Tools
Earlier this week, about 80 theater people gathered, as theater people periodically do, to moan. Typically, these bitch sessions are segregated by division of labor: actors get with actors, administrators with administrators, and writers (playwrights, critics) with whoever will put up with them to revisit the old themes of the indifference of audiences, the moneyed philistinism of boards of directors, the entitlement complex of artists, the cowardice of arts bureaucrats, the cluelessness of critics, etc. But Monday's crowd was unusually diverse: playwrights, actors, directors, bureaucrats from theaters small (Annex, Theater Schmeater) and large (Intiman, the Rep, ACT), journalists, and even one self-confessed board member. Nobody's comments did much to counter their stereotypes.
As the theater people filed into the Seattle Center House, groundskeepers with rakes and shovels were busy spreading a giant, stinking pile of fertilizer onto some flower beds. "Well, I wonder where there'll be more bullshit," somebody said as she walked past. "Out here or down in the theater?"
Stranger Personals
The occasion for the meeting: the Seattle stop of a book tour for the authors of Outrageous Fortune: The Life and Times of the New American Play by Todd London and Ben Pesner, published by the Theatre Development Fund. The book is the summation of a five-year research project about the penury of the contemporary American playwright, the penury of contemporary American theater, and the seething communication gap between the two: writers wondering why theaters keep producing old plays instead of new plays, and theaters wondering why writers don't understand that it's easier to sell tickets to Glengarry Glen Ross—and maybe, just maybe, more artistically rewarding to produce—than something untested and unknown.
The day began with a litany of unhappy statistics and quotes presented by the authors and Victoria Bailey, executive director of TDF:
• An NEA study revealed that the number of American adults who attended a (nonmusical) play in a 12-month period shrank from 13.5 percent (25 million) in 1992 to 9.4 percent (21 million) in 2008.
• Sixty-two percent of the 250 playwrights surveyed earn less than $40,000 a year, and one-third earn less than $25,000. Of that money, slightly more than half comes from day jobs unrelated to writing, with still other chunks coming from teaching or writing for television and film instead of theater. Only 15 percent of playwrights' incomes are affiliated with the production of plays, 3 percent from royalties. As Robert Anderson, author of Tea and Sympathy, said: "You can make a killing in the theater, but you can't make a living."
• American plays have shriveled in cast size for financial reasons. In 1967, The Great White Hope transferred from a regional theater to Broadway with a cast of 63 actors. In 2008, August: Osage County did the same with just 13 actors and New York Times critic Charles Isherwood wrote, "One reason I flipped for August was its superabundance of characters." American plays have also shrunk in scope—for reasons nobody quite understands. A quote from the study, by an unnamed artistic director: "I keep reading all these plays about the big issues by bad writers and all these plays by good writers about nothing."
• Another quote from an anonymous artistic director: "Everyone wants to see the same 10 playwrights." The evidence, not cited because everybody already knew it: A Theatre Communications Group survey about the 10 most-produced plays this decade: Proof, Doubt, Art, The Drawer Boy, Rabbit Hole, Wit, I Am My Own Wife, Crowns, Intimate Apparel, and a tie between The Glass Menagerie and The Laramie Project.
• The form of the American play seems even more limited than its subject matter. "It would be easier for me to do a play like Quills, in which Jesus comes out of the grave with three erect penises and fucks Mary on the floor, than it would to do No Man's Land by Harold Pinter—a play that is abstract in the storytelling," the study cited one director saying. "I'd do it, but that would be more controversial than content."
• And a quote from one of Outrageous Fortune's authors: "A very passionate man named John Booth helped begin this study—unfortunately, he died after reading the first chapter."
But Monday's assembled multitude already knew all that, and once the TDF dignitaries had finished their parade of misery, the fireworks began. One prominent Seattle artistic director (attributions by name weren't allowed) told the room that his theater didn't produce more new works because there "aren't enough good plays" (burn on Seattle playwrights!), but then threw the room a sop, saying theaters needed to invest more "in our own backyard."
A local playwright shot back, asking the AD to put up or shut up: "The only time I hear from artistic directors in town is to tell me how much they adore my plays—you're either being dishonest with me in telling me you like my plays or you're being dishonest right now in saying there aren't enough good plays." Fidgeting happened.
The whole exercise was a backlash against the usual practices: polite lying and saving face instead of engaging in the unabashed, prickish truth. Nobody's innocent and nobody in art/show business owes anybody anything. Some of you playwrights don't get produced because you're not very good. The world doesn't owe you a production. Some of you theaters are breaking because your artistic leadership is conservative and cowardly and your programming is limp. The world doesn't owe you its attention.
And nobody working in theater (justly compensated or not, ignored or lauded) is a victim. But if there's one lesson the casual observer could learn from Monday's event: Everybody likes to behave like one. ![]()
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My take on the day is here: http://www.paulmullin.org/just-wrought/2…
But I just want to thank Ben Pesner, Todd London, and Tory Bailey for leading the discussion, Karen J Zeller Lane of TPS for hosting it, and EVERYONE that showed up, including those I most vigorously disagree with. It is a testament to this city and its theatre scene that so many different people joined the debate. And it makes me inclined to adjust the odds in favor of Seattle reaching world class stature as a theatre town within four years.
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Many for-profit businesses would be happy with numbers like that.
If it persists past say June, then I'd worry, but we're only NOW seeing employment increase instead of decrease.
Main thing they should worry about is rents won't get cheaper as employment picks up.
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I did, but many people didn't, even if it's part of some of the large events.
The only hope for theater? Better, more exciting plays for children. The reason all those 60somethings are still going to theater is that they went as children and developed a taste for it. Theater is an acquired taste and it's a lot (a LOT) harder to acquire it as an adult. SCT does some good stuff, but really, every theater in town should be developing a children's program, because if you don't seduce more kids with theater, you're fucked.
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Not that the hurdles you mention aren't very real. I think the "run" of the average show is a problem. Ideally, a successful show should be able to run until it isn't successful anymore; I'd also suggest that, for some shows, 5 weeks isn't even enough to determine whether it IS successful, since word-of-mouth--theater's primary form of advertising--doesn't really even catch fire 'til about that point.
It's interesting to me that, for all the "convenience" of CDs, mp3s, and other music technologies, live performance is still how most bands make their money. Why do bands get audiences to meet that "inconvenience," but theaters don't? I think it has something to do with the way it meets its audience and adapts readily to changing tastes and new technology. Also, because there ARE CDs and mp3s, college radio, YouTube videos, etc., acts outside the mainstream manage to develop niche audiences before tours even begin. And finally, I think that popular music, like past artistic movements such as Romanticism, surrealism, and the French New Wave, has a long-standing tradition of shunning the academy, whereas theater practitioners (in my experience) sometimes embrace academic approval (and the constraints that come therewith) as a statement against the coarser popular culture. A mistake, in my opinion, but not an indefensible one.
As far as appealing to children . . . I don't disagree. But some artists are of better temperament than others to appeal to children, and even some of those who do well in that sort of venue have exorcisms of their own that are both compelling stagecraft AND suffused with decidedly adult content. Indeed, I think that successful forms like popular music and pornography have survived by being the sort of thing that children aren't allowed to see, but that they want to see, both because it's forbidden and because it's uniquely designed to speak, through the senses, to something primal and reptilian.
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Indeed, I think that if we could find ways to capture these vignettes and move them around virally, we could simulate the essential mechanics of singles and music videos (or movie trailers, or product ads, etc.) by suggesting that this consumable unit, and others like it, will be available live at a future date.
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So yeah, la latata, I wasn't suggesting the end of longform art; rather, I was suggesting that most longform art is still made up of smaller moving parts, whether it's an album, a play, a film, a concert, etc., and that we can use the smaller components to sell the larger art in ways comparable to the ways that singles or music videos are used to sell albums and concerts.
And I don't know about you, but I still regularly encounter two-to-three hour plays. Of course, I see a lot of new work.
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It's worth noting that, for instance, a band like Sleepytime Gorilla Museum manages to maintain a fairly busy recording and touring schedule (to say nothing of more side projects than you can shake a stick at) with obscure literary references set to epic-length blends of prog-rock, world music, and cabaret (among other influences). That is to say, I'm not so much comparing souffles to burgers as I am comparing falafel wraps to combination platters. Still different, but still marketable on the same basis (I think).
I see almost exclusively new work. Maybe I just deal with artists who have shorter attention spans. :)
1. As you yourself mention, the reproducible/easily consumable part of what they do -- the cds and mp3s and what all -- are an art experience of their own AND act as an ongoing marketing campaign for their performances.
2. Those songs can be accessed just about anywhere, any time. The audience doesn't have to go to a particular place at a particular time to experience them.
3. They have almost no overhead. They don't pay rent and utilities, which are above and away the big-ass expense for theaters.
4. Music is still a culturally vital art-form. No one listens to a bad song and says "I don't like songs." People see a bad play and say "I don't like theater" ALL THE TIME. Theater has a lot more baggage and a lot more to overcome.
And that's only the top four off the top of my head. The analogy is pointless; short theater pieces (be they clowns, 10-minute plays, or *shudder* Butoh) just aren't equivalent to songs. Theater HAS to be live; with rare exceptions (say, 'Swimming to Cambodia'), video of theater is painful to watch.
And...I'm sorry, what was your other point? That the popularity of pornography means theater artists don't need to engage children? I'm baffled.
Every city will have its Theater, like it has its Symphony Orchestra and its Opera, with a handful of amateur groups scattered around, entertaining a modest audience of friends and enthusiasts. Nothing wrong with it, but it's not the same as having a conversation with our culture. Which I believe most theater artists would like to be having.
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Point number three is also well-taken, but I think that this could be true of theater, as well, which is kind of the point. If theatrical works were more mobile and self-contained, they could freely move between venues and cut out a certain portion of the overhead.
Point number four is interesting. I don't know if it's true or not, but if it is, that's obviously a cultural bias we'll have to work to overcome. I mean, why do people give up on theater after a bad experience? Why do people not give up on songs after listening to the literally hundreds of bad songs with which any radio listener is inundated on any given day? There's nothing concrete there to hang the hat on. It's ostensibly predictive, but frustratingly vague. Which isn't, by the way, a criticism of the way you made the point, but a locus of frustration with the point itself. Is the solution to make sure there are no bad plays? And how do we judge that? I doubt (I could be wrong) that what you would call a bad play and what I would call a bad play would be the same thing.
You shudder at Butoh, but it's the basis for pretty much all the J-Horror we've seen over the last couple of decades (iow, no Butoh, no Ringu). Which mightn't make it any more to your liking; I'm only suggesting that there's a demonstrable familial and aesthetic link between supposedly "artier" forms and types and genres of entertainment that appear to have more currency, and some of those forms also happen to lend themselves easily to performance or marketing in excerpt.
As for my reference to pornography, I was only pointing out that there are a lot of things in this world--porn, black coffee, rock & roll, beer--which survive solely on the basis of your having to learn to appreciate it and/or having to wait to be able to consume it of your own volition. I've no objection to engaging children; if this nihilistic fever in my blood ever subsides, it would indeed be my pleasure to write works for children (and, provided someone with less of such fever is writing it, I'm more than happy to act in such entertainments). I was only suggesting that there might be--probably are--ways of re-establishing cultural relevance without scrubbing all the viscera out of the content or the mode of presentation.
Another thought on that matter, and connecting it to some of what you say in @21 - art that still has cultural currency generally manages to stay current through regular upset by anti-bourgeois malcontents, while forms like symphony and poetry fall into irrelevance by being too resolutely bourgeois. While I'd agree that there's a fair amount of subversive art in the world aimed at children, the stated value of "reaching out" to youth is, itself, a bourgeois impulse--not because there's no value in getting the youth on board, but if the parents approve too deeply of it, the interest will likely disappear with adolescence.
(And yes, we're all bourgois--no one more so than I; like the word "hipster," "bourgeois" is one of those terms that if you know what it means well enough to rail against it, you probably ARE it.)
I agree 100% with your points @21. I think we're trying to solve the same problem; where we differ is in what that solution would look like when applied.
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But if you're an adult and you've never seen theater before but you've seen a lot of tv and movies and played a lot of videogames, and you walk into this room and look at a few set-pieces and watch people walk around a stage talking and pretending that the audience isn't there -- it's a vanishingly small minority that has the patience to even try to take it in. These non-theater-goers -- and they are the overwhelming majority of Americans -- aren't philistines; they literally don't know how to experience it. They never learned, and their less-elastic adult brains, accustomed to far more intense stimuli from other media, are unlikely to stretch to encompass it. It's not quite as bad as giving a book to someone who can't read, but it's in the same ballpark.
If you don't see theater as a kid, you are highly unlikely to ever connect with it. I don't think it's bourgeois to want to create an audience.
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So yes, there's nothing bourgeois about wanting to create an audience. And . . . I suppose theater is weird. Will you permit me to get autobiographical for a moment, and offer a different take?
All my life, I've had to live with people knowing the theme to Welcome Back Kotter, with my never having actually watched a single episode. Oh, I was aware it existed (it was on during many of my single-digit years, but it struck me as a "grown-up" show, in a sense that I learned to appreciate, but never stopped being at odds with in some cellular way. I remember Land of the Lost, H.R. Puff'n'Stuff, The Muppet Show, along with classic (and some not so classic) vampire (I like vampires) and werewolf (I love werewolves) movies that showed up on Saturday and Sunday afternoons on California TV stations in the '70s. The notion that people found humans talking to each other interesting was . . . odd.
In a sense, I grew out of that, and in another sense, I never did. Like most kids growing up in the '70s and '80s, I cut my teeth on Spielberg's ouvre, and became fascinated with the early works of folks like Tim Burton and Terry Gilliam.
When I first discovered theater (aside from some school plays here and there) in my early teens, what intrigued me as an audience member (as opposed to a participant, where my interest was--in the early days--solely in being looked at) was the almost aggressive unreality of it. Even a realistic play had the unrealism--the cheesy sets, the obvious makeup--of the movies and television that most captured my imagination with its puppets, aliens, monsters, and unreality.
I guess I think of myself as not having been exposed to theater as a child; I still remember thinking that plays were something people did to practice until they got good enough to be in movies. But if I think back, I remember seeing The Nutcracker when I was young, and that (in combination with the old monster movies) being the gateway drug that led me to Burton, who provided the gateway drug that led me to theater.
Then there was my exposure to music--the rush of discovering alternative rock in '87 (or at least finding out, for the first time, that there was a whole genre of popular music that I may have passively apprehended without knowing that it had a whole genre), at age 15. I won't go too far into how that played out (because I've already gone on too long), but suffice it to say that coming to that awareness concurrently with my early awareness of theater . . . well, it had an effect.
So for me, Lecoq inspired bouffon work has a familial relationship with cartoons and monster movies; Butoh relates to zombie flicks and slow-crawling metal made by the likes of the Melvins, Earth, Boris, or Sunn O))). It's easier for me--for whatever reason--to see the connection between experimental forms and certain genres of more ubiquitous popular arts. And as chemically imbalanced as I may be, I've been successful enough in maintaining healthy relationships and gainful employment to imagine that I'm NOT so chemically imbalanced that my experiences are so unique that there isn't some reasonable population out there looking for live, visceral art that pushes strange and exciting buttons.
I'm thinking, now, in terms of genre, rather than form; I wasn't introduced to the form until later, but found it interesting as a result of (rather broad) connections made through genre (or the appearance of genre, or the appearance of certain tropes--unreality, viscera, wordplay--that related, if only superficially, to my juvenile perceptions of genre).
So maybe introducing these things to children is useful; maybe it's not. I certainly never meant to dismiss the notion. All I know is that my relatively late exposure to live theater bore fruit because theater appealed to that part of me of which my parents and teachers didn't approve (though they realized, subliminally, that it was probably the source of the charm on which I've gotten by in life ;)): my tendency toward fantasy, violence, deviant eroticism, and broad symbolism.
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I love Shakespeare, by the way, so long as he's edited to tolerable length. Bawdy and violent, yes. I have little faith that there's such a thing as a "universal human experience" in any communicable sense, but that's probably fodder for a different conversation.
It's this art with a capitol "A" ethos that isn't playing with the public, and the main reason is that it's not supposed to play with the public. It's supposed to get granting organizations to write checks and to make the elderly people in the audience feel smart. If it turns out to actually be entertaining or, you know, good, so much the better. But the "audience" for much of serious theater is actually the organization that writes the grant checks.
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Because production requires so much up front investments, I don't begrudge the notion of grants, but I think there needs to be some sort of mechanism for moving grant-fueled art toward a more audience driven model. I don't know what that would look like; perhaps granting organizations could become "stakeholders" in arts organizations (its certainly not any more of an imposition than is, say, a board of directors), and grants could be treated more as investments. Or maybe not; I admit to having no head for business. Just throwing ideas around.
and here's the link to that if anyone is interested in my thinking.
http://artscritic.blogspot.com/2005/12/i…
A few more smaller theaters have gone down meanwhile, and I don't think the audience for whom theater is an essential ingredient of life has increased. That is the fundamental problem as I recognized soon after coming to these parts in 1994. Most of the problems flow from that: the larger theaters needing to compromise, the death of smaller theaters,
the quality of the art directors, etc, etc.
The lack of critical discourse.
MICHAEL ROLOFF
http://www.facebook.com/mike.roloff1?ref…
Member Seattle Psychoanalytic Institute and Society
This LYNX will LEAP you to my HANDKE project sites and BLOGS
http://www.handke.scriptmania.com/favori…
http://www.roloff.freehosting.net/index.…
"Degustibus disputandum est." Theodor Wiesenthal Adorno
"May the foggy dew bediamondize your hoosprings + the fireplug
of filiality reinsure your bunghole! {James Joyce}
"Sryde Lyde Myde Vorworde Vorhorde Vorborde." [von Alvensleben]
"Siena me fe, disfescimi Maremma." [Dante]
"Ennui [Lange Weile] is the dreambird that hatches the egg of
experience." Walter Benjamin, the essay on Leskov.
http://analytic-comments.blogspot.com/
http://summapolitico.blogspot.com/
http://artscritic.blogspot.com/
Anyone could come. I don't think you even had to be a member of TPS. I don't know anyone who was "invited."
I made the mistake of looking at your link. Nothing there but a lot of boring blather, ravings from a dullard. If you're looking for, uh, "critical discourse"--you sure ain't got it.
Not to denigrate what you're doing, but the five-six new shows you are doing a year are improv shows, which are completely different than having a playwright produce a written work and put that up.
At the same time, how many artists of one kind or another are employed in our era compared to those in the past? A lot. They might be employed writing scripts for video games instead of plays. They might be employed sculpting maquettes for cars instead of gargoyles on cathedrals. They might be writing music for a television show rather than a noble family. But I'd say that a creative person has a much better chance of making a living doing something related to their talents today than at almost any other time in history.
Let's also not forget that most art produced in any era is garbage that gets immediately forgotten.
Also, there's absolutely nothing wrong with serious theater surviving as a hobby pursued by amateur enthusiasts. Just because some people happen to like theater doesn't mean they should get paid to do it.
If you want to get paid to do it, learn some skills, entertain your audience, and make it worthwhile for someone to spend $15 and an evening on your "art." What play could not be improved with some juggling, fire-eating, or a few good songs?
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I predict that in ten years there will be Netflix-type services online distributing new American plays. It's inevitable, and the sooner theaters and playwrights wise up the better.
As much as I despise the Right's idiotic use of the term 'elitist', it is truly elitist for theater folks to fantasize that live theater will be diminished or destroyed by video.
Stage works are generally progressive and liberal in tone. Digital distribution of plays just might give a few red states a nice purple tinge.







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