Magazine article The Advocate (The national gay & lesbian newsmagazine)

The Key to Robert Wilson: His Brilliant Theater Defies Explanation-Yet It's All Based on His Life, How Did a Gay Kid from Texas Become the High Priest of the Avant-Garde?

Magazine article The Advocate (The national gay & lesbian newsmagazine)

The Key to Robert Wilson: His Brilliant Theater Defies Explanation-Yet It's All Based on His Life, How Did a Gay Kid from Texas Become the High Priest of the Avant-Garde?

Article excerpt

Don't bother looking for Robert Wilson's gay sensibility onstage: The controversial queer king of avant-garde theater has built an oeuvre of works so surreal that parsing them for gay undertones is almost beside the point. Although he has certainly had his share of lovers over his four-decade career, Wilson has never drawn attention to the fact that he is gay. So it comes as a surprise to hear him say wistfully in Absolute Wilson--the New Yorker Films documentary about his life and work--"There hasn't been a great romance in my life."

Not that he's worried. Bounding into the cafe of the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills, neatly attired in a gray suit, the Texas-born Wilson, 65, sits down to chat with the elegant ease of a homegrown Noel Coward. "I guess in the early part of my life I was very much looking for a relationship and trying to make it work," he admits. "But like the Chinese say, 'Don't run after your horse; it will come back of its own accord.' Maybe it's a bit like that."

Judging by the evidence in Absolute Wilson and its accompanying coffee-table book,Wilson's most passionate love objects have not been men but art and fame. "Robert always really wanted to be famous," his friend Susan Sontag comments in the film. Among theater cognoscenti, particularly in Europe, Wilson has been a rock star for years. Now--with Wilson doing things like photographing Brad Pitt in his underwear for the cover of Vanity Fair--the U.S. mainstream is getting the idea.

Wilson's '70s masterpiece Einstein on the Beach (a collaboration with composer Philip Glass) made him one of the most sought-after theatrical craftsmen on earth. He's unmatched in his ability to reorganize theatrical space with light, color, and startlingly surreal images. And then there's the almost glacial pace of his productions, which holds spectators in a quasi-hypnotic state akin to waking dreams.

Wilson's dreams hark back to Waco, Texas, where he was born in 1941, the son of the town's most prominent political figure. He didn't fit in, of course. As a child he had a severe stutter. Byrd Hoffman, a local speech teacher, taught him to overcome his impediment through "slowness"--a technique he would later apply to his art. Still, it was the idea of a "normal" life and how in the world he would manage one that troubled Wilson.

He came out to his father and then left home to study architecture in New York City. The move was so overwhelming that Wilson retreated to Waco, attempted suicide, and was briefly institutionalized. A sympathetic psychiatrist helped Wilson see that being gay didn't worry him as much as his father's feelings about it. The young man moved back to New York City, and this time he found his way.

America Hurrah, an absurd farce by out performance pioneer Jean-Claude van Itallie, with sets and costumes designed by Wilson, ran for a year off-off-Broadway. Wilson followed with mind-bending works of his own. The King of Spain is famous for its set with a pair of gigantic cat's legs hung over the proscenium.

Deafman Glance, staged at the Brooklyn, N.Y., Academy of Music in 1971, is a dream spectacle involving an Egyptian pyramid, a rain forest filled with waltzing "mammy" dolls, and giant bunny rabbits who danced to "We Belong to a Mutual Admiration Society. …

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