Mecanoo has built a mass timber theatre in the woods to dance for seven generations

The year 2020 was a difficult one — especially for the performing arts, shut down by the pandemic. For Jacob’s Pillow, a legendary place for dance, it was an annus horribilis. The renowned summer festival was cancelled due to Covid-19. And one November morning, the Doris Duke Theatre caught fire — at the heart of the 220-acre campus that has been home to the Pillow for nearly a century. Built in 1990 for intimate or experimental performances, the theatre burned with a crackling sound “like a tornado,” as firefighters described it. The theatre would be rebuilt, announced director Pamela Tatge. But not right away. The new Doris Duke Theatre, designed by Mecanoo, opens these days.

“It took time,” Tatge told Domus during a visit that offered a preview of the new theatre — the result of a long process involving several consultants and about twenty architectural firms. The new building cost 30 million dollars, supported by a coalition of donors and foundations, plus another 5 million for digital infrastructure. Its massive timber frame is clad in thermally treated pine. The surface spans almost 2,000 square metres — more than double the old theatre — and the retractable seating can accommodate up to 400 people. There’s a foyer featuring a work by Indigenous artist Brenda Mallory, and an exhibition space. A sophisticated system of catwalks runs along the fly tower. The space is ultra-flexible, designed to host performances, events, exhibitions and residencies — even simultaneously — throughout the year.

Four non-negotiable pillars were defined by Jacob’s Pillow for the project: the first, considered fundamental even if not always intuitive to non-Americans, is the respect for Indigenous values — specifically those of the Mohican people, who lived on this land before colonisation. For this reason, artist Jeffrey Gibson, the first Indigenous artist to represent the United States at the Venice Biennale (60th edition), was involved in the project. Second: the theatre needed to sit at the intersection of dance and technology — with holograms, dancing robots, and a seamless blend of in-person and online experiences — to carry a nearly hundred-year-old institution into the future, a lesson learned during the pandemic. Third and fourth: sustainability and accessibility.

Francine Houben, founding partner of Mecanoo, has a long personal history with the area. “I love camping, and I’ve been coming here since the ’70s,” she told Domus. The Dutch firm, known in the U.S. for the Stavros Niarchos Foundation Library in New York, was chosen for its expertise in wood construction and affinity with the world of theatre. Moreover, Mecanoo’s core values — “people, place, purpose, and poetry” — aligned closely with those of Jacob’s Pillow. Landscape design was entrusted to New York–based studio Marvel, while the theatre and acoustics were handled by Charcoalblue, a specialised consultancy. We had reported on the project here, before seeing it in person.

“Berkshire is the new Hudson Valley,” I kept hearing during my days in the region. A reference to the ultra-cool area of Upstate New York next door — where, back in 2021, many had sent me in response to the question “where have all the New York artists gone?”.

But the Berkshires didn’t appear out of nowhere. Melville wrote Moby Dick here; Edith Wharton owned a massive estate here — her base before she moved to Paris. Ethan Frome was written in that very house, in bed, just as she liked it. The Berkshires, I’m told, are made up of 33 small towns, each 10–15 minutes from the next, each with its own personality. Home to MASS MoCA, the largest museum in the United States, and the Clark Art Institute, redesigned by Tadao Ando. There are historic mansions and new homes. A documentary was even dedicated to the small bookstore in Lenox, with an introduction by Neil Gaiman. The cultural level is high — halfway between Boston and New York, the region is a summer destination for artists and academics alike. And Jacob’s Pillow, for nearly a century, has been one of the Berkshires’ crown jewels.

The New England colonists called this area Jacob’s Ladder — a winding road connecting Boston to Albany, the capital of New York State, zigzagging through the hills. In the biblical dream, Jacob saw a ladder reaching to heaven, after resting his head on a stone — a “pillow.” Jacob’s Pillow is a farm named after a large boulder, and the name was retained by legendary dancer Ted Shawn, who bought it in 1932. Newly divorced from his wife and creative partner, Shawn recruited eight men and founded a new company. His goal: to affirm the value of male dance, long considered “the most underobserved art form,” says Norton Owen, director of preservation and dance curator at Jacob’s Pillow, guiding a tour of the 36 buildings now dotting the campus. Jacob’s Pillow remains the only National Historic Landmark in the United States dedicated to dance.

“This is the challenge we faced with the new theatre,” explains Francine Houben, pointing to a crack in a wooden wall. We’re in a former barn — now a studio used by the Jacob’s Pillow School. The story of the barn says a lot about the place: it was bought from a local farmer, transported to the site, and converted from agricultural to artistic use. Along with the typical New England colonial farmhouse, reused barns and vernacular buildings are the architectural standard here. Even the new ones — like the Perles Family Studio and the new Doris Duke Theatre — remain within that vernacular, though updated to contemporary standards. The echo of the site’s rural past is essential to the campus. The building that now holds the recently renovated archives is still called Blake’s Barn. “The problem today is sustainability,” says Houben: these buildings are energy-intensive and hard to use in winter. A challenge the architect knows well — a few years ago, Mecanoo converted a barn near her home in the Netherlands into a rehearsal space, De Nieuwe Schuur, for her husband’s non-profit. The new Doris Duke Theatre is designed for year-round use — expanding the potential of Jacob’s Pillow.

The Berkshire dance centre is active all year round, with a growing schedule of events and a stronger connection to the wider world. Still, its most vital moment remains the summer festival — born from the “Tea Lecture Demonstrations” of 1933, organised by Ted Shawn and his Men Dancers a year after moving here. Only 45 people attended the first edition of what would become a pillar of American dance history, hosting legends such as Martha Graham, Merce Cunningham, and many others. A decade later, Ted Shawn inaugurated the theatre that bears his name — the first building in the U.S. explicitly dedicated to dance. Recently renovated, it remains a central venue for the festival, alongside the Henry J. Leir Stage — an outdoor amphitheatre opened in 1981, facing the rolling green Berkshire landscape. “The most perfect theatre in the world,” says Francine Houben.

The 2025 Doris Duke Theatre is unlike any other building on campus. It marks a new beginning, as director Pamela Tatge confirms to Domus. At the same time, it is still the Doris Duke Theatre — only “reimagined.” In this reimagining, the relationship with the site is crucial — as is the reinterpretation of that place through the culture of the people who inhabited it long before it became “Jacob’s Pillow.” The theatre’s façade, composed of seven horizontal bands, honours the Indigenous concept that every decision we make today should benefit the next seven generations. Unsurprisingly, this principle has become a reference point in many sustainability movements. The theatre is inseparable from its environment — oriented according to Indigenous cardinal values, and porous to the garden around it, thanks to the ground-level veranda, the green (and danceable) roof. It’s a theatre designed to dance everywhere, flexible on the inside and breathing in sync with the surrounding landscape — aesthetically, spiritually, and ecologically. A “wooden magic box,” as Houben calls it — or perhaps a living, organic object, a shell made to be inhabited and danced upon.

Landscape design was curated by Marvel, which worked closely with Mecanoo to ensure continuity between indoors and out. Two Indigenous artists, Misty Cook and Kathi Arnold, designed the eastern garden — a healing metaphor shaped through plants and geometry. Andre StrongBearHeart Gaines Jr. designed the firepit for communal gatherings and celebrations. As Marvel explains, the development process was truly collaborative. And guiding it all, Jeffrey Gibson’s simple yet profound question: “How do we honor the land and the people?” The lesson from Jacob’s Pillow is clear. After the fire, they never stopped looking ahead. A loss became an opportunity. But the project reminds us: there is no future — not one that lasts — without the past. This theatre, born from ashes yet deeply rooted in history, hopes to prove just that. And to keep dancing, always.

Opening image: Doris Duke Theatre on the Jacob's Pillow Campus. Copyright Iwan Baan; Courtesy of Jacob's Pillow