More on Finding Your Why

In the comments of yesterday's post, "Advice to a Theatre Major About to Graduate from College (Part 2)," a commenter, The Waltzing Belgian, who has experience with my approach to play analysis as described in Introduction to Play Analysis, writes:

The problem with using the analogy of the Major Dramatic Question is that the question "Will Hamlet--?" isn't answered from within, it's answered mostly based on clues from the play, from the plot, which guide it in a certain direction. This may be a good way for Nervous to concentrate her efforts: by looking at specific instances from her own past, problems she has solved, ways that she has dealt with things. Simply "soul searching" makes a great bumper-sticker, but it can lead to some radical wish-fulfillment dead-ends. If led unchecked, it could provide answers like "Hamlet really wants to explore the universe". It isn't enough to simply look within, a big part of it consists of looking back and possibly even of talking to other people as a mirror for looking at yourself.
4:21 AM

Of course, we're dealing with an analogy here, so the correspondence won't be one-to-one, but the point he is making is true: the further along in the play you are (i.e., the older you are), the easier it is to recognize the Major Dramatic Question. 


However, without going into a major play analysis geek out, I would also point out that the MD? arises when the protagonist first commits to a course of action, which we call the Moment of Engagement. This is the moment when the protagonist takes the first step along the road that is the play. In Hamlet, it occurs in Act I Sc 5, when Hamlet speaks to the Ghost of his father, who tells Hamlet he must "Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder," to which Hamlet responds, " Now to my word; It is 'Adieu, adieu! remember me.'I have sworn 't." At that moment, Hamlet commits to a course of action, and the audience wants to know whether Hamlet will kill Claudius. In other words, while the MD? is answered at the end of the play, it starts very early in the play. Had Hamlet said to the Ghost, like Dickens' Scrooge, "You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!'' we would have a very different play.


All of which is to say: you don't have to know how the play ends to find your "why." It is a commitment to a specific course of action.

But I would also agree with my waltzing friend's point that your "why" doesn't come wholly out of one's inner self. By all means, look back on your past experiences to find out the characteristics of those that gave the greatest  fulfillment. And be specific. If you really enjoyed working on a particular show, what made it fulfilling? Were there certain rehearsals that were satisfying -- what made them so? Was it working with a certain individual? What is it about them that made it fulfilling? Was it what the play had to say? And don't just confine yourself to theatre experiences. What experiences in school, on the job, in a volunteer organization did you find fulfilling, and why? You're looking to see if there is a common thread, something that can be applied to a variety of situations.

The goal is to fill your life with as many things as possible that you find fulfilling.

That's why it is a good idea to make sure you don't confuse your "why" with your "what." If you make them the same ("my why is to do theatre, because doing theatre is what gets me out of bed in the morning"), then you have only a single option. And that means you will spend much of your time frustrated and unfulfilled, define your non-theatre work in a way that is unfulfilling ("my day job is the lousy thing I have to do to put a roof over my head so I can do theatre"), and miss a lot of opportunities that will be fulfilling. Maybe even more fulfilling than theatre,

As far as "wish-fulfillment dead ends," there is nothing about this process that guarantees success. After all, Hamlet might have been killed before he revenged his father's murder. But joy comes from trying to accomplish something, and being aware of the experience as it occurs.

More Advice to Nervous

I received the following email from a former student of mine in response to the "Advice to a Theatere Major" series of the past couple days. She adds a little different twist. I will also be following up soon with additional posts. Here is her letter:

I was in Nervous' place just three years ago: liberated to wander my mind ,seeking the endless possibilities that existed after graduation. But at the same time, Nervous as Hell. A little background about me.

College gave me a neat four year path, outlined with specific classes, schedules, and community functions. Having this nicely packaged lifestyle allowed me to explore myself, my "why" comfortably. I had ( I thought anyways) a pretty good idea of who I was, what I believed in, where I was going next and where I would be in 5 years time.

Here was my 5-7 year plan:

• become a freelance costume designer for local theaters
• having built up my resume apply for grad schools
• apply and be accepted
• graduate
• apply for costuming positions at small liberal arts colleges

Here's what I actually have done in the last three years (in chronological order):

• Freelanced for local theaters
• Was a teaching artist for charter school
• Taught two college courses on Costuming
• Resident designer for small liberal arts college
• Moved to the beach and became a server and bartender
• Moved to NYC
• Worked as a cocktail waitress
• Interned on SPIDERMAN: TURN OFF THE DARK
• Turned down offers to work as a Production Designer for a movie
• Turned down paying gig at SPIDERMAN
• Moved back to my college town, waiting for the summer so I can go back to the beach to work again.

You'll notice a very "non theatre-y" period of the timeline. This was for a few different reasons. For one, I was on the exact path that I wanted when I graduated. At 23 years old, I was teaching college. SUCCESS! (especially in my parents' eyes.) On the drive home from a final dress, I had a panic attack in my car. "Why was I teaching college at 23 years old? " Everything I thought my professors and parents and friends expected me to do, I was doing. But who's expectations were these in actuality? All of these kernels of realizations popped off in my head as I drove home. I wasn't equipped for all of this "life" responsibility quite yet. And it showed. I'm still very much proud of my designs, but I lacked the years of experience when it comes resources, communication, and balancing of work/life challenges. So I flat out stopped doing theatre. I wanted time to truthfully answer the question "Do I want theatre to be apart of my everyday existence?"

Even after the beach, I didn't move to NYC to do theatre. I went up there to explore my personal "Why." I worked in service by choice. I love meeting so many people with different stories, backgrounds, insights, and "Why's." Everyone's favorite question in NYC when you first meet them is : "But what do you dooooo?" "Why are you here?" I got so sick of telling people my whole history of occupation, I started to tell people I moved to NYC to "lose my mind." That usually shut them up. And it wasn't that far from the truth. But what irked me most is this notion that we are defined by occupation. More important questions in the world are "What do you do when a friend calls you at an inconvenient time because they are down?" "Do you hold doors for strangers?" And like Scott points out, "What gets you out of bed?"

I was getting ready for an interview with a Yoga Center in Brooklyn when a NYC friend called me: " I've seen your work(costumes,sets, props,make up) online. My buddy is working on Spiderman and they need some help. Like an hour ago." Due to my giddiness for adrenaline, high stakes and action-packed short-term work, I said yes. My buddy later told me what happened next. He called his Spidey friend back. " What is Katie like?" he asked. My buddy's response: "She's skilled, determined and has a good sense of humor." Spidey said, " That's exactly what we need". And the experience was awesome. I learned a ton about the industry (for instance I was the only one in my department that went to school for theatre. Everyone else was an artist supporting themselves with theatre!) More importantly, I learned about what kind of worker I am/ how I interact in new situations and environments. (Internships are awesome because people are willing to teach you, honestly critique your strengths and weaknesses, and shower you with gratitude for your dedication.)

And now I'm far away from the hustle of NYC living across the street from donkeys and roosters with minimal belongings and no car. By choice.

Nervous, this is my advice to you: Take a break from Theatre. Go to Chicago. Find a job that sounds interesting you. See some comedians (they've got some great insight.) The worst that can happen is that you'll find that everything inspires you and makes you wonder how you could turn it into a play or costume or character monologue. That's where I am now. I've learned from theatre training and the last three years that I love to invent, share stories, make people laugh, make people think, express my emotions, learn everyday, take adventures, and step out of my comfort zone. And it's good to know that I can find a job within theatre doing all of those things. And it wouldn't be a bad life at all. The best artists(be it theatre,fine arts, musicians, thinkers, engineers) find their craft in the most unexpected places or paths. Or rather, it's always there but new situations and challenges bring out different shades of their craft, informing the skill and the head and heart it belongs to.

Am I still confused as to what I want to do with the "rest of my life"? Am I still Nervous as Hell? Hell yes. But so is everyone. Even my retired Grandparents are. Do I still think constantly about going to Grad School for an MFA? Hell yes. I know that when I'm the least focused or stressed out about this particular decision, the answer will come to me. So Nervous, proudly join the ranks of the "Quarter-Life Crisis" and be thankful that we have the great opportunity to explore, fumble, create, reflect, and succeed the way we see fit.

Advice to a Theatre Major About to Graduate from College (Part 2)

Yesterday, I wrote a post to a "nervous" theatre major preparing to graduate who was wondering about the next step in her life. Judging from the amount of traffic it generated, I decided there probably ought to be a follow-up. Well, apparently "Nervous" did some thinking last night, and sent me the following response to my question about her "why," the thing that gets you out of bed in the morning. Here is what she wrote:

Why?
Because I don’t understand the world any other way.
I wish I could say that I was doing this for someone else. Some day, I may very well be. But I think I can’t try to do anything for anyone else until I understand it myself. The reason I say this, I think, is because I grew up with a lot of ideas that were taught to me and that I now believe were not only untrue, but also harmful to me. They were not taught to me with the intention of hurting me- my folks just didn’t see past what they were brought up to believe. At this point, saying something like “I want to change the way people see the world” would sound really awesome, but it wouldn’t be true. Because I don’t know how I see the world yet. Theatre is the only way I know to throw what I think I know and believe out there- to bounce it off someone else's life, their perspective, their beliefs- and get an immediate response. In a scene, it's not about getting it right- it's about making that connection, saying "this is what I think, okay?"- and having that person say, "Yeah! Totally! Keep going" or "Fuck you- try again." You're playing pretend, yes- but that connection, that effort, that hope and potential for honest-to-blog communication is real, dammit. Maybe I could say that I hope people find a curiosity for their worlds, too, but for the time being, I want theatre, want to watch theatre, want to do theatre, because it helps me understand a world that’s too big for me.
That's my why. Right now.

------------------------------------------------------------


Dear Nervous -- At the risk of sounding like Stanislavski's Torstov in An Actor Prepares, or for that matter your biggest pain-in-the-neck acting teacher, I'm going to say "Nice start, but you need to do some more work!" Here's why.


First of all, I have a feeling that the question you asked yourself was "why do I do theatre?" That's not the question. Theatre is your "what," perhaps, but your "why" needs to be broader. Your "why" is about you as a human being. And it needs to be broad, but not too broad, which brings us to the next point.


Believe it or not, we're all trying to "understand a world that's too big for us." I know, I know, we all walk around giving the impression that we have it all figured out, especially if you're as old as I am, but the fact is we don't, which is why we have books, TV shows, movies, religions, families, marriages, volunteer organizations, sporting events -- well, it is why we have life. Each one of us gets up each morning and tries to figure the world out by experiencing another day. So maybe that's our "meta-why" (oh, God, I can't believe I just wrote that). Here is why it isn't your "why" (in my opinion).

It's too big. It doesn't reflect your special core, your quest, your "true north."

Bear with me for a second. As you know, I co-wrote a play analysis book with Cal Pritner called Introduction to Play Analysis, and in our chapter on conflict analysis we describe what we call the "Major Dramatic Question." The MD? is written in terms of the protagonist, and is the question the audience wants answered by the end of the play. It takes the form of a question: "Will the Protagonist _______________?" So: "Will Hamlet justly avenge his father's murder?" "Will Amanda find Laura a husband?" It's about plot, about action. The MD?, when turned around, becomes the Protagonist's objective for the play: "Hamlet wants to justly avenge his father's death." "Amanda wants to find Laura a husband." If a student turned in an analysis that said the MD? of Hamlet was "Will Hamlet understand the world better," or "Will Amanda find a way to be happy," I'd send them back to the drawing board, because even though those might be broad human goals, they don't lead to specific action. The purpose of a MD?, an objective, a "why" is to rule out certain choices and include others. Hamlet could understand the world better if he went back to Wittenberg and studied more, and he might be happy if he married Ophelia and had a nice house in a Danish suburb. But that's not what he's there to do. That's not his "why."

Of course, life isn't a play, but it is about plot, about action. You're trying to figure out what to do next.

Also, beware of this phrase: "Theatre is the only way I know..." To put it bluntly, theatre isn't the only way to do anything. If that's the only way you know how to do something, then you need to use your imagination a bit more, because there are lots of ways to accomplish a "why." So you say " Theatre is the only way I know to throw what I think I know and believe out there- to bounce it off someone else's life, their perspective, their beliefs- and get an immediate response." Really? What about more direct, less mediated ways like, say, having a conversation or writing an email or giving a speech on a street corner? Wouldn't those options also involve saying what you believe and getting an immediate response? Wouldn't it be more direct to become a minister or a politician rather than an actor? And are you really saying that, as an actress, you will always be speaking about what you think you know and believe? When you do that industrial, or TV commercial, or get that gig in Jersey Boys, will you be speaking your truths? Or will you, instead, be providing the mouthpiece to speak somebody else's truths?

Finding your "why" is hard, hard work, and by now I suspect you've had enough of my criticizing. Maybe a few examples would help. If your why is: "I want to become a famous actor known the world over," then that leads in certain directions and not in others. If that was your why, and you came to me asking about your next step, then I'd probably say "head to Los Angeles." On the other hand, it wouldn't make any sense at all for me to say, "Head to Amery WI and do shows at the Northern Lakes Center for the Arts," because you're not going to find international fame by acting there. On the other hand, if your "why" is "I want to use acting as a way of speaking my own particular truths and getting a direct response," then Amery night be just the ticket -- maybe you'd create shows that explore your own philosophical explorations like, say, Richard Foreman does. A good why leaves some things out.

And I'd also say it might be good to ask "why" a couple times in a row as a way of digging down more deeply. "I want to become a famous actor known the world over." Why? "Because I want to affect a lot of people." Why? "Because I think I'd like to make the world a better place." Why? "Because there isn't enough empathy in the world." OH! So your "why" might be "I want to teach people how to empathize."

Realizing this also allows you to find appropriate day jobs that will feed your soul rather than kill it. If I want to "teach people how to empathize," then my day job might be doing diversity training for corporations, or running a day care for at-risk children, or working for a suicide hotline, or... But if the only way you can imagine accomplishing your "why" is through the theatre, then you are going to be very unhappy whenever you're doing something else, and the reality is that that is going to be most of the time, even if you are successful.

So pour yourself another glass of wine and look inside a bit more. Find your true core, your "why" as a human being, not as a theatre person.

Then you take the next step: finding your how.

Advice to a Theatre Major About to Graduate from College

Dear Abby/Scott/Scoot,

I feel like I am forever asking your advice- and here I am again. I hope you'll forgive me, but it's difficult to talk big life decisions (about things like theatre careers) through with my folks, who just don't have a frame of reference for this kind of stuff.

Scott, I'm terrified of moving to Chicago. I like college. I like being in a safe spot. I like knowing that I don't need to worry about depending on acting financially. Thinking about turning this thing I love into a business- it just makes my stomach turn. I'm not a good businesswoman.

That said, I know that if I were working a 9-5 without theatre, I would go bonkers. I'm not adverse to hard work- I've had a job consistently (through school and productions) since I was sixteen. I just can't get over the feeling that Chicago- and the hunt for acting jobs there- will not be the fulfilling experience everyone promises it will be.

What am I missing? Is there a blatantly obvious answer for how to "make it"? If I don't "go for it" in Chicago theatre, will I regret it the rest of my life?

And how the hell do you keep your spirit up when you're worried about whether or not you've booked an industrial shoot? They don't teach us that between iambic pentameter and Meisner.

Best,
Nervous in Normal

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Nervous in Normal -- You are right to be nervous, of course. Everyone who is getting ready to graduate from college ought to be nervous. The entry into the BBW (Big Bad World) -- especially THIS BBW -- is scary stuff. So give yourself permission to be scared as hell.

But this is about more than Chicago -- it is about your own happiness. You're fortunate: you're young and without a lot of financial responsibilities, so you have the ability to try things out. No decisions are permanent at this point.

Let's start with what you have going for you. This has nothing to do with theatre:

1. You're smart.

2. You're articulate.

3. You're likable.

4. You're educated. (you have a BA)

5. You can work as part of a team. (that's what shows are based on)

6. You are self-disciplined. (or else you wouldn't learn your lines and show up for rehearsal when scheduled)

7. You can present yourself in front of people. (acting)

8. You can manage people. (directing)

So you have all the tools to be successful in whatever you do. Remember that -- the conventional wisdom that a degree in theatre isn't useful in "real life" is stupid. Don't accept the fallacious idea that your options are waiting tables or working temp.

Now: watch this video:


Then spend some time thinking, journaling, and/or talking over wine about what your "why" is. What gets you up in the morning, what is your purpose. Your "what" may be "theatre." Your "how" is all the things you've been taught. But dig deeper: what does theatre allow you to do that makes it worthwhile. (Hint: if the answer resembles anything like "I just get so buzzed when I get to be in front of people and they loooovvvveee me," then don't go into theatre, go into therapy: we have enough narcissists in the business already.) DON'T SKIP THIS STEP. You may be surprised at how your "why" may be able to be realized in many different ways.

Why is that important? Because discovering your "why" may help you look for a day job that can also be fulfilling while you're looking for theatre work. There is no reason why your day job has to be unsatisfying and underpaid. (See numbers 1 - 8 above.)

Now read this: http://networkedblogs.com/f7EkQ. Don't let your inner cynic get in the way. Money quote from post: This is why you must not work for the approval of cynics; you must have a higher motivation that is yours alone. You must work for what is noble and right, and for what is true to your own self.
Because you, not being a cynic or a naysayer or a charlatan, have already tipped the odds in your favor simply by daring to believe in something. "

Now comes the hard part: first, ask yourself this question: is it necessary that theatre be my primary income source? Could I be happy doing theatre avocationally if my day job was satisfying? This is an important question to ask yourself, because if you don't need to, as you say, book an industrial in order to pay the rent this month, then you have the freedom to do only what interests you. 

Second, ask yourself this question: does it matter to me WHERE I do theatre? Is it important to me that I be reviewed in the Chicago Tribune? If I were doing theatre that I love in, say, Bloomington IN would it be less satisfying than doing theatre in, say, Chicago? If the answer to this is "yes," be sure to revisit your "why" to see where that fits in, because what you are saying is that the quest for fame is part of the equation, and it needs to be in the "why." For some people, that is very important; for others, it is something they've been brainwashed to believe. This is about YOU, not your teachers or your fellow students. You are trying to find YOUR life.

If what you're asking me is whether going to Chicago to pursue theatre is "sensible," I'm not going to answer it, because that's not the important question -- in fact, it is entirely irrelevant, not just for you as a theatre artist, but for anyone. The important question is: what is my why, what gets me out of bed in the morning, what would make me fulfilled? Once you've answered that question, then you can move out to "how" and "what." But start with why.

Your answer needs to be honest, your self-examination needs to be thorough, and at the same time you need to revisit the question periodically throughout your life, because it may change over time. 

Once you can answer the "why" question to your satisfaction, then email me and we can go to the next step. Sound good?

On Blogging, Curating, and Discussion

[This discussion was happening in the comments section, and I wanted to give it more prominence. I do so in the hope that the conversation will continue.]


Back on February 22nd, I was invited to a meeting at the NEA to discuss the "supply and demand" issues Rocco Landesman had raised at the "From Scarcity to Abundance" convening at Arena Stage. I posted my response to that meeting, which I called "Off to See the Wizard," a post that was referenced by Diane Ragsdale at ArtsJournal in a post she called "Which nonprofit arts orgs deserve these pennies?" Thanks to Diane, my article started getting some traffic, and generating a nice stream of comments, including this one from Aaron Andersen:

I'm sorry the conversation wasn't more productive, when it is sort of a dream to get all those people in the same room.

I can't help but feel slightly defensive, as an arts blogger with an economics perspective, even though I did eschew simple supply-demand graphs from econ 101 textbooks as unhelpful.
In defense of blogging and twitter, if today's arts leaders think they are still curators of ideas, then they've misunderstood the ascendancy of the internet, and betray themselves as something like dinosaurs.

In defense of bringing economics to an arts policy discussion, are these leaders so lacking in imagination as to miss the potential value of an inter-disciplinary approach? We're only getting a highly condensed version of the discussion here, so maybe I'm wrong, but it sounds like the "not-invented-here" bias that I see so strongly in a particular, unnamed institutional arts nonprofit of great reputation with which I'm familiar. When we think that useful perspectives can't come from other fields and disciplines, it shows how isolated we've become in our comfortable patterns of thought.

It's sad.

A bit later, I received a lengthy comment from one of the other people who attended the NEA meeting, Jason Loewith of the National New Play Network. He and I and Aaron began a conversation that I thought was interesting, and an example of how blogging can be helpful. I will provide the comments below, and hope that my readers will join in.

Jason wrote:

Hey Scott - 
I sat next to you at that meeting, and am proud to own a comment that I suspect "cocked your head"... not sure if you're referring to it when you wrote:

The one thing I heard that did make me cock my head to the side, however, was the way that bloggers and tweeters were talked about by the assembled leaders. It wasn't good. Many of them seemed to see the whole on-line conversation as airing dirty laundry and working against the field, as people just speaking off the top of their heads and engaging in crazy talk…These leaders are used to controlling the conversation from their privileged positions. If they think it ought to be talked about, it will be; if not, it will be silenced. Things should be decided behind closed doors, away from the prying eyes of the public and preferably not within earshot of artists. 

Here's what I think I said, not word for word: You want to start a conversation about oversupply in the arts sector, and sent us 250 pages of blog posts to confirm you'd started that conversation. I read about half of them, and saw very little "conversation". Instead I saw a lot of one-sided, misinformed hysteria about "NEA death panels" masquerading as conversation. I don't see that as productive. 

If my comment was one that made you feel this way, maybe I can clarify. Because your post seems to me unfair and oversimplified.

Blogging disseminates info, it's a lifeline for organizations and artists, and provides community where community is hard to come by. But it also provides safe harbor for hyperbole and misinformation which can be detrimental to productive discourse. And it doesn't replace - and rarely improves upon - actual face-to-face (or email-to-email) conversation. 

In the 125 pages I read, the best conversation was the one on the NEA blog itself, in which Rocco actually responded to Tricia Mead's post. They presented their positions, and came closer to understanding each other. But many of the others I read were misinformed, they hadn't bothered to learn the context of Rocco’s speech, they reacted fearfully and not thoughtfully, and leapt to recrimination and "us against them" structures. I was demoralized, especially as I have gone to such length with my own organization - the National New Play Network - to create (and yes, curate) an informed and productive conversation about the topic. 

Even browsing the comments above, some of your readers are now a) more convinced that "arts leaders" are "dinosaurs", (which is as much an oversimplification as Rocco's original comments were), and b) even suspect some sort of "censorship" is going on. I don’t mind airing dirty laundry, but I reject sowing seeds of suspicion where they don't belong. 

From my point of view - as one of the new organizations at the table - I think there's more opportunity and energy for change and new thinking than there ever has been. And though I share some of your dissatisfaction (sure, there was plenty of same-old, same-old), I also saw a great deal of good. Rocco saw value in hearing from every one of us in that room, and wants to meet again. He heard how his comments were being misinterpreted in the field. You and I and Mark and Linda and all the small organizations were there on equal footing with the biggies. And I learned a great deal from my colleagues - the big and the small ones - that I didn't know before. 

I wish you'd been at Woolly Mammoth earlier in the day. A question that another participant brought up really stumped me: "to what end?" 

What really is the point of having a conversation about "oversupply" in the arts sector? No one is going to close down companies. The government isn't going to stop granting tax exemptions to new ones. So that's the conversation I want to have now – why talk about it, in any format: on a blog, at the National Endowment, or anywhere in between?

I responded:

Jason -- Thank you for your comment. I didn't specifically remember you making it, but I appreciate your coming forward and providing context.

I guess where we differ is on a basic premise -- and I speak as one who has been engaged in the blogging world for almost six years now (!) -- I believe that ALL conversation is good, and that the more distributed it is, the better it is. I'll take Clay Shirky's Here Comes Everybody over Ortega Y Gassett's Revolt of the Masses any day of the week. I didn't see anything in the blogging transcripts that was less intelligent than anything that was offered in the meeting room. 
"To what end" is the kind of question that is often asked by traditional arts leaders who feel that, in order to have a conversation, it is important to have an agreed-upon "purpose" in advance, and make sure that purpose is productive. I don't think that, and I don't teach that in my classes. My teaching motto and my blogging motto is identical: Question Everything. I have seen a lot of conversations that started off pretty crazy come around to make some important discoveries. But you have to have faith in open conversation. I don't believe that people should "create and...curate an informed and productive conversation about the topic." I find that an example of exactly the kind of control that arts leaders think they have the right to exercise, and that I was complaining about in this post. Conversations should develop freely, and involve anyone with an idea.

To be honest, I am glad I wasn't at Woolly Mammoth prior to the meeting, because I suspect I would have come out even more frustrated than I was initially. My feeling was that if people didn't want to talk about "supply and demand," which was the stated topic of the discussion in the invitation, then they shouldn't have accepted the invitation. I did accept that invitation, despite the enormous strain it would put on me to attend, and I accepted it BECAUSE that was going to be the conversation, accepted it BECAUSE I had some things to say about the topic, and to have a different, and to me vastly less interesting and less relevant, discussion felt like a bait-and-switch. I felt like taking up a collection from those who wanted to change the subject to pay for my gas, motel room, and towing ticket.

As far as Rocco's comments being "misinterpreted in the field," I would question whether the people around that table can speak for "the field." But his comments were interpreted by the people at the Arena when he delivered them, and I didn't see anyone on-line saying anything different than they were. 

I agree with you that there is more opportunity for change now than ever. But a big reason for that opportunity is the theatrosphere. Had I not had a blog, I would not have been at that table, because CRADLE is the result of Bill O'brien having read this blog and contacting me. 

So what's point of talking about supply and demand? Well, from my perspective, there is a lot of the idea of supply and demand that is embedded in a centralized, corporatized, urbanized, institutionalized, upper-middle class idea of the arts audience that needs to be questioned and undermined. And those assumptions will NOT be questioned by most of the people around that table, but they WILL be questioned in the blogging world.

Jason:

Hey Scott – 

Thank YOU for engaging this conversation! I think we’ve got a real one going, though you may be disappointed to hear that I agree with lots of what you say. 

I absolutely agree that all conversation is good conversation… I just don’t agree that all blogging isconversation. On this blog (which I never visited before today) I’m already benefitting from your points and point of view, and they’re challenging me. But some blogs I read are not interested in engaging with – or don’t invite, explicitly or implicitly - individuals from other points of view. Worse, their contributors comment and never come back to engage and hear other points of view. I certainly hope the commenters above come back to read this. We may not end up agreeing here, but that’s been my experience.

As far as “speaking for the field,” I don’t think anyone at that table presumes to be able to do so. I certainly don’t and never said I did. But if they run their membership organizations as I do, they talk to their members about issues like this one, get their input (and I got pages and pages of it) and then try as best they can to represent their members’ various viewpoints. What I did say was that Rocco’s comments were being misinterpreted IN the field – and the number of times I heard Rocco say, “Oh, that’s not what I meant”, “I would never suggest that” bears out my assertion – whether at the Arena or in the blogosphere.

“Creating and curating a conversation” – a matter of interpretation again. You on this blog create and curate a conversation simply by introducing a topic with a point of view and posting comments, even if you don’t edit them. When I say it’s my job at NNPN to “curate” a conversation to make it “productive”, I’m talking about summing up what I’ve learned and trying to present it in a digestible way. Does it have a point of view? Sure, no matter how hard I try to scrub my own ideas. Would those 26 artistic directors have read all 250 blog posts, or been as well-informed about the topic? No way. 

Now, “to what end”? I hear you saying that’s a formulation to stop the conversation before it starts. You may be right – this is helpful to me. After reading your last paragraph, let me rephrase. There’s no doubt we should be talking about the “centralized, corporatized, urbanized, institutionalized, upper-middle class idea of the arts audience”. Yes yes yes. So maybe my question isn’t “to what end?”, but “is supply/demand the right question?” Because I disagree with you – I think a LOT of people in that room want to talk about the corporatized, urbanized, etc etc audience. Do they all want to “undermine” it as you say? That depends on what you mean by “undermine”. 

But getting away from a homogenized view of audience and approaches to audience and where audiences live and how they interact with art and artists is precisely what makes the theaters in NNPN tick – and they (and I) would be very willing to continue that conversation with you and in the field. 

 Me again:

Jason -- Now we're getting somewhere!

As I said, I've been writing in the blogosphere for a long, long time in blog years (which are even longer than dog years). And over the years, I've been involved in quite a few on-line brawls, some that got plenty ugly. There are people who have said and would say today that I am too aggressive and argumentative on my blog. Maybe so. But aside from a few mainstream media critics whose blogs don't allow comments, most theatre bloggers engage commenters. In fact, many if not most have blogs in order to hone their ideas, which happens through the friction of the discussion. I can say from my own experience that most of the ideas for CRADLE developed right here on Theatre Ideas -- you can watch them come into being over time and in response to the conversation. I can also say, from my own experience, that mainstream theatre service leaders haven't exactly been making a bee-line to my blog to engage what I have to say. Why would they? To me, I am just a noisy nobody who, if I were more important, would be hanging out at the same cocktail parties that they are. 

And when I started, and to some extent still today, I am seen as someone whose ideas seem counter-productive. When I raised the idea that the centralization of theatre in NYC was unhealthy and artistically destructive, I was accused of being envious, not talented enough for the "big time," a mere academic, and a variety of other personal and professional insults. I was told I was being irresponsible in attacking the Nylachi-centric system, and told that we should all be supportive of the status quo, which needed support. Without the democracy of the blogging world, the issues I raise would never have made their way into the discussion at all. 
You are right that I have the power to curate and control a conversation by what I decide to write about. But the conversation happens between blogs, not in the comments, and that depends on what directions others want to go. So I can float an idea, but if nobody picks it up, links to it, or comments, that subject is dead. My reputation, such as it is, was grown through addressing issues I felt were being neglected, and that struck a core with others. Many other blogs are more traditional, looking more at what shows are opening or who is getting hired or whose plays are getting gone, and that provides a valuable part of the theatre blogging world, too.

At the moment, my focus is on expanding and diversifying not just the audience, but also our ideas of who ought to be creating art. I am not enamored of the single-minded focus on artist-specialists -- I think the NEA, for instance, ought to support not just so-called "professional" artists, but should be encouraging broader creativity and artistic participation. That, along with the idea that the arts are valuable in small and rural communities, is an idea that isn't likely to get carried by the people who surrounded that table.

So I guess that is why I am sensitive to people slighting those who take the time -- and believe me, it takes a LOT of time -- to share their ideas and opinions on a blog. To me, blogging represents an opportunity to break down the barriers of class, geography, education, and position and to let diverse voices be heard directly, without being filtered through other media. And if, in order to get that, it means I have to tolerate a variety of "quality" in the ideas and opinions, then so be it. 

Since the Ford Foundation blue bloods started funding the arts fifty-some years ago, the discussion has been filtered by the wealthy and the educated. I'd like some other voices to be heard. I suspect you would too. But in order for that to happen, we have to open ourselves to letting everyone talk.

Aaron Andersen:

Dear Jason Loewith, I'm the commenter who used the word "dinosaur," so I'm responding to you. Thank you for providing more context. I'd probably reduce the severity of my previously expressed opinion, though not the direction of it.

Scott replied on the value of unfiltered, non-curated voices from the crowd. I would like to add an example. The @MayorEmanuel twitter feed, a satire of Rahm Emanuel that was anonymously authored until it was over, is a fantastic example of new storytelling that would simply not have existed if the only models to develop new stories were curator-driven. The @MayorEmanuel feed is the best example I know of uncovering the potential of Twitter as a new medium. Itmastered both the constraints and strengths embedded in Twitter, and over several months reveled in humor, sarcasm, pathos, inspiration, etc. And (maybe) most important, it showed that a smart-ass punk could care deeply about government, and tell us that we all should, too, in a totally fresh voice. This feed may or may not have been theater, but it was a very extended digital monologue, complete with cheering and heckling from, and spontaneous response to, the audience. And I have a hard time believing for one second that it ever would have been produced through a new play workshop, or the Onion editorial board, or any other media that includes or is managed by gatekeepers, editors, committees, etc... And yes, for every @MayorEmanuel there are thousands of Twitter accounts that are utterly bereft of interesting content, but that does not diminish this work. 

I definitely understand your frustration at phrases like "death panels," which was tossed out with about as much veracity as when Sarah Palin invented the phrase. But I, as well as many other bloggers, called this out as hyperbole and phrasemongering. Throughout this conversation, I read a large volume of very useful thoughts and discussion, as well as some useless content. I'm sorry you think that the useless content drowned out the useful. I most heartily disagree. I think that anybody spending a lot of time reading theater blogs would have some experience filtering out the strong contributors from the less strong, though, and would not spend much time with the latter. We self-curate; we learn to sort the great links from the dead-ends. To be handed 250 pages of printouts is perhaps the worst possible way to engage with online discussions, so I'd recommend you not come to judgment on the quality of online discourse that way.

Aaron AndersenWriting Fellow, Createquity.comBlogger, phrasemongers.wordpress.com

And Aaron again:

And, by the way, here is an example of how to use the internet "crowd" to help foundations and granting organizations increase their evaluation bandwidth. Not only is the idea an example of how to use the internet productively, the quality of the discussion in the comments section is very high. http://createquity.com/2011/02/audiences-at-the-gate-reinventing-arts-philanthropy-through-guided-crowdsourcing.html

And finally, Jason:

Yes, Scott, indeed, and thanks Aaron for your response and thoughts... all really helpful, and it's good to see this working the way one hopes... I appreciate the Rahm twitter example, and just read elsewhere that he met with his twitter doppelganger - I think you're right: that's a great example of the intersection of arts, technology and debate. 

It sounds from your impassioned responses that the theater blogosphere (which I am not as well versed in) is more productive in creating conversations than my experience of the rest of it... but yes, onward with the conversation.

Old Model / New Model

Old Model:

Art Commodities +
Created by professional artist-specialists +
Sold to amateur arts consumers +
Through the use of marketing and advertising +
Supported by grants and donations

New Model:
Art Experiences +
Created by creative citizens +
Shared with other creative citizens +
Through the use of personal connections +
Self-sustainable

(Hint: the Old Model doesn't work anymore, and the New Model needs multiple pilot projects..._

Yes, These Do Connect to Us