paulus at a.r.t. – bringing people together

Diane Paulus is the new artistic director of The American Repertory Theater in Cambridge, MA. From THE DONKEY SHOW, which she’s reviving as part of her inaugural season at A.R.T., to the Tony Award winning HAIR currently running on Broadway, Ms. Paulus is an amazing force in the American theatre. She talks about bringing people together to the theatre so it’s more than just a dark room where we watch a show. It’s an “arts experience.”

“I’m very interested in the arts experience becoming more than just the play on the stage,” says Paulus. “But really looking at the occasion of people coming together. Theatre as a ritual…as a social gathering.”

Check out the local news segment about her below, including the above quote. More and more I believe theatre is returning to this – a social event bringing people together. It’s what the Greeks did: a big ole party with wine and plays celebrating gods. The Globe embodied it in Shakespeare’s heyday: a spot for the wealthy and the groundlings to gather and get entertained. Ms. Paulus is bringing theatre back to it’s roots and reviving the reason we do this work.

Best wishes to her as she takes on a great, new and exciting challenge.

www.dianepaulus.net

long haul

soloNOVA’s coming to a close, and it’s been a looooong haul this year. It’s more than we’ve ever done (almost 5 full weeks of programming). We’ve produced more shows than ever before – 60, when all’s said and done (including the Breakthrough Performer week with Martin Dockery next week), as opposed to 32 shows last year. We’re in residence at one of the most wonderful places you could reside – the DR2 Theatre and D-Lounge. So many publications have given us great reviews. From The New York Times to NYTheatre.com, there has been great praise for the festival’s participants. And Mike Daisey opened the festival with a rousing speech on “Why Solo Performance Matters.”

The other day, someone was asking me how the festival is going, and I said to them, “You know some days you have 20 people in the house, and the next day you have 80. It’s like life – you can freak out and beat your chest on the bad days and cheer the good days, but in the end…all I want to be able to do is say, ‘I’m proud of what I did.’ That’s how I feel about the festival. We’ve had downs, but we’ve certainly had more ups.”

It means so much that so many people are excited about what terraNOVA does. I know there’s still those out there who aren’t on the solo band wagon. And that’s fine, for it’s not for everybody. However, when the craft of solo performance is done well – and I have to say how well I think it was done this year – there’s nothing like it.

Many blessings…and if anyone’s reading this before we close on Saturday, come through and check it out. Or, come and see Martin next weekend. They’re great shows, and I’m not just saying that because I’m producing them. I’m very proud.

what i do

Yesterday, I was hanging out with my friend, Gayla, and her 18 month-old daughter, Zaeda. We had dinner yesterday after I babysat Zaeda, who is a dream.

At one point, Gayla said, “I can’t wait until she’s old enough for me to start taking her to see what our friends do. I want to be able to show her what you do and say, ‘Uncle JD makes it possible for other artists to create and present their work.'”

I was very humbled by this. It is what I do, but how often do we look at producers, curators or presenters as artists? Of course, I am a dramatist, too, so many people do see me as an artist; however, I do wonder how often presenters are viewed as being artists. Usually, when producers retain the title of ‘artist’ they are ‘artistic directors’ of not-for-profit companies. But bookers and producers often don’t fall under this definition.

Gayla reinforced what I’ve been blogging about recently. Creating community and presenting performers who generate energy that nurtures artists is a wonderfully specific art form. I enjoy doing it immensely.
__________

Here are a few artists who curate and produce. I highly recommend all:

Shawn Randall (Symphonics)
Vallejo Ganter (PS122 & Speigletent)
Tamilla Woodard & Kibibi Dillon (LAUNCH)
Mark Russell (Under the Radar)

my statement

I’ve been working all day on writing a grant application, and part of the application wanted an artist’s statement. I never wrote an artist’s statement before, but I always figured I should. It’s interesting that my need for a statement should come now, for I feel like my work’s aim is just now coming into focus.

Currently, I am reading Malcom Gladwell’s new book, OUTLIERS, which is about the path that the super elite take to get to the top. It’s a pretty interesting read, and it follows a similar template of his two previous books, THE TIPPING POINT and BLINK, by using case studies to support his thesis.

The opening of the book begins with a story about Italian American immigrants who settled a hamlet in Pennsylvania and create a sort of bubble in which heart disease barely exists in residence under 65. This was in the 1960’s, when heart disease was the biggest killer in America. To understand it further, a sociologist studied the townspeople. He studied everything from their blood to their eating habits to their exercise habits. But he didn’t find anything skewing off the average American of the time.

Then, he looked at how the townspeople interacted with each other. There were three generations of families eating dinner together every night. People stopped on the street to greet neighbors. In a town of 2000, there were over 20 community-based groups. In fact, the community that these people created was making them healthier.

It’s not the first time I’ve heard of environment making one happier or healthier. I’ve subscribed to Buddhist thoughts for years, and Ram Dass talks about food prepared with love being better for you than quick food cooked by a stranger. It has been a long time since I have walked the walk, though. Recently I returned to the path.

My theatre company, terraNOVA Collective, began a monthly party called SUBTERRANEAN. It’s an event where three or four artists perform music, spoken word, comedy, short plays or burlesque, and the evening tops off with a DJ playing the night away. The structure is not too far off from an event I use to throw in my loft in Brooklyn called Artists’ Night. The first SUBTERRANEAN happened at the beginning of January, and I told my mother it was “like coming home.” I really felt the joy and excitement of this wonderful artistic endeavor. Performers shared the love from the mike, too, shouting out Jennifer, the company’s artistic director, and myself. Thanking us for creating an environment in which they could have a platform to perform.

It was brilliant. And it made me realize – this is what I want to be doing. I want to create community. I want to celebrate ourselves and manifest new theatre that people enjoy viscerally.

As I sat to write my artist’s statement today, I remembered that feeling two weeks ago, and somehow it became clear why I write. I want to share aspects of the world that are new and unique with an audience that has never heard the stories.

So, here is my attempt at an artist’s statement. It’ll probably change as I do, but nothing is permanent. However, it is how I feel right now.

ARTIST’S STATEMENT – James Carter, dramatist and curator

Congregation and community drive what I create. Fortunate to wear several creative caps, I write for theatre and curate events celebrating new and innovative performance artists. Through these outlets, I examine the human condition from various perspectives, aiming to unify and enlighten our communal experience.

Social exchanges and personal perspectives spur me to write. How we communicate and gather, especially by use of cyber social networking sites, message boards, email, and instant messaging, fascinate me. Specifically, I delve into fringe communities that receive little or no mainstream attention and recently gained momentum because of increased Internet capability, which brings like-minds together. The transition of virtual relationships to physical interactions grabs my imagination, causing contemplation of possibilities. At the heart of my writing, I investigate how miscommunication destroys relationships and clear communication grows understanding.

As a curator, I seek artists who stimulate dialogue about their individual backgrounds, guiding the audience to a universal understanding of the human experience. By increasing communication and breaking down barriers to see the perspective of others, our human experience expands, developing empathy through understanding. Bringing people together gives me joy. Creating fun happenings stimulates community.

Playwriting and presenting are the tent poles for all my artistic ventures. Through my written reflections on human communing and fostering pioneering voices as a curator, I aspire to mark evolutions of human interaction and create an atmosphere in which other artists flourish by sharing their stories.

Blessings,
JDC

magic is awesome

I saw a great show last night. It’s actually the second time I’ve seen it. “The Absence of Magic,” written and performed by the always amazing Eric Davis (Red Bastard), is one of the best solo shows I’ve seen all year…and I curate a solo arts festival. It’s playing as part of the NY Clown Theatre Festival, also produced by Mr. Davis, his partner, Audrey Crabtree and The Brick Theater.

I first saw “Absence” about a year ago, in the same space, and since then, the show’s gotten tighter, funnier and more poignant. It’s a grand ride into the mind of a nameless Clown who searches for the “Glove of Never-ending Awesomeness.” It places The Clown with us in a theater, a proverbial prison. He’s trapped, and so are we. The Audience doesn’t just become interactive with the clown; it becomes part of The Clown’s existential journey. But unlike desperate existential stories seen before, hope permeates the play.

“The Absence of Magic” is an ironic title, for it is the opposite of what occurs for 70 minutes in this tiny, black-box theater located just off the Lorimer stop on the L Train. Between spouts of confusion, fear, anger, frustration and absurdity intersect joy, love, happiness and optimism. The Audience laughs at The Clown, and as soon as it does, it piques his interest in The Audience, which becomes part of the show. Some of the bits are typical ones we’ve seen in tons of shows before. But this experience is different. Instead of just using The Audience for a laugh, The Clown really utilizes them to find what he wants: Never-ending Awesomeness. It’s in these gaps of forgetting the propetual fearful state in which he exists that he enjoys the journey. He forgets about his neurotic fear of bones strewn about the stage (presumably, from a previous long gone cell mate), the possibility of escape by the horse that rides through every ten days, the huge ball of wire he insists is a conch shell and The Voice from above that talks to him but The Audience cannot hear. When he lets go of toiling over the quest, he is free. The instant he stops playing, he remembers he’s trapped. Exhausted, toward the end of the play, he declares, “It is the petty things that wear you down, really.” Letting go of the pettiness and, instead, embracing the play(ing), The Audience leaves, rewarded with a little bit of magic.

And, such is life.

Check it out. It’s got two more shows this weekend. Ten bucks. It’s worth more.

ABSENCE OF MAGIC Eric Davis
Written by Eric Davis and Sue Morrison
Directed by Sue Morrison
www.redbastard.com

Eric Davis stars as a bone-thin cantankerous clown, whose neurotic endeavors run the gamut of comic expression. Wildly impish one moment, pathetically gutless the next, he answers the call to an epic adventure only to find himself stranded in a cave for 100,000 years. Surrounded by the skeletons of failed attempts, he must now conquer a disembodied voice as this unlikely hero fends off monsters, struggles to make a name for himself and quests to find the Glove of Never Ending Awesomeness.

Sat., Sept. 16 at 8:30 PM
Sun., Sept. 17 at 2:30 PM
70 minutes