Question. How do you think the theatre industry as a whole fares against accusations of Racism?

There is no need to kid ourselves, the American theatre is overwhelmingly white. Chicago's theatre, ensembles, critics, playwrights, directors, designers, administrators, audiences, funders--all are predominately white. (The irony of a white alpha male talking about diversity is not lost on me.) Our theatre is also predominately made up of charitable organizations that receive public funding to function.

This has come up repeatedly, and the usual reply is: I'M NOT RACIST, followed by: not enough people applied or auditioned, or we have to look after our ensemble, or insert caveat here.

Institutional Racism is a pesky problem.

Institutional racism is defined as the differential access to goods, services, and opportunities of society. When this differential access seeps into our institutions, it eventually becomes common practice, making it that much harder to rectify. Eventually, this racism dominates our public bodies, corporations and universities, and is reinforced by the actions of newcomers and conformists. Another difficulty with reducing institutionalized racism is that there is no true identifiable perpetrator. When racism is built into the institution, it appears to be an act of the collective population.

No one in the body needs to be a bigot for this to happen.  And yet it does. Our theatres and ensembles are institutionally white, and often it is not out of malice or maliciousness. Hiring actors is one thing, doing co-productions is one thing. Having a significant part of your ensemble or organization look like your city is a whole different ballgame.

When I first started working in theatre I didn't even notice it. The township I grew up in (I'm not a city boy) is 97% white. I don't expect that to change anytime soon as there are not many jobs and no reason for someone to move there. I went to a small liberal arts college that was predominately white. So when I started in theatre it just seemed normal at first.

I was part of a company for a long time that was all white men. About six years in they added a couple of women to the ensemble. (Ironically, they worked with many female directors over the years.) Scripts were chosen primarily for showcasing the ensembles talents. It is a very talented group; however, if a show didn't have roles for folks it was not considered. So you get into a repetitive pattern that is very hard to break.

As I moved farther into my adulthood, the trend became more and more noticeable. Finally, I left the old company that I had been a part of for years and Jenn and I started Halcyon. Here's the thing. The  old company is the very definition of institutional racism. The company members are all really good people. Those two things unfortunately are not mutually exclusive.

Not too long ago Adam over at Mission Paradox wrote about Diversity in the Arts. In the comments someone asked, "What are your suggestions for avoiding this situation when you're seeking to diversify your theater company?"

I took a moment to give my two cents:

I can only speak from my experience in Chicago; however, the only way to do so is to be aggressive about it. It needs to be part of everything you do.

If you sit back and wait for it to happen, it won't. Putting out an audition notice ad waiting for actors to come to you won't work.

Go out and find people; talk to other companies; ask for recommendations; go to shows of culturally specific orgs; see their work and scout their talent.

So many companies say they encourage minority actors and don't reflect that on their stages. So few actually show any diversity in their work, that most actors of color won't go to an audition and waste their time so they can be offered the "ethnic role".

Thirty seconds on a company's website will tell someone if it's worth their time or not. If the company is homogeneous, and all previous shows have been filled with artists who all look the same, you need to prove you're not just providing lip-service.

Once actors see that you are in fact following through with your words, not only casting inclusively, and casting actors of color in good roles, you will start to see a vast difference in who is coming to auditions.

Once everyone sees that the theatres across the country and in Chicago start following through with their words and diversifying themselves, you will start to hear fewer charges of institutional racism. It is telling that the Goodman, which is scarily a leader among larger orgs, can honestly boast that over the last twenty years fully one-third of their productions featured artists of color. We have a long way to go as an industry and as institutions if featuring one artist of color in one-third of your productions is worth boasting about.

How do you think the theatre industry as a whole fares?

As more and more comes out about the breakup over at Lincoln and Byron, the more it looks less like a dysfunctional marriage and more like a microcosm of a huge swath of problems facing many companies, blown up and put on display.

Reading Kerry Reid's excellent take in Performink, two items caught my eye. Both were failures via email. I know email has become a primary form of communication for many of us. There are some things that should never be done via email. Last fall, I got a pretty good reminder of one of them: Policy Changes.

Militant Language was by far the most difficult show to get up that I have ever produced. It took quite a toll to be honest. Now, it was a script I believe in from a writer whose talent is huge; an incredible cast--each person's work I am eternally fond of; a director who, in time, I firmly believe has the potential to be one of the greats in the city.

It started to go downhill from there. Finding a space, even a non-traditional one we were looking for, was proving difficult. Interest in the Iraq War was waning--no one seemed to want to see films or plays about the war. Then the economy imploded. Fundraising was rocky at best. We weren't meeting any of our benchmarks. Some of them were so far from being met, you could barely see them through the fog.

I had a tough choice.  I could try to keep a lid on it and hope it didn't implode (which worked so well for Wells Fargo, Lehman Bros and AIG) or I could be open and honest with everyone involved and let them know what was up. I rightly went with being honest.

I walked into a room full of artists I respect and had to tell them essentially: we don't currently have the money to put this show you're rehearsing up. None of our planned funding has come through and if we don't raise it by the end of the month we'll have to pull the plug.

It was a tough thing for all to swallow, myself included. I think if it were a different set of circumstances, we would have leaned more heavily towards postponement. However, the last show Juan had begun to direct for Halcyon had been pulled. For last year's Alcyone Festival, one of the planned productions was La Hija de las Flores  (The Daughter of Flowers) by Gertrudis Gómez de Avellaneda. It was to be presented in Spanish with projected super-titles. There aren't many actors in the city who can perform in classical Spanish, the Goodman was doing their Latino fest, a  couple of actors over-committed themselves and then bolted from Hija. There was no way to recast so we had to pull it.

The last thing I wanted to do was pull the plug on Juan (again) and the cast whose work I love. We needed help. It was not the world's biggest morale boost, but the cast and our company rallied, and in a short span of time, we were able to raise the funds through small contributions, program ads and a bowl-a-thon that DeRante graciously put together.  Due to the cast and crew's hard work and dedication, (far and above what is normal) the show got up and had a great opening. Things were back on track.

Houses were light at first, and we had to cancel a couple of performances. Our cancellation policy was: if there are less than six paying audience members, the cast can choose whether or not to perform. It's a pretty widespread policy with small companies, so Jenn and I had never really questioned it. A couple of things happened, and we heard negative feedback from someone who had made plans to come to a show that was canceled. After talking to folks in and around the show we decided to change the policy.

If there are any paying customers who have traveled to the performance space and want to see the show, we need to perform the show for them.

Instead of the cast choosing, the audience has a say. I sent the change in policy via email and my plan was to talk to the cast and crew that night before the show. I just had to pick up Tony Jr. and head over to the space.  When we got there, Tony Jr. threw a fantastical two-year old tantrum. We had to go, and I wasn't able to talk to the cast until later. The cast was incensed. They felt disrespected and thought we didn't care what they felt. They had done all this work to help get the show up and tempers flared as they felt we were taking advantage of them.

The policy change is very much for the better. It gives more respect to the audience who has trundled through the city to go see a show. During The Other Shore there was one night that three women were the only ones there for the show. I asked them if they would still like to see it. They said yes, and enjoyed it so much, they then came back again to see it with more people. The Other Shore ended up being the highest attended production we've done to date. Those three women were telling everyone they knew about the show. I know because when I asked folks at the door how they heard about it, a lot of folks said the same thing.

Back to the Militant cast . . . they were incensed. Threatening to walk. I got many angry emails and a couple of calls. It would be 24 hours before I could talk to the cast in person. That was a long 24 hours. Once I was able to talk to the cast, apologize for the change, and explain the rationale, things were somewhat smoothed out and the show went on. Over time morale seemed to pick up. 

I screwed the pooch. They weren't angry about the change. In fact, some of the cast told me they completely agreed with it. They were pissed off about how they were told. They were incensed that they were notified via email instead of being told to their faces. I think it is the single biggest mistake I have made as a producer. I should have told them first, then followed it up with an email to confirm it. I had meant to talk to them before I had to take Tony Jr. home that night, but I shouldn't have hit send until I had talked to everyone about the change in person.

Normally I know better. I knew better then, but I was running late and I didn't think too much of it. I'd just talk to them that night in person and things would be fine. I f-ed up. In doing so I took a rocky road and instantly turned it into a tempest. It is something I won't do a second time.

I thought of this when I was reading Kerry's article. There is a reason staff and ensembles shouldn't talk to board members about policy. That is for times when folks might try to convince them to overturn a leaders decision and undermine their ability to run an institution. An ensemble member emailing board members to try and override programming is an email fail.

The second email I noted--Good Lord. The board dismissed an ensemble member via email? Sweet jebus, I thought to myself, a few months ago the cast of Militant Language was threatening to walk because of an email I sent out about changing the cancellation policy. The board of ATC dismissed an ensemble member of 22 years via email? Holy email failure. . .

Olivia and Riso at tonight's read-through of Fucking Parasites

Over at the spiffy new Clyde Fitch Report, Leonard Jacobs posts the announcement of the 2009 ATCA Osborn New Play Award for and Emerging Playwright. This years winner is Yussef El-Gundi for Our Enemies: Lively Scenes of Love and Combat. While I wasn't a huge fan of the Silk Road production--it is a really good script. So congrats to Yussef El-Gundi!

Then something at the bottom of the ATCA's press release caught my eye.

"Prior Osborn Award Recipients
2008 Gee’s Bend, EM Lewis, Alabama Shakespeare Festival, Montgomery, AL" 

EM Lewis won the ‘08 Primus award for Heads. Which, incidentally, we are producing as part of the Alcyone Festival 09.) Gees Bend was by Elyzabeth Gregory Wilder.

A mistake in their press release?  If the ATCA has mistakes in a press release, us little people probably shouldn't feel so bad if we have typos from time to time, right? (Do I get one credit for slack from our fine critics if need/a typo arises?)

Speaking of winners EM Lewis took home LA Weekly's award for production of the year this week for Song of Extinction.

El-Gundi (Our Enemies: Lively Scenes of Love and Combat)  and Lewis (Song of Extinction) are also both finalists for the 2009 Steinberg/ATCA Award for Best New Play--replete with a $25,000 prize--along with Lee Blessing (Great Falls), Steven Dietz (Becky’s New Car), Octavio Solis (Lydia) and Tracy Letts (for that "minor play" Superior Donuts.) Winners will be announced this Saturday April 4th. 

Monette, Tinu and Mercy in Safe at last years Alcyone Festival. 

Over the years, I’ve heard a lot about runaway boards: how they take companies, buildings and decision making ability away from the poor artists who created it. The recent break up at ATC and the selling off of the Greenhouse are two recent examples, but it is a far reaching problem. Usually this is blamed on the 501c3 model, the corporatization of the arts, How Theatre Failed America, or whatever the latest target of blame is.

Now, there are a lot of problems inherent with the not-for-profit model. Those problems are usually accepted as a trade-off for funding and not having to pay taxes on revenue related to the core mission and activities of the organization. Corporate and foundation grants along with the occasional government buck is how many think of funding arts organizations. You have to be a 501c3 organization to be eligible for the majority of those sources--if you want them.

Far more important, and typically more steady, are individual donors—those who have a relationship with the organization and give money in support of it. A nice side-benefit for donors is a tax write off they get for their donation. Indeed, this is such a crucial part of funding for most non-profits that charities are often the most vocal opponents to changes in the tax code that would effect write offs for charitable contributions. Their thinking is that if people don’t get a write-off, they won’t donate.

Boards are legally responsible for governing an organization. If the board is made of corporate big-wigs, the organization will eventually reflect a corporate big-wig mentality. This is how a lot of large organizations function. Art is left at the door for the sake of the institution.

But how did we get there? How can a board run an ensemble off? How can they take away a beloved space? It’s quite simple really. They control the organization and its assets. They also have the power to hire and fire the leaders of the organization. The Artistic Director and Executive Director usually serve at the behest of the board.

Conventional wisdom will tell you that artists are too dumb to know how to run a business. That’s not true, but many don’t want to learn. Conventional wisdom will also tell you that most business folks are ignorant of all things artistic. While that’s not necessarily true either--few artists I know take the time to teach what makes this art, this organization, different than all the others. The keys are handed over without instructions, so people do what they know how to do.

Now if, for the sake of argument, artists can’t run a business and business people can’t make art—why would it make sense to anyone to have no artistic representation on the board? IE: "I'm sure that a season of The Odd Couple, The Music Man and that new Sarah Ruhl play everyone else is doing might get asses in the seats, but it has nothing to do with our mission or why we've been able to build this incredibly loyal audience that supported the building of the institution. If we turn our backs them, they'll turn their backs on us, and probably stop donating too."

Why would it make sense to anyone to have no business voice in the artistic endeavors? IE: "that sounds awesome. How do we pay for it so we can ensure the company doesn't go up in a ball of flames after this great production?" Some people do things better than others, but that is no excuse for willful ignorance of half of what it takes to make an organization run.

Usually, as an organization grows the artist/founders tire of the business end of it. They bring on folks to do it for them. After a while, they’ll step farther away and wipe their hands of all of that business nonsense so they can concentrate fully on the art.

The only way to ensure that boards and organizations do not run away is for artists and ensembles to have a say. There's absolutely no reason artists can't be on boards, or that bylaws can't specify that a certain percentage of seats on the board are reserved for ensemble members. But most artists do not want that responsibility.

Normally as an organization grows, boards don’t take power. It is willingly handed to them. If artists create an organization and then abdicate all responsibility for governing that organization, I don't see how that is a problem with the NFP model. Not that there aren't problems with the NFP model, there's a lot of them;  however, if the keys are handed over carte blanche, some responsibility for the car driving away needs to rest with those who handed over the keys. Abdication of responsibility will always have repercussions.

Jamie and Nick work on a scene in rehearsal costumes while Christine works on the set during tech week for Piranedllo's Henry IV. 

I recently pretended I was an actor again, in a 10-minute play that Juan directed for Rubicon’s 2nd Annual Kassi Dallmann Short Play Festival.  I meant to write this then, but it’s amazing how time gets away from one… Ah well, “better late than never, I always say.” – btw, who DOESN’T say that???

It was very strange to be acting again.  I always forget how nervous I get now.  I started doing theatre when I was 5, and was primarily an actor until I moved here roughly 10 years ago (I’m 35, for all you nosies… good lord… sometimes I feel so young, and sometimes I feel SO old…!  I digress)  I was always the one who knew everyone’s lines before they did, could step in to a part at a moment’s notice (and did, on occasion) and who lived to be onstage, especially in musicals.  I moved here, found my passion for directing, and ditched everything I knew in favor of that gritty, in-your-face theatre that is oh-so-post-college Chicago.  I stopped acting for the most part at that time.

Now, each time I go back to it, it gets harder and harder. The lines don’t come easily for MY character, never mind everyone else’s.  I get terrible stage fright in rehearsals and performances.  It usually takes me a few rehearsals to get over the obnoxious non-stop talking that my adrenaline kicks into high gear and that comes back in time for dress rehearsals.  Baahhrrg… who needs it?

It was a bizarre and awesome challenge, really, to focus my thoughts simply on my characters’ part of the world of the play, and not to develop a “vision” of what the play would be.

This time was interesting as well, because I was acting for Juan, who I have directed 3 or 4 times…I was very aware of my comments; I wanted to be careful to make sure they pertained to my character.  I didn’t want Juan to think I was trying to direct his show.  I was aware of trying to listen to his vision and “act” accordingly.  I was so insecure about wanting to not only be a good actor, but to not be a difficult one actor.  I really trust Juan as a director. It was cool to see his different directing style, and I didn’t want to let him down.

There was a point when another actor had an idea that would completely change Juan’s concept. There was part of me that wanted to get all defensive and directory and say “Don’t do it, Juan!  Don’t let him change your vision!” How weird it was to have to think about wording my question so that it focused on my role in the whole thing… “If you go that way with your idea, it affects me this way.  If you stay with the original idea, it affects me this way.  Which would you like?”

And then there were performances… Gah… Usually I’m so confident.  I really know who I am as a director; it was crazy to get to performances and not want to screw up not only for me but because it would reflect badly on Juan… I don’t think I’ll act again anytime soon, but it was a fun and insightful experience that I hope Juan is glad he cast me  :) I recently pretended I was an actor again, in a 10-minute play that Juan directed for Rubicon’s 2nd Annual Kassi Dallmann Short Play Festival.  I meant to write this then, but it’s amazing how time gets away from one… Ah well, “better late than never, I always say.” – btw, who DOESN’T say that???

It was very strange to be acting again.  I always forget how nervous I get now.  I started doing theatre when I was 5, and was primarily an actor until I moved here roughly 10 years ago (I’m 35, for all you nosies… good lord… sometimes I feel so young, and sometimes I feel SO old…!  I digress)  I was always the one who knew everyone’s lines before they did, could step in to a part at a moment’s notice (and did, on occasion) and who lived to be onstage, especially in musicals.  I moved here, found my passion for directing, and ditched everything I knew in favor of that gritty, in-your-face theatre that is oh-so-post-college Chicago.  I stopped acting for the most part at that time.

Now, each time I go back to it, it gets harder and harder. The lines don’t come easily for MY character, never mind everyone else’s.  I get terrible stage fright in rehearsals and performances.  It usually takes me a few rehearsals to get over the obnoxious non-stop talking that my adrenaline kicks into high gear and that comes back in time for dress rehearsals.  Baahhrrg… who needs it?

It was a bizarre and awesome challenge, really, to focus my thoughts simply on my characters’ part of the world of the play, and not to develop a “vision” of what the play would be.

This time was interesting as well, because I was acting for Juan, who I have directed 3 or 4 times…I was very aware of my comments; I wanted to be careful to make sure they pertained to my character.  I didn’t want Juan to think I was trying to direct his show.  I was aware of trying to listen to his vision and “act” accordingly.  I was so insecure about wanting to not only be a good actor, but to not be a difficult one actor.  I really trust Juan as a director. It was cool to see his different directing style, and I didn’t want to let him down.

There was a point when another actor had an idea that would completely change Juan’s concept. There was part of me that wanted to get all defensive and directory and say “Don’t do it, Juan!  Don’t let him change your vision!” How weird it was to have to think about wording my question so that it focused on my role in the whole thing… “If you go that way with your idea, it affects me this way.  If you stay with the original idea, it affects me this way.  Which would you like?”

And then there were performances… Gah… Usually I’m so confident.  I really know who I am as a director; it was crazy to get to performances and not want to screw up not only for me but because it would reflect badly on Juan… I don’t think I’ll act again anytime soon, but it was a fun and insightful experience that I hope Juan is glad he cast me  :) I recently pretended I was an actor again, in a 10-minute play that Juan directed for Rubicon’s 2nd Annual Kassi Dallmann Short Play Festival.  I meant to write this then, but it’s amazing how time gets away from one… Ah well, “better late than never, I always say.” – btw, who DOESN’T say that???

It was very strange to be acting again.  I always forget how nervous I get now.  I started doing theatre when I was 5, and was primarily an actor until I moved here roughly 10 years ago (I’m 35, for all you nosies… good lord… sometimes I feel so young, and sometimes I feel SO old…!  I digress)  I was always the one who knew everyone’s lines before they did, could step in to a part at a moment’s notice (and did, on occasion) and who lived to be onstage, especially in musicals.  I moved here, found my passion for directing, and ditched everything I knew in favor of that gritty, in-your-face theatre that is oh-so-post-college Chicago.  I stopped acting for the most part at that time.

Now, each time I go back to it, it gets harder and harder. The lines don’t come easily for MY character, never mind everyone else’s.  I get terrible stage fright in rehearsals and performances.  It usually takes me a few rehearsals to get over the obnoxious non-stop talking that my adrenaline kicks into high gear and that comes back in time for dress rehearsals.  Baahhrrg… who needs it?

It was a bizarre and awesome challenge, really, to focus my thoughts simply on my characters’ part of the world of the play, and not to develop a “vision” of what the play would be.

This time was interesting as well, because I was acting for Juan, who I have directed 3 or 4 times…I was very aware of my comments; I wanted to be careful to make sure they pertained to my character.  I didn’t want Juan to think I was trying to direct his show.  I was aware of trying to listen to his vision and “act” accordingly.  I was so insecure about wanting to not only be a good actor, but to not be a difficult one actor.  I really trust Juan as a director. It was cool to see his different directing style, and I didn’t want to let him down.

There was a point when another actor had an idea that would completely change Juan’s concept. There was part of me that wanted to get all defensive and directory and say “Don’t do it, Juan!  Don’t let him change your vision!” How weird it was to have to think about wording my question so that it focused on my role in the whole thing… “If you go that way with your idea, it affects me this way.  If you stay with the original idea, it affects me this way.  Which would you like?”

And then there were performances… Gah… Usually I’m so confident.  I really know who I am as a director; it was crazy to get to performances and not want to screw up not only for me but because it would reflect badly on Juan… I don’t think I’ll act again anytime soon, but it was a fun and insightful experience that I hope Juan is glad he cast me  :)I recently pretended I was an actor again, in a 10-minute play that Juan directed for Rubicon’s 2nd Annual Kassi Dallmann Short Play Festival.  I meant to write this then, but it’s amazing how time gets away from one… Ah well, “better late than never, I always say.” – btw, who DOESN’T say that???

It was very strange to be acting again.  I always forget how nervous I get now.  I started doing theatre when I was 5, and was primarily an actor until I moved here roughly 10 years ago (I’m 35, for all you nosies… good lord… sometimes I feel so young, and sometimes I feel SO old…!  I digress)  I was always the one who knew everyone’s lines before they did, could step in to a part at a moment’s notice (and did, on occasion) and who lived to be onstage, especially in musicals.  I moved here, found my passion for directing, and ditched everything I knew in favor of that gritty, in-your-face theatre that is oh-so-post-college Chicago.  I stopped acting for the most part at that time.

Now, each time I go back to it, it gets harder and harder. The lines don’t come easily for MY character, never mind everyone else’s.  I get terrible stage fright in rehearsals and performances.  It usually takes me a few rehearsals to get over the obnoxious non-stop talking that my adrenaline kicks into high gear and that comes back in time for dress rehearsals.  Baahhrrg… who needs it?

It was a bizarre and awesome challenge, really, to focus my thoughts simply on my characters’ part of the world of the play, and not to develop a “vision” of what the play would be.

This time was interesting as well, because I was acting for Juan, who I have directed 3 or 4 times…I was very aware of my comments; I wanted to be careful to make sure they pertained to my character.  I didn’t want Juan to think I was trying to direct his show.  I was aware of trying to listen to his vision and “act” accordingly.  I was so insecure about wanting to not only be a good actor, but to not be a difficult one actor.  I really trust Juan as a director. It was cool to see his different directing style, and I didn’t want to let him down.

There was a point when another actor had an idea that would completely change Juan’s concept. There was part of me that wanted to get all defensive and directory and say “Don’t do it, Juan!  Don’t let him change your vision!” How weird it was to have to think about wording my question so that it focused on my role in the whole thing… “If you go that way with your idea, it affects me this way.  If you stay with the original idea, it affects me this way.  Which would you like?”

And then there were performances… Gah… Usually I’m so confident.  I really know who I am as a director; it was crazy to get to performances and not want to screw up not only for me but because it would reflect badly on Juan… I don’t think I’ll act again anytime soon, but it was a fun and insightful experience that I hope Juan is glad he cast me  :)I recently pretended I was an actor again, in a 10-minute play that Juan directed for Rubicon’s 2nd Annual Kassi Dallmann Short Play Festival.  I meant to write this then, but it’s amazing how time gets away from one… Ah well, “better late than never, I always say.” – btw, who DOESN’T say that???

It was very strange to be acting again.  I always forget how nervous I get now.  I started doing theatre when I was 5, and was primarily an actor until I moved here roughly 10 years ago (I’m 35, for all you nosies… good lord… sometimes I feel so young, and sometimes I feel SO old…!  I digress)  I was always the one who knew everyone’s lines before they did, could step in to a part at a moment’s notice (and did, on occasion) and who lived to be onstage, especially in musicals.  I moved here, found my passion for directing, and ditched everything I knew in favor of that gritty, in-your-face theatre that is oh-so-post-college Chicago.  I stopped acting for the most part at that time.

Now, each time I go back to it, it gets harder and harder. The lines don’t come easily for MY character, never mind everyone else’s.  I get terrible stage fright in rehearsals and performances.  It usually takes me a few rehearsals to get over the obnoxious non-stop talking that my adrenaline kicks into high gear and that comes back in time for dress rehearsals.  Baahhrrg… who needs it?

It was a bizarre and awesome challenge, really, to focus my thoughts simply on my characters’ part of the world of the play, and not to develop a “vision” of what the play would be.

This time was interesting as well, because I was acting for Juan, who I have directed 3 or 4 times…I was very aware of my comments; I wanted to be careful to make sure they pertained to my character.  I didn’t want Juan to think I was trying to direct his show.  I was aware of trying to listen to his vision and “act” accordingly.  I was so insecure about wanting to not only be a good actor, but to not be a difficult one actor.  I really trust Juan as a director. It was cool to see his different directing style, and I didn’t want to let him down.

There was a point when another actor had an idea that would completely change Juan’s concept. There was part of me that wanted to get all defensive and directory and say “Don’t do it, Juan!  Don’t let him change your vision!” How weird it was to have to think about wording my question so that it focused on my role in the whole thing… “If you go that way with your idea, it affects me this way.  If you stay with the original idea, it affects me this way.  Which would you like?”

And then there were performances… Gah… Usually I’m so confident.  I really know who I am as a director; it was crazy to get to performances and not want to screw up not only for me but because it would reflect badly on Juan… I don’t think I’ll act again anytime soon, but it was a fun and insightful experience that I hope Juan is glad he cast me  :) I recently pretended I was an actor again, in a 10-minute play that Juan directed for Rubicon’s 2nd Annual Kassi Dallmann Short Play Festival.  I meant to write this then, but it’s amazing how time gets away from one… Ah well, “better late than never, I always say.” – btw, who DOESN’T say that???

It was very strange to be acting again.  I always forget how nervous I get now.  I started doing theatre when I was 5, and was primarily an actor until I moved here roughly 10 years ago (I’m 35, for all you nosies… good lord… sometimes I feel so young, and sometimes I feel SO old…!  I digress)  I was always the one who knew everyone’s lines before they did, could step in to a part at a moment’s notice (and did, on occasion) and who lived to be onstage, especially in musicals.  I moved here, found my passion for directing, and ditched everything I knew in favor of that gritty, in-your-face theatre that is oh-so-post-college Chicago.  I stopped acting for the most part at that time.

Now, each time I go back to it, it gets harder and harder. The lines don’t come easily for MY character, never mind everyone else’s.  I get terrible stage fright in rehearsals and performances.  It usually takes me a few rehearsals to get over the obnoxious non-stop talking that my adrenaline kicks into high gear and that comes back in time for dress rehearsals.  Baahhrrg… who needs it?

It was a bizarre and awesome challenge, really, to focus my thoughts simply on my characters’ part of the world of the play, and not to develop a “vision” of what the play would be.

This time was interesting as well, because I was acting for Juan, who I have directed 3 or 4 times…I was very aware of my comments; I wanted to be careful to make sure they pertained to my character.  I didn’t want Juan to think I was trying to direct his show.  I was aware of trying to listen to his vision and “act” accordingly.  I was so insecure about wanting to not only be a good actor, but to not be a difficult one actor.  I really trust Juan as a director. It was cool to see his different directing style, and I didn’t want to let him down.

There was a point when another actor had an idea that would completely change Juan’s concept. There was part of me that wanted to get all defensive and directory and say “Don’t do it, Juan!  Don’t let him change your vision!” How weird it was to have to think about wording my question so that it focused on my role in the whole thing… “If you go that way with your idea, it affects me this way.  If you stay with the original idea, it affects me this way.  Which would you like?”

And then there were performances… Gah… Usually I’m so confident.  I really know who I am as a director; it was crazy to get to performances and not want to screw up not only for me but because it would reflect badly on Juan… I don’t think I’ll act again anytime soon, but it was a fun and insightful experience that I hope Juan is glad he cast me  :)I recently pretended I was an actor again, in a 10-minute play that Juan directed for Rubicon’s 2nd Annual Kassi Dallmann Short Play Festival.  I meant to write this then, but it’s amazing how time gets away from one… Ah well, “better late than never, I always say.” – btw, who DOESN’T say that???

It was very strange to be acting again.  I always forget how nervous I get now.  I started doing theatre when I was 5, and was primarily an actor until I moved here roughly 10 years ago (I’m 35, for all you nosies… good lord… sometimes I feel so young, and sometimes I feel SO old…!  I digress)  I was always the one who knew everyone’s lines before they did, could step in to a part at a moment’s notice (and did, on occasion) and who lived to be onstage, especially in musicals.  I moved here, found my passion for directing, and ditched everything I knew in favor of that gritty, in-your-face theatre that is oh-so-post-college Chicago.  I stopped acting for the most part at that time.

Now, each time I go back to it, it gets harder and harder. The lines don’t come easily for MY character, never mind everyone else’s.  I get terrible stage fright in rehearsals and performances.  It usually takes me a few rehearsals to get over the obnoxious non-stop talking that my adrenaline kicks into high gear and that comes back in time for dress rehearsals.  Baahhrrg… who needs it?

It was a bizarre and awesome challenge, really, to focus my thoughts simply on my characters’ part of the world of the play, and not to develop a “vision” of what the play would be.

This time was interesting as well, because I was acting for Juan, who I have directed 3 or 4 times…I was very aware of my comments; I wanted to be careful to make sure they pertained to my character.  I didn’t want Juan to think I was trying to direct his show.  I was aware of trying to listen to his vision and “act” accordingly.  I was so insecure about wanting to not only be a good actor, but to not be a difficult one actor.  I really trust Juan as a director. It was cool to see his different directing style, and I didn’t want to let him down.

There was a point when another actor had an idea that would completely change Juan’s concept. There was part of me that wanted to get all defensive and directory and say “Don’t do it, Juan!  Don’t let him change your vision!” How weird it was to have to think about wording my question so that it focused on my role in the whole thing… “If you go that way with your idea, it affects me this way.  If you stay with the original idea, it affects me this way.  Which would you like?”

And then there were performances… Gah… Usually I’m so confident.  I really know who I am as a director; it was crazy to get to performances and not want to screw up not only for me but because it would reflect badly on Juan… I don’t think I’ll act again anytime soon, but it was a fun and insightful experience that I hope Juan is glad he cast me  :) 

My producer is concerned about the dialects.

He asked me why I think they're necessary and I told him: the two characters, from two different parts of the world, connect and share their experiences with each other via a third language; common to both, but natural to neither. Behrouz doesn't think in English, he thinks in Persian. Irina thinks in Uyghur. Mutual adaptation facilitates their communication, and the result has its idiosyncrasies. To the listener, the byproducts of those imperfections are unique richness and musicality and there's nothing wrong with that.

I'm not staging Gladiator (if that's what you're worried about), with Joaquin Phoenix agonizing his way through faux-Brit just because his character's supposed to be the king of all the other kind-of-British people in Rome.

TA hasn't expressed a problem with the motives behind my position. He's very concerned that dialect work will get in the way of the acting work.

It's heartbreaking to concede it, but there is a valid point there.

In the Chicago storefront scene at large, I see three big deficiencies which sadden me. The first is makeup, the second is movement style, and the third is actors pretending they're other people on stage.

A shortage of makeup is easy to defend: stage makeup is expensive, needs constant replenishing, and anyway the stages are too small to make it necessary. Nobody believes or wants to believe that you (the actor) actually stabbed that guy in scene 3, and at four feet from the audience, the only deep sucking chest wound we can afford on our budget would smell like Hershey's and Palmolive anyway.

Movement style is a bit trickier. "But, Adam," you say, "I keep going out to see imaginative shows in which the actors create all sorts of inventive creatures through movement." I respond "don't count the goblinprowlers and the birdwomen," and if you've seen as much of this stuff as I have, you sadly nod, try to come up with a retort, and sadly nod again. People know the goblinprowler because it's not only easy, it's also a 'level' and Anne Bogart is made happy by it. They do the birdwoman because...I don't really know. I've never worked with a movement choreographer in Chicago. Nobody can afford one, for one thing. Fight choreographers are necessary because you don't want anyone to get hurt, and if there's a dance, somebody usually comes in to stage it and leaves. More dangerous to most directors, though, is that old crime of telling the actors what to do, which is not only bad for creativity but also bruises the poor artist immeasurably. Directors don't want to hear it when you say "Yes, the characters in the Misanthrope were trained to walk and stand a certain way. They were taught that experientially if not formally through living in a society that expected different things from a person." Unfortunately, I know what it looks like when you ask actors to rest on the laurels of their training and create. All the organic creativity you can foster does not guarantee a successful stage picture.

This brings me to that third little tidbit. I had similar conservatory performance training to a lot actors out there. I went to school more recently than some, but the majority of twenty-somethings I work with consider my education positively Smithsonian. I can understand that your eight acting classes focused on "finding the truth" in the work. I only got two semesters of stage movement (and one of those was really combat) and two semesters of dialects. I know that some folks get less. That doesn't mean it's right! That doesn't mean that being able to depart from your own corporal limitations onstage can be considered an elective! That doesn't mean I teachers aren't remiss when they don't address Acting 101 thus: "The job you are pursuing is that of the make-believer. If who you are and what you feel is interesting enough to satisfy an audience, you don't need to do plays or films or voiceovers...you can become a televangelist and make more money. What an actor needs to do is go out there and be somebody else. You are learning to be a liar. A bad actor is one who the audience knows is lying, but a really bad actor is the only one who thinks s/he's telling the truth up there."

Do you know how to tell that actors don't know this? It's one simple sentence which I'm sure each of us has said at least once:

"I don't think my character would do that."

In response to this, most directors either capitulate or spend scads of man-hours helping the actor search for a justification for the action the play needs. Seldom does a director give the efficient answer: "Yes, your character certainly does that. I know this because it's in the play. The play is a history of a fiction and you are simply a re-enactor of that preexisting record."

We (directors) never say that because we (actors) are always mortified to hear it. It's because we don't trust us with our work unless we know we really care.

And vice-versa. Still with me?

Why is so much emphasis placed on making sure creativity feels good for the artist and so little on making sure it feels good for the consumer? Why can't we say "you would be better at what you do if you had a broader arsenal of dialects and movement vocabulary and you stopped trying so hard to find yourself in the text"?

I want to see a world where acting teachers can compartmentalize that old sense memory and emotional recall stuff into a big box and label it JUST PART OF THE ART (does not allow user to fly). That little utopia, though, is contingent on an agreement to shrug off the timeless myth that Creative People Are Just Touchy That Way. We need to trust the artist with the truth that s/he's a liar. S/he needs to deserve that trust be being good at lying. We can graduate to that "lie which is nearest to the truth" stuff only once the first part's been established.

So, seriously, should I expect actors to be able and willing to speak in funny voices, walk in unnatural ways and throttle a swan without trying to rationalize what would catalyze themselves to throttle a swan? Should I be able to ask them to do all this convincingly? I think I should. The fact that so many can't or won't is institutional--I recognize that. The actor who knows and trusts enough to do these things has become the exception to the rule. Until the happy day arrives, I guess, we just have to work with exceptional actors.

The cast of Fucking Parasites, by the way, are exceptional actors.

Wow. I mean wow.

Not knowing the inner-workings there's a lot that I could only speculate about. I do know that in the ten years I've been here it's only been about a year and a half that I've heard anyone talking about ATC. They were there, and folks knew who they were, but not a lot of interest was happening. I can't speak to the whole history, just since I moved here nine years ago.

It wasn't that long ago that I was hearing rumors about the organization being broke to near bankruptcy. But I don't know how accurate that was, even though it was from "folks on the inside."

I think there are a lot of issues that came to a head. Egos, misunderstandings about business models, difficulties in diversifying an established mostly homogenous group.

From the comments on Chris Jones blog, it sounds like folks are doing their best to make the AD sound like an egotistical asshole; however, the ensemble having a publicist send out press releases to announce you're leaving in a huff, sounds like egotistical assholes. So I guess that's a push . . .

I know a lot of people think a board should support the artists. The should only get lots of money for artists to play with and take care of that boring legal stuff, etc.

Adam makes a great point.

You decide for yourself which side you're on. For me, it's just a reminder of how complex the relationship can be between a Board and an artistic staff.

Wait a minute, I'm wrong, it isn't complex at all.

The Board of Directors runs a nonprofit arts organization.

The Board of Directors runs your arts organization.

So if that Board is composed of artists, then they run it.

If it's composed of grey haired old ladies, they run it.

So if a fight breaks out between an ensemble and the Board and neither side is willing to budge, then the Board wins.

Boards run organizations. It is as simple as that. The job of a board is not to provide a pretty playground and step away. They are legally charged with setting the mission, and running the organization.

Artistic Directors are hired by the board to oversee and steer the organization, but the board can hire and fire AD's along with raising all of the money they need to support the art.

So where does the ensemble fit in? Every organization that has an ensemble has a different answer.

If the ensemble is so motivated to run their own company, why was an outside AD brought in? Why wasn't an ensemble member running the company?

Twenty five years is a long time to put into an organization. But how long has it been since most of the members were active in the day to day business? (If anyone out there knows, let me know in the comments.) It's extraordinarily problematic. If you've built something you shouldn't just be pushed aside. If you've stepped aside, you should step aside. Fewer roles and less input is the price paid for stepping back

Most ensemble companies are created for the sole purpose of getting those in the ensemble work. Two things tend to happen. One, they burn out and the company folds. Two, the folks in the ensemble get really successful and move on.

Any healthy company needs to change in order to grow. A pretty common occurrence happens, much like founders syndrome. Folks use their blood, sweat and tears to build a company, then get tired of running it. They bring other people on to do that for them, but do not want to give up the reins. . . If the company starts to go in a direction that is different from their original vision, you start to get conflict.

I can't help but think, at the bottom of all of this was a basic question that everyone struggles with: how do you act if when deciding between what is best for the company vs. what is best for yourself? That is where most issues between ensembles and organizations originate.

In the case of ATC/American Blues it seems like both sides wanted to have it their own way. Now they can.

Seeing this all play out in such a public forum (which is what you hope happens when you send out press releases) I think of two friends of mine in college.

Craig and Stu coached a JV football team. They were awful. Trying to get the kids to do anything was a battle. The closest game was a 46-6 loss. At one point they were down 56-0 nearing halftime. So they threw out the playbook and just tried to have fun. See how that worked.

They drew up a play that had the line offset and stacked. From right to left it went: tight end, center, guard, guard, tackle, tackle, tight end, wing. The defense didn't shift which meant there were seven people on offense to block two defenders. 7 vs. 2. They tried it four times in a row, for a five yard loss, four yard loss, three yard loss, and a two yard loss. 7 on 2 and they couldn't make it back to the line of scrimmage. They had tried to get the kids to act as a team for months.

The next week, Craig and Stu showed up for practice and the entire team was stoned in the locker room. The stepped outside trying to figure out what to do. After a second of hesitation they did the right thing and turned them in for smoking pot in the school. The second of hesitation was because "it was the first thing they did as a team all year."