Monthly Archives: June 2010

I Like Moon Pies: CATF and New Plays

Posted on June 30, 2010 | Leave a comment

Hells yes! Contemporary American Theater Festival got a spot on Morning Edition. Definitely take a listen.

I have to disclose that I have a personal interest in CATF: I spent two seasons with them when I was a sproutling, and the experience at that place cannot be topped. I was surrounded by amazing and talented friends, worked harder than ever before, had a f*@&ing blast, and learned more than I could’ve learned in a year of school. On a deep level, I think I admire them most for their unruffled attitude, whether it’s intentional or not. So many regional theaters concern themselves with appearing edgy or hip (good luck) or New York-tied, but CATF is unabashedly its West Virginia self, and you know how it goes–truly cool kids don’t need to say they’re cool. They just are.

Elizabeth Blair’s interview includes one of artistic director Ed Herendeen’s central matter-of-fact ideas about playwrights:

“One of the things I’ve learned over the years, especially working with writers, that it’s very difficult to get the first production, but writers tell me it’s even more difficult to get production number two,” Herendeen says. “In other words, once your play has had its world premiere, lots of theaters don’t want to do it because it’s been done. And then how does your play move on? How does your play have life beyond the world premiere?

As a wanna-be playwright, I wonder the same thing. “World premieres” are sexy, they get highlighted in grant applications and plastered on postcards. There are plenty of theater-to-sex analogies out there, and this is one of them: world premiere = vestal virgin. Although the play remains the same lovely piece of art as it was the day before, it somehow loses its appeal after the run, apparently. What’s to become of all those plays that’ve been had for the first time?

If you’re a producer like CATF, world premiere status doesn’t even matter that much–Ed has the ability to travel and bring new plays from far-away theaters home to WV, and it makes no difference to the audience whether the play premiered at CATF or elsewhere–it’s brand new to them. If you’re a writer, what do you hope for? If you strive to get produced, it’s a catch-22 situation: you can’t get produced if you don’t have a production history, but if you have a production history you can’t get produced. I’m generalizing, I know, but chances are if an idea is convoluted and ridiculous, it’s probably true of the theater industry.

American Theater: We don’t make no sense!®

Working with playwrights, some famous and some not, is Ed’s game, and I sure wish he wasn’t such a one-of-a-kind guy. Many, many more theaters in this country should be like his. What’s the point of theater–a living, of-the-moment art-form–if people continue to show The Cherry Orchard for the 1 billionth time? I suppose this might sound odd coming from someone who works with a Shakespeare-centric company, but we don’t need to agree on everything, do we? (Much love to you, TPTC.) My friends are talking about producing a play I wrote in the winter, and even after being in theater as long as I have, I really don’t have a clue as to what to do with the piece afterwards. That’s kind of sad.

Playwrights shouldn’t be limited to seeing their work premiere and then fizzle out. CATF shouldn’t be as radical as it is. People who disagree will say, “But new plays don’t sell tickets!” To that I say bollocks. If you do good work, people will come. Besides, any play lacking a household name (Shakespeare, Andrew Lloyd Webber and uh… Shakespeare) might as well be brand new; even mainstays like Albee and Shepard are considered a “risk” for audiences.

If the Beatles had produced Please Please Me and nothing else, and continued to play songs from that record over the next decade, no one would like them either. Theater suffers from an overarching boringness, so three cheers to CATF and folks akin who are making new work happen.

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Posted in Artists

Good to Great: Chapter 1

Posted on June 28, 2010 | Leave a comment

At last! Years after I said I would, I’m finally reading Jim Collins’ Good to Great. Business books are interesting to begin with, but I especially like the scientific nature of this study–Collins’ team approached their list of “good-to-great companies” in a very methodical, emotionless way. There are some moral issues to contend with (the eleven good-to-great companies include Philip Morris, Abbott, Fannie Mae etc.) but in a way this makes me like the study even more. The lessons are about how these companies ran/run, not about what they produced. It’s interesting that all eleven companies, different as they are, had remarkably similar business practices. Collins refers to his findings as “timeless ‘physics,’” because no matter how the world changes, he believes he’s found the pure elements of making and running a great company. I know he adapted Good to Great and Built to Last for the social sector, but it’s fun to try to apply for-profit concepts to nonprofits–especially since the concepts are, again, about culture and not products.

Most of chapter 1 involves background on the study, Collins’ reason for conducting the study (“curiosity”), an intro to the book’s layout, and information on the elimination process he and his team used to come up with the test companies. Collins starts with an overview of his concepts:

  1. Level 5 Leadership: the type of leader required to make a company go from good to great. “Self-effacing, quiet, reserved, even shy–these leaders are a paradoxical blend of personal humility and professional will.” Hmm.
  2. First Who … Then What: The essential first-step of getting the right people in place before doing anything else.
  3. Confront the Brutal Facts (Yet Never Lose Faith): This is all about the “Stockdale Paradox”: maintaining faith that you can and will prevail in the end despite difficulties, and at the same time be disciplined to understand and confront your current reality.
  4. The Hedgehog Concept: Understanding the three simple concept areas regarding what you can be the best at.
  5. A Culture of Discipline: With disciplined thought and people, there’s no need for hierarchy or bureaucracy.
  6. Technology Accelerators: Thinking differently about technology. Because it alone won’t make you great.

These concepts are broken into a three-stage timeline moving from disciplined people to disciplined thought to disciplined action.

Discipline is an interesting word to me. It’s used in a number of ways in English, but typically in the negative: discipline = punish. When I think of the word in its more academic/rigorous/diligent sense, it’s a fine word indeed. Discipline is maturity; it gets things done without having to ask or explain.

Good to Great uses the word in a positive way, and theater workers both on and off stage could probably take a few notes. When we’re working, we work hard. But are we disciplined? I’m not sure. I’ll speak for myself because I know I’m not, as much as I’d like to be. I take on so many projects, I end up half-assing a lot of them. When I’m not in rehearsal or under a deadline, I get rusty because I don’t produce anything theater-related. During my long acting phase, I didn’t practice or hone my craft unless I was doing a show. The concept of actor practice, by the way, didn’t dawn on me until a few years ago when I began working with Melissa Fendell and the beginnings of The Anthropologists. Serious face-palm moment. I mean c’mon–musicians practice scales and artists draw sketches–and we spend our time trying to get the next job and go to lame parties and look skinny or whatever. The Anthros recognized this, and we started getting together on weekends to practice Viewpoints.

Discipline is not just about what you do, but what you do not do. Personally, I’m still trying to figure out who I am as both a person and a part of the theater community. I have yet to be astute enough to really channel my energy into the things I’m truly passionate about and reject the filler–no matter how attractive the filler may be.

More on this later, my head is spinning a bit … either from Big Thoughts or DC’s oven weather.

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Posted in Management, Wisdom

Egads! Artists on Payroll?!

Posted on June 18, 2010 | Leave a comment

Everyone is re-posting today’s Washington Post article, “Arena Stage Gives Playwrights Star Status.” Arena Stage, in their massive effort to become a national center for theater, has given five playwrights a salaried, three-year position in their offices, complete with all the benefits regular employees receive. To an outsider, this probably doesn’t seem like a big deal, but a salaried artist is pretty much a unicorn in the arts world. The Post article cleverly points out, “It might sound as if bringing playwrights aboard would be the most routine of customs for an industry in the business of putting on plays.” Ha! Nicely put, Peter Marks, nicely put.

I do think it’s awesome that Arena is doing this. They are a mighty, enduring force in DC and the rest of the country, and I’m glad that a theater its size is willing to spend money on the things it does. Arena may be a big institution, and they may go for the big-seller shows sometimes, but they seem to be pretty passionate about artists–and I anticipate that they’ll soon be using their new complex for good works in the community.

But anyway, here we have another theater taking a well-intentioned stab at raising an artist’s “status.” (Truly American, “status” clearly refers to money, as all five playwrights are highly established and well-respected in their field.)

This salary idea is a radical one, but it sets off an alarm bell or two by … being radical. Of course artists should be treated well and respected, but there’s something awkward about plopping an established playwright into an administrative office for a few years, and something even more awkward about calling them employees, as it were. It’s possible that the article is embellishing a bit–these are 3-year playwright residencies at the American Voices New Play Institute, not staff positions as was stated. When I started to read the details of the project residencies, I asked myself what the thinking, the objective, behind this is. On the next line was the answer from Molly Smith. I smiled:

The thinking is, said Molly Smith, Arena’s artistic director, that each playwright has a specific way of doing things that might or might not jibe with the institution’s. “This will give an opportunity to have artists embedded in every level at Arena,” she said. “Part of what this program does is give them the tools for their best work. And it will give these writers an artistic home, with all the pleasure and pain of an artistic home.”

Pleasure and pain indeed.

Do the playwrights have offices at the theater? Will the playwrights attend staff meetings? Will there be some level of institutional/administrative input from the playwrights? Will they have performance evaluations, half-hour lunch breaks, and timecards to fill out? Are they subject to the same rules and expectations as the rest of the staff? Will the overworked, real-life staff begin to harbor resentment? Do the playwrights really want to be “embedded in every level at Arena”? Most creative, free-thinking types would like to un-embed themselves from the 40-hour workweek.

I say this merely to point out that the theater community tends to mince words, and it’s silly. Arena has rolled out arguably the finest residency program in the country. But a residency is all it is. I’d be surprised if a theater that size could actually have artists on its payroll–in fact, I’m not sure it’s feasible at all. A real staff playwright would be produced more than once every 3 years, the playwright would live in the District (in this case), and he or she would be committed to working with their theater to make it better, as does every staff member. There would also probably be a better balance, such as having actors and designers on staff as well. Arena Stage is already great–it doesn’t need to hire playwrights for three years to generate one play; and the chosen playwrights are also great–they don’t need their hands to be held when it comes to making and workshopping good theater. When you get down to it, they are being monetarily rewarded for their careers, and Arena is being rewarded for monetarily recognizing five decorated playwrights. Everybody wins!

Once again, this is where small theater is lucky enough to be able to live the dream. If you’re free of the burden of running a multimillion dollar institution, you can do things in reverse and have a company of artists who keep the books and post the ads and sell the chips and sweep the theater. Your writers will be “integral parts of a performing arts institution” by default because they were there from day one. There’s no need to force “play development” if it happens organically, with your own group.

I guess I’m something of a hippie. I like homegrown organics.

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Posted in Artists, Lamentations

Fans vs. Patrons

Posted on June 13, 2010 | Leave a comment

A fellow Punk passed around a link to Scot Covey’s blog post, “Fans ignite the engine,” primarily because it parallels theater companies and bands–a common topic of discussion within the company. As a former marketing director in theater and the music industry, Covey has a lot to say and cuts through the bullshit really well. He hates the word “patron”–and not just because “patron” sounds stuffy and geriatric. The word also implies that someone (someone rich) is paying you (someone poor) to make art. Since you’re totally dependent on the patron and he or she is essentially making a purchase, the patron can dictate the outcome of the art. There’s also no indication that a patron necessarily loves you. But fans love you. They eagerly await your next show, they’ll see your show even if they don’t know the piece, they’re loyal and excited. Once again, the message I’m hearing is that theater is about people, and in Covey’s case, specific people. Your ensemble is your band. He says: 

Focus your fan-dom on the things people can get into. Venues rarely have fans, they’re empty vessels. Companies (if they have a strong artistic vision and mostly have the same people in all productions) are more “fan-able.” Actors are best. Few theatergoers can tell direction, so advertising “directed by” is mostly either tradition or vanity. Writers are eminently fan-able, but most newer playwrights don’t have a body of work that can sustain fandom. Let’s take a clue from the movies: people go to see stars. Not scripts, not production companies.

He’s right. No one goes to see the Mead Theatre or the Black Cat. We go to see America Hearts play at the Black Cat, and even if America Hearts has a different lineup than usual, we still know who will be singing, what kinds of sounds we’ll be hearing, and what to expect.

I must of course bring up the problem that theaters are not in fact bands, and the ingredients for a good show aren’t as consistant as they are in music. Sometimes a show needs 9 people, sometimes 2, sometimes the “lead singer” is playing a minor role. I’m intrigued by Covey’s Actors are best line, because that really demands a rigid use of an ensemble. If actors drive your fans, your ensemble must be in every show. At least for now, this isn’t something T-Punk can do; we’re sometimes doing a large Bootleg Shakespeare production with as many friends from the theater community as possible, sometimes doing work by Pauli, T-Punk’s dancer/choreographer, etc. So far, there hasn’t been a show that featured only and all company members. It becomes almost chicken/egg–do you pick shows for the group or the group for shows? As of now, what T-Punk has going for itself is the company “brand.” There’s a lot of room for improvement, but people who come to our shows know they’re not going to get ripped off, and know they’re going to see DIY theater. And if we play our cards right in the near future, they’ll know they’re going to see original music and dance, and our core of awesome actors as well.   

Point is, though, fans trump patrons.

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Posted in Management, Wisdom

Phase 2

Posted on June 9, 2010 | Leave a comment

Hurray! A company meeting was had. It was nice to get (nearly) everyone in the same room for no purpose other than to sort things out. We talked for a while, beginning with much-needed planning for upcoming productions. The second half of the meeting was devoted to administration, as Kyd and I agreed that we need to work on ways to keep ourselves more connected and working more efficiently.

On the agenda:

1) Database

Thanks to TechSoup, Kyd acquired FileMaker Pro on the cheap. No matter how small the company, databases are vital, even if the database is a mere Excel worksheet. We need a central location to access donor profiles, grant history, show history, press archives, volunteers, etc etc. On the few occasions I’ve written grants for T-Punk, I was surprised to learn how much time can be eaten up when information isn’t organized or in one place. Yes, I enjoy neatness. Don’t judge. FileMaker has to be built, but I consider this a great opportunity. Kyd, Esther (the company member who is going to take over individual donor work) and I can build it from the ground-up, tailoring it to our needs. And after years of Raisers Edge work, I’m not afraid. Bring it, database.

2) Company Member Tasks

Everyone in Taffety Punk has a function other than melting faces on stage. Kyd went over the list of job functions, reminding the previous volunteers of their job and giving tasks to the jobless company members. Everyone is working on something that interests him or her, so it works nicely that way. Some people choose jobs because they’re experienced and can do them well; some choose jobs they would like to improve their skills in. I chose grant writing.

3) Equipment

Following the job list came the wish list, which consisted of people shouting out necessary and/or desired items or software. We know we can’t have everything right now, but it’s nice to have that list, because hey, you never know. I shouted out, “Server!” “Printer!” “Server!” Hand-in-hand with the database, a server is necessity #1 in my book. We all generally do our own thing and have different lives, so being able to access the same files and to share information is a high priority. Ooo, Mac minis cost $999! I hope we can get one.

(By the way, if you want to use your nonprofit status for purchases outside of your state, you can as long as you ship to an address in your state. And remember to bring your determination letter.)

4) Newness!

The wish list conversation inevitably led to the brainstorming/ideas/our-future conversation. The question of “What can we make?” was raised. Relying on grant money alone is foolish, and we never charge more than $10 a ticket, so figuring out how to earn money is a hot topic. A few cool ideas that came up:

  • Sell records. We work with musicians and have been lucky enough to get original scores for many shows, so why not release them? Hopefully we can get some of our friends on board. Cos that’d be awesome.
  • Make DVDs and sell em’. We also have filmmaker friends. These would be large projects, but perhaps with a good payoff–not to mention the value of having visual records of all of our shows. (This would also come in handy for touring purposes.)
  • Make documentaries about us and our shows. We have two documentary filmmakers in the group. ‘Nuff said.
  • Make trailers for all shows. We released a trailer for this past winter’s suicide.chat.room, and found that it brought us a lot of good vibes and positive feedback. More people saw it than saw the show.

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Posted in Management

Ira Glass: Taste and the Creative Process

Posted on June 6, 2010 | 1 Comment

To all the young artists out there, watch this clip. It’s brilliant. Just when I couldn’t love Ira Glass any more, my dear friend Rachel sends me this:

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Posted in Artists, Wisdom

Phase 1

Posted on June 5, 2010 | Leave a comment

Here begins the task of being managing director of a company that can’t last with overly tight management. I must avoid bureaucratic waters, even though bureaucracy is what I’ve been accustomed to in 90% of my previous work experiences. Ok. I’m taking it one small step at a time.

Preliminary Step A: Talking to my artistic director

I asked Artistic Director Kyd to coffee. The Kyd is not only artistic director of T-Punk, but he is also its primary founder, primary leader, and only full-time employee (though he is paid for his full-time work in beans and paperclips). Like the other company members, Kyd is a freelance actor, and the question on my mind for our company is how do we realize our individual (and varying) dreams, continue to make quality work, pay the bills, think creatively about the organization, and avoid becoming the next West Boring Theatre Company?

I began by asking him about his vision. It was a two-part question: what does he want for the company, and what does he want his own personal and professional life to be?

Next, we talked about one of my favorite things: infrastructure. What do we need? What do we not need? Who will do what? Our company is made up of independent actors, and most of our face-time takes place during rehearsal and performance runs, so communication beyond show-making is key here. We have to find ways to communicate with each other and to store information. Next up, company meeting.

We also talked about the board. These discussions are usually awkward because they often involve conversations about board members’ contributions, commitment level and how they fit into the role. Our board members are our friends, but it’s possible that a company’s board should change as it changes … I say this is in Kyd’s court. He’s the people-person; my role thus far is to flap my arms and tell him to stay on target.

Preliminary Step B: Library

Time for me to read up on management.

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Posted in Management

Daisey

Posted on June 2, 2010 | Leave a comment

I’m a huge Mike Daisey fan. He’s one of the most talented storytellers I’ve ever seen or heard, and as a special bonus, has a whole lot to say about the arts world. At last: someone who uses the F word is speaking out about our predicament.

I saw Mike’s show, How Theater Failed America, when it played at Woolly Mammoth last winter. Here’s a Seattle Stranger piece and a New York Times article that sum up a few of the show’s major talking points (and see below for his promo reel).

“Corporations make shitty theater,” Daisey says. Yes, they do. And theaters make damn shitty corporations too, don’t they? More on that later. Besides the fact that the show made me gleeful with righteous anger and nearly started fights (!) during Woolly’s well-intentioned post-show talk-back, I took away some nice new thoughts as well. Simple thoughts, but important ones: 1) Theater is about people, 2) Reverence towards the institution of theater will get us nowhere.

Point #2 was not something Daisey said, but a moment of realization for me. This ‘industry’ is not a religion, and theater leaders are not holy. It was great to see someone have the courage to openly talk about the many, many elephants in the room. (In this case, Michael Kahn was one of them. You just had to be there, I guess.)

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Posted in Artists, Wisdom