Now is the time of year when everyone is announcing their next season, and it always makes me think about what I hope to see more of in the year ahead.
So, if someone is planning their season around what I want, here’s my wishlist, in no particular order:
Find a Nook or a Cranny
While there is some exciting news on the horizon for the big venues in town, many artists will note the struggle of finding small and medium spaces to perform (and rehearse!) Perhaps there might be a natural cohesion by using empty retail spaces, outdoor venues, retail shops after they close for the day, or other pop up spaces.
I still remember and speak enthusiastically about SKAM theatre’s 2018 production of Concord Floral in the old Staples space on Fort Street. It was weird, cold, echo-y, and oppressive. I loved it.
Could you imagine a play about astronauts that takes place in a freight elevator? A play about a misanthropic museum curator that takes place at a museum? A show about behind the scenes of a gig that takes place everywhere but the stage?
I know that logistically, hauling everything in and out is a massive undertaking. I know that that ticketing is a mess, and I know accessibility can be a nightmare. But, this is my wishlist, not yours.
I love site specific and unconventional venues because sometimes the limitations of the space can force directors to make some incredibly cool artistic decisions. I love shaking up what audiences expect when they go to a theatre. By changing up the venue, it forces audience members to look at the whole artistic experience with fresh eyes.
Work with Your Crowd
I know that not every performer is good at this, so not everyone should attempt it unless they can be welcoming and gracious, and above all, kind.
Great crowd work involves taking the audience, who is in a more vulnerable position than you, on a journey. You are asking them to take part in a show, which breaks the rules of what they know. Bringing audience members into a space that you’ve created leaves them vulnerable, so I truly believe performers should take extra care when the audience comes along with you. Treat them like a friend you want to see.
But truly incredible crowd work is a game where you get offered unexpected gems from audience, and the story is taken places no one could expect. It is joyful, shared, and a beautiful way to engage with the story you’re telling.
A few years ago, CCPA hosted a show called Dreamers and Dissenters, which was part immersive performance and part jukebox musical. I loved this show – the first half was a journey into the world which the play was set. Audience members got to make music and make up games together, we were all there together in the weirdness and it got us all ready to be part of this world they had created for the performance. Or take Ghost Theatre’s Tomorrow’s Child that we saw at Spark a few years back. This performance had the audience blindfolded, which immediately put us in a position of discomfort. But the performers took care of us, and that final reveal was (in my opinion) so worth it.
If you’ll allow me to overthink on this topic: if we look at an artist and audience as a small community, great crowd work allows us to get a little closer, to be a little more vulnerable, a little more connected. By being vulnerable in a safe space, we are able to connect with others who are likely real members of our real life community outside the show.
And maybe in a small way, it’ll make us more brave and a little more connected outside the arts space.
Be Political on Purpose
If your company has capacity to have nuanced discussions, and you want to engage with the issue facing the world, then we need your voice in this sphere.
We are living in dark times. Authoritarian governments are rising, and people are feeling hopeless. Now is the time for being strong together in resistance and leaning into community with hope. And, artists are part of this discussion.
Be political. Be political on purpose.
Not a “if you tilt your head and close your left eye” hidden under layers of subtext. Things are bad, so stand up and shout. Make the fascists and Nazis hear that they are not welcome, that we care for and will defend vulnerable members of our community, that our strength is in collective resistance and coming together. Empower your audience by telling stories that empower and encourage us to stand up.
There are so many incredible works of theatre that arose out of hiding under fascist governments, works that were banned the world over, works that were written in back rooms and smuggled out with the hopes to tell stories of resistance.
Be political on purpose and look to the past to find histories of people who resisted, tell stories of now and how we can get back on track together. Don’t try to win cheap points by hand waving that “authoritarianism is bad”. We’ve all gotten that every time we turn on the news. Be brave enough to be political and help remind us what we can do about it.
And, in my opinion, if you’re not a company who has the capacity to have these discussions, then don’t. If you aren’t able to effectively have these conversations with the medium and community you have built, then I don’t know if you doing so in your arts space is the right choice. But please, still look out for other ways to stand up and be engaged.
But, if you want to be political, be political.
Everything Old is New Again
Allegedly, due to the linear progression of time, 2001 was 25 years ago. A quarter of a century, readers.
What was happening 25 years ago?
Well, we were really into Shrek and the first Lord of the Rings movie, we were enjoying hit theatre shows like Urinetown and The Producers, and widely passing over Tick Tick Boom.
But, also. The worst American president to that point was blundering his way through international crises after crises and he was the laughing stock of the world. Then September 11th, and invocation of NATO forces, and the steady drumbeat of war, along with the creation of ICE and implementation of the Patriot Act.
Hm. Not like there’s anything remotely close to what we’re dealing with now.
I believe there is a value to looking back to (relatively) recent history to connect to the root of the wrongs that are still plaguing us. By seeing the foundation of where we went wrong, and what we were dealing with can give us some clarity about the now. Perhaps by seeing the ways we didn’t get it right, we can (with the benefit of hindsight) look back and do better moving forwards.
Now, I know that a lot of popular media at the time was pretty cringe-worthy and mean-spirited, (especially many of the comedies) so not everything needs to come back. But I think seeing media from a time where we felt vulnerable, alone, and unsure might allow us to feel more connected to our community.
A Frothy Musical
In an (admittedly) sudden sharp turn from the above, I want to see a huge, over the top, frothy, maybe a little bit dumb musical. I’m all for my cultural vegetables, but sometimes we all want a little popcorn.
My earliest memories as a theatre goer were the over the top costumes and big musical numbers that felt like the world was so alight in colours and fun that they just couldn’t help but sing about it.
I want pretty dresses and schmaltzy tunes, and no I don’t all the shows to be like that. But a few would be nice!
Or, or, hear me out… can someone do the Onegin musical again? I promise I’ll come like, at least three times.
An Utterly Unhinged Collaboration
I want to see the grungiest and scrappiest company partner with the most established, respectable organization in town. I want to see up and coming artists mix with a “safe” crowd. I want to see different genres and disciplines, I want us to have no idea how it’ll all work from the outset.
I want to see these companies come together and make something totally new.
Not a remount, not something we’ve seen before with some new costuming, a true collaborative piece. That is, something none of them could have ever imagined seeing before they all walked into the room together.
I want to see them find commonalities where no one thought there could be, to share, and laugh and create.
When artists of different disciplines get together, approaches and ideas that were taken for granted or assumed to be correct can be challenged. Together, new ideas can be assembled, and they can be used to build something completely new. By learning the limitations of other crafts, artists can create new ways around or through them.
I’m not saying I want this just because I want to be contrary, but I truly believe that new artists have lots to offer established voices, and vice versa. Our arts community is mighty and we do better by sharing and creating together.
More Theatre Magic
We have so many incredible disciplines in theatre that allow artists to set the stage without physical things – lighting, projection, mime to name a few.
And, as much as I love these, I love a bit of theatre magic that takes me by surprise. Maybe a little bit of flash paper, some trap doors, or make people disappear or reappear? Has anyone used pepper’s ghost?
There’s something amazing about a tangible magical effect that makes a show feel so true, so real that it brings new levels of, well, magic to the shows we’re seeing.
I have to give a tip of the hat to 31 Iguanas for some of their spooky magic in High Moon: A Werewolf Western. It fit the Halloween season perfectly.
(Don’t) Light My Way
You can do so much with a solid lighting wash, and while that’s absolutely great for so many pieces, I’ve been really interested in seeing what can be done with the dark.
Maybe it’s the lingering effect of 1ForUOne4Me, but I would love to see more scenes set with diegetic light. I would love to see a character wander around a dark, moody inn holding a candle (or faux candle if the fire marshal says), or a group of campers wandering to their campsite with only flashlights to guide them. Not for the whole show, but a scene or two.
Years ago, a friend of mine pondered if a scene could be lit by only the black screen of a projector. Since then, I’ve been enamored with the idea of what could be done with a dimly lit background projection. Maybe a dark grey could be used so signify some in between nether realm. Maybe set the audience in the nervewracking place of a dark, cavernous unknown. Or maybe a digital future where we’re not sure what is real.
Recently, I’ve been taken in by two lighting effects that were used incredibly well. In one, the set was completely black with pillars of light coming down from the tightly focused top lights. The dancers were completely unseen until they stepped into the light. It was so impactful and incredible. In another, the projection was something like a snowy screen from an old TV set. It created a jittery, tense atmosphere that was perfect for the piece.
Wonder and Awe
I know, I know, I hear you:
“Oh just bring back wonder and awe. Simple. Yes.”
And I’m being a bit flippant for the sake of a snappy title, but here’s what I mean: there is an incredible world of stories, of human connection, of love, of loss, in our world that is magnificent as it is deadly.
We are able to imagine, to dream, to laugh, and build the next step of a story together.
Art allows us to hold one tiny part of that awe and wonder for a short while.
And that’s incredible.
So what fills you with awe? What fills you with wonder?
And how can you share that with us?
Because maybe more than anything on this list, that’s what I want to see.
