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Theo Kalomirakis: A Personal History of Home Theater

The man who started it all offers an exclusive look at his career as the unrivaled master of home theater design

by Michael Gaughn
March 6, 2022

In the three-part interview gathered on this page, Theo provides a snapshot of each phase of his career, dipping into the past not so much to reminisce as to show the continuing relevance of the core ideas that have driven his designs. At a time when home theaters are going through a tremendous resurgence—especially at the highest end of the market—fueled largely by the pandemic-driven desire to have domestic retreats from the world, Theo’s efforts provide fertile ground for conceiving new ways to create unique and captivating movie-watching spaces within the home.

Part 1 | The 1980s

“Because he’s the guy who invented home theater and remains beyond doubt its preeminent designer, people tend to assume Theo Kalomirakis’ interest lies primarily or solely in the design side of things. And if you only know his reputation or his work but not his history, that’s a natural enough assumption to make.

“But digging a little deeper goes a long way toward explaining why, despite all the changes in technology, entertainment, and taste over the years, Theo’s theaters continue to be the most evocative and compelling expression of the idea of watching films at home. The explanation—which really isn’t a secret, just obscured by the dash and brilliance of his designs—is that everything he does springs from his unusually deep passion for everything movies.” read more

Part 2 | The 1990s

“The 1990s saw Theo Kalomirakis create and hone not just the style but all the various techniques that would forever define home theater design. And it all happened within his first few commissions—which is especially impressive when you realize that he leapt into the field with no formal training as an interior designer.

“It was the decade not just of his earliest work—which quickly established his reputation and caused him to be sought out by millionaires, billionaires, movie stars, sports figures, and business and political leaders—but of his first international commissions and his first coffeetable book, Private Theaters, which features, among other work, the Ziegfeld, Uptown, and Gold Coast theaters discussed here.” read more

Part 3 | 2000 to the Present

“Theo and I have agreed to disagree over how to approach the third part of this interview. I had wanted to focus on the theaters he’s created since the turn of the millennium, which include some of the most striking and innovative of his career, most of which have never been published and none of which have been collected in a book. But he was adamant that we should focus instead on his various efforts to create a broader-market brand for himself. I relented for two reasons: Because I knew he would make the subject compelling and because, as he rightly said, ‘Talking about projects is misleading regarding how my career developed, and I know my career better than anybody.'” read more

a sampling of Theo’s work

photos by Phillip Ennis and Randall Michleson

Theo’s second coffeetable book includes more about many of the theaters he discusses in the interviews, which set the standard for private cinema design

Theo Kalomirakis: A Personal History of Home Theater, Pt. 3

Theo Kalomirakis:
A Personal History of Home Theater, Pt. 3

related features

Theo Kalomirakis: A Personal History
of Home Theater, Pt. 1

Theo Kalomirakis: A Personal History
of Home Theater, Pt. 2

Theo Kalomirakis: A Personal History
of Home Theater—Complete

Theo’s Blue (above) and Broadway (below) home theater designs for Owens Corning

the Exquisite Theaters logo

a column grille for TK Living

The 2000s are mainly a story of Theo’s efforts to have his reputation resonate in the larger market beyond the home theater world

by Michael Gaughn
February 7, 2022

Theo and I have agreed to disagree over how to approach the third part of this interview. I had wanted to focus on the theaters he’s created since the turn of the millennium, which include some of the most striking and innovative of his career, most of which have never been published and none of which have been collected in a book. But he was adamant that we should focus instead on his various efforts to create a broader-market brand for himself. I relented for two reasons: Because I knew he would make the subject compelling and because, as he rightly said, “Talking about projects is misleading regarding how my career developed, and I know my career better than anybody.”

—M.G.

When did you first feel the urge, or need, to brand yourself in the larger market?

I began shifting my attention away from creating custom designs around 2000 because other designers were beginning to do home theaters, so that stopped being the exclusive territory of my company. But I had actually first come up with the idea of creating home theater products as a way to stay ahead of the game back at the start of the ‘90s with my first company, Theater Design Associates. Even though that effort turned out to be premature, I never abandoned the idea.

My dream was to create a category of pre-designed and pre-packaged theaters. Companies like Cinematech, Acoustic Innovations, and AcousticSmart have done that successfully within the AV industry but I wanted to reach out to the world beyond the industry. I found a way to do that with the help of large organizations such as Owens Corning, Disney, and IMAX, which had the means, name recognition, and brand awareness. They gave me the opportunity to access that larger market where my name was relatively obscure.

How do some of your other efforts like ESPN fit into all this?

Companies like ESPN, Hammacher Schlemmer, Henredon, and Roche Bobois approached me over the years to help them develop home theater-related products but there was always some obstacle. With ESPN, the product didn’t even make it out of the lab because it was too high-end. The electronics they were considering for the

entertainment console would have retailed for over $80,000, which would have extremely limited sales.

Has part of the problem been that the market wasn’t ready for what you were offering—that you were thinking well ahead of where the market was?

On the one hand, I think that was the problem. On the other, I think I was unrealistically optimistic, and I made mistakes. But I believe I now know what didn’t work with each of the partnerships.

With Owens Corning, they thought a home with a theater would be more attractive than one without, so they spent millions to develop a line of inexpensive, all-inclusive theaters. The builders they targeted weren’t the big, custom ones that do one or two large homes a year but the ones that build hundreds of homes a year. The biggest mistake we made—and I share the blame—was that we aimed at the lowest possible price for a theater—$40,000 for homes that sold for around $250,000. But we found out at the Atlanta Builders Show in 2000 that most of those homes only had two bedrooms. What self-respecting parent would kick their kids out of the second bedroom to put a theater in it? Owens Corning also offered the option of having the theater in the basement but that didn’t increase the market size enough.

Your next big collaboration was with Disney, but that wasn’t until a few years later, right?

That began in 2008 and went until 2011. A group of Disney executives came to a lecture I was giving to designers at the Pacific Design Center. They were looking for licensees to help them launch co-branded products for the luxury market under a new brand called the Disney Signature Collection. They told me they wanted to appeal to a more affluent segment of consumers who liked the idea of being associated with the Disney brand but “without the Mickey Mouse ears.” The other Signature licensees developed products such as fabrics and pottery, while I was offered the opportunity to develop a line of plug & play entertainment furniture that had the necessary electronics already built in.

We conducted numerous design meetings where the Disney team and I would sketch out and exchange ideas. We also spent months in China looking for factories to produce the furniture. Everybody opened their doors to Disney, which was fun to watch. That was a very creative period of my life. I was impressed by how organized and methodical they were about defining and developing a product.

As with Owens Corning, Disney wanted a bigger market than just the AV industry, and I related to that. We rented a showroom at the heart of the furniture market, in High Point, North Carolina, where we presented the collection to retailers. And we hired marketing directors from the industry who introduced the collection to all the major furniture stores.

At the time, it seemed like the collection was going to be a home run for you. Why do you think it didn’t catch on?

What we found out was something the furniture industry already knew—very few store owners want to deal with electronics. So most of them waited to see if other retailers would buy into it. They didn’t want to be first to stick their toe in a pool they weren’t very familiar with. As a result, Disney started losing interest and slowed down its marketing support. I think I was the last licensee to pull out. I realized then that even a strong brand isn’t enough to capture a new market.

Your next couple of projects seemed to keep you in China almost constantly for a couple of years.

I had met a lot of people while I was traveling there for Disney, including Stevie Ng, who is still a good friend. He was involved in the Chinese AV industry and knew about my efforts to develop pre-designed theaters. As the Disney business was winding down, he asked if I would be interested in designing theaters for his company, Alpha Technologies of Shanghai. We partnered with a strong AV dealer/distributor, Beijing AV Design, and created a company called Exquisite Theaters. We installed theaters in dealer showrooms in major cities throughout China.

Here I was again speaking to the press, inaugurating showrooms, and enjoying the experience while getting to know a new market. The theaters were meant to help sell design accessories and electronics but the problem was that the interiors required a lot of customization. Not living in China, it was hard for me to commit to working on too many of them. But the dealers didn’t seem to mind that much because the showrooms gave them a chance to give great home theater demonstrations and sell electronics.

When did you start designing IMAX theaters for the home market?

That was around that same time. Robb Report came to me and said, “We want the ultimate gift for this year to be an IMAX theater.” And IMAX said, “We’ll give you the equipment for the theater and see how the story does.” It actually created quite a stir, so IMAX decided to come up with a line of theaters, which they called IMAX Private Theatres. I worked with them to design the line, which we made available in the US but mainly in China. The theaters were spectacular but they were too expensive to sell very many. Still, it was thrilling to sit in one of them and be treated to the full-blown IMAX experience.

You did one for Seth MacFarlane, right?

Yes, that was the best IMAX theater I designed.

Is there anything you want to say about TK Living?

The major stops in my career were working with Owens Corning, Disney, and IMAX. TK Living, like Exquisite Theaters, was mainly an effort to sell home theater design accessories. To help customers create a design, I devised theater templates in Art Deco, traditional, and contemporary styles that they could use to apply different colors and finishes. Our most successful product was an extensive collection of acoustic fabrics, which my associate James Theobald still sells.

And that brings us to Rayva, which is your most recent effort to create a franchise.

Rayva is probably my final effort to create pre-designed theaters. From a product perspective, it is the most successful company I have worked with. Rayva has gotten wonderful support from its great chairman and our lead engineer, and from the dedicated team that still works for the company while I have moved to Greece. My only regret has been that we depended too much on the AV industry to sell the theaters. I believe the time has come to sell directly to end users but that requires a lot of money. Making that investment will reap huge rewards from what I and our industry have done so far for home theater. Roger Ebert wrote almost 25 years ago in the introduction to my first book, Private Theaters: “Henry Ford wanted to put a Model T in every garage. Theo Kalomirakis wants to put a theater in every home.” I was far from alone in making that happen, but Roger’s prophecy isn’t just a prophecy anymore.

Michael Gaughn—The Absolute Sound, The Perfect Vision, Wideband, Stereo Review, Sound & Vision, The Rayva Roundtable, marketing, product design, some theater designs, a couple TV shows, some commercials, and now this.

A rendering of one of Theo’s designs for the IMAX Private Theatres line

click on the images to enlarge

(above) a sports-themed home theater design for ESPN, and (left) a media wall unit created for Roche Bobois

the invitation to the launch of the Disney Signature furniture collection, with examples from the Toccata and Symphony lines

a rendering of Seth MacFarlane’s IMAX home theater

Origami photos by Phillip Ennis

Rayva’s Origami theater design

Theo Kalomirakis: A Personal History of Home Theater, Pt. 2

Theo Kalomirakis:
A Personal History of Home Theater, Pt. 2

click on the images to enlarge

theater photos by Phillip Ennis

The box office (above) and foyer (below) for The Gold Coast

some of illustrator Phil Parks’ reinterpretations of posters for classic films, for Koontz’ Moonlight theater

Theo discusses the ’90s—the decade when he learned his craft, created his signature work, and gave birth to an entire industry

by Michael Gaughn
January 21, 2022

The 1990s saw Theo Kalomirakis create and hone not just the style but all the various techniques that would forever define home theater design. And it all happened within his first few commissions—which is especially impressive when you realize that he leapt into the field with no formal training as an interior designer.

It was the decade not just of his earliest work—which quickly established his reputation and caused him to be sought out by millionaires, billionaires, movie stars, sports figures, and business and political leaders—but of his first international commissions and his first coffeetable book, Private Theaters, which features, among other work, the Ziegfeld, Uptown, and Gold Coast theaters discussed below.

While much of Part 1 of our interview focused on the emerging technology that allowed Theo to indulge his passion for collecting and watching movies, the emphasis here is more on the blooming of his aesthetic, and on the succession of eager, generous clients who gave him the opportunity to introduce his exuberant showman’s flair into their homes.

—M.G.

When did you get your first commission to do a theater?

1989.

So, by the end of the ‘80s, people were starting to show a lot of interest but since you didn’t really have any training as a designer, you had to sort of learn on the job.

Exactly. I just was pushed to do it but I didn’t find my stride until the ‘90s. The first home theater was in the Hamptons. It was called The Sweet Potato. I did that one with help from industry people that used to do commercial theaters, because there was no such thing as custom integration then. At the end of the year, I left my art direction job at American Heritage and incorporated. The first day of Theater Design Associates was January 1, 1990.

So home theater really began at the beginning of 1990.

Before then, there was no such thing. I called the company Theater Design Associates because I wanted it to sound like there were a lot of people.

Besides the Sweet Potato, this other guy, Skip Bronson, who turned out to be a very good friend, said, “I want to have a theater in my house in West Hartford, Connecticut.” He drove down and saw my Roxy and became enamored with it. He said, “I want a lobby, I want a box office—I want everything.” So I did The Ritz for Skip, and immediately I got the Barry Knispel job—immediately—about 1992.

That’s the Ziegfeld, right?

Yes. That was an amazing learning experience because I was given an unlimited budget to do things no one does today—expensive millwork, expensive hand painting. I was able to work with a lunatic in furniture design, Frank Pollaro, whose work can be seen now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He does the most spectacular reproductions of antique Art Deco furniture. You cannot tell from the original. He was doing just millwork for the rest of the house and somehow we connected. I wanted to do something different, Barry wanted to do something different, Frank wanted to do something different.

You’ve said before that the best clients are the ones who have a sense of adventure or creativity or play, because they’re willing to experiment.

Absolutely. You feed off that. You can’t fall in love with someone that doesn’t love you back. It’s as simple as that. I was lucky enough in the beginning to bump into people that were my duplicates in thinking—who had the same kind of enthusiasm.

But also there was still an inherent thrill at that point in the idea of having a theater at home, so the clients were riding that wave as well.

We were explorers. We charted new territories.

Barry wanted an Art Deco theater for the Ziegfeld, so I got every Deco book I could get my hands on. And I realized I didn’t need to reinvent the wheel because there are actual visual references for everything that signifies that era. So I singled out elements from Art Deco landmarks and built a library of design elements that I synthesized in the theater. This is the theater that made me start saying that you don’t invent—you steal, but you steal creatively.

Was the Ziegfeld when you felt like you’d arrived at something?

Yes. That was absolutely the pinnacle of what I was trying to do. And it was a very abrupt rise to the top, to where you have control of your medium and you are given the opportunity to just do what’s in your mind.

With the next theater, which was The Uptown for Larry and Nora Kay in Toluca Lake, he wanted to do a lot of Deco elements from The Pantages [theater in Los Angeles]. They were available, because I had found the sources, but if I had cast them the way they are they would have been out of scale. So, in my pursuit to create details that were as good as the originals but in a scale that would fit in a theater, I found my way to what used to be called staff shops, which are the movie-studio workshops where they make set ornaments out of clay. I started going to the shop at Warner Brothers and then at 20th Century Fox, where I discovered molds. And I asked them to reproduce them in different scale because all these facilities have sculptors, and they were doing things that would fit the scale of a particular movie set.

The next theater was The Gold Coast, which I did for another incredible patron—Lloyd Wright, the nephew of Frank Lloyd Wright. It was just client after client after client that pushed me to reach out to do things that hadn’t been done before. That was the blessing of my career.

When was Dean Koontz?

That was towards the end of the nineties, but it started right away. Dean was one of my first clients but the project was huge.

Was that the biggest theater you had done to date?

Absolutely. And he was very intent on having me do a recreation of the Opera of Paris, and I loved it. He financed a trip to France, and I came back with 2,000 pictures and did drawings. There were not computers back then to do digital drawings, so it took forever. But then in the course of the first two years we shed the classical thing and

click on the image to enlarge

switched to Art Deco because his house developed slowly into a Deco house. And that’s when we veered towards Frank Lloyd Wright because he loved Wright.

Again, another client with unlimited money to put in millwork and detail and original art. He was so obsessed with this thing that he didn’t even want original posters in the theater, so he had an artist create wonderful interpretations. You would think instinctively, “What the hell are you doing recreating a poster for The Maltese Falcon or The African Queen?” First of all, we couldn’t have found all of them in three-sheet configuration, big posters. They’re perfect recreations of the era of the poster, not the original poster. They were another indication of a confluence of people who just adored movies.

How many seats were in the Koontz theater?

There were four rows—at least 16—about 20, 24. And there were balconies all around for additional seats but it was mostly for effect.

Is Seth MacFarlane’s theater bigger?

Of course. His has 40 seats.

Is that the biggest one you’ve done?

Ah, definitely.

The key differentiator between you and other designers seems to be that you create from your passion for watching and escaping into movies, which you share with your clients, while a lot of the other designers are just creating a room to watch movies in.

It could absolutely be the differentiator. I was working in conjunction with the clients, while a lot of other designers are separated from the client so while they create a room for watching movies, it’s a room the clients don’t really want. They do it because everybody has a theater. The disconnect is double—not only do many designers not do a real theater because they don’t have a passion to design it, the clients don’t have a passion for the room. The funny thing is that the demand for home theaters has exploded through the roof, but it’s lost its soul.

As you mentioned earlier, there needs to be that intense emotional bond between designer and client in order to spur something exceptional.

I would have never done anything if the clients hadn’t encouraged me. I would tell them stories about what it would be, and I had their rapt attention. “Yeah! Let’s do that.” I was like a pied piper, leading them on to something that was magical that they didn’t know how to express. They had it in them. They knew what they wanted. But I was able to articulate it for them via architecture.

They were all the same people—all the clients. They were all like children, in that they wanted to build movie palaces, they wanted to build paradise in their home. They wanted the ultimate escape, which is what I enjoy every night when I go to my own theater. When I’m there, I become Skip Bronson, Lloyd Wright, Dean Koontz, Larry Kay, Barry Knispel.

Coming Soon: Part 3—From 2000 to the Present

Theo’s hand drawing of his original conception for Dean Koontz’ home theater, inspired by the Opera of Paris. (Scroll down to see the complete original rendering.)

related features

Theo Kalomirakis | A Personal History
of Home Theater, Pt. 1

Theo Kalomirakis | A Personal History
of Home Theater, Pt. 3

Theo Kalomirakis | A Personal History
of Home Theater—Complete

an ebony cocktail-table top designed by Frank Pollaro

the original Opera of Paris concept for Dean Koontz’ theater evolved into this Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired Deco design

Theo’s second coffeetable book includes more about the Moonlight and the other theaters that set the standard for private cinema design

Theo Kalomirakis: A Personal History of Home Theater, Pt. 1

Theo Kalomirakis:
A Personal History of Home Theater, Pt. 1

click on the images to enlarge

above & below: click on the slides to enlarge

The media coverage generated by Theo’s Roxy spurred much of the early interest in home theater

The man who started it all on how his desire to see favorite films at home transformed movie-watching forever

by Michael Gaughn
January 7, 2022

Because he’s the guy who invented home theater and remains beyond doubt its preeminent designer, people tend to assume Theo Kalomirakis’ interest lies primarily or solely in the design side of things. And if you only know his reputation or his work but not his history, that’s a natural enough assumption to make.

But digging a little deeper goes a long way toward explaining why, despite all the changes in technology, entertainment, and taste over the years, Theo’s theaters continue to be the most evocative and compelling expression of the idea of watching films at home. The explanation—which really isn’t a secret, just obscured by the dash and brilliance of his designs—is that everything he does springs from his unusually deep passion for everything movies.

Theo is an accomplished director, a graduate of NYU’s legendary filmmaking program whose work has been screened at such high-profile venues as the New York Film Festival. He’s also accumulated one of the largest private movie collections in the world—maybe the largest. The theater he recently built at his home in Athens, Greece has become a mecca from everyone from students to critics to directors and other film-industry professionals.

All of this, and his constantly restless spirit, which keeps him from ever doing the same theater design twice, helps make clear why he’s been able to create a body of work that will likely never be equalled, let alone surpassed.

In the series of interviews that follows, Theo provides a snapshot of each phase of his career, dipping into the past not so much to reminisce as to show the continuing relevance of the core ideas that have driven his designs. At a time when home theaters are going through a tremendous resurgence—especially at the highest end of the market—fueled largely by the pandemic-driven desire to have domestic retreats from the world, Theo’s efforts provide fertile ground for conceiving new ways to create unique and captivating movie-watching spaces within the home.

—M.G.

Because you had such an intense interest in movies, you started cobbling together systems before you even thought about designing theaters.

Absolutely.

What was the state of the technology when you started doing that?

My first glimpse of something coming was in 1981 while I was working as a graphic artist at the Abraham & Straus department store in Brooklyn. I went down one day to the electronics department and saw an exhibit of LaserDiscs. It piqued my curiosity because I already had started buying videotapes of movies. Before that, I would spend nights recording them off TV, waking up during the commercials so I could pause the recording and start it again when the movie came back on. The very first Betamax tape I bought was Glen or Glenda. It’s a bizarre choice, but it was good to see a movie that you could hold and have. The second one was A Star Is Born, with Judy Garland, which actually had stereo sound, which was a revelation. But it was cropped. The first version of every movie that came out on videotape was cropped.

What were you watching your tapes on?

I had a 19-inch Sony Trinitron monitor with two Klipsch speakers. Then one day I went to New York Video, where I saw this big TV—a Mitsubishi two-piece, where you opened the front and the three beams projected into a mirror from under the screen. I fell in love with it and bought it on the spot. It was a floor model, so I could afford it. I set it in the middle of my living-room window, which was the death for me of watching movies in my apartment because it blocked half the view and the sunlight would come in and wash out the movie, but there was no other place to put it.

I connected my Betamax to the Mitsubishi and played A Star Is Born, but the picture was fuzzy. So I went back to the store the same evening and said, “What you sold me is not what I saw. It has a defect and I need to give it back.” And the owner said, “You don’t know what you’re talking about. What are you playing?” I said, “A Star Is Born.” He said, “What you watched here was a LaserDisc. You saw a sharper picture because of the source.” So I said, “Give me a LaserDisc player and add a Raiders of the Lost Ark.” I didn’t hesitate because I was enthralled by the sharp pictures. So I took it home, and that was the beginning of my obsession with LaserDiscs

I took the Klipsch speakers—I don’t remember where I got them, but they were big—and I put them left and right of the TV and took advantage of the stereo sound. It was sensational. That’s why people would applaud. They were watching for the first time with a big picture and big sound. They would come and gather around and we would watch movies very religiously without distractions—except for the distraction of the environment, which was a major letdown for me.

What led up to you creating your first home theater?

In 1983, I found a brownstone on St. Marks Avenue in Brooklyn that had a basement so I could have a better place to watch movies. But I was very disappointed. The TV had looked big enough in my living room but looked too small in the basement. So I wanted something bigger. Someone had told me Barco was selling a bunch of projectors that had been in TWA planes. So I got one—I remember I paid, like, $600. I bought a screen from a photo-supply store. It was no more than a hundred inches but it was big enough. The room was small. It fit the space.

It fulfilled my goal to have a a dedicated room with a big screen and no windows. I painted everything a consistent color and upholstered the seats. But suddenly the fact that I had sewer pipes running over my head, and drop-ceiling tiles, was like anticlimactic. I thought, “This is not really cutting it.” I started looking at pictures of theaters but I hadn’t really spent too much time studying their architecture. But the buzz about home theater was already beginning because I still have the story that appeared in USA Today with me holding a bowl of popcorn at the 100 St. Marks theater.

I knew my theater needed something else, though, so in 1985 I bought a townhouse on Union Street in Brooklyn where I knew I could do something something better, something that was more grandiose. I had discovered pictures of the original Roxy Theatre, and there was a big model of it at the Kaufman Astoria studios in Queens.

How deep was your interest in movie palaces before you did this?

I would say there was no interest because there was no knowledge. But something strange happened. The lady who had lived on the first floor had been married to the last projectionist of the Roxy. And I found in the basement, in a box, wrapped up, some valences from the curtains for the balconies and a whole bunch of programs. And there was a key to a projection room, which I found out later was from the Loew’s Kings on Flatbush Avenue.

While I was finishing my theater, which I called The Roxy, I started immersing myself in books about theater architecture. I hired an architect to help me do the theater. I kept the arches of the basement as a design element. But the big difference between this room and St. Marks was that it had an outer lobby with a marquee. And immediately I started promoting it, or it promoted itself. I don’t know what happened.

Did you upgrade your system as well?

Yes. I had seen a 70mm film at the Ziegfeld in Manhattan and I was entranced by the sound. So I went to the projection booth and became friends with the projectionist, Mike Percoco. He took a liking to me because I was nosy. He took me backstage and showed me the big horn-loaded JBL speakers. I said, “That’s what I want.” Now, it was chutzpah to want these huge speakers—the same ones that were in the Ziegfeld—in a tiny room. I didn’t care. I thought, “These are the speakers that can do that sound. These are the speakers I should have.” That was a very important connection with Mike because it led to the theater being a guinea pig for new technologies.

Later he said, “You know, there’s something new coming and it’s called ‘surround’.” The first processor that came out was called Sensurround. Bob Warren from Dolby flew from California, saw what I had, and said, “I’ll give you what you need.” So I got free a Dolby surround decoder. I then bought four more JBL speakers for the sides—not in the back. Two and two, flanking the three rows of seats.

It seems like it’s never been just a design thing for you, that you were also trying to make sure you were on the cutting edge with the technology.

Absolutely, absolutely. Technology is important. Without it, you get stuck with just a nice-looking room—if it is nice. To your point, I was always chasing the latest technology that was produced.

That takes us up to 1986.

Nothing much happened from then until 1990, when I got my first commission to design a theater—the Sweet Potato on Long Island.

The first glimpse many people had of home theater was via Theo’s The Roxy on Union Street in Brooklyn, shown here
c. 1986. (Roxy photos by Phillip Ennis)

related features

Theo Kalomirakis | A Personal History
of Home Theater, Pt 2

Theo Kalomirakis | A Personal History
of Home Theater, Pt 3

Theo Kalomirakis | A Personal History
of Home Theater—Complete