On theatre in society: porosity

I’ve been following, with great interest, the ongoing North American discussions (largely catalyzed by Mike Daisey’s How Theatre Failed America) about economic models for theatre, and how the current system is broken.  Although no system for anything is ever perfect, my firm belief is that the demand for ‘economic stability’ in art is just a symptom of a society whose definition of ‘value’ is corrupt.  But I digress.  The real reason I’m chiming in right now is because there are some new-ish threads of conversation on the topic that have (tangentially?) stirred my brain.

Chris Ashworth started it, I think, with a terrific and detailed post about a new theatrical funding model.  This banner was picked up with clarifying joy by Scott Walters, and instantly spun by Jess Hutchinson into a fervor of excitement that I have finally caught.  I’m a little slow.  [ASIDE: All of these folks are terrific people to follow, and I just want to point out by way of digging at naysayers that they and many others like them are the kinds of people one can easily locate, follow, and connect with via Twitter; theatre practitioners and artists, in particular, are way behind in understanding the immense value of these tools... but I digress again...]

The crux of Ashworth’s post, whether or not you feel his model will work in practice, is the idea that theatre’s “product” is actually the work leading up to the ability to sell tickets to a performance… not the performance itself.  In his own words:

You have said, at some point in your artistic life, a sentence very much like this one: “Art is about the process.” You sagely observed to a student that “it’s really all about the process”, or “my work is about a process of [fill in the blank]“.You’ve said it. Admit it. And then after you said it, you went and sold someone a ticket to the final product. The thing your art is only fractionally about.

My mind has been gnawing on this for a little over a week; along with this tasty morsel, my mind has tossed in my thoughts on actor-audience relationship, my thoughts on the function of art, and some other discussions about shared spaces and about how technology has forever-changed the business-to-customer relationship, and I am now more convinced than ever that theatre can and must distinguish itself from film, TV, and new media by being completely porous to its audience. I’m not completely sold on the feasability of Ashworth’s funding model, but I think the heart of his argument is profound and, I hope, paradigm-shifting.

In my view, this is how we share the “process” and not the “end result”: theatre artists must be integral parts of the communities in which they are based, whether or not those communities are “home”.  We must be completely a part of the community; the community must be allowed to feel completely part of our work.

We owe it to audiences to be approachable; this is not an ‘outreach’ function, but a core function.  We owe it to audiences to share what we have learned through our practice; this is not an ‘education’ function but a core function.  We owe it to audiences to provide them with art that they want to see and that is relevant to them; this is not a ’subscription renewal’ or ‘programming’ function, but a core function.  We owe it to audiences to tell them their own stories, and to help themselves tell their own stories; this is not a ‘play development’ function, but a core function.  What I hope will distinguish me as a theatre artist and not just an actor is my dedication to all of these things as part of my work, to the very best of my ability.

I believe that these things can be injected into our current practices in a way that creates synergy and does not bog us down, provided we keep reminding ourselves that it is the practice that matters, and not the presentation.

See, inside the heart of all the discussion about why theatre is dying lies a rhythmic beat of “it’s not relevant.  It’s not relevant. It’s not relevant.”  We can all hear it, but the response to the drum-beat is generally wrong-headed because it revolves around a revival through increased ticket sales.  No: we need to revolve it around the body that owns the hand that’s banging the drum.

If this integration of art and audience can be achieved, the life-blood of the theatrical form and, yes, even the ‘funding’, will follow.  If, as artists, we can be an important part of our audience’s lives, the relevance will be apparent and immediate to the people we rely upon for support.  We won’t have to beg for help once every season or for every project; it will be offered freely because our audience — our heart — will know us as a valued source of solace, of entertainment, of reflection, of provocation, and of evolution.

So simple.  So right.  So do it, already.