By Julia
It’s like each production looked at the text and asked of itself, “What are we good at and how can we make it better?” I like doing that in my job every day. |
I have a confession. Next week I turn the dreaded 30. If you know me personally, this might be a bit of a shock to you. But it’s true. I’m 10 years older than I look.
As I’m approaching this culturally mandated milestone, I’ve allowed for a little reflection on how exactly I ended up where I am today and taken stock of the lessons I’ve learned on the journey thus-far. Earlier in August when the Perseid meteor shower was at it’s peak, I was reminded to be patient - each little shooting star is a gift and I’m here to enjoy it. (And, oh man, some of those meteors were worth the wait!) I’ve learned that I love Post-it Notes. Physical Post-it Notes are the only thing that can keep me straight. If it’s not on a Post-it, it doesn’t happen. And don’t throw away my Post-its - there might be pertinent historical information on there.
But most importantly, I’ve learned about the role of an artist as an arts manager. I remember when I told my undergraduate advisor that I was pursuing my masters degree in arts management - she looked a little sad, if not disappointed. She couldn’t figure out why I was giving up acting and directing for management. I explained it as a way to marry all of my skills and interests into one, but I did feel a hint of sadness to be giving up performance. (My thought process was that while all artists should be managers, all managers were not necessarily artists. I think I feared giving up the artist because I didn’t see the art in management.)
So in my journey to complete my masters degree and start a new job, I unintentionally had an insane experience this summer - I’m calling it the “Summer of Midsummer”. I started out my year in St. Louis completing an internship with the Community Arts Training Institute. By May, I was in the DC Metro region in order to present my Capstone and graduate. In June, I started my new job at the American Shakespeare Center. And I’m weirdly proud that I saw A Midsummer Night’s Dream in each city I’ve lived in this year.
Another confession: Midsummer is not my favorite Shakespeare title. I can't exactly explain why, but I just never enjoyed it for many different reasons - none of which are particularly relevant (or, I suppose, even true anymore). Despite that, each city taught me something different about Shakespeare and I found a new, different enjoyment in each production.
In St. Louis, the production was a part of the Shake 38 festival and the the setting was a photoshoot. Titania and Oberon were producer and photographer. The lovers were models. Puck was the photo editor, making all the appropriate changes to the photos as they popped up on the screen. I had never seen Midsummer done in about 30 minutes and not miss a beat.
In DC, there were no words... literally. Thanks to the opinion piece in the Wall Street Journal earlier this summer, Synetic Theater’s wordless Shakespeare has caused a little bit of a hub-bub. (I’m extremely biased on the topic - I had a great part-time gig there while in grad school.) This production of Midsummer was magical. Puck was painted blue and the lovers were superbly… midsummery. I’m always captivated by how they translate Shakespeare.
In Staunton, ASC has a production going on right now with original staging conditions and everything is light and care-free. The audience is onstage, a part of the action, and they influence how every show progresses. I have never laughed so hard at Pyramus’s death. Before I saw our production, I never had the urge to yell at Puck that he’s a (delightful) nincompoop so I’ll gladly shout “Yes!” when the audience tells him to put the flower's magic on Demetrius in order to make everything right.
So… what does this have to do with arts management and my deep, personal discovery that I didn’t actually leave the artist behind when I became a manager?
I realized something when I took stock of my Midsummer experiences. Each one was different. Each came from a theatre company that had something else to offer to the text. Each company used their strengths to present three highly enjoyable productions of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
We are interpreters.
This is our art.
It’s important to take note of our talents and capabilities to make sure we’re producing the best product for not only our audiences, but ourselves. We challenge ourselves in ways we hope will lead to growth. It’s like each production looked at the text and asked of itself, “What are we good at and how can we make it better?” I like doing that in my job every day. I call it my mini-SWOT analysis. What are my Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats. If it’s a threat, how can I use my strengths to challenge it? What can my opportunities teach my weaknesses?
Arguably, there is not one single “best" practice for Shakespeare. Each production had something amazing to say about the text and artistry. Each theatre company I saw this summer was given the same text and three entirely different plays emerged -- three totally different theatre-going experiences.
I would hazard a guess that if all arts managers were to act like artists and take take stock of what they have, explore it in depth, and interpret it in a way that makes sense for their organization and community, we would have something really beautiful - and different! I think that’s the most exciting thing I learned this summer… we’re all different and have something amazing to offer to art. If, as arts managers, we look at what we’re all given - the spreadsheets and endless reporting, the budgeting process that never seems right, the funding cycles that keep us asking, the dueling bottom-lines, and our community - what will we interpret for our organization?
I’m approaching 30 with a renewed sense of purpose. And it only took seeing my second-least-favorite Shakespeare title three times and loving each one to figure it out. If I am an interpreter and arts management is my art, what will I create next?
As I’m approaching this culturally mandated milestone, I’ve allowed for a little reflection on how exactly I ended up where I am today and taken stock of the lessons I’ve learned on the journey thus-far. Earlier in August when the Perseid meteor shower was at it’s peak, I was reminded to be patient - each little shooting star is a gift and I’m here to enjoy it. (And, oh man, some of those meteors were worth the wait!) I’ve learned that I love Post-it Notes. Physical Post-it Notes are the only thing that can keep me straight. If it’s not on a Post-it, it doesn’t happen. And don’t throw away my Post-its - there might be pertinent historical information on there.
But most importantly, I’ve learned about the role of an artist as an arts manager. I remember when I told my undergraduate advisor that I was pursuing my masters degree in arts management - she looked a little sad, if not disappointed. She couldn’t figure out why I was giving up acting and directing for management. I explained it as a way to marry all of my skills and interests into one, but I did feel a hint of sadness to be giving up performance. (My thought process was that while all artists should be managers, all managers were not necessarily artists. I think I feared giving up the artist because I didn’t see the art in management.)
So in my journey to complete my masters degree and start a new job, I unintentionally had an insane experience this summer - I’m calling it the “Summer of Midsummer”. I started out my year in St. Louis completing an internship with the Community Arts Training Institute. By May, I was in the DC Metro region in order to present my Capstone and graduate. In June, I started my new job at the American Shakespeare Center. And I’m weirdly proud that I saw A Midsummer Night’s Dream in each city I’ve lived in this year.
Another confession: Midsummer is not my favorite Shakespeare title. I can't exactly explain why, but I just never enjoyed it for many different reasons - none of which are particularly relevant (or, I suppose, even true anymore). Despite that, each city taught me something different about Shakespeare and I found a new, different enjoyment in each production.
In St. Louis, the production was a part of the Shake 38 festival and the the setting was a photoshoot. Titania and Oberon were producer and photographer. The lovers were models. Puck was the photo editor, making all the appropriate changes to the photos as they popped up on the screen. I had never seen Midsummer done in about 30 minutes and not miss a beat.
In DC, there were no words... literally. Thanks to the opinion piece in the Wall Street Journal earlier this summer, Synetic Theater’s wordless Shakespeare has caused a little bit of a hub-bub. (I’m extremely biased on the topic - I had a great part-time gig there while in grad school.) This production of Midsummer was magical. Puck was painted blue and the lovers were superbly… midsummery. I’m always captivated by how they translate Shakespeare.
In Staunton, ASC has a production going on right now with original staging conditions and everything is light and care-free. The audience is onstage, a part of the action, and they influence how every show progresses. I have never laughed so hard at Pyramus’s death. Before I saw our production, I never had the urge to yell at Puck that he’s a (delightful) nincompoop so I’ll gladly shout “Yes!” when the audience tells him to put the flower's magic on Demetrius in order to make everything right.
So… what does this have to do with arts management and my deep, personal discovery that I didn’t actually leave the artist behind when I became a manager?
I realized something when I took stock of my Midsummer experiences. Each one was different. Each came from a theatre company that had something else to offer to the text. Each company used their strengths to present three highly enjoyable productions of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
We are interpreters.
This is our art.
It’s important to take note of our talents and capabilities to make sure we’re producing the best product for not only our audiences, but ourselves. We challenge ourselves in ways we hope will lead to growth. It’s like each production looked at the text and asked of itself, “What are we good at and how can we make it better?” I like doing that in my job every day. I call it my mini-SWOT analysis. What are my Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats. If it’s a threat, how can I use my strengths to challenge it? What can my opportunities teach my weaknesses?
Arguably, there is not one single “best" practice for Shakespeare. Each production had something amazing to say about the text and artistry. Each theatre company I saw this summer was given the same text and three entirely different plays emerged -- three totally different theatre-going experiences.
I would hazard a guess that if all arts managers were to act like artists and take take stock of what they have, explore it in depth, and interpret it in a way that makes sense for their organization and community, we would have something really beautiful - and different! I think that’s the most exciting thing I learned this summer… we’re all different and have something amazing to offer to art. If, as arts managers, we look at what we’re all given - the spreadsheets and endless reporting, the budgeting process that never seems right, the funding cycles that keep us asking, the dueling bottom-lines, and our community - what will we interpret for our organization?
I’m approaching 30 with a renewed sense of purpose. And it only took seeing my second-least-favorite Shakespeare title three times and loving each one to figure it out. If I am an interpreter and arts management is my art, what will I create next?