The Devil and the Deep Rue Sea

First post of the New Year – huzzah! I hope everyone had a good 2009 or that y’all are at least looking forward to the opportunities of 2010. I find myself a might reflective.

As I sit to work on writing a play, I am struck by the role of the playwright (and, yes, I’m procrastinating). It seems to me, to be completely reductive of all of theatre history; a play has either been considered the Bible or a cookbook, metaphorically speaking.

If you think a play is the Bible, then the playwright is God and the play is the word of God. In short, perfection not to be trifled with. For some time (and in some circles today) the prevailing notion was that the most perfect production of Shakespeare was the one you imagined as you sat quietly reading his plays at home (most popular reads of the 19th century? The Bible, followed by the works of Mr. Billy Shakes). It’s not terribly surprising that we want our playwrights to be gods – we want our doctors, our political leaders, even our parents to be gods too. Of course, they aren’t gods – at all - and to insist they are puts a tremendous amount of pressure on a mere mortal. In case of the playwright, this expectation assumes your play must be perfect right out of the gate. If it’s not, the faithful might question your glory, and refuse to worship. Ok, the metaphor is stretching a little, but I think you get the idea. Theatres – especially in our fair city – are loathe to try an audience’s faith with anything untested. So, new plays aren’t done, new playwrights aren’t developed, and modern American theatre falls to ruins like the Temple at Delphi. It’s a theatre blog, I’m allowed to be dramatic.

However, if you think a play more akin to a cookbook or a recipe, then you acknowledge it is not the finished product. You don’t read a recipe and say, “yum, delicious! I am full and fulfilled.” If a play is a recipe, it means you need other ingredients, you need time to make it, and then, when it’s made, you need people to share it with before you (and they) can say “yum, delicious” or “needs salt.” A recipe allows for a new and unique experience each time you cook – the ability to add a little more basil or take out the dairy for your lactose-intolerant friends. Perhaps most importantly, a recipe allows you to fuck it up, cause you can always try again. Playwrights need to be able to take risks, and fail. They, of course, also need to learn from their mistakes – you can get away with mixing up the sugar and salt once. More than once and you might just suck at cooking.

Take playwrights out of the temple. Let’s meet them in the kitchen.

You going to pay for that?

I literally wrote most of this post a year ago and only stumbled upon it now. Whoops. I think it is still mostly relevant.

Art and capitalism. Two subjects that have been dominating my conversation lately and with fascinating results. Part of this conversation was played out in a previous post about new work, but I felt like it really deserved a post of its own.

Art is not a natural fit with capitalism. First off, capitalism is about the individual, and Art, particularly Theatre, is about a community. (Does Hamlet die if there is no one there to see him?) Capitalism thrives on consumerism, an exchange of goods and/or services. Art is a different kind of exchange but in a land without subsidy, Art needs your money to happen.

Art invites you to participate, in fact, it needs you to participate to function. The story of a book exists more in your mind than on the page. A book sitting on your shelf doesn't "tell you" what its about - you have to read it, you have to engage with it, participate in it to get the story. Why would this be any different in theatre, where a live audience sits in close proximity to the action on stage?

Theatre requires an audience to be sitting up, to be paying attention, to be engaged. Paula Vogel once said the play isn't what happens on stage, but what happens between the stage and the audience. So, if a play isn't working, it might not just be what's on stage. Part of schism is the theatre's own fault. As a friend of mine pointed out, we don't encourage people to yell at the stage anymore. We usually have the house lights out and expect everyone to watch in respectful silence.

I'm not suggesting throwing rotten fruit and veg is entirely the way to go. But OFTEN I have had the experience (and most often in America) that an audience just sits there, almost combative. "Come on," you can hear their brains' taunting, "just try and entertain me." That production is not going to be enjoyable for anyone. It's understandable. If you just dropped $80 of your hard-earned cash, you want to get $80 of experience - whatever that means to you. But don't you want that to be a good experience? Do you expect it to be good if you dropped a meaningful amount of money?

I guess for some people, a good time is being unhappy. More importantly, this is why art transcends a standard commercial model. Ok, that's elitist and fundamental to the objection Republicans have to the art. I think it is also true. It's why art is subsidized pretty much everywhere but here. Can we get on that, Mr. O?

Ruminations from a Mourner

This past weekend, I made a quick venture south to theatrical mecca to see Stolen Chair's Theatre is Dead and So Are You, a "vaudeville funeral for the stage." I had a thoroughly enjoyable evening. However, like all good theatre, my mind was left spinning. Is theatre actually "dead?" One of the actors posits a comparison between theatre today and theatre in the time of Shakespeare when (to paraphrase) audiences fingered oranges and orange-sellers, straining to hear men dressed as women outdoors in overcast London light. And that's when theatre was supposed to be alive?

The actor whose name escapes me makes a good point. I've always found the declaration of theatre's passing a might premature and not terribly apt anyway. It's like saying the nerds were dead in high school. Theatre isn't dead, like colloquial Latin, say. It just doesn't sit with the cool kids at lunch anymore.

But if High School taught us anything, it's that the cool kids weren't very interesting and often don't end up making any important contributions to society. The socially down-trodden, however, motivated by a desire to belong somewhere or their own special brand of crazy-genius, revolutionize the world to their liking (and hopefully, for the better). So, maybe theatre isn't going to fit in with cooler cousins TV and live sports. It doesn't mean it, and we theatre practitioners, can't do some awesome stuff. So, enough of the dead talk, already!

And, frankly, if in the extension of this metaphor, the cool kids are cultural millstones like American Idol or Ultimate Fighting, I think theatre is better off with the weird kids.

(Sorry, once I grab onto a good metaphor, I have to run it into the ground.)

Stop Me If You've Heard This One

Dear readers,

A challenge has been issued. Well, maybe not a challenge, but a redirection of focus has been…requested. A reader, and dear friend (is it possible I don’t know all 3 of my readers?) asked me why I didn’t write more about what was happening in Boston. While I am loathe to review area productions, I agreed that I could speak more specifically about area trends, etc. Here goes:

About a month ago, StageSource, Boston’s best theatrical resource, held the biannual Boston Theatre Conference. I’ve been to all three (if there have, in fact, been only three) and I found this gathering the most successful, even though will all my hand-raising, I was only able to speak at the Small Theatre break-out session (boo for me, yay for you). What better place to raise my salient points then my own blog?

At one of the earlier group sessions, Paul Daigneault (Producing Artistic Director of SpeakEasy Stage Company) gingerly brought up that he finds his company and several others in town are frequently vying for the same shows. He politely wondered if, perhaps there could be more communication between like-minded companies (Paul, if you are reading this and I am paraphrasing incorrectly, my apologies). I don’t recall any particular answer to his query, but fast-forward about an hour to the Artistic Directors Break-Out session – a veritable who’s-who of everyone who is anybody in town.... and people like me. No one really spoke to Paul’s point earlier to my recollection, but one of Boston’s giants did mentioned last year’s Boston Foundation Study, which he said called smaller arts organizations to merge or close.

A lot of people got all up in arms when this study came out. For the city’s major grant-making institution to say that not every arts organization is sacred is disconcerting at best. I mean, if they don’t think all arts are worthy, does anyone in this country love the arts – all the arts - equally?

Cue awkward kid in the front of the room with her hand up. “But, teacher, that’s a misrepresentation of the study.” It’s like American interpretations of Stanislavski – they didn’t get the most important part. If you are so inclined, you can read the study for yourself, but basically, the Boston Foundation study suggests that struggling non-profits have three options. The first, and arguably most important, is that organizations should clarify or refocus their mission, so they are more specific, more targeted in their work. If the organization is unwilling or able to get clearer about what they want to do, they should merge with like-minded organizations or close and shift their funds and audience to another like-minded organization. This calls to mind Mr. Daigneault’s comment earlier. If several companies are frequently competing for the same material, doesn’t it follow that they are competing for the same audiences and donors? The Boston Foundation seems to think so.

That being said, many of the smallest companies have clear missions, are doing work unlike the mid-and big guys, and are more apt to attract younger audiences. But lots of them fail all the time and it’s because of money.

Recently Chronicle did a profile of several arts organizations, including Snappy Dance – one of the most innovative, fun dance companies Boston has ever seen. Their complaint about the study is that the Boston Foundation treats arts organizations like businesses, and they are not businesses. Unfortunately, this is America, and we don’t believe in government subsidy for anything but corn. Medicine shouldn’t be a business, but it is here. Education shouldn’t be a business, but it is here. And this goes extra-true for the arts. Until the Federal, state and local government starts funding social services; they are forced to behave like businesses. Snappy closed their (metaphorical) doors earlier this year and Boston will be the lesser without it.

The real problem with the Boston Foundation isn’t their study, it is their refusal to fund small organizations. The tiniest amount of money would make a significant difference for any of the companies you might see at Boston Playwright’s Theatre, The Factory Theatre or the rehearsal rooms at the BCA. But, TBF, like most grant organizations, want their names on walls. Then they can prove to their donors that they are giving their money to worthy causes. So if you don’t have a wall (as in, you are a non-resident company) you are likely screwed. Besides, if you can’t afford the black box at the BCA, you probably don’t have a grant writer on staff and wouldn’t make it through the first cut anyway.

I am in thousands of conversations about what Boston needs to do to have a vital arts scene. I’m not about to suggest anything revolutionary – I think we all know the answers. We need to be able to sustain local artists. We need to originate more work than we import. We need to develop audiences. We need an attentive press (this is another post altogether – more anon). Almost all of this requires money.

And money is the problem, right? Well, I would like to offer two counter-suggestions to the Boston Foundation and two to the Theatre Community.

First, Boston Foundation, why not start a grant program aimed specifically at small arts organizations or artists? A handful of $500 grants with a minimal application process and turn-around time that you give to the 5 or 10 projects you find the most interesting. These would not be about investing in the longevity of the institution but supporting artistic innovation and risk where it is most likely to happen – call them innovation grants. Be a hero.

Not worth your time? Well, then, why not subsidize the most important, and most expensive part of a budget for any company – space? The state is already starting this (sort of), but if it cost, say $100 a week to use a room instead of $1000, I bet more companies would be taking advantage of the state-of-the-art facilities cropping up all over the city. This way, you get your name on the wall, and smaller companies have a better chance, and everybody wins.

Now you, Boston. To make a blanket statement: theatre people are not very generous in this town. We don’t like to see each other’s work. We don’t like to share our actors. We don’t even seem like to talk to each other about Art very much. Sharing was good for you in Kindergarten, its even better for you now. Share resources. All the time. A common storage for props and costumes (like in New York?) would be a good goal.

Finally, vote, artists, vote! Subsidy works. Massachusetts is 25th (or at least we were the last time I looked) in state arts funding and the NEA isn’t likely to pick up the slack anytime soon. Lobby your local representatives. Vote for candidates who have an arts platform and don’t be embarrassed about it. Arts subsidy is important, damn it. This is obviously not an immediate fix, but if art is important to the public, it will be important in the government too.

I mean, I could be wrong, but that all sounds pretty good, right?

PS. I'm taking requests for topics. I can rant about just about anything.