Robert
Wilson

A leading figure of the contemporary stage, Robert, known as “Bob” Wilson, moves effortlessly between mediums.

Thanks to his varied training, Robert Wilson has developed a unique approach to the stage. Whether the task is to adorn a play, a ballet, or an opera, Robert Wilson consistently perceives space as a unified whole: spiritual, physical, and poetic.

But if the director’s creations seem so enigmatic, it is likely because they are meant to dress the sacred space of the stage, not our interiors. Once removed from their theatrical context, the mysticism of these objects remains, impenetrable to the viewer.

And yet, in the example of the tripod chairs Amadeus (1996), we can still hear a distant melody. These chairs quite clearly continue to bear the traces of The Magic Flute.
It is therefore difficult to fully extract Robert Wilson’s works from their context, since they become a language of their own.
Light, emptiness, bodies, objects… and above all, time – these are the eternal elements that the artist uses to bring his objects to life.

Robert Wilson once said that these components were absolutely essential to shape the perception and even the function of elements on stage. A doctrine that can only truly be appreciated from afar, and evidently, while seated.

There is, indeed, a true sense of mysticism here. When Gaetano Pesce or Pierre Sala turn to stage directing, their message often appears more tangible than that of Bob Wilson.
The furniture that Robert Wilson designs is not merely decorative. It vibrates, speaks, and lives as a being in its own right.

Sometimes a silent character, sometimes a messenger, each piece of furniture fits into a framework where it becomes as important as the actor.

What drives Bob Wilson is a desire to go against expectations.
Depending on the given space, Robert Wilson freely plays with genres, either amplifying or softening emotion.

We are thus led to question the temporal inscription of the object.
As we’ve mentioned: Robert Wilson creates within a specific framework. But what happens to his seating once placed in our cozy apartments? Well, they transmit. They tirelessly carry the emotions of a past we might dare to touch.
Has anyone taken a close look at Fritzi (1999)? Made from thick glass, it seems able to pierce through all tragedy. And yet we wouldn’t dare touch it. It appears so delicate.

And so, for all these reasons, Robert Wilson’s pieces remain elusive. Because we never fully understand them. We must observe them with closed eyes, and listen to their sound.
In the end, Robert Wilson’s chairs are as much costumes as they are objects.
They clothe and communicate only what this prodigious designer is willing to give us.