Saturday, June 23, 2007
Great Interview with Ian MacKenzie
Freat interview of Toronto theatre blogger and Praxis Theatre partner Ian MacKenzie over at Vancouver-based "The Next Stage." While the entire interview is fascinating, I am particularly interested in Ian's answer to Question #11, in which he discusses "compassionate localism." After having devoured Bill McKibben's recent book Deep Economy, and applied the ideas to theatre as well as the broader social issues, I was thrilled to find someone developing this idea. If I wasn't so old, I'd be thinking about moving to Canada!
Pure, Unadulterated Envy
Damn, I wish I could write like Jill Dolan. This review of two shows in Austin, "Constellation" and "Jesus Christ, Superstar" just soars.
Friday, June 22, 2007
On a Small Part of Dana Gioia's Speech
Thank you so much, Malachy, for providing the text of NEA Chairman Dana Gioia's recent commencement speech at Stanford University. While I sometimes take issue with Gioia's focus on high art at the NEA, his heart is in the right place, as evidenced in this speech. As I prepare to step down as Director of the Arts and Ideas Program at the University of North Carolina at Asheville, I sent the link, along with my own heartfelt words, in a email to the Chancellor, Provost, and two Deans. For them, as leaders of a liberal arts university, I emphasized the following quotation:
On this blog, which is read mostly by those who are artists themselves, I would emphasize another part of the speech, which I will quote shortly. But first, contextualization. I frequently am taken to task for often (some might say relentlessly) focusing on "blaming" artists for failing to be concerned with contributing to the national conversation when it is the larger culture's superficiality that actually prevents our participation. This may, in fact, be so. But the reason I do so is not because I think artists narrow-minded, self-absorbed elitists -- this is clearly not the case. In fact, most artists I know are by far the most sensitive, empathetic, and thoughtful people with which I am acquainted. No, I focus my attention on artists because I believe one should focus on what Steven Covey calls one's "circle of influence" rather than one's "circle of concern." I lean toward the Stoic belief that one's focus should be on what one can influence, and not what one cannot. The larger culture is a system that is so large that changing it cannot be a prerequisite for changing ourselves. I believe we change society one person at a time, and the first person we change is ourself.
And so it is this quotation that I would offer to the readers of this blog:
I agree with all my heart that artists and intellectuals need to "reestablish their place in the general culture." We, as artists, need to do our part to bridge the gap that has opened between us and the general public. We need to take part in the conversation, and shift the focus from the 10-second sound bite to a more complex and profound level of thought and feeling. But it is up to us to do this. If we wait for the general public to seek us out, we will wait a long, long time. We must ask ourselves how best to re-enter the consciousness of our culture, and how best speak in a way that we can be heard and can have influence. There are many roads that will lead in that direction, but I think we must decide that that is the direction we want to go and set out purposefully.
Dana Gioia has expressed his belief in the importance of the arts, and we should take sustenance from his words and feel pride in our calling. But we shouldn't stop there, but instead raise our colors and begin our march back to where we rightfully belong: inspiring "complete human beings capable of leading successful and productive lives in a free society." We must have faith in, and seek to evoke, the nobility that lies within each and every person in our society, what Lincoln called our "better angels." And we must avoid the easy cynicism, which I would define as the refusal to trust that that nobility exists, which passes for worldly wit or hard-nosed realism. We must revive our idealism, and our belief that, when all is said and done, idealism will out. Only then will we be worthy of taking our place at the center of our culture's consciousness.
"The purpose of arts education is not to produce more artists, though that is a byproduct. The real purpose of arts education is to create complete human beings capable of leading successful and productive lives in a free society."
On this blog, which is read mostly by those who are artists themselves, I would emphasize another part of the speech, which I will quote shortly. But first, contextualization. I frequently am taken to task for often (some might say relentlessly) focusing on "blaming" artists for failing to be concerned with contributing to the national conversation when it is the larger culture's superficiality that actually prevents our participation. This may, in fact, be so. But the reason I do so is not because I think artists narrow-minded, self-absorbed elitists -- this is clearly not the case. In fact, most artists I know are by far the most sensitive, empathetic, and thoughtful people with which I am acquainted. No, I focus my attention on artists because I believe one should focus on what Steven Covey calls one's "circle of influence" rather than one's "circle of concern." I lean toward the Stoic belief that one's focus should be on what one can influence, and not what one cannot. The larger culture is a system that is so large that changing it cannot be a prerequisite for changing ourselves. I believe we change society one person at a time, and the first person we change is ourself.
And so it is this quotation that I would offer to the readers of this blog:
In a time of social progress and economic prosperity, why have we experienced this colossal cultural and political decline? There are several reasons, but I must risk offending many friends and colleagues by saying that surely artists and intellectuals are partly to blame. Most American artists, intellectuals, and academics have lost their ability to converse with the rest of society. We have become wonderfully expert in talking to one another, but we have become almost invisible and inaudible in the general culture.
This mutual estrangement has had enormous cultural, social, and political consequences. America needs its artists and intellectuals, and they need to reestablish their rightful place in the general culture. If we could reopen the conversation between our best minds and the broader public, the results would not only transform society but also artistic and intellectual life.
I agree with all my heart that artists and intellectuals need to "reestablish their place in the general culture." We, as artists, need to do our part to bridge the gap that has opened between us and the general public. We need to take part in the conversation, and shift the focus from the 10-second sound bite to a more complex and profound level of thought and feeling. But it is up to us to do this. If we wait for the general public to seek us out, we will wait a long, long time. We must ask ourselves how best to re-enter the consciousness of our culture, and how best speak in a way that we can be heard and can have influence. There are many roads that will lead in that direction, but I think we must decide that that is the direction we want to go and set out purposefully.
Dana Gioia has expressed his belief in the importance of the arts, and we should take sustenance from his words and feel pride in our calling. But we shouldn't stop there, but instead raise our colors and begin our march back to where we rightfully belong: inspiring "complete human beings capable of leading successful and productive lives in a free society." We must have faith in, and seek to evoke, the nobility that lies within each and every person in our society, what Lincoln called our "better angels." And we must avoid the easy cynicism, which I would define as the refusal to trust that that nobility exists, which passes for worldly wit or hard-nosed realism. We must revive our idealism, and our belief that, when all is said and done, idealism will out. Only then will we be worthy of taking our place at the center of our culture's consciousness.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Thought Experiment #1
I have been reading Daniel (Ishmael) Quinn's Beyond Civilization: Humanity's Next Great Adventure, which puts into a non-fiction form some of the ideas addressed in his earlier novels. While it is beyond the scope of this blog to do a full discussion of Quinn's New Tribalism (for more info, go to http://www.ishmael.com/welcome.cfm), I will use some of his ideas over the next few posts to try to kick around how a different system for doing theatre might work. As I said,these will be thought experiments, so if you are inclined to comment that you "don't want to do X," please keep it to yourself -- nobody is going to make you do it. In fact, if all theatre people suddenly decided to sign on to one of these new ideas, it would probably be a bad thing. Nevertheless, what I'd like to ask my readers is to brainstorm with me on some of these topics. As you probably know, one of the first rules of brainstorming is that you don't say no to anything, you simply build on it. There will be lots of time to evaluate, but it needs to be done separately from the creative process. OK? Here goes.
As a starting point, let's begin with this from Quinn:
Let's be new minds thinking, shall we? Let's leave the old meme behind, at least for a while. Instead of trying to tinker with the theatrical system to make it work "better" for us, let's just mentally walk away from it for the time being and consider alternatives and see what happens. And for our purposes, let's think of whatever we come up with in terms of a non-NYC environment of your choice. In other words, let's think in terms of places that are not awash in theatre, where perhaps the price of real estate is more reasonable, and the pool of people to draw our audience from is smaller.
The goal is to think of ways we can do the kind of theatre that inspires us and our audience, and do it in a way that might inspire a deeper connection between audience and artists, create a more viable financial model for the artist, and disconnect theatre from the marketplace in the minds of the audience.
OK, let's start with a little piece that is nonetheless crucial to the way we offer theatre. And remember, we're brainstorming, so no squashing ideas, but feel free to offer ideas of your own.
OK, so the thought experiment is: if we didn't sell tickets to a performance (or a season), how might we survive as artists? One caveat: whatever ideas we generate don't necessarily have to provide a 100% living income for everyone involved in the project (as it is, many, many small productions lose money and pay those involved almost nothing). The idea simply needs to bring in something that helps the company to live.
I'm going to offer a few ideas as starting points, and then I hope that others will throw in ideas of their own in the comments section.
Instead of selling tickets, what if a production company:
As a starting point, let's begin with this from Quinn:
Old minds think: If it didn't work last year, let's do MORE of it this year.
New minds think: If it didn't work last year, let's do something ELSE this year.
Let's be new minds thinking, shall we? Let's leave the old meme behind, at least for a while. Instead of trying to tinker with the theatrical system to make it work "better" for us, let's just mentally walk away from it for the time being and consider alternatives and see what happens. And for our purposes, let's think of whatever we come up with in terms of a non-NYC environment of your choice. In other words, let's think in terms of places that are not awash in theatre, where perhaps the price of real estate is more reasonable, and the pool of people to draw our audience from is smaller.
The goal is to think of ways we can do the kind of theatre that inspires us and our audience, and do it in a way that might inspire a deeper connection between audience and artists, create a more viable financial model for the artist, and disconnect theatre from the marketplace in the minds of the audience.
OK, let's start with a little piece that is nonetheless crucial to the way we offer theatre. And remember, we're brainstorming, so no squashing ideas, but feel free to offer ideas of your own.
Old minds think: We must sell more tickets than we did last year.
New minds think: What if we didn't sell tickets at all?
OK, so the thought experiment is: if we didn't sell tickets to a performance (or a season), how might we survive as artists? One caveat: whatever ideas we generate don't necessarily have to provide a 100% living income for everyone involved in the project (as it is, many, many small productions lose money and pay those involved almost nothing). The idea simply needs to bring in something that helps the company to live.
I'm going to offer a few ideas as starting points, and then I hope that others will throw in ideas of their own in the comments section.
Instead of selling tickets, what if a production company:
- Sold memberships to a theatre club that offered free attendance as part of the membership. You could come as often as you like, and bring guests -- sort of like a country club.
- Asked audience members to bring food that would be distributed to the company members in exchange for the performance.
- Had a pre-show potluck dinner for company and audience.
- Bartered for items needed by the company -- a list of items would be provided in the program.
- Asked willing audience members to "adopt" a company member for a day, providing them with food (and shelter?).
Friday, June 15, 2007
Warning: Academic On Board
I want to be upfront about any ideas I post in the future: I am a teacher, not an artist. I am a teacher who does theatre, not a theatre artist who teaches. I am a teacher by choice, not by accident. I am not a "frustrated artist" who "fell back on" education.
When I was in grad school, I originally went to get an MFA in Directing, but I soon discovered that I wasn't happy. I was good at it -- I had been directing since I was 17 when I started, with city funding, my own summer theatre and had had a string of successes as a freelancer in Minneapolis (where I was known for my comedy and farce skills), but when each show opened, I found myself more relieved it was over rather than excited by its reception. During my second year of grad school, I won the ACTF national criticism contest, which allowed me to spend a month at the National Critics Institute at the Eugene O'Neill Theatre Conference. One afternoon, I found myself sitting around talking with Gitta Honegger and a bunch of Yale dramaturgy professors about Brecht. Afterwards, I thought: those are the kind of conversations I want to have! I want to focus on ideas! And so I switched to the doctoral track and never looked back.
I now teach play analysis (see my textbook Introduction to Play Analysis published a few years ago by McGaw-Hill), theatre history, dramatic lit, directing, and Theatre of the Oppressed. All of which is to say: I'm an academic.
As someone noted, I often give what he called "advice to the players," by which I mean that I come up with suggestions for different ways to do things. I'm not going to go out and do them myself, which I suppose might seem a bit duplicitous. So let me explain how I justify giving advice to artists trying to actually make a living in the theatre.
My experience is that the amount of energy needed to start a career in the arts AND manage to pay the bills is huge. It is exhausting work, and it takes up a lot of time. Most theatre artists don't have the time, energy, or inclination to graze in all kinds of books, and write, and ponder. They're just trying to keep their head above water!
To my mind, academia ought to be the R & D for the theatre. We should be trying things out, coming up with ideas, documenting performances, and spreading the word about what is new and exciting. And we should be putting this into readable, accessible forms so that the exhausted artist can grasp the ideas easily (as opposed to the jargon and obscurity in academic journals, for instance). To me, blogging is a great way to do that.
So I will float ideas and opinions about things I have thought in the hopes that some artist, looking for inspiration, will be inspired by something I've written to try something different. Many people will read these ideas as disguised attacks on the status quo, and feel the need to defend current practice. Obviously, to suggest an alternative is to imply that the status quo isn't satisfying. But when I suggest that we need to decentralize the theatre, for instance, I am not saying that every theatre person in NYC ought to pack up and head for the heartland. But I am suggesting that there are other possibilities available if NYC doesn't call to you in a full voice.
I guess what I am warning my readers about is the fact that I may suggest fairly radical solutions to problems, which is easy to do if I'm not actually going to do the thing myself. So I am not suggesting a universal panacea, no matter what I say, but rather an idea to be added to the vast array of possibilities. If the idea doesn't appeal to you, don't feel that I am judging you for not doing it. Heck, I'll make all kinds of suggestions, some of them harebrained! So don't feel it is necessary to defend yourself. But if you have a suggestion on how to make the idea better, please please please contribute it.
When I was in grad school, I originally went to get an MFA in Directing, but I soon discovered that I wasn't happy. I was good at it -- I had been directing since I was 17 when I started, with city funding, my own summer theatre and had had a string of successes as a freelancer in Minneapolis (where I was known for my comedy and farce skills), but when each show opened, I found myself more relieved it was over rather than excited by its reception. During my second year of grad school, I won the ACTF national criticism contest, which allowed me to spend a month at the National Critics Institute at the Eugene O'Neill Theatre Conference. One afternoon, I found myself sitting around talking with Gitta Honegger and a bunch of Yale dramaturgy professors about Brecht. Afterwards, I thought: those are the kind of conversations I want to have! I want to focus on ideas! And so I switched to the doctoral track and never looked back.
I now teach play analysis (see my textbook Introduction to Play Analysis published a few years ago by McGaw-Hill), theatre history, dramatic lit, directing, and Theatre of the Oppressed. All of which is to say: I'm an academic.
As someone noted, I often give what he called "advice to the players," by which I mean that I come up with suggestions for different ways to do things. I'm not going to go out and do them myself, which I suppose might seem a bit duplicitous. So let me explain how I justify giving advice to artists trying to actually make a living in the theatre.
My experience is that the amount of energy needed to start a career in the arts AND manage to pay the bills is huge. It is exhausting work, and it takes up a lot of time. Most theatre artists don't have the time, energy, or inclination to graze in all kinds of books, and write, and ponder. They're just trying to keep their head above water!
To my mind, academia ought to be the R & D for the theatre. We should be trying things out, coming up with ideas, documenting performances, and spreading the word about what is new and exciting. And we should be putting this into readable, accessible forms so that the exhausted artist can grasp the ideas easily (as opposed to the jargon and obscurity in academic journals, for instance). To me, blogging is a great way to do that.
So I will float ideas and opinions about things I have thought in the hopes that some artist, looking for inspiration, will be inspired by something I've written to try something different. Many people will read these ideas as disguised attacks on the status quo, and feel the need to defend current practice. Obviously, to suggest an alternative is to imply that the status quo isn't satisfying. But when I suggest that we need to decentralize the theatre, for instance, I am not saying that every theatre person in NYC ought to pack up and head for the heartland. But I am suggesting that there are other possibilities available if NYC doesn't call to you in a full voice.
I guess what I am warning my readers about is the fact that I may suggest fairly radical solutions to problems, which is easy to do if I'm not actually going to do the thing myself. So I am not suggesting a universal panacea, no matter what I say, but rather an idea to be added to the vast array of possibilities. If the idea doesn't appeal to you, don't feel that I am judging you for not doing it. Heck, I'll make all kinds of suggestions, some of them harebrained! So don't feel it is necessary to defend yourself. But if you have a suggestion on how to make the idea better, please please please contribute it.
Laura Axelrod's Meme
I have been tagged by Laura Axelrod for her 5/5/ meme. I am to answer five questions about my area of expertise and passion. Here goes!
Name your area of expertise/interest: Teaching.
How did you become interested in it?
When I was working my my master's degree -- originally an MFA in Directing that morphed into a doctorate in Theatre History and Criticism -- I had an opportunity, as part of my assistantship, to teach an introduction to theatre class. I was totally engaged by the challenge of figuring out how to communicate the excitement of theatre to a general education student.
How did you learn to do it?
First, it was trial and error. Sometimes I'd try something and it worked beautifully, the next time I'd do something else and it would bomb. Then I started to read books on teaching: Teaching With Your Mouth Shut, The Paideia Project, and so on. It is still a combination of those two -- I learn something new every semester.
Who has been your biggest influence?
First, it was a professor I had at the University of Minnesota, who was also one of the most prominent dramaturgs in the nation at that time: Arthur Ballet. He taught an intro to theatre class in a 300+ seat theatre and you could hear a pin drop. His lectures were amazing! But soon, I started to see that lecturing wasn't really the best way to engage with the material, and I started learning about discussion. I was inspired by Mortimer Adler, whose attempts to revamp K - 12 educational techniques was fascinating. Lionel Trilling, the Partisan Review critic, made me look at literature from a moral perspective, by which he meant as an example of a way to live. Now, it is Paulo Friere, who book Pedagogy of the Oppressed is powerful.
What would you teach people about it?
It's not about the teacher or the subject matter, it is about what the student does with the subject matter, and what connections he or she makes to their own life. Teach theatre history, for instance, like the students are Indiana Jones and we are raiding tombs looking for riches to bring back. Teach dramatic literature like the questions being asked pertain to the way you live your life day to day. And always, always encourage creativity and innovation. It isn't about obedience and compliance, it is about independent thinking.
Thanks, Laura. And I tag thw writer at Intermission, Charlie Willis, Tony Adams, David Warlick, and Arlene Goldbard.
Name your area of expertise/interest: Teaching.
How did you become interested in it?
When I was working my my master's degree -- originally an MFA in Directing that morphed into a doctorate in Theatre History and Criticism -- I had an opportunity, as part of my assistantship, to teach an introduction to theatre class. I was totally engaged by the challenge of figuring out how to communicate the excitement of theatre to a general education student.
How did you learn to do it?
First, it was trial and error. Sometimes I'd try something and it worked beautifully, the next time I'd do something else and it would bomb. Then I started to read books on teaching: Teaching With Your Mouth Shut, The Paideia Project, and so on. It is still a combination of those two -- I learn something new every semester.
Who has been your biggest influence?
First, it was a professor I had at the University of Minnesota, who was also one of the most prominent dramaturgs in the nation at that time: Arthur Ballet. He taught an intro to theatre class in a 300+ seat theatre and you could hear a pin drop. His lectures were amazing! But soon, I started to see that lecturing wasn't really the best way to engage with the material, and I started learning about discussion. I was inspired by Mortimer Adler, whose attempts to revamp K - 12 educational techniques was fascinating. Lionel Trilling, the Partisan Review critic, made me look at literature from a moral perspective, by which he meant as an example of a way to live. Now, it is Paulo Friere, who book Pedagogy of the Oppressed is powerful.
What would you teach people about it?
It's not about the teacher or the subject matter, it is about what the student does with the subject matter, and what connections he or she makes to their own life. Teach theatre history, for instance, like the students are Indiana Jones and we are raiding tombs looking for riches to bring back. Teach dramatic literature like the questions being asked pertain to the way you live your life day to day. And always, always encourage creativity and innovation. It isn't about obedience and compliance, it is about independent thinking.
Thanks, Laura. And I tag thw writer at Intermission, Charlie Willis, Tony Adams, David Warlick, and Arlene Goldbard.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Some Advice From Daniel Quinn
I have just finished reading Daniel (Ishmael) Quinn's Beyond Civilization: Humanity's Next Great Adventure, about which I hope to write more in the near future. For the time being, let me just recommend it to anyone interested in exploring a new way of making a living.
Near the end of the book, Quinn offers some words of advice, which I need to print out in big block letters and tape to the wall over my computer as a reminder of how I need to focus my energy. He writes:
Funny I should read these words tonight, after earlier in the day writing the post below. I have learned recently to take the word "coincidence" out of my vocabulary. I like Quinn's clear and simple style of writing. And what he has to say -- more on that later.
Near the end of the book, Quinn offers some words of advice, which I need to print out in big block letters and tape to the wall over my computer as a reminder of how I need to focus my energy. He writes:
People will listen when they're ready to listen and not before. Probably, once upon a time, you weren't ready to listen. Let people come to it in their own time. Nagging or bullying will only alienate them.
Don't waste time with people who want to argue. They'll keep you immobilized forever. Look for people who are already open to something new.
Funny I should read these words tonight, after earlier in the day writing the post below. I have learned recently to take the word "coincidence" out of my vocabulary. I like Quinn's clear and simple style of writing. And what he has to say -- more on that later.
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