe evi bi ae Z Oa | sh ae ‘we ee pstbacdbi — aartahs aaa rat goed, eee SAY ig Eo mt = « Va Fae, n i , ah ‘ é , * ; rar Ol ete ‘ ‘ ‘ ? ‘ * OP. 4 i } + iy ‘ Sak) Paeyaieee 0 (ey j | pha “ i) ward ’ » 4 . S44 y O MANY well meaning critics have S told me that my drawings and even my model were interesting but that the production could not be realized in a practical sense,that I have proceeded with the cooperation of my pupils and Mr Francis Bruguiére to illustrate,in the most graphic way I know, that it can be real- ized. We modeled five hundred miniature figures in clay, to the same scale as the stage, and arranged them on the stage model to fit the various compositions. The ensemble was illuminated, as nearly as the scale would permit, as the full size stage will be. Mr. Bruguiére photo- graphed the result. The drawings and the photographs although not identical, are in complete agreement. In some ways the drawings are more satisfactory but the photographs are in other respects more interesting and certainly more convinc- - ing from a practical standpoint. The photography is direct in every instance. Ordinary lenses were used and the plates wete not retouched. N.-B. G. June, 1923 os eee Oo | Presi | ys Wate, 7 te . ~ A ~h S1¢s ar of ote E HS Sha tet : me AG * [ “) 7 Hl » 4; } ; nd a By | rR: 4 ~ re . ‘ es c. \ i * I 7 A of, ‘ 4 : ' d , ; * . = . i - ’ 4 ‘ 7 ve i .f ae ae , é yu ete i : : ~ f, We ‘ : fam ee: cM go : 4 he my ; +4) % eee BI t 3» ae | % % : rit i , : : D) ¢ ° b 4 { { *. a ™ y woe te ie , = n 7. Ja : i ¢ ) ' é io « 4 & 7] “ ; tyre a ge * ah 4 4 * \ ‘ Mi cee. sie ines el Fale a 2. Ce nae a ‘hogewianu iE ee ad MS oe eae anaS sha That on ae ie ate ; ae: (7EI is Fotis eth Pi ee Sttt Gre: ‘eoimeth ba : Goi pxaait sae 5 } : on? a Reyes at] saci wT eve ‘ig: % ut * od aint t Caer omy oy e. sidwqhan seer tb apie: wile wher an aes oa rea ‘ban @ &u yy tae jedeghan ou bs ee Ls ‘ei Anas IR RIS 6 15218 a Sai a gs Searcy bia Boese SU Mae icvei Oars om PLatE ONE A view of the model of the stage for a theatrical presenta- tion of The Divine Comedy. In the center is the pit. The loca- tion of the four towers, with the steps reaching the various levels in them, is clearly shown, as well as the wall joining the lower towers. The photograph is from directly over- head. “O Muses, O lofty Genius, assist me!” Aber ae Pe re i * \ x nn ‘ a : PLateE Two Awnoruer view of the stage from overhead giving a more comprehensive idea of the relief. The ledge around the pit builds up through successive steps, to an elevation on the farther side of twice the height of the near side. ‘‘O honor and light of poets, avail me and the great love which has made me search thy volume!”’ PLATE THREE Tue srace partially illuminated, illustrating the possi- bility of losing its outer edges in darkness. ‘One sole willis in us both.’ PLaTE Four Tue consciousness of the pit is at certain times undesirable. This lighting illustrates an instance of obliterating it. ‘A thousand steps and more we onward went in contemplation without a word.” PiatTe Five Aursoucu the stage is based upon a circle, there is not a curved line in it. The sweep of the steps is all done in angles. A more variable quality is gained by the many planes. “So was the bank that winds about the pit set with towers.” 2 ‘e “40 Jake Pa dy q rise! 5 x e ¥y Puate Six Wauen the performance starts the audience is in ignorance of the stage structure, which is in total darkness in direct contrast to the brilliantly illuminated auditorium. There is a penetrating sound as sharp as a flash of lightning. A glow of bluegreen light reveals Dante standing on the wall. High above him a nebulous glow gradually takes on a form suggesting the figure of a woman, white and glistening. A vision of Beatrice. “On high the light, that leadeth me aright.” PLATE SEVEN Aw arrestinc sound like heavy breathing. Two slits of fire, like blinking eyes, glow round and sway from side to side. Dante, awed, backs away. A second pair of sway- ing eyes comes out of the darkness. As they creep methodi- cally nearer, Dante becomes terror stricken and runs almost into a third pair of eyes which appear directly in his path. Dante swoons. Virgil comes to him and quiets his fears whereupon the eyes of the beasts divide, subdivide, spread- ing outward, rise and ultimately become the stars overhead. ““T deem it for thy best that thou follow me.” Pxuate EIGHT Tuere is a sound as of massive objects grinding against one another as though the earth were cracking to its core. Dante, dimly visible in the background with Virgil, stands immovable as the glow of inner fire seeps through crevices. The masses divide. The earth forms rise spasmodically. ‘*Now we descend into the blind world.’’ Pirate NINE Tue crevices widen. The light becomes more intense. Dante stands as though petrified. The earth forms rise in groups and divide into slender forms, like fingers on a hand, receding in all directions from the common center. A faint murmur as though coming from the bowels of the earth is percep- tible, a vibration rather than a sound. The way into the woeful place.’’ Piate TEN As tHouc wilting from the great heat the forms droop, crumble and collapse into the chasm and the outer darkness. The multitudinous hum of voices develops gradually into an insistent but rhythmic repetition terminating in a word. The word is repeated. Another is introduced. Then both to- gether. Then a third word. Then the three together. Finally the complete sentence: ‘Leave every hope, ye who enter!’ Pirate ELEVEN At aout the two figures the ground seems mobile, rising slowly and falling like the swell of the sea and with the same rhythm in sound. Dante becomes sickened when he realizes that what he took to be the vibration of the ground surface is in reality the convulsions of decayed humanity. Unable to use their hands or limbs, they move and look like worms. Their color is so neutral that individuals are indis- tinguishable. When Dante asks if they are dead, Virgil answets: ‘In their blind life there is no hope of death.”’ PLATE TWELVE Tur tower part of the towers becomes visible. They rise out of the slope like giants, which Dante at first takes them to be. The yellowgreen light has crept up the slope bringing into relief a procession of weeping figures. Moving along in untold numbers, all in one direction, they finally cover the entire slope. Submerged i in their midst Dante saddens with the realization that they are pairs of lovers. “Love, which absolves no loved one from loving, seized us so strongly, that it does not even now abandon us.”’ PLATE THIRTEEN Tue pin of a shuffling multitude becomes a reality that forms a wall, challenging this living one a passage to their lower depths. As Virgil advances to debate with them, they too advance. When he stops, they stop. If he steps back, they do likewise. To enter the gate beyond seems im- possible. The vision of Beatrice reappears and from it a bolt of light and in the light a messenger from Heaven. With the sound of a tumult the heavy footed ones scatter as be- fore a hurricane. “The City named Dis, with its heavy citizens.”’ PLATE FouRTEEN From out of the shadow come silent, sobbing bodies, their heads on their breasts, stumbling, tumbling in their blind- ness, to the edge of the shadow. The stage is proportioned so that each of its elements may be illuminated or not as the varying action requires. The same consideration has been given to costumes and here is an example of how the figures may be lit to vary from apparent white to the black of those in silhouette. “There is a place in Hell all of stone, the color of iron.”’ PLATE FIFTEEN Dante is unnerved when a winged figure jumps over his head from the tower behind him. In its claws 1s a limp body which it hurls toward the audience, into the darkness, and then jumps after it. Others follow, pouring from the top of the tower, down its sides, like weird shadows, that vanish in shadows. “Here the foul Harpies make their nest.” ay PLATE SIXTEEN As tne Inferno episode progresses the movement becomes more confused, and the beating of the vermilion light ac- centuates the identical rhythm in the sound. The winged Harpies scourge the crowd from behind. They fall and wail monotonously but are driven on over the ledge into the black ditch where they disappear in a thick swirling fluid of deep red. “Fix thy eyes below, on the river of blood.”’ PLATE SEVENTEEN Tue stops is filled with figures turning round and round. The individuals gradually form into groups. Each figure in the group as well as the group itself turns in an orbit, passing thru one another in the course of their circling. Eventually all these circular movements synchronise into one mighty rhythm. They move around the pit, slowly on the outside, faster toward the center. Their path turns like a corkscrew in streaks of intense hot color as they are sucked into the maelstrom. “Without a way or outlet from the fire.” a rare thee lite i i a _ : P ~ vy es “Ye ay 4 7 . a A ‘je 7 i ¢ . . ‘ . . 1¢ 1 6 ne ’ si a ; att . a a. “A ) - s a ~ = ae > : 2 ~ = ‘ a i . ay ‘ i Sls * g - f \ k ‘ ioe . : v t : * . . \ ' . oI PLATE EIGHTEEN Tue wxore movement culminates when an iridescent glow spreads over the swirling mass like a great nebula and gradually brightens. Over all, small sparks of fire rain slow- ly down. The light begins in the heart of the pit, spreading over the stage and taking in the audience. Round and round it moves, the rhythm increasing until it reaches a point when it seems that we are swirling and that everything else is standing still. The nebula dissolves in darkness. The inter- mission follows. “Thou knowest that the place is round, and though thou art come far, not yet hast thou turned through the whole circle.’ Y jinn a es Ya a Pirate NINETEEN Danve emerges from Inferno to Purgatory. As in the In- ferno episodes all of the lighting came from the pit, so in the Purgatory it comes from behind, and in Paradise from overhead. “A soft color as of sapphire in the sky renewed de- light as I came forth from the dead air.” sch ae PLatTeE TWENTY Tue uicut has risen and divided itself more. The towers have taken on new forms, as of two winged guardians of Purgatory. Each part of these forms is the costume of an actor. There are twenty-five units to each tower, standing on varying levels. The wings can open and spread like a great bird. “T saw poised in the sky wings, wide spread.” 4 2 aaymbeee a) #52 rire te = we ; PLatTE TWENTY-ONE Tue ascent of Dante in the sphere of eternal light. ‘Love, who didst lift me with thy light.” PLate TWENTY-TWO Tue uicHt begins to come from overhead giving a silver iridescent quality to a stage that, when lit from below, was dark and heavy. “O! Thou sweet light upon this novel journey do thou lead me!’ PLATE TWENTY-THREE Eacn suarr of light is a different color. The complete jux- taposition of all colors produces an intense but soft tone of the purest white. And here Dante meets Beatrice. “T saw the lady across the way although the veal which descended from her head did not allow her to appear distinctly.” mise hy aa e he is 5 ; ‘) a abe PLATE TWENTY-FOUR As tHe final movement approaches the light loses its source, coming from no point in particular but from every- where at once. As Dante speaks his final words every lamp is turned simultaneously into the audience. “O abundant Grace, by the Eternal Light, let my sight be consumed.” cus oe FIRST DANTE MASK SECOND DANTE MASK PLATES TWENTY-FIVE AND TWENTY-SIX Danre uses eight masks. They develop in a sequence of emotion from a passive expression to a state of emotion beyond human experience. It must be remembered that the purpose of these masks is to convey expression at a distance of over a hundred feet. From the ensemble photo- graphs it is evident that the form of the head itself is hardly seen, much less the features. The most intense exaggera- tion is therefore necessary. Virgil uses four and Beatrice two masks. THIRD DANTE MASK FOURTH DANTE MASK PLatTEs TWENTY-SEVEN AND [TWENTY-EIGHT r - FIFTH DANTE MASK SIXTH DANTE MASK Piatres TWENTY-NINE AND THIRTY SEVENTH DANTE MASK EIGHTH DANTE MASK PLatrEs THIRTY-ONE AND [THIRTY-TWO hae ¢ 3am 4 ri rr ‘seg Na ? v Fg D4 lan FIRST VIRGIL MASK SECOND VIRGIL MASK Piates THIRTY-THREE AND THIRTY-FOUR c THIRD VIRGIL MASK FOURTH VIRGIL MASK PLates THIRTY-FIVE AND THIRTY-SIX FIRST BEATRICE MASK SECOND BEATRICE MASK PLaTEs THIRTY-SEVEN AND THIRTY-EIGHT wt wi i} A SOLDIER OF DIS Piates THIRTY-NINE AND Forty ai rye eih fare Oh 1 orem GETTY CE C i iii 112 4425