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I'm not sure really how I feel about this. Again, heavy on the "we don't market," and heavy on the "what we're doing in the theatres is awesome." Maybe there's something different happening in Toronto. That's entirely possible. My sense of the NY theatre scene is different. My read from non-theatre people who don't go to theatre isn't that they don't hear about it; they don't think they'll like it. Which is a different problem.

A few months back, I ran into an acquaintance at a reading. We'd originally met in a very different context, not theatre-related at all. When I saw her at the reading, my first question was "Do you know the playwright?" Turns out she didn't. Turns out she just goes to readings and plays. She's in her mid-twenties and just goes to readings. Needless to say, my mind was sufficiently blown. Not only by her attendance, but my assumption, even as a theatre person, that the only reason she was there was because she knew somebody involved. Granted, it was a reading, but, isn't the point of a public reading to see how a play is with an audience. A real audience.

New York City is a large place and there are definitely communities that are underserved by theatres, and not in a position to hear about new plays. But a lot of people are and still choose not to go to them. Better marketing might help them find other choices, but if the product is unappealing, the product is unappealing.

I like the part where he says that the "third or fourth time someone from our community tells them they should go see a play, they will." But the corrollary is also true: the second time someone from your community tells you they saw a play and it was bad, you won't go. And, unfortunately, you might not go to any more plays at all. How do we address that?

I also like the undercurrent of a high tide raising all boats. I've gone to Partial Comfort's Battle of the Bards a couple of times and I love it. I love that the NY indie theatre community can fill a club with people there to see some plays and judge them. Sure, they're there to drink booze and hang out, but it's also about the plays. But I'm also always disappointed that there's no follow-up, no follow-through on keeping these people connected to ALL of the companies. No central mailing list that all participants can hook into, no joint productions springing out of it. Everyone goes back to their own cubbyhole, takes their jealously guarded audience and we never hear from each other again.

Honestly, though, I've noticed this changing. I now get a lot more e-mails from theatre companies advertising other companies' shows. This is, on the balance, a good thing.

Again, this may be particular to New York. We have a ton of options, possibilities, plays to see. And some of them suck. A case can be made, though, that the urgent thing is getting people in to see them. I just think the two problems go hand in hand.

Skim the Surface or Dive In?

Apropos of what I was saying here, we have a perfect example of the dichotomy: Alexis Soloski and George Hunka, marketing vs. essence.

I actually don't mean to be totally glib about this. They are two different and legitimate approaches. We know the problem: theatre is failing, particularly straight play theatre. It's failing to reach an audience, and it's failing to serve the artists. The question is why.

From Soloski's point of view, it's a failure of marketing. She says:

The NEA already sponsors some theatre outreach, but why not launch a Big See? The endowment could partner with hundreds of communities to encourage attendance at theatre productions and ensure that all schoolchildren have access and
exposure to plays, developing a new generation of audience members. [...]

If all else fails, the NEA might consider underwriting the salaries of movie stars who deign to appear on the stage. The Seagull, with Kristin Scott Thomas, and All My Sons, featuring Mrs Tom Cruise, have recently recouped their investments. Stargazing still ranks, it seems, as a popular pastime.

The basic assumption is that what's on the stages are fine, but we need to get people in to see the work. She does bring up keeping the ticket prices lower and more in line with other forms of entertainment, but, in its heart, that's also a marketing issue. If we believe that the work is, as is, worthy of support, then these are good solutions and ideas (well, I don't know about subsidizing Katie Holmes. I mean, she should probably be able to work for scale. Or for free.)

On the other end of the spectrum is George Hunka, who is substantially less rosy about the work itself. Here's a choice section:

Once the theatre offers audiences the respect, consideration and experience that they can't find in any other aesthetic form, perhaps they will return. The dark experience of tragedy, a form which has long been considered by many an irrelevance to contemporary human experience, has been precisely what has been missing, and no wonder; its death was reported by George Steiner as long ago as 1961. Critics and artistic directors find it uncomfortable and impossible to market within the current ideology of youth, innocence, hope and vague change. [...] The lessons of tragedy are unfathomable in the age of the post-show discussion, which seeks if not closure at the very least comfort: tragedy provides neither. The tragic consciousness is necessary to a fully cognizant vision of this world, not theatre itself. But where is the fun in that? And no one wants their fun to be taken away.

Strong stuff. I don't know if I agree with his emphasis on tragedy, or that its loss is attributable to the current ideology of optimism. To be honest, though, when I talk to the non-theatre-going folk, their biggest complaint is that the plays are so serious, or take themselves so seriously. They dread being preached to, or shouted out, or, even worse, spoken to too earnestly. But isn't part of theatre recognizing what's going on and responding to it? That's another question for another post. Right now, we're just looking at George and Alexis. And George is definitely saying that the problem is in the content. For George, lower ticket prices and starrier casting won't change the plays themselves and it's the disconnect between the plays and the audiences that are creating this problem.

Two sides, one problem. But, of the two, the marketing folks are the ones we hear from more often. Maybe it's just a natural position to think that what you're doing is right, that if the right people hear it or see it, then all will be well. It's a good thing to think and feel. But does that solve the problem?

And, of course, we'd all like better plays produced more often, but what's better? Who decides? If the audiences want laughs, fart jokes, plays about Paris Hilton, should we give it to them? Or is the role of the artist to strive for more? Are the two mutually exclusive?

From where I sit, we do need to some thinking about both. Theatre, by and large, needs a marketing overhaul. But we really do need to pay attention to what we're marketing. Thinking about the website committee and that theatre, a super-snappy, updated website, full of cutting edge geegaws is terrific. We go viral, post videos, have a blog, get the word out there that we're doing a show. Who are we getting the word to? If we're using the internet, posting on facebook, we're reaching a certain kind of demographic. What happens when they walk into the theatre and don't see themselves on stage? Or worse, see an annoying or offensive depiction of themselves. They don't come back. And all of your marketing saavy has gone to waste. The two things go hand-in-hand. Content should match the medium. That disconnect is the gap that threatens to swallow us whole.

Via.

So...What's Missing Here?

I was all away in my semi-sort-of-almost retirement, sitting by a pool in a tropical, non-extradition country, drinking fruity cocktails with umbrellas in them, when I read this. And it was enough to get my ass back on this fucking horse. So, go and read it. It's quite short. And then come back here and tell me what's missing. I can wait.

Did you see it?

Well, let's see. The audiences for straight plays are declining. But it's not the ticket prices. Or the options. Or a lack of theatre companies. (Though, I'm sure there are folks who can argue that this particular study is wrong there.) So...what...could...it...be? Jeez, golly, willikers, I just gosh darn it can't imagine what other factor could be keeping people from going to plays. Aw, shucks.

This little article mentions three well-received, award-winning productions currently running on Broadway. Two revivals and one transfer from a regional theatre, a play about nasty, white upper middle class Midwestern folk. Huh. Yeah, I almost had it...and then I lost it. Slipped right through my fingertips.

I mean...it couldn't possibly be...there's no earthly way it could be...might it just be...the PLAYS? Surely you jest.

No, really, all sarcasm aside, theatre artists really do need to some soul-searching about what we're doing, why we're doing it and who we're doing it for. Yes, the audiences are dwindling. We all know that. We've all known that. Yes, we face competition from all kinds of medium. But that ain't it. The audiences for musicals are going up and frankly, you can see why. Broadway is crass, it's commercial, it's disgusting, but you know what? It knows its audience, it knows how to find its audience and it goes after 'em.

People do still love and crave live performance. But they want it to mean something to their lives. They want it to connect to them, invite them in. It doesn't have to talk down to them, or pander to entertain and enlighten. But it has to connect.

Studies and articles like this always set off orgies of meetings and symposia and jibber jabber sessions that, inevitably, descend directly into marketing meetings. That's the solution. It's the marketing. We need better branding, nicer posters, a better website. It should have movies on it, and a blog. We need street teams spray painting our logo on things in cool parts of town. People should think that we're not a theatre, that we're a club or a rave. Do kids still go to raves? This is the line of thinking. Because no one wants to ask the hard question: what are we doing? Why don't people like what we're doing? Because we're not going to like the answer.

I've been sucked in, slightly against my will, into just that kind of discussion, about a theatre's website re-design. The buzzwords are flying fast and furious: interactivity, Facebook-connectivity, blah blah blah. It's all fine, great, grand. I have nothing against a prettier website, a slicker interface. But the question of content...hasn't come up. The idea of who we're trying to attract into the theatre and then, most importantly, what are they going to find when they get there, this is the last part of the discussion. And people wonder why I might have gotten a bit burned out on this world.

These are the wake-up calls, folks. The canaries are singing their hearts out and rather than digging our way out, we're making the mineshaft a little more comfortable, resigned to the cave-in (yeah, yeah, I know that canaries don't warn against cave-ins, but I'm rolling).

We gotta start having the hard talks.

This Circus Life...

Okay, so there's your life, your significant other, your friends, drinking, talking, movies, the stuff of an actual life that you lead, the real stuff that matters to you...

...And there's work, Day-job-Land, boring but time-consuming, the complicated dance of doing well enough that you don't get fired, but not caring too much that you lose focus of the salient point: you do this for the money...

...And there's the work of this life, the plays to check out, the readings to go to, parties to schmooze and connect, keeping a finger on the pulse, who works where now, who's getting produced, who's looking for what scripts, the constant hustle...

...And, eventually, there's the art stuff, the actual writing, and re-writing, constructing plots, looking for inspiriation, building your own perfect little house to live in for a while, trying to find the time to go back into the half-finished stuff and polish it off, all of the work that should really matter...

...And there's this, writing this blog, trying to make changes, trying to do more for the field, thinking about what's going on, looking at the big picture...

...And the circus music starts up, you can smell the sawdust and popcorn, and you juggle, you toss it all up in the air and keep it moving, only spending a second or two with each one before up it goes and something else is in its place. They toss you new things, set things on fire, rev up the engine on the chainsaw. You go up a ladder, across a tightrope, dive into a pool, all the while, juggling and juggling, hoping you don't drop something fragile, something that can't be brushed off and tossed back up, hoping, when it's done, you have all of your appendages. Maybe a few new scars, but nothing too bad.

Sooner or later, though, you do drop something. It's going to happen.

So, this is a long way of saying, I kinda dropped the ball there. It got a little hectic and I had to go and live my life for a bit. It's still hectic, but I missed this conversation. I'm going to try to keep up my end.

Wonking out

So here's an analysis of Off-Off-Broadway budgets. I'm just looking at it and there are some very interesting things that jump right out. I'll be in the corner, geeking out a bit.

(h/t)

Tip Of The Hat...

...to Sarah McL, a most excellent voice on the theatre-o-sphere...

That is all.

Us and Them

As is pretty apparent, once you wade into the artists vs. managers debate, things do get messy pretty quickly. I think this post and its comments show the messiness that erupts pretty quickly. I confess to being a bit thin-skinned on that point. I was an artist-administrator and was often treated with the attitude of "leave the money stuff to the grown-ups". Granted, I was also younger than most of the "grown-ups," but still.

The thing that I think I didn't emphasize enough below is that my issue...or my many, many issues...don't have so much to do with individual managers in any way. I've worked with terrible, terrible management, with excellent management, with very good hands-on people, with awful laissez-faire people. It's not about saying that, as a whole, arts managers are unnecessary because some are bad, or tin-eared. My issue is with the system that makes a management class a requirement. A system that lends itself to treating the artists as serfs and afterthoughts. Do all managers fall into the trap of treating the artists like very gifted child-laborers? No, but the system also means that, in general, artists have little to no control over the managers they get.

I know I don't always do it well, but I really want to reject the whole "us vs. them" frame. I don't think of us as two separate groups at odds. And I certainly don't think that "management" is THE obstacle to making better theatre. I'm certainly not looking to throw people out of jobs, or advocate the purging of all arts administrators. I'm an old-school, bomb-throwing anarcho-syndicalist, my friends; we're all the workers of the world and we need to unite and throw off the chains that bind us. The system is broken and it breaks a lot of good people.

One anonymous person asked that the big question: what do you want. Which is a good, good question. Ultimately, really, I want better theatres producing better theatre. I do want artists to be full-time staff members, as artistis, for the theatres to commit to playwrights, directors, designers and actors, not to the project. Will writing this blog make that happen? Probably not directly, but I like keeping this conversation going.

That sound you hear...

...is Scott's head exploding in a fit of rage when he reads this.

Five jurors...four directly from the dreaded NYLACHI...and one formerly from NYLACHI.

For a national playwriting award. That, if I recall correctly, has only been awarded twice to plays that hadn't premiered in New York.

(h/t Parabasis, for pointing the way to the committee...)

Skillz to pay the billz...

Not to stay in the world of meta, and also not to single out the very excellent rlewis, but this comment here and other ones I've come across in the last couple of days need a bit of a response.

I think we've all often heard the argument that theatres need managers because artists don't have the skill sets/the right mindset/the interest to do the dirty work of management. It's usually broken down into artists=left-brain and manager=right brain. Someone's got to manage the money and deal with the business, the argument goes. Left to their own devices, artists can't manage the cash, so they should stick to the art stuff and let the business people stick to the business stuff.

Um. Not to put to fine a point on it (and at the risk of offending): bullshit. I call bullshit on that.

A while back, I met with a theatre consultant who said a very, very interesting thing: theatre artists are particularly skilled at providing a product on a hard deadline. We have our opening night and 95 times out of 100, we produce our product on deadline. You show me a designer who isn't aware of their budget, I'll show you a designer not worth their salt (going over their budget is another matter I'll get into below). Artists may be funky, they may be messy or even occasionally flighty, but they're not dumb (well, mostly not). That attitude is part of the false dichotomy and part of the disempowering of artists.

Art and money are intimately connected. The problem arises, I think, because the "artists" have different priorities than the "suits". (I really don't buy those distinctions.) Taking the designer example from above, you take a designer and ask them to build a budget for a show. They certainly can and they can probably stick to it. But give them a budget that doesn't share their priorities and that's a different matter.

Every artist is their own business. We often have to juggle not just the job of making our art, but the job of marketing ourselves, hustling for opportunities, the job of building connections and, for most of us, a "real world" job that pays the bills. We're constantly adjusting, budgeting, setting priorities, managing time and scheduling. We make investments in new technologies to help us, new techniques to make ourselves more marketable, new methods of reaching our audiences. We set our own priorities.

But once we're involved in a theatre, we're expected to relinquish all of that, and act like helpless children. We shown our sandbox, told to play there and not get the sand all over the place. All of the hustle, hard work, time-management, budgeting and marketing that got us through the door are chalked up to talent or luck or whatever and we're expected to leave that stuff at the door, so the grown-ups can work on our behalf.

I'm not saying that ALL artists have ALL the skills to be effective managers. But then again, not ALL managers are good at their job (and let me tell ya, I've got stories to curl your hair). I'm just disputing that we "need" managers because the artists can't/won't do it. We can, we're used to it, we have the skills. You just have to trust us.

Money, Meet Mouth

As I was talking about here, I'm trying to be more proactive about my work. I've finally decided to get off my ass and do something. If I'm going to stay in New York for the duration, I have to make more of what I want to happen here. I'm going to get into this in another post, but it's so easy to get into a passive place as a playwright. You write and you write, and you wait and you wait for someone to take a chance, give you an opportunity. It wears on you, all of the waiting, and all of the wheel-spinning while you wait. If there's anything that drives playwrights crazy, it's the waiting.

And, as I weigh whether or not staying in New York is worth it, I just can't wait anymore.

So I'm finally taking Scott's advice and getting a tribe started. Here in my NYC neighborhood. It's a great place, full of artists of all kinds, including theatre, but not much in the way of theatre performances opportunities. There are lots of places to use, though, mostly non-traditional venues, which I like. I like using re-purposed places, unusual places. It heightens the community connection.

I want to share with you guys, as best I can, what this process is like. It may not work, it may not help, but it's something to try. I have to say that I'll still be guarding my identity pretty closely. Several folks have been very, very kind and offered opportunities and advice, and it's all appreciated in the extreme. Being anonymous is still new to me and I still want to protect myself a bit. I'm sure I'll get over it before too long, but for now, I'll be scrubbing things to keep the details obscured.

The first steps for starting a theatre tribe in New York: 1) find collaborators and 2) lay down some ground rules.

Since I'm particularly excited about connecting my tribe to my neighborhood, this changes how I go about finding fellow travelers. Ordinarily, I would just gather my favorite theatre people. Unfortunately, not all of them live in my 'hood. So I sent around an e-mail, looking for theatre folks. I got some good responses and found some people I didn't know were theatre people in the 'hood.

For me, the ground rules:

- All are welcome. I have no interest in being a "selector", in reading through scripts or holding auditions as anything more than informational sessions. I want the door to be open to all, whatever their skill level. Yeah, I'll sacrifice in some ways, but it will also keep it more authentic.

- To paraphrase a quote from one of my favorite movies (despite the fact that it's a dark, little thing): everybody works, nobody quits. It'll start slowly, but especially once we get into shows and such (if we get there), everyone pitches in on everything in some way.

- Not to get all Commie, but to each according to his/her need, from each according to his/her skill. Someone comes in the door with a script, they'll get a reading. If they really want a production, we try to make that happen. Someone walks in looking for a part, we find someone to write it for them.

This is all, of course, pie-in-the-sky for now. First off, the dreaded, evil reading series. I know, I know, but we have to start somewhere.

More as we go...