Showing posts with label producing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label producing. Show all posts

April 22, 2015

How much would it cost to pay a cast minimum wage?

This is an exercise I've done for the Community Dish, waaaaay back when, and now that Actor's Equity has updated the 99-seat plans for LA theaters (aka, theatre for the little guys).

It's not meant to be an argument for or against imposing minimum wage rules. It's more a gauge of how our budgeting would have to change if we want to pay actors a fair wage.

So, when taking into account the $9 per hour minimum wage, how much would it take to hire actors for one of my plays? Say, Encanta.

It goes without saying that a good chunk of the price would depend heavily upon how much each actor needs to rehearse. However, for a rule of thumb, I'm going to use a guideline of 1 hour per minute of running time.

As a play, Encanta can run anywhere from 80 to 100 minutes, so let's aim for the middle at 90 minutes. There need to be 90 total hours of rehearsal. And, if we are adding tech rehearsal, that can easily get to 100 minutes. That's a nice, round number we can use without cutting it too close.

Now, Encanta has 6 named roles and 3 to however many background roles, meaning at least 9 actors. They are:

  1. Penzima
  2. Katrina
  3. Juan
  4. Rico
  5. Maria
  6. Mob Leader
  7. Mob of Haters

The scene breakdowns with estimated running times and characters are below:

  1. Scene 1.1 (10 minutes, 10 hours of rehearsal): Penzima, Juan, Rico
  2. Scene 1.2 (10 minutes, 10 hours of rehearsal): Penzima, Juan, Rico, Katrina, Maria
  3. Scene 2.1 (10 minutes, 10 hours of rehearsal): Penzima, Katrina, Maria
  4. Scene 2.2 (10 minutes, 10 hours of rehearsal): Penzima, Katrina, Juan, Rico, Maria
  5. Scene 2.3 (10 minutes, 10 hours of rehearsal): Penzima, Katrina
  6. Scene 3.1 (5 minutes, 5 hours of rehearsal): Penzima, Maria
  7. Scene 3.2 (10 minutes, 10 hours of rehearsal): Juan, Rico, Mob Leader, Penzima, Mob of Haters
  8. Scene 3.3 (10 minutes, 10 hours of rehearsal): Katrina, Penzima, Juan, Rico, Mob Leader

With those scene breakdowns, the total rehearsal time (roughly) for each part is:

  1. Penzima = 75 hours of rehearsal
  2. Katrina = 50 hours of rehearsal
  3. Juan = 50 hours of rehearsal
  4. Rico = 50 hours of rehearsal
  5. Maria = 45 hours of rehearsal
  6. Mob Leader = 20 hours of rehearsal
  7. Mob of Haters = 10 hours of rehearsal

So, with the $9 per hour minimum wage, this means that each actor should get paid at least the following just for rehearsals alone:

  • Penzima = $675
  • Katrina = $450
  • Juan = $450
  • Rico = $450
  • Maria = $405
  • Mob Leader = $180
  • Mob of Haters = $90 each (minimum 3, so $270)

For performance days, the same minimum wage applies. For 12 performances of 2 hours each (including setup and strike), this means that each actor gets $216 for being on stage, which brings the minimum pay for each actor to...

  • Penzima: $891
  • Katrina: $666 (ha!)
  • Juan: $666
  • Rico: $666
  • Maria: $621
  • Mob Leader: $396
  • Mob of Haters: $306 (minimum 3, so $918 total)

This makes a grand total of  $4,599, so rounding up to $4,600 (or $5,000 to give wiggle room) on top of all other production costs.

For a small production, that...isn't actually so bad.

February 28, 2014

Thinking about space and "Encanta"

I've been giving a lot of thought to space recently.

Aside from the cost of getting rehearsal and performance space for Encanta, I've also been thinking about what kind of vibe I want the space to have, the kind of atmosphere I'd like to evoke.

The closest parallel I can think of is Congo Square, a place I only know about through via description and some photographs. This New Orleans website describes it this way:
Within the park confines is historic Congo Square. Formerly known as Place de Negres, it took its name from the tradition of slaves who gathered there on Sundays, their day off, to sing, beat drums, sell home-made goods, and celebrate.
This is exactly the kind of atmosphere I'm going for. It's crowded and noisy and colorful and the smells of all these different types of food. It's a complete sensory overload with music, food, dancing, conversation, and beautiful Black and Brown people everywhere.

When I think about the kind of space Encanta should occupy, I don't see it in a proper black box theater. I don't even see it indoors. I see it smack dab in the middle of where everything happens.

I don't see the audience sitting still and being quiet in perfectly aligned seats. I see them eating. I see them getting up and moving around, browsing the wares, tasting the food, listening to the music, talking to each other.

And here's the weird part: I don't even necessarily see Encanta happening in one sitting. I can easily split the play up across a three-day event: Act One taking place during the day, Act Two taking place at dusk and/or night, and Act Three happening once again during the day.

The question, of course, is how to make this happen without breaking the bank.

October 31, 2013

So I got all scientifical and found out some stuff

In the vein of there being no problem that the right tool or right mindset can solve, and shamelessly ripping off the Just Ask Them Method of Orlando Jones, I whipped up a survey to see what was going on. I make no promises about this being statistically sound or even the most rigorous method ever. This only reflects the people in my own audience (and maybe the people in their audience).

The findings were pretty interesting, especially when it came to what kept people from seeing more theatre. Here is my extremely unscientific analysis of the findings:

  1. Most people (two-thirds of respondents) see plays once or twice a year, or once every few years.
  2. There's a strong preference for musical theatre (67% of respondents) followed by classics and modern stuff (57% and 50% of respondents, respectively), but there's also a good audience for quirky, off-the-wall stuff (48% of respondents) that doesn't happen all the time.
  3. The biggest hurdle to attendance are price (almost 75%)and transportation (almost 35%). Surprisingly, a good third of people said that having no one to go with (almost 30%) and not knowing what's playing (about one-third of respondents). In addition, lack of access for people with disabilities (wheelchair access, closed captioning for the hearing-impaired, etc.) was also something that impacts some people.
  4. After making it cheaper and bringing it closer, most people (38%) want more help to find out what's on stage.
  5. A huge majority of people (almost two-thirds) are willing to pay around $20 for a ticket. For people with a bigger entertainment budget, that jumps to around $50 (20%). So that means 80% of people are going to shell out for tickets that cost, at most, $50.
  6. A huge chunk of people (60%) are willing to travel up to one hour to see a play.
  7. If money, time, and location were not an issue, most people (70%) would see one or two plays per month or 3 to 5 plays a year. A good fifth of them would even go weekly.
  8. Representation of people of color and LGBTQ people is something that gets brought up when people ask what it would take to get them to see more plays.
  9. People want to see more theatre, but pricing and scheduling often makes that difficult.

When asked about what would get them to see more theatre, a couple of people made a very interesting suggestion: make recordings and/or livestreams of shows available like the MET and MTV Unplugged (remember them?).

This is gravy for a starving artist like me who's practically reattached my umbilical cord to a wifi connection because that's something I said I wanted to do, and more than once at that.

The only barrier, of course, is finding an affordable option (read: has starving artist prices) that also makes it easy for people to attend.

Can someone help me out here?

August 3, 2013

Taking my work beyond the black box

Gwydion is making me think with his blog post ("Theater of Belonging"), especially this part:
What if we started combining what we usually think of as theater with, say, biology experiments? Or yoga classes? Or podcasts? Or role-playing games? Would we find new collaborators to work with us? And thus other audiences to engage with?
And on Facebook, Gwydion mentioned wanting to see more exploration and investigation in theatre, a parallel to research and development in science and technology.

(This is the part where a more patient writer would smoothly transition from one idea to the next. Forgive me for not doing so right now and getting to the good part right away.)

Whenever I feel the need to get back to the essence of what makes theater work, I go back to Peter Brook's The Open Door. One of the things that has most vividly stuck with me is his description of The Carpet Show. With nothing but a rug, the actors, and the audience, The Carpet Show transformed mundane spaces into vibrant, compelling performances.

After my most recent foray into The Open Door, I believe I had something of a breakthrough about the direction I want the development of my work to take.

I realized that more than I want to see my plays put on a Real Stage (TM) with all the bells and whistles, I want my plays to have vitality, to connect with the audience, to give the audience the freedom to imagine different realities. If that is what really excites me about theater, why would I put so much effort and energy into doing things that signify that I am a Real Theater Person (TM) and not an amateur with delusions of grandeur?

Part of me did--and does--want to convince other Theater People (TM) that I know and admire that I'm a Real Theater Person (TM) and serious about my work, which means I have to do "better" than a bunch of people sitting in a circle watching actors play pretend.

But the thing is: that's the part I like because I've never outgrown my need to play with my imaginary friends, to make up stories about them, and to go with them to worlds that can only be entered through the imagination.

Having finally admitted that showing my work on a Real Stage (TM) and proving that I'm a Real Theater Person (TM) are no longer my priorities, where does that leave me? Where does my work go?

Honestly, now that I've freed myself from that, it could go anywhere. In particular, I'd like to do my own rendition of Peter Brook's Carpet Show, using that format as a means of testing where the theatrical vitality of my work is found and how to bring that out in performance. Yet, I also want to play with adding a little bit of the spirit of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, allowing audiences to participate by shouting and throwing various items. Oh, and I want people to be able to film my shows on their iPhones. And tweet during the show. And maybe nix the talkback at the end in favor of asking the audience questions during act breaks, where they are free to come and go and eat and drink and other "inappropriate" things.

In the meantime, I want to keep an eye on what works, what doesn't, why it works or doesn't work, and ideas on how to make it better. A strong sense of freedom and play, plus an equally strong insistence on figuring out what makes something work.

And get the hell out of the damn black box.

February 17, 2013

"Encanta" and indie theatre in the 21st century


Free copies of a full-length play for virtual strangers is not how things are usually done. For the most part, people usually have to pay to see a performance or buy a published script. But with Encanta, I've been much more free-handed about things that I ordinarily would be.

However, it does make you wonder: why would a playwright without a job at a pie factory hand out a script for free that is probably worth charging money for?

The first reason is pragmatic: plays are ultimately meant to be performed, not just read. Production, not publication, is where it's at for a play. The text of a play is, in my view, closer to sheet music than to a novel. Reading Beethoven's Symphony No. 5, while very likely meaningful and enjoyable, is nothing compared to hearing even a recording of it.

Secondly, a lot of theatre hasn't quite caught up to how to reach out via social media beyond promoting the next show. I'm not going to change that by myself, but I do want to do my part to engage 21st century audiences beyond asking people to follow me on Twitter or "like" my Facebook page.

For me, the internet has been crucial for building an audience. It makes no sense for me to treat their participation as auxiliary to bringing my work to life. It also makes no sense for me to make my work less available to them just because they cannot be physically present at a performance.

Then there's the fact that I have never given my script to someone and had them less interested in a live performance. The vast majority of the time, when I gave out my script, the person reading it said, "I have to see this live."

So, to me, this means that I need a different process for engaging audiences with my work.

I came up with 3 layers of engagement that I believe would be a good way to guide how I get my work to its audience from now on.

The first layer is the "Hey, I'm writing this play. Interested?" layer. I call it "Creation" in the picture because that's what was legible in the circle.


This part of the process is not just about writing the piece. It's about sharing my vision for what the play will mean to the audience. For me, one of the first things I ask is, "Who will see themselves here?" and "What are they going to see about themselves?" It's the appetizer and a taste of what's to come.

A story about a sorceress and a pirate falling in love is nothing spectacular in and of itself. But when I say that every single character is LGBTQ and Latin@/Afro-Latin@, that means something to people. People, especially people excluded and marginalized in arts and entertainment, care about that because they want to see themselves in ways they normally don't get to see themselves. So, they're immediately hooked and want to know more about where I'm going with it. This usually means a complete draft. Or several, in the case of Encanta.

From here on out, things are a bit more experimental.

The second layer is the, "Let's see what we can do online" phase. I call it "Virtual Event" in the picture because, again, it's legible and fits in the circle. This is the main course.


The first thing that came to mind for this was a livestreamed performance where the audience hangs out in a chatroom or on a Twitter hashtag. No camera tricks. No movie magic. Just what actors can do just from the strength of their performance. This includes readings, staged readings, and workshop productions. Not to mention interviews with the writer, cast, and crew, and so on. I believe this could be the main form most performances would take because they would by far be the most accessible.

I have no idea how the logistics of this where tickets and what not are concerned, but it's one of the ideas I had.

Finally, there's what I call "Live Event" (once again, because it fits and its legible), which in my mind I think of as the "Icing on the Cake" layer.


Here is where the fully realized productions would happen. It's what we have for dessert. Just as every meal doesn't have dessert, every piece won't become a fully realized production. And that's fine. The point is to get the piece performed and in front of an audience.

The great thing about these layers is that they are very porous. None of them has to work in isolation from the others. For instance, it's entirely possible to combine a live event with a virtual event.

February 6, 2013

Back to my roleplaying roots

Inspired by Flux Theatre Ensemble's BARP (Big Artistic Risk Project) and Howard Shalwitz' TCG post about theatrical innovation, I've finally decided to put pen to paper about the sort of production process I want.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that I want a production process that goes back to my roots in roleplaying games like Dungeons and Dragons, World of Darkness, and so on. I come from a background where the only thing I needed to build a world, develop a story, and/or make a character were a few sheets of paper, a book, some dice and my own imagination.  I could enhance the experience with costumes and props, but I never needed them to feel fully invested in the setting, the story, or my character.

I love how, in roleplaying games, the act of exploration itself (through playing the game) organically gives rise to coherent characterization, narrative, and aesthetic. None of these things are truly determined beforehand. Sure, the Game Master (GM) may give you an idea of some of these things, and you can read about a lot of it online or in a rulebook. But it isn't until we start playing that those things really start to take form and come together.

I love the sheer freedom of roleplaying games. I love the fact that I don't have to wait to be given permission to bring something that enhances the game (music, pictures of people and places, props, even food!).  Even more than that, I love it when doing so inspires the other players to do likewise. In my favorite games, there was a jazzy vibe where each player brings something different yet essential, and we're constantly riffing off each other, just taking what each person offers and going with it.

The time commitment for a roleplaying game is also fairly manageable. It's not unusual for a group of roleplayers to meet every week and play for 3-4 hours. This could go on for months or years. I'm not talking about people who have no lives outside of roleplaying. I'm talking about people who often have families and full-time jobs that require their care and attention. For them, it's relatively to commit long-term to playing every Tuesday evening for the next five months. Much easier than, say, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evening for the next five weeks.

I want to get back to that. Or, to be more precise, I want to bring more of that into making theatre.

This cannot work with the way theatrical productions in NYC usually happen. The key elements that need to change are the division of labor and the time commitment.

I'll address the time commitment first because that's easier.

I'd rather do one two- to three-hour session every week for six months to a year than cram everything into 3-4 months of frantic activity. To me, it's like the difference between microwaving a can of soup and making soup from scratch and putting it in a crock pot. With more time to simply breathe, would more nuances in texture and flavor emerge?

I also want a process that lets go of expected results. Nobody begins a game knowing exactly what's going to happen by the end. So, I don't want to determine from the outset if this process would lead to a staged reading, a workshop, or a full production. It'll definitely lead to something, but I want to tailor the results to the process rather than vice versa. Let's say that the group commits to six months of weekly meetings. If, at the end of that, a fully realized performance is the next step, that's what happens. If a staged reading is where it's at, that's what happens. If it's something in between, that's what goes next.

Another aspect of roleplaying games that I want to see more of in theatre is blurring the line between audience and participant. In roleplaying games, the audience and the players are one and the same. While theatre often plays with the fourth wall (mostly by dragging them into the play somehow), I'd love to simply have a play where the characters are doing what they do while the audience itself forms part of the scenery somehow (as trees, a faceless mob, a flock of birds, people on the street, watchful spirits from beyond, or some such), and the actors treat it as such.

Now, I want to be clear that this wouldn't mean six months of navel-gazing and twiddling thumbs then getting to the "real" work of putting on the play (learning lines, blocking, etc.). It would still involve much of the same stuff as rehearsals and production meetings. The only differences are that: 1) everyone is involved from the outset, and 2) it becomes part of the rehearsal process rather than separate from it.

The way it usually happens in theatre is that the performance and the production are treated separately. So, you have the cast doing actor stuff while the crew does designer stuff and production stuff. And then there's the director who's trying to hold it all together with the help of the stage manager and maybe an assistant director. Not to mention the producer who's trying to keep it all under budget.

For the scope I prefer to work with, this seems inefficient and arbitrarily limiting to me. To me, it matters less who does what than that it gets done. That is, if it needs to get done at all. (Personally, I believe there's something to be said about exploring what can be done with nothing but performers in a space before putting a lot of time and effort and money into hiring a designer.) Even when choosing a designer, it always struck me as strange that their work gets done in isolation rather than in collaboration with the people who are most directly impacted by those design decisions.

I suppose that the general principle would be to add more to the production as the need arises. I'd start with the essentials: actors, text, an empty space. Everything else would be added once we see a need for it and not a moment before. For instance, a designer would only come into the picture if no one has ideas, if no one can agree on anything, or if something needs to be made that no one can make themselves.

This reflects the setup of the roleplaying games I've been a part of that all start with players, rules, and a place to play.

The trade-off for all this freedom and input is more responsibility for the production as a whole. Everybody does script analysis. Everybody does marketing and publicity. Everybody contributes ideas for the set, props, costumes, etc. Granted, there may be people who have the final say on these things, but the process of actualizing a performance is shared by all.

March 16, 2012

"Tulpa" needs a set designer!

VISIONARY SET DESIGNER NEEDED for TULPA, OR ANNE&ME
Written by Shawn C. Harris, directed by Aaron D. Pratt

Last year, TULPA, OR ANNE&ME made its debut at the Planet Connections Theatre Festivity. This year,TULPA, OR ANNE&ME is headed to the Fresh Fruit Festival, with a bold vision and fresh ideas.

Part whimsical fantasy, part realist drama, part gothic horror, TULPA, OR ANNE&ME tells the story of a withdrawn artist whose life gets turned upside down when Anne Hathaway crawls out of her television. With the help of her powerful imagination and two outspoken Guardian Angels of Blackness, she and Anne struggle to find a way to connect with one another. What unfolds is an intimate portrait of a relationship that asks us how race impacts what two people can truly be to one another.

We need a visionary SET DESIGNER who can:

  • put their creative stamp on the production 
  • turn a bare stage into a vivid, evocative mindscape 
  • do amazing work on a shoestring budget 
  • make a mobile set that can be put up or broken down quickly (15 minutes tops) 
  • be reliable and easy to work with (no flakes! no divas!) 
  • commit to working on the project from now until July 

This production of TULPA, OR ANNE&ME will not be yet another living room drama. If you really want to get creative and show off what you can do, this is the project for you.

Although education and experience are helpful, what matters most is your passion, vision, and commitment. A passion for comics (mainstream and indie), anime, manga, and graphic novels would be an amazing bonus.

Because of the play's subject matter and my personal interest in giving opportunities to underrepresented artists, women, people of color, and LGBTQ people are strongly encouraged to apply.

I am hoping to make my final selection by April 1. Please send all inquiries and supporting materials (samples REALLY help) to: Shawn C. Harris at whoisyourtulpa[at]gmail[dot]com.

January 12, 2012

"Tulpa, or Anne&Me" fundraising campaign ends TODAY

On January 12 at 11:59pm EST, the IndieGoGo campaign for my play, Tulpa, or Anne&Me is ending. Although people have supported the project by contributing a total of about $1,700, there is still $1,300 to go.

Let’s break this down mathematically. If only 130 readers each donate just $10 TODAY, Tulpa, or Anne&Me will reach its fundraising goal.

With so many conversations going on about who gets to tell stories about people of color, the importance of things like “Shit White Girls Say … To Black Girls,” the release of George Lucas’ Red Tails, and otherwise being an ally supporting voices of color in arts and entertainment, your contribution sends a message that it matters to you that these find their way on stage and screen, that it matters who tells these stories, that it matters who benefits from these stories, and that it matters who gets to witness these stories.

Tell the world that it matters to you. Take a couple of moments to say so now.

P.S. If you are sick and tired of first-person shooters starring square-jawed White dudes, you should check out and support the Arkh Project too.

December 5, 2011

Walking the talk on moneyballing theatre

As my plans for the 2012 production of Tulpa, or Anne&Me start coming together, I'm in a pretty good position to apply some of the ideas I brought up in my "What If . . . Theatres Played Moneyball?" post. As I'm researching venues and running the IndieGoGo campaign (which you should contribute to if you haven't already), I'm also thinking of ways to describe what I'm looking for in various members of the cast and crew.

Being that the director is the keystone person in all this, I created a job ad for a director that lays out, in simple terms, what I need that person to do. When writing it, I gave myself a few "rules" to work with, such as:

  1. Must be written as "can do," not "must have"
  2. No less than 3 but no more than 7 requirements
  3. Directly mention the people I want to apply

What I came up with was:

This play needs a DIRECTOR who can:

  • apply anti-racist principles and practices to all aspects of production
  • create an amazing theatrical experience with limited tech and budget
  • work within the guidelines of the AEA showcase code
  • respect the playwright's voice and vision
  • collaborate with the playwright to select cast and crew
  • schedule and attend all rehearsals
  • maintain a healthy working environment

Although education and experience are definitely helpful, what matters most is your passion, vision, and commitment - and how easy you are to work with. Because of the play's subject matter and my personal interest in giving opportunities to underrepresented theatre artists, queer women of color are strongly encouraged to reach out.


I am seeking to make my final decision by January 15. 


Please send all inquiries and supporting materials (if any) to [my personal info].

Hopefully, this will draw people who would be the biggest assets to the production and not just those who interview well. I'm sure that some experienced theatre artists may look at my requirements and go, "Well, duh!" But I've heard a lot of stories about people who get involved in projects without being solid on the "Well, duh" parts and wind up creating a complete clusterfuck. As time goes on, I've learned to give myself credit for the fact that, while I make mistakes, I don't have to make ALL the mistakes ALL by myself to learn.

I hope that, should I find a director this way, I can apply the same thing to the rest of the cast an crew.

What about you? Do you have any experiences with "moneyballin" theatre? How did it turn out?

November 3, 2011

Will you contribute $50 to support theatre by and about queer Black women?

“When I dare to be powerful - to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid” — Audre Lorde


Earlier this year, I wrote and produced a play called Tulpa, or Anne&Me that debuted at the Planet Connections Theatre Festivity.

Since that first production, I’ve often been asked about what’s next for Tulpa, or Anne&Me. This is a great sign because it means that the play has touched people in some deep places and led to powerful moments of growth and healing for many. I feel a real responsibility to make this piece the best I can make it and bring it to as many places as I can where people want and need to see it.

Right now, I’m talking with someone who can offer me an opportunity for more performances in mid- to late April. Despite the fact that I’m based in NYC, there are still only a few plays by and about queer Black women being made. Although the world we live in wants me to be comfortable with feeling insignificant, I no longer have the luxury to deceive myself into believing that my work and my voice are not important.


I am raising $3,000 for the 2012 production of Tulpa, or Anne&Me. If only 60 people contribute just $50 each*, I can reach that goal. If only 60 people contribute just $50 each, my work will have another chance to do what it’s meant to do — pave the way for healing and transformation in our lives, relationships, and communities. If only 60 people contribute just $50 each, they will be doing more than putting a story on stage, but creating a vibrant opportunity to honor those of us who are Black and woman and queer.

  Will you contribute $50 to be part of that process?


(*That works out to only 1 person a day for the next 60 days.)

October 19, 2011

Follow-up "Moneyball" post at TCG Circle!

At TCG Circle, I ask, "What if . . . theatres played Moneyball?"

Then I dig deeper by asking, “What if, instead of relying on gut reactions and chemistry, we figured out a way to describe, observe, and measure what we are looking for?”

Check it out and drop a few of your ideas!

October 13, 2011

What if . . . Indie theatre played Moneyball?

There's rich teams, and there's poor teams. Then there's 50 feet of crap, and then there's us."
-- Brad Pitt as Billy Beane, Moneyball

I'm not much of a sports fan, so Moneyball was a real departure for me in terms of my normal film viewing habits. That said, I was glad I went to see it because what I saw got me thinking about the way we approach making theatre.

In the film, the Oakland A's is a major league baseball team that doesn't have the money to attract and maintain star players. When they get someone really good, they're quickly snapped up by teams that can offer a lot more money. In effect, the A's were constantly hemorrhaging talent to rich teams like the Yankees and the Red Sox.

The story starts when the A's have just lost their top three players, which they have to replace on the same limited budget they've always been operating with. Having had enough of this, General Manager Billy Beane starts to question the conventional wisdom of finding and recruiting talent. Help comes in the form of Peter Brand, a Yale economics graduate who has adapted a system for determining just how much a player can contribute to winning games. It completely goes against the old way of thinking about what matters when it comes to how baseball games are won. The system leads to the A's uncovering rare gems in major league baseball who were previously overlooked because they looked and performed differently from the square-jawed All-American ideal of what makes a great baseball player. The result was what Peter Brand called the major league baseball version of the Island of Misfit Toys. Once they were able to maximize and synergize the unique talents of these players, the A's had a 20-game winning streak.

I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this.

What if . . . we applied Moneyball thinking to off-off-Broadway theatre?

How would we take out the guesswork and bias of conventional wisdom to find what truly works for the theatre we want to make? How can we transform the way we relate to and organize with other people in the trenches with us? How can we maximize the strengths of off-off-Broadway theatre to uncover the hidden gems that get overlooked by the current way of doing things?

The way things look now, a lot of us are doing what Broadway does but on a smaller scale (in other words, cheaper). From our selection process to putting together a cast and crew to securing a venue for rehearsal and performance, there's nothing about the way we go about doing these things that separates us from the big guys. We even look for the same things when we do this, with a few cosmetic differences here and there.

We're all on the lookout for this vague thing called quality and striving for this thing we call excellence. Although this can lead to some amazing results, I sometimes wonder if this is despite the system rather than because of it.

What would happen if we took the search for quality out of the equation? What if, instead of relying on what we call talent or chemistry, we figured out a way to describe, observe, and measure what we are looking for? How would that change the way we talk about what we're trying to do? How would that change who could be involved in that process? How would that change where we worked? How we worked? Why we worked? What we worked with/on?

What I see happening is a move away from credentials and connections toward model where individuals come together to create theatre for a specific purpose in a distinctive way. Imagine more things like FUREE in Pins and Needles, things that could not happen in any other environment but one that made room for experimentation, encouraged the participation of non-specialists, and facilitated direct collaboration within communities.

At least, that's what I hope would happen.

June 27, 2011

Now that it's over: reflections on "Tulpa, or Anne&Me" at Planet Connections Theatre Festivity

Now that Tulpa, or Anne&Me is officially through with its run at Planet Connections Theatre Festivity, I can reflect on some of the things we did that went well and those that could have gone a lot better.

I'm hugely indebted to Little Jimmy's Guide to Self-Producing. As a result of the things I learned there, I was able to do 2 things I consider very important for every production: 1) pay everyone a little something and 2) stay under budget. Of course, as a playwright, the audience response and the artistic collaboration were the most satisfying aspects of producing Tulpa, or Anne&Me for the Planet Connections Theatre Festivity. But as a producer, staying under budget and paying people were my most crucial tasks.


Looking back on it, I'd say that my function as a producer is to create a framework under which the creative team can do its best work despite limitations in time, budget, and personnel. This suits me to a T because my mind works in a strongly systemic way, and producing is basically creating and managing a system. I'm a classic Meyers-Briggs INTJ, so I flourish in a role like this.

That being said, although I enjoyed producing Tulpa, or Anne&Me for the Planet Connections Theatre Festivity, there are some things I'd do differently if I knew ahead of time that I'd be doing it. The main thing, though . . .

Get the people first.

Although the nature of our project changed from a staged reading to a production, in retrospect we should have started looking for our cast and crew as soon as we got the news that we were accepted into the festival. On the one hand, we didn't want to put too many resources into a staged reading, but we should have treated a production as a likelihood instead of as a distant possibility. This would have made things like booking rehearsal space a lot easier as well as given us more time to work with design elements.

Everything turned out great for the festival; we were very lucky in that regard. The next time around (especially knowing what we're going to be doing), we have to be more diligent about this part of the process.

Besides mounting the production itself, getting the cast and crew involved at the very beginning of a production makes it much easier to do things like fundraising and audience building. It's easier for 10 people to raise $2,500 than it is for 2 people to raise $2,000. It's easier to ask 10 people to each convince 5 people to see the show than it is to get 1 person to get 50 people to come see a show.


And while we're at it . . .

Take the time to learn about and accommodate how people work.

Unless you are working with people who are just like you, there are going to be differences in the way everyone works. Part of working well with others is learning how to speak their language so that they can get what you're saying with a minimum of static.

For instance, in an early rehearsal, one of the actors mentioned that she's a highly auditory learner. That was such a revelation. It opened up a whole new way of relating to her and understanding how she sees the world. Yet how long would it have gone ignored had she not brought it up? How often do we overlook the ways we can better communicate with people? How often do we think to say, "This is what I need to do my best work?"

April 11, 2011

I'M SPEAKING IN ALL CAPS IN MY BRAIN!!!

You know when I told you all about Tulpa, or Anne&Me getting a staged reading at the Planet Connections Theatre Festivity?

Fate just turned me into a liar. And that's a good thing!

Over the weekend, my co-producer Sara and I found out that Planet Connections has full performance slots available to us. Read that again. Instead of a staged reading, we're moving up to an actual production. The reason why I'm telling you now is because Sara had to sleep on it, and I had to make sure I was awake. You ever have something so big happen to you so quickly that you don't know how to feel about it? That's where I am right now.

As you read on the Flux blog (You do read the Flux blog, right?) and saw on our IndieGoGo campaign, Tulpa is really doing something new both artistically and politically, so we're eager to bring it to life.

But a production also means that we need more money to pay for stuff like a stage manager, designers, tech people, rehearsal space, and set/props and such. We estimate a total cost of about $2,500 to make this production happen, as opposed to the $1,000 necessary for the staged reading.  With an opening performance set for the first week of June, we don't have a lot of time to put that together.

There are 5 days still left on our IndieGoGo campaign, and there is no limit to the amount we can raise.  We set a new goal to raise an additional $1,000 by this Friday to make the production of Tulpa a reality.  It sounds like a lot, but if only 40 people donate just $25, we'll reach our goal. I get that money is tight, but every little bit you do means a whole lot- even if it's just telling a friend (or ten), posting about Tulpa on your blog, or linking to our IndieGoGo campaign via Twitter, Facebook, or what have you. Yes, yes, I know there's a lot of bold in this paragraph, but I can't emphasize this enough.

Dates, times, and venue for the performance TBA.
 
I can't wait to show you what we can do.


Thanks for your support everyone! This is way beyond what I dared to hope!

June 16, 2010

crossroads, making progress, and thoughts on fundraising

So, Crossroads Theatre Project is gaining momentum thanks to some very generous supporters (from the blogosphere and LiveJournal). In a little less than 10 days, people have contributed over $300 in support.

This looks like a little bit, but if you extrapolate over a few weeks, that's a hell of a lot for a no-name play by a no-name playwright. There's still a long way to go, but if things keep going at this rate, we'll meet the financial goals for a full production of Tulpa, or Anne&Me within 10 weeks.

And the benefits of that are very tangible for our would-be audience. In a nutshell, more shows at reasonable prices*.

(*I define reasonable as what I'd pay to go see a movie - ticket, popcorn, and soda. I got the ticket part down. It's the popcorn and soda I need to work on.)

June 6, 2010

Save the date! June 23 staged reading of Tulpa, or Anne&Me

Venue TBA. If we get some support, we could rent out a place for a few hours (4 tops) for a staged reading that weekend too.

BTW, since getting fiscal sponsorship with Fractured Atlas, you can help out by donating online now. Check it out!

Donate now!

Go me.

June 3, 2010

Fiscal sponsorship is a go!

You can now donate online!

Donate now!

36 hours, 36 lessons

This is gonna be pretty disjointed. Don't say I didn't warn you.

  1. Putting together an improv staged reading in 36 hours is doable, but at least shoot for 48.
  2. Concessions are a great idea. Even if you're doing a free show, at least have bottled water available.
  3. People really appreciate having cold water available to them in a hot space in the summer.
  4. Even improvs need rehearsals.
  5. When writing the script, it's easy to forget that the stage is empty except for what you put on it. Remember that while rewriting.
  6. Concessions should be profitable. You don't have to go movie theatre crazy with prices, but you can go higher than the bodega around the corner.
  7. Limit the props you need. Remember - you'll have to haul that shit if you want it in the play.
  8. When choosing concessions, go for cheap and non-perishable. Anything you gotta keep in the fridge is probably not a good idea.
  9. Insect repellent = good investment.
  10. If the schedule says 4:00, you're probably going to start by 4:30.
  11. Plan to go half an hour over time.
  12. Clean up after yourself.
  13. Write the script as though real people with real bodies have to pull it off in a real space.
  14. If non-actors with little rehearsal can make a script work, imagine what actors and rehearsals can do.
  15. Sexuality - even suggested sexuality - is way more intimate on stage than on screen.
  16. Perhaps the kink circus is a bit much.
  17. Actors should have a reason to be on stage. Don't force them to do nothing.
  18. Take a piss before the show starts.
  19. Stage lights are bright. Wear shades. Besides, it makes you look all artistic and hip.
  20. Stage lights are hot. Combine stage lights with summer weather and . . . yeah.
  21. "If you build it they will come."
  22. There is no such thing as an actor-proof script. Thank God.
  23. Make an effort to be inclusive. You never know who could rock the shit out of a role.
  24. Do not put yourself in the performer's and director's seat at the same time. Just. Don't.
  25. Kill your babies. Yes, that line was funny. Yes, that part sounds poignant, but if it doesn't work for the piece it has to die.
  26. Keep several versions of the script on hand. You never know if you said something better in a previous draft.
  27. You don't get what you don't ask for.
  28. Remain open to sudden changes.
  29. Ask questions. Especially stupid questions.
  30. Find the right people, and most of the work is done for you.
  31. If they're not getting paid, thank them.
  32. Everyone likes brownies.
  33. Actors love food. Feed them.
  34. You'll probably do this to yourself again because you love it. So stop complaining.
  35. You will be tired, but it's the good kind of tired.
  36. I'm only putting this here because I said I'd do 36.

Know actors looking for something to do? Read on.

There's already a Craigslist ad for it, but it's good to have it everywhere.

On Saturday, May 29, I had an improv staged reading for Tulpa, or Anne&Me. An improv staged reading I had less than 36 hours to put together. Remember, this is Gus Schulenburg's fault. If you feel you should be fairly compensated, I suggest robbing him at gunpoint.

So, here is the pertinent info (aka, the part that makes me look like a serious theatre professional):

TULPA, OR ANNE&ME
"Tulpa, or Anne&Me" is an experimental, semi-autobiographical full-length play that confronts the intersections of race, gender, and sexuality through pop culture, womanism, and Tibetan mysticism.

SYNOPSIS
When a tulpa in the form of Anne Hathaway crawls out of your television, what do you do? What do you talk about? What hopes, fears, desires, and resentments emerge? How would you change one other?

"Tulpa, or Anne&Me" explores the hidden inner life of a Black woman in order to expose how marginalization traumatizes the human psyche, thus taking the first steps toward healing it.

CHARACTERS
Actors needed for 4 female roles. Credentials and experience are great. What matters most is being easy to work with and your ability to bring passion, intelligence, sensitivity, and conviction to the role. Available parts:
  • ME: Black woman, mid-20s to early 30s. Plain-looking, reserved, introspective. 
  • ANNE HATHAWAY: Tulpa of the movie star. More than what she seems. 
  • GUARDIAN ANGEL OF BLACKNESS #1: An angel. The protective one. Big, loud, and fierce. 
  • GUARDIAN ANGEL OF BLACKNESS #2: An angel. The nurturing one. Warm, calm, and compassionate - to a point.
Trans women encouraged to audition.

BASIC INFO
WHAT: First audition for a staged reading of "Tulpa, or Anne&Me" followed by brief interview
WHEN: Saturday, June 5. Audition time slotted for 5PM-9PM. Plan for 15-20 minutes for audition and interview.
WHERE: WOW Cafe Theatre. 59-61 E. 4th St (Manhattan), 4th floor.
HOW: Best way - send me an e-mail. Give some info about yourself and why you're interested (this part is important). Let me know when you're coming and which character you want to audition for (this part also important). Headshot and resume welcome, but not necessary. I can send you character-specific material to look over before you arrive. Second best way - just show up.
PAY: Gratitude.

Know someone who'd be good for this project? Feel free to let me know.