The Literary Adventures of Claire and Elana, Part 1

The Literary Adventures of Claire and Elana: LiteraryManager.org Edition

ELANA rummages through the fridge at Theatre Bay Area, grabs a paper bag and pulls out her lunch, staring disdainfully at the stale bread and old apple that she packed herself in her sleep-deprived morning haste. Enter CLAIRE, who crosses cheerily to the water cooler to get a drink.

CLAIRE: So, I did it! I submitted a play to the Playwright’s Foundation for the Bay Area Playwright’s Festival.

ELANA: When was the deadline?

CLAIRE: I know, I know, I took my sweet time. Maybe someday I’ll get in a submission one or two days before the very second they are due.

ELANA dons her Judging Cap—a stylish porkpie, complete with feather.

CLAIRE: (sheepishly) I think I heard a quote somewhere that real playwrights wait until the last minute. Have you heard that one?

ELANA: No.

CLAIRE: Oh. Well. This year I didn’t even have to mail in my submission, so I was able to procrastinate more than usual. They're using this new website called LiteraryManager.org. Have you heard of it?

ELANA: Yes.

(Pause.)

CLAIRE: Well, it was great! I just filled out an online form, uploaded my script, and that was that. I didn't have to print or mail anything. Did you submit a play this year?

ELANA: No...

ELANA rotates her Judging Cap to reveal the words “PLAYWRIGHTS FOUNDATION SELECTION COMMITTEE” written on the back. CLAIRE gasps and drops her water.

ELANA: So we meet.

CLAIRE: Well, technically, we’ve known each other for a few months, being coworkers and all.

ELANA: So we meet...as judge and judged.

CLAIRE: I didn’t realize you were on the selection committee!

ELANA: I didn’t realize you submitted a play to the Playwrights Foundation! Wait. Does this not strike you as odd? Two coworkers, standing around the water cooler for an inordinately long time, able to provide complementary views on a new online literary database and seemingly unable to talk about anything else?

(CLAIRE and ELANA make eye contact and slowly, suspiciously cast their eyes skyward, where a giant pencil eraser threatens to poke down from up above.)

CLAIRE: Elana, you’ve resorted to a metatheatrical representation of yourself as the playwright-slash-literary puppetmaster?! Thank god you didn’t submit a play this year, or you would’ve been the laughingstock of the local theatre community!

ELANA: Don’t look at me, I’m not the one pulling the metaphorical strings here!

CLAIRE climbs atop the refrigerator and peers into the left eye of META-ELANA.

CLAIRE: (Scrambling down) OH MY GOD. I can’t believe I’m in a play with a character named “META-ELANA.” Just being a character in this play is going to regress my writing 10 years. OH MY GOD! REGRESS MY WRITING? IS THAT EVEN A PHRASE??

(The giant pencil eraser starts to erase Claire’s left foot.)

ELANA: WAIT, SHE'LL TALK, DON’T ERASE HER!

(The eraser hesitates.)

ELANA: Claire, say something! Say something more about the database!

CLAIRE: Uhm….I totally didn’t feel all angsty about paying the readers fee, because I didn’t have to spend any money on copies or binding or envelopes or postage. Wouldn’t it be great if someday, in the future, this was the way all plays were submitted.

(The eraser starts to erase CLAIRE's right hand.)

ELANA: WAIT! Stop! She's given you what you wanted! She's talking!

CLAIRE: (Louder) Freelance dramaturges can also use it to - --

(The eraser erases CLAIRE's mouth.)

ELANA: NOOOOOO! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM US?? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM US, META-ELANA?!?

To be continued...

Will Claire and Elana escape from the water cooler unharmed? Will Claire get her mouth back? And just what *is* this literary database of which Claire and Elana speak so passionately, anyway? These questions and more will be answered in Part 2 of The Literary Adventures of Claire and Elana: LiteraryManager.org Edition.

Where Do Original Musicals "Play" in the Bay Area New Play Landscape?

There’s no question that the Bay Area is a hotbed for presenting new plays. Interestingly, the proportion of new musicals produced in the area, seems (to me) surprisingly low. Aside from ACT's upcoming production of Tales of the City and last year's showing of American Idiot at Berkeley Rep, world premiere musicals are few and far between, particularly when it comes to smaller theatres. Recently I have become aware of two world premiere musicals in the area, which I found to be an interesting convergence in happening (if not in theme): As Always by Peter Tucker and Dogs! It's the Musical! by Rose Tobin O'Connor. After speaking with Tucker and Silver Moon Productions artistic director Nellie Cravens, I was able to learn more about each production and shed light on some of the unique challenges of producing a world premiere musical.
Currently in performances through March 27 at the Eureka Theatre, As Always (asalwaystickets.com) traces a psychological journey through love, loss, and redemption during a single night of dreams, where inner battles come to life within the timely allegory of a foreign war. “Dreams have always fascinated me," Tucker says about his inspiration for the piece. "We create a world every night that is an emotional echo chamber from our waking experiences. As both participant and observer in dreams, every image, experience, interaction and character necessarily is born from our subconscious mind. Without the filter of conscious thought while sleeping, our dreams can go places we can't. This dream world has historically been ripe for theatricality, of course, and As Always found it to be a perfect device to tell a story about these themes. Much like we interpret our dreams upon waking through the lens of our own experiences, I also wanted our symbolic and non-literal world to speak to the audience members through their own lenses. After the applause, I hope they glean from the story and music what is most relevant to them and they find their own emotional ethos."
Tucker responded to the challenges of getting a world premiere musical produced by producing the show himself. Though necessary, doing so presented its own unique challenges. "While networking in preparation for the show," he says, "I noticed that theatre companies and industry groups seem to take self-production less seriously than works produced within the established frameworks of even the smallest theatre companies. This stigma exists even though access to those frameworks is difficult. Many producers and writers have been waiting years for a reading or production of their work.”
Silver Moon Productions presents a contrasting example with the world premiere of Dogs! It’s the Musical! at Andrews Hall in the Sonoma Community Center (April 15-May 15; http://silvermoontheatre.org/). The show follows an angel who is sent to earth to learn how to be a dog. Even though the show, which was written in 2004, had an "inside track" to the producers (the author is the sister of the vice president of Silver Moon’s board of directors), the musical was a bit of a tough sell. Nellie Cravens, artistic director of the company, says “We were cautious about producing a new work, especially a musical. Nevertheless, in 2010, we had a read-through/sing-through of Dogs! in Sonoma. We were charmed and excited by its potential. One of our theatre company’s goals is to become a valued part of the Sonoma community. We are always looking for works that will draw a family audience, and at the same time provide an entertaining experience for adults. Dogs! It’s the Musical! moves us toward that goal. We think it has a future, in a variety of possible venues. Audiences of all ages are bound to appreciate songs with titles like “Smell Me and Tell Me” and “Come On and Let Me Lick Your Pants.”
Have you ever been involved in a Bay Area-based original musical?
What Bay Area original musicals have you attended? What are your favorite(s)?

Envisioning Alternatives

Earlier this week, we generated a heated discussion about Rocco Landesman's comments at the New Play Institute on our blog and Facebook page. I walked away from that discussion with the sense that yes, our theatrical ecosystem (from a business standpoint) is unsustainable. Many (sadly, most) theatre artists work for nothing or next to nothing. In spite of this, we are indeed witnessing a rapid increase in the amount of theatre companies springing up around the country, and that increase is concurrent with an alarming decrease in funding sources for these theatre companies. However, as the reaction around the blogosphere is indicating, simply suggesting that we have too many theatre companies without proposing meaningful alternatives to the current system is overly simplistic and frustrating to artists whose life's work is in question.

That's where this post comes in. I would like to set aside this space to envision alternatives to the traditional models that many artists follow as criticized by Landesman: to produce a play or two with friends, to identify a niche in the theatre community, or at least a solid group of artists with whom one wants to continue to work, and then to form a theatre company with said artists. I have noticed a tendency in the theatre community to view creating a new theatre company as a necessary step in legitimizing one's work and building an audience. In our current theatrical environment, this is absolutely true. But can we imagine other systems in which this might not be as much of an issue?

Should established theatre companies, for example, create more opportunities for less established artists to create? What if large companies dedicated a certain amount of resources to smaller-scale "theatre laboratories" in which fringe artists could experiment with the form without having to create an entire theatre infrastructure of their own? How would the large companies benefit from such arrangements?

Could a group of smaller companies pool their resources to establish one umbrella nonprofit coop of sorts that serves all of them (run by a centralized managing director), much as arts organizations will pool their resources to share an office or performance space? Would such a thing even be legally and/or logistically feasible? Would this eliminate enough overhead costs to justify the added logistical headaches?

What sort of infrastructure would need to be in place, do you think, so that artists would no longer need to create organizations to satisfy their artistic impulses?

Supply, Demand and Apple Trees - thoughts on the Landesman speech

This blog post represents my views and my views alone. These thoughts are not meant to be representative of the views of any organization I work for.

NEA Chairman Rocco Landesman dropped a bombshell on the New Play Institute national convening last week in the form of eight words: “We are overbuilt…there are too many theatres.”

I'm sad I wasn't actually there to hear the speech, though the full thing is here. But this statement and its surrounding arguments have sparked a fire across the theatre blogosphere. (Even the New York Times got into the act.)

Essentially, Landesman argues that we are (and have been, for a while) in an era where even as arts funding and arts attendance decrease each year, arts non-profits continue to sprout up all over the country. Here are some samples from a blog he wrote in response to some of the criticism his speech got at Art Works, gathering around the hashtag #SupplyDemand:

“The NEA’s 2008 Survey of Public Participation in the Arts (SPPA)…reports a five percentage point decrease in arts audiences in this country. This is juxtaposed against a 23% increase in not-for-profit arts organizations, and a rate of growth for not-for-profit performing arts organizations, specifically, that was 60% greater than that for the total U.S. population.”

And later:

“I care passionately about the arts in this country, and I believe that they will always play a vital role in who we are as an American people. But in order to get to where we need to be, we are going to have to have some uncomfortable conversations and prepare ourselves for a not-for-profit arts sector of the future that does not necessarily look the way it looks today.”

This whole thing reminds me of the mini-dust-up we had on this blog a while back around a post I wrote on whether art needed to justify its existence. A lot of people got really mad at that idea, using many of the arguments being made back to Landesman about his proposals:

• that art is not commerce, and should not be treated in the same profit/loss, supply/demand way that commercial things are


• that arbitrating value of art is a waste of time, as the value is subjective and can be measured neither by the amount of money a piece of art generates nor by how many people see it


• that the playing field is uneven and grossly favors the largest animals in the forest.

I guess what I see here is what makes the arts world so fascinating and vibrant—the push/pull of aesthetes and economists, of artists and pragmatists (if those two things should be juxtaposed…I know plenty of pragmatic artists, although it’s worth pointing out that many of them are viewed as “sell outs”).

In a conversation yesterday about Landesman’s speech, one person who was there expressed how upset he was about what he saw as a lack of understanding that what Landesman was proposing would essentially rip the rug out from under many artists who have toiled away at this work for decades. Another said that she thought she probably agreed with a lot of what Landesman said, but that his tone was so off-putting she couldn’t be sure. I can understand both points, although from reading what has followed from Landesman, I’m not sure that’s what Landesman meant to convey.

When you strip away the tone, rhetoric and personality associated with the ideas, I find (for myself, here) that I can’t really find flaw in the equation. I think of the apple tree in the backyard of my old apartment building, which sat untended and overgrown. Every year, what seemed like thousands and thousands of blossoms would pop open on the branches, and then all of them would be pollinated and, since we none of us owned the tree, no one would pinch off any of the fruit. The tree, every year, would become burdened by all the fruit—the branches would bend, the leaves would start to look weak, and the fruit itself was small and sallow—a victim of its own ubiquity.

If we as an industry (as we have) have set ourselves up to believe that there’s always room for one more apple on the tree, that the default to success is to create a non-profit theatre company of your very own, then we shouldn’t be surprised that we’re all feeling a little malnourished. In this, of course, we need to lay the blame where it belongs, which is with everyone on every step of the ladder from top-heavy arts organizations that favor known artists over new blood to funders who only fund organizations (and then of a certain size, with a certain pedigree and production history) to, yes, service organizations and other support groups that have for years encouraged unchecked proliferation of organizations and an egalitarian, everyone-deserves-equal-support-regardless attitude.

Might we not, as Landesman seems to be arguing at least in part, all feel a little healthier if we spent some time tending to ourselves? Setting aside for the moment the large, scary questions about what that really means, and setting aside the reality that art is commerce, and needs to function on the same set of rules as anything else (namely that if supply outstrips demand, the correct answer is not to prop up the extra supply) – setting aside all of that, I still have to wonder if we’re best served by the current system, or if perhaps the foundation world (and it’s not just Landesman—former Mellon program officer Diane Ragsdale has written similarly, and Hewlett program officer Ron Ragin has warned of the perils of assuming organizations' permanence) is going to force us to take a long, hard, healthy look at our industry.

Perhaps we’re at an inflection point where “more is better” needs to turn into, as Landesman writes, “we are here to ensure the survival of the most creative and most dynamic.”

Invitation to the Party

A while back, I was asked to be a panelist at a local event: SQUART (Spontaneous Queer Art), curated by local artist Laura Arrington and sponsored by The Lab. At the event, 40-some artists assembled at the venue and were split into four teams and given parameters for a performance. Two short hours later, each team performed a piece that they had developed collaboratively. After each team presentation, four panelists from the field commented on the work (check out the January issue of Theatre Bay Area for some more thoughts on that experience!). Scores were given based on agreed-upon parameters (and even some wild-card parameters: on my night, nudity got extra points). The highest scoring presentation won a small cash prize.

I was, in a word, amazed. Even though some of the performers didn't know each other, let alone know their teammates' respective skills, I was completely impressed with how well they handled being thrust into a collaborative performance. The ability they all demonstrated in being able to come together, absorb the given parameters and present a performance was remarkable to me.

Acting as an audience member in the performances was just as exciting as being a panelist. The festival actively engaged audience members in the performances by adding an "audience participation" component to the given parameters. Because of this component, an interesting dynamic arose. One of the performances began in a darkened room and delivered very stern, clear instructions about how we, the audience members, should watch and behave during the piece. The piece continued and no further instructions were given. The performance progressed to the point that if an audience member (like myself) continued to follow the initial instructions, he wouldn't be able to see or hear anything that was happening. The other panelists quickly abandoned the initial instructions and followed the mass of people in the middle of the room to see what was happening. I found myself with a choice: do I follow? Or should I trust that the initial instructions will offer a payoff that I might miss otherwise? I opted for the latter and was somewhat bitter that there was no payoff and that, from my vantage point, I missed 95% of the performance.

I don’t mean to criticize the artists involved. In fact, I was told from the people who did experience the full performance that it was actually quite extraordinary. But my experience does highlight an interesting question: In the fully-staged productions that we work on for weeks, or months, or years, how do we give our audiences an invitation to the party? Or do we invite them at all?

As an avid theatergoer, I am in tune with the protocol of attending theatre. But do patrons new to theatre know what traditional protocols tend to be? They might wonder: Why is texting or tweeting during a show such a hot button? Why can’t I get up and walk on the stage during the show? How quiet should I be during the performance? What if I have to go to the bathroom? In an age of shrinking arts education in schools, where people often miss any early exposure to theatre, these are real questions. Does an audience member’s uncertainty around doing something wrong generate a fear that keeps them away? Have they attended theatre before and felt burned by doing something others thought was inappropriate?

During my SQUART experience, I didn't feel like a theatre veteran. I felt as a person entirely new to theatre might feel. How often do our audience members feel like they are missing out on the full experience of being an "insider?" Do they feel "invited" to the experience? And if not, what are we doing to welcome them? This issue isn't simply about house manager announcements or usher rules or instructions. This is about the artistic choices that we make. What do you do to involve theatre "outsiders?"

Check out the next SQUART happening Sunday January 09, 2011 at SomARTS. Info available at www.lauraarringtondance.com

Proving what we know is true

This post originally appeared on ARTSblog.

As artists and arts advocates, we all know, deep down, that Art Matters. But we continue to grapple with how best to talk about that value, to “justify” (a loaded word) or “prove” that the continued investment in infrastructure, arts education outreach and daily artistic input into the population-at-large is necessary to the creation of a tolerant, educated, empathic and energized society. The great work of Randy Cohen and Americans for the Arts on the economic front, including the creation of the Arts and Economic Prosperity Calculator, have gone a long way towards standardizing the arguments around economic impact of arts and culture, and has essentially gotten us all on the same page. But, and this language is getting to be a cliche, economic impact is only part of the answer – half of the answer at most, really – and getting to the point where we can talk about the intellectual, emotional, social, empathic impacts of the arts in the same specific, data-driven way as we can talk about the economics may open up a brave new world of advocacy for money, time and respect from the government, the funding establishment, the education system and our patrons.

Of course, in some ways, we’re already good at getting at some version of what researcher Alan Brown calls the “intrinsic impact” of art – mostly in the form of testimonials from arts patrons. A well-formed interview can get you incredible stories of the transformational power of art, and such things, when well-packaged, can prove very valuable in the conversation with arts skeptics about the value of artistic work. But interviews are really, truly only part of the answer here, and as part of the National Arts Marketing Project Conference session, Did the Campaign Work?: Integrating Impact Assessment into your Strategies, we (Theatre Bay Area) will be unveiling a year-long research and development effort to create a web-based service for theaters and other arts organizations across the country to quantify the intrinsic impact of their work, generate easy-to-read dashboards, and provide sample survey and interview protocols to generate a new type of conversation using a new vocabulary. Working with research firm WolfBrown and arts service organization partners in Los Angeles, New York City, Washington, DC, Minneapolis and Philadelphia, Theatre Bay Area will generate a year-long set of activities focused around in-depth work with 18 theatre companies (including some of the most influential regional theaters in the country from Arena Stage to the Public Theater) across the course of a season. This work will include a whole battery of efforts from surveying to long-form interviews, video testimonials, web interface development, and a series of community forums in fall 2010 and summer 2011 – all in an effort to spark a change in the way we, as artists, evaluate and value the arts. Because ultimately, no matter how much we believe it in our hearts, we can’t effectively argue for the value of the arts to anyone if we can’t speak about the parts of art that go beyond restaurant tabs, parking fees and tolls – in a language our debate partners understand.

We’re not trying to replace anything, we’re trying to add. In his book No Culture, No Future, Simon Brault notes, “…[A] one-dimensional and instrumental approach that would only justify or value artistic creation solely where it has calculable economic impact would be immensely more devastating for our society than underestimating the cultural sector’s economic contribution.”

The expansion of the argument for the arts, which began to work its way into the social and intrinsic impact spheres in the 1990′s, must now move from half-million-dollar-plus one-off studies to egalitarianized, easily accessible, standardized tools that anyone from the smallest to the largest cultural institution can use to demonstrate and analyze their own value and their great effect on the social fabric. We need as many tools as possible, and must, in Brault’s words, “come to terms with variable logic and negotiate with a multitude of new partners.” To that, I’d only add, “in a language as concrete and standardized as that which we use to talk about economic impact.”

For more in the Intrinsic Impact: Audience Feedback 2.0 study, visit http://www.theatrebayarea.org/intrinsicimpact, or come to our session!

Outrageous Fortune - Let's Talk About New Plays

The blogosphere is abuzz with discussion of TDF's new book Outrageous Fortune a serious, important, and fairly damning study about the state of new play development and the experience of being a playwright in America today. The study's authors are Todd London (of New Dramatists) and Ben Pesner, and they take a careful and complicated look at the new plays sector, basing his findings on surveys conducted with playwrights, producers and other "new play mavens" and conversations in many cities around the country (including San Francisco). I'm very excited that Todd, Ben, and others from TDF are coming to the Bay Area to lead a community conversation exploring the book's conclusions and discussing potential solutions. If you're a playwright, a director, or care about new plays, you should be there (save the date -- February 9 from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m., more details coming soon).

As many people have commented, if you've ever talked to a playwright in the last decade (and especially if you've worked closely with many of them) this book feels both unsurprising and very unsettling. It's unsurprising (to me anyway) to hear that it's incredibly difficult to make a living as a playwright, that playwrights feel deeply dissatisfied with the current system of new play development, that they feel excluded from institutions, and that it doesn't get much better even when you start to have more success. What I did find shocking, in addition to just the starkness of it all written down like that, was the degree of disconnect between the views of the playwrights and the views of the artistic directors, especially those from the larger theatres. The book itself calls this out as the most surprising and the most disturbing finding, and I agree. It seems that playwrights are profoundly (and often justifiably) suspicious of theatres and their staff, and that theatres suspect playwrights of incompetence, whining and refusal to write for the audiences that the theatre is trying to serve. In fact, I was most fascinated by the chapter on audience and the way in which both sides cited issues with finding the right audience as a key part of the problem. I'll hope to come back next week and post more about that chapter.

In the meantime, buy the book, I mean it. And read about it here on this blog where there is a round-up of many different bloggers' responses or this one. Or even here in the NY Times. And come to our event on February 9.

As saddened as I am by the conclusions in this book, and as much as it lends weight to my often recurring desire to ditch this broken, limping, crazy field of ours, I'm heartened by the possibility of a more open conversation, and the increase in the collective will to change the way we make new plays and the way we support artists in this country.

I hope you'll join the conversation here on this blog, elsewhere online, or in person at our event.