How do we create a more accountable indie theatre community?

I recently went to a Community Dish meeting that focused on the role of playwrights in indie theatre then read a very touching Facebook post by Daniel Talbott (of Rising Phoenix Rep). Both of these experiences hit on something that we often hint at but never address directly: accountability in the indie theatre community.

I've said it before, but I consider making theatre to be a form of community organizing. In community organizing, one of the main principles is accountability. How do we hold ourselves accountable to the people who give us so much? How do we make sure that we are truly a force for good in our communities? How does our work arise from the needs and aspirations of our communities instead of being imposed upon them? How does creating theatre reflect the mutual interdependence between artist and community? How can we frame accountability in the indie theatre community in a way that expands our capacity to think bigger and do better?

I believe we have to begin by thinking beyond individual productions, seasons, and companies. When I visit the websites for indie theatre companies and projects, I learn a lot about art and artists, but I rarely see anything mentioning the community. It's hard to be accountable to the community when you don't talk about the community. And for an art form like theatre, which is so dependent upon the communities we live and work and play in, this is a glaring omission. How can we hold ourselves accountable to a community when we do not define what that community is?

So, talk to me: Who is your community? What binds you together?

For whom does the Black artist make art?

This has been brewing for a while after watching this video and the responses to it. What's been disheartening about all this is what this reveals about the position of the Black artist. It seems that we can't win for losing. Everybody, it seems, wants a piece of what we create. Everyone, it seems, believes we should create for purposes other than our own. Everyone, it seems, has something to say about what we create. Ironically, these clamoring voices push us from the center of our own process, a process that requires us to be centered and in touch with our own voices.

Granted, many Black artists have decided that it's a sucker's game to pay too much attention to that. I'm one of them. But it still bothers me when I come across this attitude that because I am a Black artist, that I need to represent myself a certain way, represent my people a certain way, or represent my experience a certain way if I want my work to be seen as authentic, valuable, or meaningful. In effect, what is valued about an artist who is Black is not authentic self-expression or the capacity to imagine and create new things, but to put what is created to a specific purpose. It is the mindset that says that the reason why we should learn about Black history, Black culture, Black literature, Black art, Black music, and so on is not because Black people are human beings who have history and culture and create literature and art and music, but because the history, culture, art, and music of Black people are useful to others.

So, as much as I dislike what Tyler Perry does, I can understand him saying that Spike Lee needs to go to hell. As much as I don't like how The Help tells a story about Black women, I can understand why Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer pushed back against Tavis Smiley trying to hold them to a standard that no White artist is asked to uphold.

Don't get it twisted. If you thought I was only talking about Black folks doing this, I wasn't. White folks do it too. I have a post in me somewhere about the 5 types of stories Black folks are allowed to bring to mainstream audiences, but that's for another time.

Are you getting what I'm saying here?

manifestos and new models for theatrical communities

Over at 2AMt * Travis Bedard linked to Mariah MacCarthy's Theatermaker's Theatergoing Manifesto. Let me make it short and simple: Read. That. Shit. Right. Now.

Go ahead, I'll wait.

Welcome back.

You know what I like most about this list (besides the fact that I agree with almost every one of the items on it)? Because it puts a name and a face to the anonymous blob known as "the audience" and sets up a process for being accountable to the people we make theatre with and for. Several of the points the manifesto brings up touches on one of the most persistently frustrating aspects of making theatre: the insularity of the theatrical community.

Insular is perhaps the wrong word. But I often sense a very strong unspoken opposition to the idea of mutual cooperation and uplift. It's particularly puzzling for me because in a medium such as theatre, which depends so heavily on cooperation, there is a sort of - unwillingness? - to expand that cooperation beyond our own productions.

Part of what attracted me to WOW Cafe Theatre was this idea of a more collective model of making theatre. It simply makes more sense to me than constantly competing over scraps. Don't get me wrong, collectives come with their own idiosyncrasies. Nevertheless, I find it confusing and sad that we don't see more efforts similar to WOW happening here. I could understand if there was a shortage of talent or ability, but that's not the case. We can take four walls and create another world but we can't take an hour or two of our time to improve our own community. What does that say about us?

If you agree that our theatrical landscape is too White, too male, too upper middle class, what are you doing to fix that? This discussion happens all the time. It's like clockwork. Every couple of months, someone will go, "OMG! Where are the women? Where are the people of color? Why is everything by and about White guys?"

I'm not talking about Broadway. Fuck Broadway. I'm talking about us little guys, us rinky-dink no-name folks in our tiny little corners of Theatre World.

I don't have a full production at the moment (lack of funds and shit), but I've done readings, and sent out copies of my script (*clears throat at James Comtois*). People have given money - more than I expected - for which I'm grateful (and waiting to be made available so I can do a fundraising thingamabob in the near future).

What would help me right now? If people (besides me) would engage with my work. It'd be nice to start a conversation going about the work that goes beyond your typical film or theatre review. And I do try to put my money where my mouth is. I do go to see shows that have nothing to do with my own, which is my way of supporting other theatermakers.

What about you? What kind of support could you use right now? What kind of support can you offer?

* "Rainy Days and Glass Ceilings Always Get Me Down"

Scott Walters is running outta Theatre Ideas!

Food for thought from Theatre Ideas (Rerun: On Possiblity):

What is your possibility? What is the crossroads where you find yourself at this stage of your life or work in the project around which we are assembled? What declaration of possibility can you make that has the power to transform the community and inspire you?

Butts in Seats: New Models?

I came across a great discussion (via Scott's Theatre Tribe ning) about why more people aren't seeing theater. You know what surprised me most? How many "lay people" enjoy theater because it's a community thing, where the communal aspect is where they get the value.

With that in mind, here are some random ideas that popped into my head. Most of them center on package deals for groups, not individuals.

• Offer dirt cheap tickets ($5 tops, and that's in expensive places like NYLADCHI) to a dress or technical rehearsal for schools and colleges. Let them see how things work behind the scenes in the Real World (ie, the world outside the classroom).
• Turn your show into part of a complete night out by offering coupons and discounts to local restaurants. Better yet, feed people before, during, and/or after the show. Offer your show as a place for caterers to market their businesses. Include free concessions as one kind of entertainment package.
• Do the Regal Cinemas Crown Club thing. You know why I usually patronize Regal Cinemas when I see movies with my family? Because I get free stuff based on how much I spend: free soda, free popcorn, even free tickets. I know that printing cards or a lot of paper costs too much, but how about we encourage people to save their tickets to get their free stuff? Say, for every 5 tickets, the 6th one is free. Or bring a ticket stub and a playbill to get a discount on the next show.
• Stage public commercials. Make them funny; make them quirky; make them sexy; make them whatever. But do something different. In my town, there's a poetry reading called Word Stage (I know because they kept saying that in the microphone while I was trying to read). A little too preachy for my tastes, but I admire that they're not afraid to go where the people are.
• Use business cards. Perhaps if they bring in the card when they get a ticket, they get a discount.
• Utilize the captive audience on public transportation.
• Get attractive actors on the auction block. Do date auctions for actors. Better yet, do one for famous characters in theater (Win a date with Hamlet/Romeo/Stanley/Cyrano/etc.) Paying money to interact with people in costume isn't just for Trekkies, comic book fans, role-players and otaku. There's nothing like the hint of sex to get people to spend money.
• Put a Rocky Horror element in every performance. Genetically speaking, we're less than half a step from going "Oook-oook" and flinging poop. Are there places where the audience may get to make noise or throw things? Let them know. Ask them to bring in props or sell them on site.

My brain is pretty fried now. See what I'm doing when I should be writing?