Category: ARTS & THEATER

  • Justice for Movie Musicals, or Why the Musical Adaptation of The Color Purple Matters 

    Justice for Movie Musicals, or Why the Musical Adaptation of The Color Purple Matters 

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    Leticia Ridley: Welcome to Daughters of Lorraine, a podcast from your friendly neighborhood Black feminists exploring the legacies, present, and futures of Black theatre. We are your hosts, Leticia Ridley—

    Jordan Ealey: And Jordan Ealey. On this podcast produced for HowlRound Theatre Commons, a free and open platform for theatremakers worldwide, we discuss Black theatre history; conduct interviews with local and national Black theatre artists, scholars, and practitioners; and discuss plays by Black playwrights that have our minds buzzing.

    Leticia: Some stories just last beyond their original moment: fairy tales, family histories, and legends, the never-ending Shakespearean adaptation. Some stories transcend time and continue to resonate across generations. Undoubtedly, one might consider The Color Purple as one of those stories. A 1982 novel by Black feminist, artist, and theorist Alice Walker, it tells the story of Celie, a young Black woman in the south fighting to survive multiple forms of trauma and abuse, ultimately triumphant in her pursuit. At its heart, it is a story of sisterhood, resilience, self-definition, and coming into your own. The critical and commercial success of the novel, despite its controversy, earned Walker the Pulitzer Prize for literature, the first Black woman to receive the award.

    Jordan: The Color Purple has since spawned many adaptations. In 1985, the novel was adapted into a movie directed by Steven Spielberg and starring Whoopi Goldberg in lead role and included a star-studded cast such as Oprah Winfrey and Danny Glover. 1999, the novel being optioned by Scott Sanders for a musical version that found Broadway success in 2005 with a book by Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Marsha Norman and music and lyrics by Brenda Russell, Allee Willis, and Stephen Bray. The musical garnered multiple Tony nominations and included a win for LaChanze in her role as Celie. A highly successful 2016 revival of the musical perhaps allowed what Salamishah Tillet calls an American masterpiece to re-enter public discourse, and what followed eight years later is a film adaptation of the musical. In today’s episode, we discuss this new adaptation of The Color Purple and delve into questions around the genre of the movie musical and the challenge and necessity of representing Black women stories on screen.

    Hi, everyone. Welcome back to Daughters of Lorraine. It is gloomy and a little bit rainy here in Rochester, but we’re going to fight against that gloominess and talk about our topic for today. So this episode is a little bit of a departure for us. We are still talking about theatre. We’re never not going to talk about theatre, but today’s episode is going to delve into movies.

    Leticia: We are going to tackle the movie musical, and as someone who was introduced to musicals through the movie musical, I’m actually quite interested to talk with you a bit today about the intersection of film of musicals and where Blackness enters into the frame and why there seems to be a number of movie musicals that at least center around Black life that have been adapted to movie musicals and, quite frankly, had a fair amount of success. I guess a larger question we can ask, and I think this is an intra-racial conversation that we always have, is do Black people like musicals? And if they do, which I know quite a few Black people do like musicals, those who may not go to the theatre to see a musical, why do they support these movie musicals? Why do they support The Color Purple, who, from my understanding, has done really, really well at the box office? Dreamgirls was really big when it came out. So those are some of the questions that I’m interested to chat with you about today.

    Jordan: I don’t think I said it when I was introducing the episode, but we are talking about The Color Purple. We’re talking about the new adaptation of The Color Purple Musical. A lot of people we’re confused about this potentially being a remake. Even my mom was like, “Oh, yeah, they’re remaking The Color Purple,” and I had to tell her, “It’s actually not a remake. It is an adaptation of the musical version of The Color Purple.” So a lot of people just didn’t know that it was a musical, which is really interesting. This movie version came out in late 2023. I personally saw it in the movie theatres a couple of days after Christmas while I was home visiting my family. I actually got to see it with my grandmother, which was really special and exciting.

    This new version is directed by Blitz Bazawule, and if I’m pronouncing that incorrectly, I am so sorry. Blitz is very well-known as director, specifically for his work on Beyonce’s Black is King. If you saw that visual album version of Beyonce’s album The Gift that was in relationship to the Lion King adaptation, then you are familiar with his work. This film was also adapted by playwright Marcus Gardley, who folks may know most familiar with his work on his play The House That Will Not Stand. I believe we saw one of his plays that went up at Baltimore Center Stage. This movie also has choreography by the one, the only Fatima Robinson, who I am a huge fan of. I remember taking a class with her when I was a kid, and so I’m really just in awe of all the success that she had as a Black woman choreographer in multiple movie musicals and multiple music-related things. So very exciting to see her work in this musical.

    Leticia, tell me a little bit about your encounter with The Color Purple. How familiar are you with the source material? Have you seen other adaptations of it? What’s your familiarity with the story?

    Leticia: So I think I was first introduced to The Color Purple, the novel, in high school. I was in something called the IB Program.

    Jordan: What does IB Stand for?

    Leticia: International Baccalaureate Program. And it’s similar to what people in the states would know as AP. So, we read a lot of novels that folks who were not in the IB program did not read, and The Color Purple was one of those novels that we read. So I firmly remember reading the novel, enjoying it, and then I’ve seen the movie. I can’t place when I’ve seen it, but as in all Black households, you have your staples, right? You’re going to watch Boyz n the Hood; you’re going to watch The Color Purple. You’re probably going to watch Roots maybe, potentially, right? There’s certain Black staple films I feel like that you see when you’re younger.

    I knew Oprah at that time and I was like, “Oh, Oprah’s in this,” and Whoopi Goldberg was also huge at this particular time when the film came out and when I seen it. So I recognized certain figures. I don’t remember much about the film, and I didn’t actually know there was a musical until I got into graduate school, and then I had the opportunity with you to see it at Signature Theatre and it was… I love the music. I’ll say what I like about the musical adaptation is that it is, I think as an adaptation, goes really in conversation with the original source text. So that’s my encounter with The Color Purple.

    As a Black woman, I’m a big fan of Alice Walker and her work, and this being one of the legendary pieces that continues to circulate in our public imagination I think is really important. I think there’s a larger conversation about Black woman’s work being allowed to exist in different forms. I do appreciate the project of Color Purple is that it has been allowed to circulate in different mediums. We have the novel, we have the film, we have the musical on stage, we have the movie musical. I think there’s actually a lot of value for people being able to encounter and re-encounter work.

    I do appreciate that at the top of the episode you mentioned that this is an adaptation because I think that is very important and I think a lot of people, sometime when things are adapted or, well, it’s not originally this source material, and I think we’re uniquely able to talk about The Color Purple as a musical on stage, but also a movie musical because our training, and I feel like a lot of folks can’t—or not can’t, but they may not—understand the mechanics of musical theatre enough to understand and to have a genuine conversation about what is left in, what’s left out, what manipulations, and what genre impulses are being made with this source material.

    How about yourself? When did you encounter The Color Purple?

    Jordan: I actually believe I saw the movie first, probably a cardinal sin to admit that. The movie first, it was something my mom showed to me when I was younger. I grew up in a household that really, as you said, there’s the staple movies. I remember my parents sitting me down and having me watch Boyz n the Hood, and then also, my family sat me down and we watched the Roots together when it was playing over and over again, I believe, on TV One. I went to a majority Black school for elementary school, and so they actually played a lot of Roots in, we had to watch it in school.

    My mother is a huge fan of The Color Purple as the novel. I remember seeing it on her bookshelf my entire childhood. It never really called to me to pick it up until I was well into college, and that’s when I first read the novel and it was really moved by it. It was very struck by Celie’s story, all of the different women’s stories in there, this particularly being a story about queer Black womanhood and all of the ways that it tackles misogynoir. Oh, didn’t you also, sorry to interrupt my own story, but didn’t you also see the 2016 Broadway revival?

    Leticia: Yeah, I did. I’ve totally forgot about that. Yes, with Cynthia Erivo as Celie.

    Jordan: Yeah, and Danielle Brooks was in that one. Never forget. Also, I’m pretty sure Joaquina Kalukango, who you all might know, theatre lovers, theatregoers, will know from Paradise Square and winning the Tony Award for best leading actress in that musical, was in that 2016 revival version as Nettie, I believe, and Heather Headley played Shug Avery—so star-studded cast of iconic Black women. Cynthia Erivo was also awarded the Tony Award for best leading actress for her portrayal of Celie in that version that you got to see, Leticia.

    Leticia: It was the year when it was Hamilton and The Color Purple, so it was majority Black folks winning all the best actors.

    Jordan: And Shuffle Along.

    Leticia: Shuffle Along, yeah, so it was the year that everyone was like, “Whoa, Broadway’s really Black right now.” There’s a lot of Black shows and a lot of Black talent on stage. Then of course, that reverted back the next year. It was a great year, and I would recommend for anybody who may not be familiar with the music or the stage play to check out the Tony performance.

    Jordan: Stunning. Absolutely stunning. I have memories of seeing The Color Purple. So The Color Purple musical actually started in at the Alliance in Atlanta, Georgia. I have memories of seeing the version of The Color Purple, but I don’t think it was the original version with LaChanze. I actually believe it was the national tour with Fantasia. I don’t remember a lot. I don’t remember everything about seeing that show, but I remember really enjoying it. Then seeing it again, well, we saw it a year or so or, oh, probably two years now—oh, my goodness, time flies—at Signature Theatre in DC. That was the first time I had returned to the musical since seeing it when I was a preteen, and I was really moved by it. That was an incredible production that we saw at Signature, and it just made me appreciate The Color Purple as a musical so, so much more.

    Leticia: I think the story is very suited to the form of the musical. I think in my experience seeing it both on stage in the movie musical, I think it plays very well. I think music is so ingrained within the community. I know that we are not talking about the movie, the film, just yet, but just even in the opening scene when they’re at church, and music is so important part of the church. So I think it’s so ingrained in the story. If I’m remembering correctly, I think Alice Walker’s novel also attunes us to that quite well. So it seems like such a genuine partnership that it doesn’t seem out of place that music was then placed on top of this source material to make a musical.

    You mentioned earlier about you’ve seen Fantasia in it. I’ve seen it with Danielle Brooks, Heather Headley. I’m just curious if you have any thoughts about what makes the movie musical or even Black musicals the place where folks who may not be trained as musical theatre artists and/or even actors find within the musical themselves. I think there’s a quite long history, of course, I’ve not done any research on this of that being the case for Black musicians, either making the jump to musical theatre or doing a show. I think Brandy did Chicago at one point, but also actors like Taraji P. Henson, I don’t think anyone before this film would’ve said that she was a musical theatre actor by any case, but she somehow has found her way into the adaptation movie musical of The Color Purple.

    You have to get them to buy into the conventions of the musical while also trying to tell this really coherent story, but also give you some movie magic, while also keeping a little bit of that theatre in it. I think it’s a really difficult task.

    Jordan: That’s such a great question and thing to bring up. I want to say we’ve touched on it a little bit on this podcast around the appearance of celebrities in Black musicals. I also have not done significant research in the phenomenon of very famous Black stars being in musical theatre, but this does have a pretty big resonance. I think that, for example, Vinnette Carroll’s musical, Your Arms Too Short to Box with God, had a really successful production. I believe it was a revival that starred Patti LaBelle and Al Green. Al Green received a Tony nomination for his work in that musical.

    When we look at that, adaptations such as The Wiz, The Wiz was very highly, highly successful on Broadway. Then once it came a movie version, rather than casting the original Broadway stars, which included Stephanie Mills as Dorothy, they instead opted for Diana Ross, Michael Jackson, just really big name stars in order to do that. I don’t think Black musicals are the only movie musicals that do this. I think that oftentimes any adaptation is going to get some celebrity clout by choosing people who are really big names, especially in Hollywood, to do their role, such as Les Mis with Anne Hathaway or Evita very famously casting Madonna in the role.

    I don’t think that it’s only something that’s endemic to Black movie musicals, but I do think it’s interesting that it’s just such a huge thing that happens with that. I think it’s just a part of marketing in general. I think Taraji P. Henson, while she’s not necessarily associated with musical theatre because of her work in Hollywood, I’m pretty sure I heard her talk about… So she went to Howard for undergrad, and she won their Triple Threat award, which is awarded to, I’m pretty sure, a theatre arts major, a performing arts major that is successful in the Triple Threat arena, which if you are not familiar with what that term means, that means that you are an exceptional dancer, singer, and actor. Taraji P. Henson has had experience in training in musical theatre, but oftentimes, I just feel like Black actresses or Black actors in general are not seen as being musical theatre stars.

    So I think it’s easy to then cast Black celebrities in those roles because already Black actors are not as, in many ways, I’m not going to say this is a blanket statement, but just in many ways are not finding this huge success in musical theatre because of the ways that representation has worked in that genre historically.

    Leticia: That makes perfect sense, and I agree with you. Also, capitalism always runs rampant, right? So if you buy into the belief that Black folks don’t see movie musicals, and in order to be successful you have to go to genres or hire folks who are in genres that have some camaraderie within a popular Black public. It makes sense why you would go to a Fantasia and a Taraji, which I think a lot of folks may have not even been familiar with Corey Hawkins. He’s one of the standouts in the film for me. I will say I did think it was well-casted. I’m not always a fan of going outside of musical theatre in these movie musicals for these big roles because oftentimes folks forget they have to act as well sing. So, I actually was very happy with the casting. I think that it was casted very well. I thought that each principal actor did what they needed to be done.

    Jordan: I agree. I was really enthralled, that is the word I’m going to use, with the performances in this film. Even though I, again, knew that Taraji P. Henson had this musical theatre background, but just to see how electric she was in the role as Shug Avery was just like… She was fabulous. She was freaking fabulous. Her vocals were gorgeous. Her dancing, oh, my goodness, her dancing was so good, and I just was really… It was just amazing to see her command the movie in such a way. I was really, really, really impressed with her work in this movie. Just incredible.

    Also another acting standout for me, Halle Bailey all the way. Halle Bailey all the way. I just thought there was a, and we talked about this a little bit off the podcast, but just there was a subtlety and a nuance and just quiet strength in her portrayal of Nettie, and this nurturing presence that she had for her sister in the movie. I was really just blown away by her performance.

    Sorry, guys, don’t get mad, but I didn’t see Little Mermaid. I’m sorry. It’s not because I didn’t want to, it just slipped past me. So I hadn’t gotten to see her in her leading role, regrettably, but I just thought she was fantastic in this role. Just amazing. Obviously, we know she’s an absolutely ethereal singer, but I was really impressed with her performance, and I hope she does more musical theatre like, “Go back to the stage, girl. You can do that. You can be on Broadway, for sure.”

    Leticia: In your experience, I think a lot of people don’t know that she was in the theatre at a young age. She was in Atlanta doing theatre, and I think that training really, and that experience really showed up in the movie musical film. I agree, I think she was absolutely a standout. She captured the subtlety of Nettie, and the way that she was able to capture the language that is, quite frankly, not our language in which the pattern and the pace and the dialect in which we speak today I thought was just really, really great. I felt like all of the actors in their pairings when we think about Nettie, young Nettie, young Celie, older Nettie, older Celie, Shug and Celie, Harpo and Sofia, I think all the actors did a really great job of making sure that we felt that connection with their scene partners, which I think is really, really difficult to do, especially in a story that, for all of its triumphant conclusion, is a really painstaking, hard, traumatic thing to watch Celie constantly get beat down and beat down and beat down, and not just Celie. Sofia when she gets arrested, I think also it’s just like, “Oh.”

    I tip my hat off to this movie musical, and I know there’s been some critique around the musical, which I have my own critiques, the movie musical, which I have my own critiques for, but I think one of the critiques that I don’t necessarily buy all the time is folks saying that something was extracted from the film, the movie musical, because they took out particular lines from the novel or they rephrased something.

    I think that sometimes if we’re really looking at this as an adaptation, then those choices, those creative choices were going to be made in part because it’s hard to squeeze a what is probably like a three-hour, three-and-a-half-hour musical into two and a half hours.

    Jordan: 2x, 2x. usicals are notoriously long, guys. They’re super long.

    Leticia: It’s really hard. It’s really hard. It’s really difficult. Quite frankly, I think movie musicals, any movie musical is really put through the ringer because it’s not the usual genre in which the public, which films are made for, are used to consuming, so you have to get them to buy into the conventions of the musical while also trying to tell this really coherent story, but also give you some movie magic, while also keeping a little bit of that theatre in it. I think it’s a really difficult task, and I think The Color Purple, for all intents of purposes, did what it could do within the confines of the genre, and it did it very well. I will definitely watch this film again. I think this is a great teaching tool to have students dialogue around films and plays or filmed plays or whatever. I took a class like that in undergrad. I think it’s interesting to have a conversation about what is lost and what’s gained in that transition from stage musical to film musical.

    Jordan: So just generally, even though this isn’t necessarily either of our research, we do not write about the movie musical as a genre, but something you said earlier that I really want to go back to, Leticia, is you talked about your introduction to musical theatre being through the movie musical. I think that that is such an amazing point to make because I often think that there’s this purity of discovery. It’s like, “Oh, I’ve …” I do this because I’m a hipster sometimes too where I’m just like, “Well, I read the book first,” or, “I did this first,” or, “I have been obsessed with the cast recording of the original Broadway cast from 1965 of whatever movie musical is coming out.” So I understand there’s this purity or this protection that fans may have when their favorite thing gets popularized or adapted into something like a movie or even a musical or what have you.

    I think it’s really important to talk about the fact that this is a public display, that and even the most recent adaptation of Mean Girls musical, there’s just this resurgence, I feel, or this investment that theatre is having, Black theatre in particular is having because it feels like it’s not so insular anymore. I don’t know. Perhaps I’m projecting way too much on those just very small examples, but it just feels like theatres entering into the public discourse again in a way that it really hasn’t previously.

    Leticia: I think there’s something to say about this really unique relationship with Black folks in musicals because I watched The Wiz when I was young, but my parents never went to a musical a day in their life nor any theatre, but somehow they knew that The Wiz was a musical that we needed to watch. So I’m curious with that relationship with Black audiences that really come out and support musicals, Black musicals in particular. I don’t think that those same communities are perhaps being like, “Oh, yes, now we need to go see Mean Girls,” but I think there is something about the musical’s ability to blend these expressive traditions of Black life and put it all in one place that I think is quite undervalued or overlooked perhaps is a better phrasing of that when we think about the movie musical.

    While people even on Twitter were like, “Nobody told me this was a musical,” there was still people that were still wanting to engage it. Again, I don’t know how they didn’t know it was a musical, but that’s neither here nor there, but I think there is something to say about that questioning not being a question of, “Am I going to go see it?” but a question of like, “Well, I really didn’t know. If I would’ve known it was a musical, I would’ve gone with the expectation that they were going to be singing,” but I think the gravitas of something like Color Purple is that the music is also really, really damn good.

    That opening number, that opening song, that closing, I just think it just gives us so much, and I guess we can perhaps transition here to talk a bit about the film in particular. So, for folks who haven’t seen the film yet and want to watch it and don’t want to be spoiled, you might want to stop the episode here because we’re going to be talking about particulars.

    So, what are your thoughts about the movie musical?

    I think that this new adaptation speaks to exactly why, in the hands of Black creators, Black stories find a new complex, nuanced perspective.

    Jordan: I mentioned that I saw it with my grandmother, and I did that for a particular reason. Because I am a theatre scholar, because I’m a dramaturg, because theatre is my life in many ways, I find that a lot of people expect me to be super critical of theatre and anything theatre adjacent. I can see where they would make that determination or that impulse, but seeing the movie with my grandmother, I’m not saying I didn’t and don’t have critiques of the movie, but the actual pure joy that this movie inspired in my grandmother just made me happy. It made me happy that it exists and that so many people were touched by it.

    I was in a packed theatre in Stone Mountain, Georgia of mostly Black women and Black families in general, and just like the “oohs,” the “ahs,” the moments of inspiration. Literally when the credits started rolling, this woman just literally says to the screen, “Damn, that was a good movie.” I just want to start it off, my thoughts on the movie, by saying that because I think that we talk a lot about Black joy, Black joy, Black joy, honestly, it just speaks to—and I’m very disappointed with Alice Walker’s very transphobic comments that she’s made recently because I think that her story, her story, AKA The Color Purple, is such a testament to what Black women need. We need our stories to be told. We need our stories to be represented.

    Nana is talking about all the things that she—Nana’s my grandmother—is talking about all the things she’s went through in her life, and we were able to have that conversation after the movie because of seeing Celie’s narrative. She saw herself and she saw parts of herself and other Black women she’s known. I just cannot stress enough how important it is that we continue to revisit Celie’s story. I think Celie’s up there with these heroes and heroines that we uphold across theatre and literature. Celie, I think, is one of the most iconic, iconic protagonists in American literature, bar none.

    Leticia: Let me jump in real fast and just say, I 100 percent agree with you. I think what’s really important about what you just said also is that even within the story that’s being told in all of its iterations, Celie needs Sofia, but there’s also a moment when Sofia needs Celie. Shug needs Celie, and Celie needs Shug. So it’s this multi-directional care and love and presence within Black women that is just the staying power, at least for me, within this story. I think that relationship is definitely communicated beyond just the story that is told within The Color Purple. So I just wanted to say that because I was really struck by what you shared about your grandmother.

    Jordan: It’s something that, for example, the movie adaptation by Tyler Perry of For Colored Girls, what that adaptation gets wrong about, For Colored Girls, is that it dials down the fact that there’s sisterhood among the women. Yes, they suffer, yes, there’s trauma, yes, there’s misogynoir, all these different things. I’m certainly not arguing that these pieces of art aren’t displaying the traumatic portions of Black womanhood, but it does not usually focus on the relationships that Black women have with each other. The fact that Celie finds her voice because Sofia helps her give it. Sofia is in prison, and who’s visiting her every week making sure she has a hot meal to eat? Celie. So, six years.

    Then I also want to say too, what I loved about the movie is that that was, yes, so many terrible things happened to Celie. So many terrible things happened to her in the course of this story. In this version of the movie, I did not feel like Celie’s trauma was the focal point of the story. I felt like her self-discovery and her finding her voice was. I deeply, deeply felt as if there was a concerted effort by the creators of this film to center Celie’s triumph and her coming of age and self-discovery rather than this spectacle of her traumatic life.

    Leticia: Like the Spielberg film.

    Jordan: Clock that, and I think that speaks to… I know Spielberg got a lot of criticisms back in the day for not being a Black director and taking on this very iconic Black story. I think that this new adaptation speaks to exactly why, in the hands of Black creators, Black stories find a new complex, nuanced perspective. To me, this didn’t feel like Oscar bait-y trauma feel. “How can we capitalize on Black women’s trauma kind of thing in order to get awards?” type of thing. It really, deeply felt… I felt the care, I felt the love, I felt the nourishment of Black women’s lives and stories that I often feel is devoid in theatre and musicals by, I mean, not by, but about Black women that are by non-Black creators.

    It feels like to me in The Color Purple, it feels like all of the different ways that I’ve seen this narrative be treated. This is one of the few that I actually felt like Celie was a person. She’s a person. She’s had really horrible things happen to her, but she has thoughts, she has feelings, she has ideas. She wants to design pants.

    Leticia: Some of the standouts for me is the choreography. I was really pulled by the choreography, and there were just moments, standout moments. Corey Hawkins can dance his face off. Likewise, you was really impressed with Taraji P. Henson and her dancing, but I just also thought the choreography was just so lived in and so within the world that the story was telling us. It didn’t feel they were trying to Dougie when they’re doing Ms. Celie’s pants. I felt like there was a… Of course, Fatima Robinson is legend, amazing. Of course, we expected nothing less, but I thought there was just a genuine investment in making sure that the choreography lived within this world and that it would be connected with the stories that were being told.

    There was a clip going around on Twitter of just some more choreography where they do the Nicholas Brothers splits. That didn’t make it into the movie, but the clip is circulating. Also, I just love… There’s just something I love about watching Black folks dance and be happy and dance. The joy that Black people get from dance, there’s just something that just tugs at my heartstrings to see Black folks together dancing hard and loving on each other and pumping up. So I really enjoyed that as a standout for me in the film.

    Jordan: Seeing this movie, it’s just like, “Damn, the music in this musical is so good.” It is absolutely so good. Although I have personal beef with the fact that y’all didn’t include one of my favorite songs from the musical, which is “Brown Betty,” I’m not going to hold that against y’all—

    Leticia: I am.

    Jordan: But I just want to know why.

    Leticia: I know. That would’ve been so good. Oh, Brown Betty (singing).

    Jordan: Because there’s something about Black men not fetishizing but admiring the natural physical beauty of Black women that I feel like that song really celebrates. Oftentimes, and I’m teaching Black feminist theory this semester, and I’ve been reading a lot about the Black feminist writers tackling the relationships between Black men and Black women and how they’ve been ruptured by systemic oppression in so many ways, so that public celebration of Black men just loving the way Black women look, and again, not in this fetishistic way, but more so about their beauty like how… I don’t know. Anyways.

    Leticia: Justice for “Brown Betty.”

    Jordan: Justice for “Brown Betty.” Justice for “Brown Betty.”

    Leticia: Your grandma’s name also is Betty, so also that would’ve been a nice moment.

    Jordan: Yes, yes. No, I was so excited. I was like, “No, Nana, there’s this one song I think you’re going to love in particular,” and it never happened. She’s like, “What was the song?” and I’m like, “It’s a moot point now, Nana. It’s a moot point,” but Marcus Gardley says something about the music adaptation in the film, which I know that there’s talks about the new arrangements or whatever, but I just want to say y’all it’s always going to happen. Anytime a musical adaptation happens, there’s going to be new arrangements of the song because it’s going to be a new music director or it’s going to be the music director trying to do something different.

    Even In The Heights, which the movie was done by Lin-Manuel Miranda, still had new arrangements and lyrics and everything of the songs, so just saying that. Also, so Marcus Gardley says that, “One thing that we were really cognizant of is making sure some of the songs were upbeat. It changed the temperature and also helped us understand that characters, true to their own resilience, could pull themselves out and show their strength.” I thought that was interesting,

    I don’t know that I necessarily think that all songs need to be upbeat in order to show joy, strength, and resilience, but I find that to be a really interesting sonic choice is to make songs more upbeat, show a different sonic thing in order to invest in that thing that we both recognize as them truly actually celebrating Black women’s joy and community with one another.

    Leticia: That’s interesting because I feel like the original music has that. We open up with (singing).

    Jordan: I feel that way too.

    Leticia: We have (singing)… I feel like, even in the original musical, there’s different sonic temperatures and tones that really balance it out well. So that’s an interesting quote from Gardley. I love the music. I think I told you after I watched it, I was like, “Man, the music for The Color Purple is really, really good.” I was like, “I really, really, really love it.” I’m a ballad girl, so I love the ballads that we get in the moment. “I’m Here,” with Celie, that makes me ugly cry every time I hear it. They got singers, let’s just put it that way. They got people that could actually hold these songs, which makes it even better. I will say with the direction, for the most part, I loved it. I will say there were some moments where I was questioning the choices. I think this happens, actually, quite frankly, to movie musicals a lot, is that they don’t want to live within the world that the story is told. So for them, I think many times it’s like, “Well, in real life, we don’t sing, so this can’t exist only in realism.”

    Even though I would say that The Color Purple, the story is a story that lives within realism, and the music does that as well. Perhaps it’s them trying to capture the theatrical magic that can happen on stage in the film world, but it seemed a little off to me. I’m talking about two particular moments at the beginning when young Celie is singing and she’s in this deserted field with the men hitting, looking like they’re on a chain gang hitting the ground with these sledgehammers to the beats, and then she goes into a waterfall with these women washing their clothes, which actually doesn’t reflect the world that we’re about to see. It seems like they’re living in the woods, in forests, a space with a lot of greenery. So I was like, “Oh, that’s an interesting choice.”

    Then the one that really drove me crazy was when Shug’s in the bathtub and they’re in there and they’re doing their little song or whatever, and next thing you know, we’re on a record player on a disc spinning around. I just didn’t understand the choice to take us out of the world that we were living in and just have them sing under those conditions because we don’t actually really do… We didn’t do that throughout, I think, the rest of the musical. I didn’t identify any other moments where that happens necessarily, but it just took me out for a moment because I was like, “Well, let’s just live in this world where it reflects our world,” but they also sing songs and then dance and then stop and go back into dialogue.

    So I was a little curious about that choice, and perhaps it’s because of the conversation about how queerness once again, another adaptation of The Color Purple, falls outside of the purview of what it’s trying to accomplish.

    Jordan: Absolutely. I was absolutely going to… I can’t speak to that first moment with Celie as a young girl and her, I guess, escaping to her imagination could be the sticking point of that, but I agree that it still took me out of it, but the moments between Shug and Celie, when that kept happening, it happened twice with them, in my opinion, that moment you talk about with the record player, and then it happened again when they were at the movies. Then it transported into this ballroom-esque. When they’re singing what I personally think is the best song in the musical, which is “What About Love.” I love that song. I listen to it all the time when I need some inspiration, and I love it. I think even some of the ways that some of the creators talk about it makes me know that this was not supposed to be about highlighting the fact that they had a romantic and sexual, yes, sexual relationship. They were together together in the novel. That’s what they were doing. The musical does a little bit of a better job highlighting their true romantic relationship, but it still doesn’t go as in depth, obviously, as the novel does.

    Steven Spielberg talks about the flack that he got for erasing the queer narrative, and he’s like, “Well, I just wanted to keep a PG-13,” which we can have a conversation about why a queer relationship can’t be PG-13. Also even in the new adaptation, Fatima Robinson, the choreographer, talks about how women will feel so empowered and so in love with the sisterhood between Celie and Shug. It shows their closeness and there’s an attraction to each other, but it doesn’t cross the line.

    Leticia: What line? They were lovers. Literally, they were lovers. Come on, Fatima, girl, you got to do better.

    Jordan: So it speaks to the fact that there was a concerted effort, I feel like, to contain the queerness, to contain it in the new adaptation, which it just still doesn’t go as far. They wake up together, and so I guess you can say there was an implication, but by saying that they’re just sisters, just gal pals, just friends being friendly, it’s just like, I don’t know that I’m in total agreement with that. Perhaps I have too much fidelity to the novel, but I just think that it’s really… We rarely get to see queer women, queer Black women in particular being represented within theatre, but also musical theatre in particular.

    I think that this may be one of the few times when there’s even a Black queer relationship between women represented in musical theatre. So to have that, it’s not even that common for white women either. There’s Fun Home. There’s only a few other ones, but in general, just The Prom, yes, The Prom, so Jagged Little Pill, but really, it’s just incredibly rare to have queer women be represented, let alone queer Black women. So I was very disappointed with that. I wanted them to be a lot more. I wanted that to be highlighted more or I see people trying to say, “Well, I don’t know if Celie really… I think she just really admired Shug,” blah. She was in love with Shug. She was sexually attracted to her. She thought she was fine. You know what I mean, in the nineties way, not like girl crush or whatever. They were in love with each other. So anyways, I think that was very disappointing, once again, part of this movie.

    Leticia: I share your critique of how their queer relationship was depicted and how their story also ends up on the cutting room floor in a way that I didn’t think we needed to necessarily … I don’t think the whole idea of Shug telling Celie, “I love you and I love being with you, but I want to run off with this man. It’s going to be the last time that I’m going to come back, and we’re going to live our life together,” I even feel like that would take up a lot of time narratively, but I think the ambiguity around their relationship was definitely intentional because they were trying to account for folks who may want to see this movie who are homophobic, which is disappointing, which is disappointing. Overall, I did enjoy the movie musical.

    Jordan: I also wanted to say one thing before we wrap up is that someone talks about the fact that Shug never, in this adaptation, calls Celie ugly, and I just wanted to highlight that, and I think that is important to say that while their relationship was very dialed down, a very lightened version of what happens between them, I do think that that was a significant contribution and change to the narrative that people clocked. I didn’t notice it when I first saw it, but after seeing some folks highlight that, I think that’s really important and interesting, right?

    Leticia: Right. Yeah, no, thank you for bringing that up. I think it’s also an important thing to note about the musical adaptation for film. So if you have not seen it just yet… I don’t think it’s in theatres anymore, but if it’s in theatres, go; but also, it’s available on Apple. You got to buy it or rent it, but it’s available now for streaming within your home. So I would highly recommend it. I think even if you haven’t read the novel or seen any of their films, I think you’ll still enjoy the story that’s being told in this way. I really do highly recommend it.

    For other movie musicals that might tickle your fancy, we have, of course, we are going to highlight Dreamgirls directed by Bill Condon, one of Jordan’s absolute faves, Sarafina!, directed—

    Jordan: Leticia has had the displeasure of watching Dreamgirls with me, and I know that movie the back of my hand. It is hands down one of my favorite movies.

    Leticia: Not displeasure at all, not displeasure at all. Sarafina! directed by Darrell James Roodt; The Wiz, directed by Sidney Lumet; and Sparkle, the 1976 version, let me repeat that, the 1976 version directed by Sam O’Steen. So check out those movie musicals. I think you’ll definitely find something if you have not watched them before or and also just revisit them if you haven’t watched them in a while. They’re definitely a pleasure to watch.

    Jordan: Just for some articles that help you think a little bit about movie musicals, adaptations of musical theatre, we have just a few that we like to recommend, In Search of The Color Purple: The Story of An American Masterpiece by Salamishah Tillet. So this book really talks about Salamishah Tillet’s own relationship with The Color Purple, namely the novel, but she does also delve into the other adaptations. So while it’s not specifically only focused on the musical, she does delve significantly in the book around the reception of the musical and her relationship to it, and interviewing some of the actresses who are a part of it, such as Cynthia Erivo in the 2016 revival. So really want to recommend that book.

    Then Disintegrating the Musical Black Performance and American Musical Film by Arthur Knight mainly discusses movie musicals in the early to mid-twentieth century, but is a very great look in depth on the genre of the movie musical, and specifically how it relates to Black people and Black audiences. Then finally, La Donna Forsgren’s article, “The Wiz Redux; or, Why Queer Black Feminist Spectatorship and Politically Engaged Popular Entertainment Continue to Matter,” where she discusses The Wiz—sboth the 1978 version the movie but also the live version that happened a few years ago that was directed by Kenny Leon—and talks about queer Black feminist spectators watching these musicals and what they may offer to them.

    So please check out these movies. Please check out these other resources and continue to think about moving musicals in Blackness. This was such a fun episode and getting to talk about something different for us. So, I love movie musicals.

    Leticia: Likewise. We will see you all next time for another episode of Daughters of Lorraine. Thanks for listening.

    This has been another episode of Daughters of Lorraine. We’re your hosts, Leticia Ridley—

    Jordan: And Jordan Ealey. On our next episode, we interview musical theatre artist-scholar Masi Asare. We have so much in store for you all that you definitely will not want to miss. In the meantime, if you’re looking to connect with us, please follow us on Twitter, @DOLorrainePod, P-O-D. You can also email us at [email protected] for further contact.

    Leticia: Our theme music is composed by Inza Bamba. The Daughters of Lorraine podcast is supported by HowlRound Theatre Commons, a free and open platform for theatremakers worldwide. It’s available on iTunes, Google Play, Spotify, and howlround.com. If you’re looking for the podcasts on iTunes, Google Play, or Spotify, you’ll want to search and subscribe to “Daughters of Lorraine podcast.”

    Jordan: If you loved this podcast, post a rating or write review on those platforms. This helps other people find us. You can also find the transcript for this episode, along with a lot of other progressive and disruptive content on howlround.com. Have an idea for an exciting podcast, essay, or TV event that theatre community needs to hear? Visit howlround.com and submit your ideas to the Commons.



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  • What Makes St. Louis a Flourishing Ecosystem for New Plays and Cooperative Production Models

    What Makes St. Louis a Flourishing Ecosystem for New Plays and Cooperative Production Models

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    Some St. Louis New Play Festivals

    Another important new play festival is the Aphra Behn Festival at Slightly Askew Theatre Ensemble (SATE). If the St. Louis Shakespeare Festival is a giant oak acting as a hub of resources, SATE is a large dogwood providing support to many saplings. SATE began in 2001 as a company dedicated to supporting women theatre artists. According to SATE co-producers Ellie Schwetye and Rachel Tibbets, “If we’re not seeing ourselves authentically portrayed onstage, we can be the agents of change.” The Aphra Behn Festival began in 2017 to provide early-career women directors an opportunity. Schwetye and Tibbets say, “We did not necessarily intend for it to become a new play festival… however, logistically, it made a lot of sense to pair new writers and new directors together.” In the fifth festival iteration, SATE paired women theatre artists further in their careers with early-career artists. Crucially, the festival is not comprised of readings at music stands. These are produced plays, so this is not a development process, but a production process. The connections made at this festival lead to further collaborations, sometimes simply between spectators and artists. For example, I first saw the work of playwright/dramaturg/producer e.k. doolin at an Aphra Behn Festival, and doolin is now the associate artist and co-producer at Contraband Theatre. We might not have met without the Aphra Behn Festival connection.

    Another new play festival in St. Louis that fully stages works, though not necessarily from local writers, is Tesseract Theatre’s Summer New Play Festival. Staged over three weekends, this festival of new works from emerging writers seeks to fill gaps in the theatre canon. For instance, in 2019 Tesseract produced Earworm by Shualee Cook, which Tesseract’s then artistic director Taylor Gruenloh describes as a “witty trans comedy,” that was a reaction to being “tired of the trauma” in most plays that center trans characters. Shortly after, Cook was named to the first cohort of the Confluence Writers Project, again showing the interconnectedness of the new play community.

    Finally, the MFA playwriting program at SIU in Carbondale also has an annual new play festival. The two-hour drive between Carbondale and St. Louis means that material resources are not shared between the university’s School of Theater and Dance and St. Louis companies. However, many SIU playwrights contribute their work to the St. Louis ecosystem. For instance, three of the fifteen Confluence Writers Fellows have been graduate students from SIU—Myah Gary, e.k. doolin, and Cameron Noel—and the 2022 Confluence Festival also hosted a reading of the thesis play by graduating MFA playwright Pearl Moore. So the SIU MFA playwriting program provides local playwriting training which then helps the St. Louis ecosystem flourish.

    St. Louis is on an upswing for providing the arts—including new plays—necessary infrastructure, and the interconnectedness of theatre venues in the Grand Center Arts District helps the new play ecosystem.

    Venues, Human Connections, and Resources: Cross-Collaboration

    Another aspect of the healthy new play ecosystem of St. Louis is the sharing of tangible production resources that allows new plays to be produced outside of festivals. One of those resources is collaborative rather than competitive venue space, particularly in the Grand Center Arts District.

    The Grand Center Arts District is a half-mile radius neighborhood that is an arts crossroads. The Grand Center Arts District website lists “60+ Arts & Cultural Organizations, 16 theatres, 17 museums/galleries, 10 music venues, 18 event space rentals, 22 bars/restaurants, 8 schools/universities, [and] 4 religious institutions.” In June 2023, Forbes Magazine called the Grant Center Arts District “the most exciting emerging arts district in America” and the 2023 Arts Vibrancy Index by SMU Data Arts ranks St. Louis twentieth in the nation. Outside the arts, Popular Mechanics named St. Louis the number one city for startups, meaning the city is attracting the type of educated, monied folks who are often audience and donors for the arts. In short, St. Louis is on an upswing for providing the arts—including new plays—necessary infrastructure, and the interconnectedness of theatre venues in the Grand Center Arts District helps the new play ecosystem.

    Space to perform is one of the most important, and often most crowded, pieces of infrastructure in a city. The Grand Center Arts District contains several spaces, all of which have resident companies that produce new works. Those venues offer cross-marketing opportunities such as posters with one-another’s seasons in the spaces. Plus, all are in an arts neighborhood with heavy foot traffic. For instance, the Grand Center Arts District is home to the young-audience-focused Metro Theatre that creates new work, such as Spells of the Sea, a new young adult musical. Metro Theatre is very close to the home offices of the St. Louis Shakespeare Festival, so a family seeing a show at Metro might see advertising for the new plays offered by the Shakespeare Festival.

    Additionally, the Shakespeare Festival has offices, shops, and rehearsal spaces that are available to rent and are sometimes donated for staged readings, performances, and rehearsals, furthering collaboration. Also using some of the Shakespeare Festival resources is Prison Performing Arts. For two decades, Prison Performing Arts has served incarcerated men, women, and youth throughout the St. Louis region, including facilitating the creation of original plays. In fact, through the Alumni Theatre Company, Prison Performing Arts often presents those works—or works developed in St. Louis—to the public. Most recently the Alumni Theatre Company produced The Privilege of Being Second by Eric Satterson and David Nonemaker which in 2024 was nominated for Outstanding New Play by the St. Louis Theater Circle. Prison Performing Arts most recently performed in the Shakespeare Festival rehearsal space, but it more often performs at the Chapel, a space outside of the Grand Center and another hub of new play collaboration.



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  • Decentered Playwriting: Alternative Techniques for the Stage, Book Launch Panel

    Decentered Playwriting: Alternative Techniques for the Stage, Book Launch Panel

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    The Drama Book Shop presents, in association with Jay Michaels Global Communications and the Dramatists Guild of America, Decentered Playwriting: Alternative Techniques for the Stage Book Launch Panel, with Carolyn Dunn, Eric Micha Holmes, and Les Hunter, moderated by Hunter College MFA Playwriting Christine Scarfuto.

    Decentered Playwriting is an attempt to both reach back to underrepresented story-creating techniques, as well as investigate exciting new methods to writing works for the stage. It offers practical advice, historical analysis, theoretical context, and writing exercises from an array of theatrical methods. Contributors to the book span 5 continents, curated from a diverse spectrum of artistic and academic perspectives, and unified by a craft forward approach. Decentered Playwriting is a gentle primer to the infinite ways one can approach the craft of writing plays and teaching playwriting. It aims to amplify and diversify a conversation about what playwriting is by presenting suppressed and novel tools for all to use. The approach of this text does not focus on what plays should do, but on what they can do.

    Bios:

    Carolyn M. Dunn, MFA, PhD, is an Indigenous playwright, dramaturg, actor and director whose plays have been Equity produced on stages in Los Angeles and New York. Her academic work engages across disciplines including theatre, literature, ethnohistory, ethnomusicology, landscape, language, and cultural studies. She is an Associate Professor of Theatre and Dance and is the Director of Playwriting and Dramaturgy at California State University, Los Angeles. Dr. Dunn also serves as an advisor for the low-residency MFA in Interdisciplinary Arts (Decolonial and Indigenous Arts concentration) at Goddard College in Washington State and is the Artistic director of Oklahoma Indigenous Theatre Company in Oklahoma City. www.carolyndunn.org

    Les Hunter is an award-winning playwright and theatre scholar whose academic work focuses on early 20th Century American theatre. He is a recipient of the Ohio Arts Council Individual Excellence Award and was an inaugural Premiere Fellow at Cleveland Public Theatre. Dr. Hunter is an associate professor of English and Creative Writing at Baldwin Wallace University.

    Eric Micha Holmes is an American dramatist whose work has been heard on Audible (Rapture Season: From a Glacier We Watch the World Burn), BBC (Care Inc.) and seen at the National Black Theatre (Mondo Tragic) and Guild Hall (Falls for Jodie.) He’s an Affiliated Faculty Member of Goddard College’s MFA Creative Writing Program. www.ericmichaholmes.com

    About HowlRound TV

    HowlRound TV is a global, commons-based, peer-produced, open-access livestreaming and video archive project stewarded by the nonprofit HowlRound. HowlRound TV is a free and shared resource for live conversations and performances relevant to the world’s performing arts and cultural fields. Its mission is to break geographic isolation, promote resource sharing, and develop our knowledge commons collectively. Anyone can participate in a community of peer organizations revolutionizing the flow of information, knowledge, and access in our field by becoming a producer and co-producing with us. Learn more by going to our participate page. For any other queries, email [email protected] or call Vijay Mathew at +1 917.686.3185 Signal. View the video archive of past events.



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  • Suzan-Lori Parks’ Watch Me Work

    Suzan-Lori Parks’ Watch Me Work

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    Watch Me Work is a communal work session for anyone eager to nurture and sustain their creative process. Facilitated by Public Theater Playwright-in-Residence Suzan-Lori Parks and the New Work Development department, Watch Me Work takes place via Zoom sessions and HowlRound livestreams that you can join at home, at school, or in a coffee shop from anywhere in the world!

    What Happens During Watch Me Work

    Each session will be one hour. During the first twenty minutes, Suzan-Lori Parks and participants engage in an individual creative working session on their own project. During the remaining forty minutes of class, participants are part of a real-time dialogue with Parks and each other about their process. Are you feeling stuck and can’t figure out how to move forward? Are you looking for encouragement or motivation for what you’re working on? Do you want to talk through an idea you have for a new artistic project? Watch Me Work is here to help!

    What Does Not Happen During Watch Me Work

    In alignment with the ethos of Watch Me Work, Parks and participants will not be sharing work and receiving critique. In addition, Parks will not be participating in a Q&A about her body of work. Watch Me Work is about hearing about your work and supporting you.

    How To Participate

    Sign up for Watch Me Work to receive the Zoom link for this session, or simply watch the live stream on the player on this HowlRound page.

    About HowlRound TV

    HowlRound TV is a global, commons-based, peer-produced, open-access livestreaming and video archive project stewarded by the nonprofit HowlRound. HowlRound TV is a free and shared resource for live conversations and performances relevant to the world’s performing arts and cultural fields. Its mission is to break geographic isolation, promote resource sharing, and develop our knowledge commons collectively. Anyone can participate in a community of peer organizations revolutionizing the flow of information, knowledge, and access in our field by becoming a producer and co-producing with us. Learn more by going to our participate page. For any other queries, email [email protected] or call Vijay Mathew at +1 917.686.3185 Signal. View the video archive of past events.



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  • Suzan-Lori Parks’ Watch Me Work

    Suzan-Lori Parks’ Watch Me Work

    [ad_1]

    Watch Me Work is a communal work session for anyone eager to nurture and sustain their creative process. Facilitated by Public Theater Playwright-in-Residence Suzan-Lori Parks and the New Work Development department, Watch Me Work takes place via Zoom sessions and HowlRound livestreams that you can join at home, at school, or in a coffee shop from anywhere in the world!

    What Happens During Watch Me Work

    Each session will be one hour. During the first twenty minutes, Suzan-Lori Parks and participants engage in an individual creative working session on their own project. During the remaining forty minutes of class, participants are part of a real-time dialogue with Parks and each other about their process. Are you feeling stuck and can’t figure out how to move forward? Are you looking for encouragement or motivation for what you’re working on? Do you want to talk through an idea you have for a new artistic project? Watch Me Work is here to help!

    What Does Not Happen During Watch Me Work

    In alignment with the ethos of Watch Me Work, Parks and participants will not be sharing work and receiving critique. In addition, Parks will not be participating in a Q&A about her body of work. Watch Me Work is about hearing about your work and supporting you.

    How To Participate

    Sign up for Watch Me Work to receive the Zoom link for this session, or simply watch the live stream on the player on this HowlRound page.

    About HowlRound TV

    HowlRound TV is a global, commons-based, peer-produced, open-access livestreaming and video archive project stewarded by the nonprofit HowlRound. HowlRound TV is a free and shared resource for live conversations and performances relevant to the world’s performing arts and cultural fields. Its mission is to break geographic isolation, promote resource sharing, and develop our knowledge commons collectively. Anyone can participate in a community of peer organizations revolutionizing the flow of information, knowledge, and access in our field by becoming a producer and co-producing with us. Learn more by going to our participate page. For any other queries, email [email protected] or call Vijay Mathew at +1 917.686.3185 Signal. View the video archive of past events.



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  • Autistic Artists Should Be Telling Autistic Stories

    Autistic Artists Should Be Telling Autistic Stories

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    Theatre is a powerful force. The stories told onstage shape how an audience views their friends, children, and colleagues. It can be a great place to form an empathic connection with others and learn stories from different perspectives. However, when stories are put into the wrong hands, they can cause these perspectives to be seen as strange, leading the audiences to exclude those people in their everyday lives.

    The autistic community has lived that experience for years. Through a variety of different media representations, autistic people have been othered and dehumanized by the non-autistic community.

    Theatre is no exception. One of the most well-known plays about autism is Simon Stephens’s The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time (based on the book by Mark Haddon with the same title). This play portrays an accurate intersection of autism and trauma, but it also showcases a lot of autistic stereotypes. These stereotypes are exaggerated when put next to the ensemble of neurotypical characters in the show, making the autistic main character, Christopher, seem different from them. The audience sees Christopher as “other,” and the play makes no attempt to show the audience the humanity that also exists inside of Christopher’s disability.

    This dynamic was only furthered when non-autistic actors were cast as Christopher. According to Fearlessly Different by Mickey Rowe (the first openly autistic actor to ever play Christopher), casting teams would often claim they cast non-autistic actors because “autistic people couldn’t handle the demands of the show.” Others have said it’s because “the story isn’t about autism.” Perspectives on autism have slowly shifted in the years since Curious Incident premiered. Since Mickey Rowe played the role in 2017, a variety of different openly autistic actors have played the character. There have also been strides for representation outside of Curious Incident. In the fall of 2023, the first openly autistic actors to play autistic characters on Broadway debuted in How To Dance in Ohio.

    However, what is missing in both of these examples is representation offstage. While having actors with lived experience is crucial in being able to have authentic representation, how can you tell a story about that lived experience without an autistic person at the helm? Stories about autism need openly autistic directors to lead them. While I have no doubt that there are plenty of autistic directors, there are very few that are open about it. I am one of three that I can name off the top of my head, and I only discovered the other two recently. It led me to ask: Why aren’t there more openly autistic directors, and why aren’t they telling these stories?

    In 2023, I became the first openly autistic person to direct Curious Incident in a professional setting. Through my experience in directing this play, I’ve gathered some answers to my questions and found out why having autistic directors is crucial for telling autistic stories.

    There’s a saying in the autism community: “If you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person.”

    While there have been more autistic actors cast in Curious Incident in recent years, it is certainly still not the norm. But an openly autistic director is more likely to cast an openly autistic actor in autistic roles. We’re more likely to understand how important it is to have authentic casting and lean in that direction.

    There’s a saying in the autism community: “If you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person.” It’s meant to show that autism is a spectrum, so each autistic person will have a different experience. Having multiple openly autistic people in the rehearsal room will lead to a wider range of perspectives, which can lead to developing a more universal message about a piece. When directing

    Curious Incident, I was firm from the beginning that I wanted an openly autistic actor to play Christopher.

    While there was some initial pushback from the production company, I didn’t waiver. We cast Katherine McCrackin, who is both autistic and physically disabled, as our genderswapped version of the character, Chris. If I had not pushed for authentic casting, no autistic person would have been cast in the role.



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  • A Circus Robot’s Death-Defying Act 

    A Circus Robot’s Death-Defying Act 

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    Tjaša Ferme: Welcome to Theatre Tech Talks: AI, Science, and Biomedia in Theatre, a podcast produced by HowlRound Theatre Commons, a free and open platform for theatremakers worldwide.

    Hi, Josh.

    Josh Corn: Hi, Tjaša.

    Tjaša: I’m so excited to see you. Thanks for joining us.

    Josh: Yeah, it’s great to see you as well. It’s been a little bit.

    Tjaša: I know. It’s so funny, I’ve been going over your videos and over your website, and you just keep making me laugh, and you’re such a good communicator. It’s so easy to grasp what the projects are really about, and I so enjoy that. And I think it’s really important in this medium, in all mediums, to be good communicators.

    Josh: Thank you. Thank you. Yeah, we love to make people laugh. We think that it’s a pretty good way to break down barriers between people and certain topics and just have a good entry point into having a conversation. So we love to use that and it makes things fun, too.

    Tjaša: Josh Corn is the guy to know. A true renaissance man of our time, Josh is a master builder of all things physical and digital. Never losing steam, he collected an architecture degree from UPenn and a master’s in product design from SVA in order to dedicate his life to engineering physical feats of wonder. He’s built robots, done professional stage lighting, and probably has a secret rocket locked under some NDA. With Josh, ideas are never too absurd, projects are never impossible to build, and puns are always appreciated. Josh Corn and his Double Take Labs love to make people question their assumptions. They use absurdity and comedy as a way of breaking down barriers to concepts, as well as making it entertaining. They love when tech can become invisible and serve the story from the background. So cool.

    Josh: Thanks.

    Tjaša: Can you tell us a little bit more about Double Take Lab?

    Josh: Yeah, sure. So we’ve been around for almost six years now, which is amazing, and it was me and a business partner of mine, Eden Liu, who started this company. We both came from a background of product design. We worked together in grad school, at School of Visual Arts in the Products of Design department, that’s where we met, and we found that we had an overlapping love of experience design, creative technology, and just messing with people’s expectations and assumptions. My thesis was all about… I used to actually be a stage magician many years ago, and so it was playing with magic and thinking about what room there is for magic these days when we have literally anything at our fingertips. We can create whole worlds in VR and things like that. So then, how then do we create space for wonder?

    So that was my thesis, and Eden was working on how everything in design is almost like an act of misdirection, or almost like a small crime. You are almost creating this mischief and affecting people’s attention through design and sort of looking at things that way. And so we—

    Tjaša: Well, it’s funny how humans learn. Sometimes we learn about something by telling us what it is not. In a lot of mythologies around the world, they sort of define God through what God is not. That always cracks me up, but at the same time, it does seem like a good perspective to unveiling mysteries about concepts and things and educating.

    Josh: Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. That’s really interesting. I was reading a book the other day that I think this is a standard sort of exercise about illustrating the concept of what is a chair. It’s something that you can sit on, but is the floor a chair or is the countertop a chair? And things like that. So yeah, I think it is an interesting way of reframing a concept for people and thinking through how you can get people to think differently or even behave a certain way by giving them an action or some sort of unique input. We love to think about sensors and technology in interesting ways, so yeah, how can we affect people to question their own assumptions or do something within a space?

    Tjaša: Yeah, and we met when you were working on René, which was absurd and hilarious, and I found this in your video trailer. René is the most technologically advanced robotic arm from 2002 that doesn’t have any artificial intelligence, it doesn’t have any environmental senses, and it can only lift two pounds. So she decides to go into the circus. Can you tell us, really what prompted you? What’s the impetus of working on René and yeah, a little bit of the journey of the René?

    Josh: Yeah, it was a long journey. This whole sort of concept of creating a circus with robots started when we had the opportunity to apply for a residency, and the residency would allow us to use a really large industrial robot arm. And we thought, “Well, how amazing would it be if we could get this thing to perform circus tricks?” And we went and we met with the company that owned the arm, and they said, “We don’t think that’s possible with the amount of time that we have, the amount of money we have, unless you, personally, know how to program an industrial robot arm, we don’t think it’s feasible.” And so we said to ourselves, “Well, we don’t know how to program a robot arm, but we can learn.”

    So we used some of our profits from previous projects, and we went out and we went on eBay and we purchased our own industrial robot arm, and we taught ourselves: how do you program it? How do you start to get it to behave the way that we want? And we had to create some tools along the way to allow us to animate it using sort of traditional animation software, and then be able to try and get some emotion out of it and some more complicated movements. And it just developed over time. We were just playing around with all these ideas until eventually, we were pitching this idea around and the New York Hall of Science was interested. And so we said, “Well, let’s do it. Let’s create a full show.”

    So we made a twenty-minute show of René auditioning to be part of a circus, and the narrator is sort of the ringmaster, the ringleader, and is asking all these questions, “Well, can you do this? Can you do this?” “No. No. No.” “Well, what can you do, René?” And René eventually performs what it considers a death-defying act, which is, what would be a death-defying act to a robot, maybe dancing around water or something where it could potentially have a virus that could erase all of its memory or things that are dangerous to robots but aren’t necessarily to humans. And so we were playing with all these different ideas of what this could be for a robot to actually perform something exciting and interesting.

    Tjaša: So what was this death-defying act?

    Josh: Yeah, so if you’ve ever seen the trick of putting your hand on the table with a knife and kind of going between all your fingers really quickly, faster and faster. So we made a version of that where René was clicking buttons faster and faster, and if she accidentally clicked the wrong button, it would erase all of her memory. And that’s exactly what happens in the act. She clicks the wrong button, she shuts down. We have these projections and lights that go off, sounds start blaring and all of this. And then the person who’s actually there as part of the act uses the backup drive to resuscitate René and get her back going again.

    And it was really fun. We actually worked with the students who were the explainers at the New York Hall of Science, and so they were the ones that ran the whole show. We had to build it so that they were the ones who were actually acting and setting up René, changing the props and all of that. So it was a lot of fun, and the show was different every time because of it.

    Tjaša: So interesting. So a robot that eventually is programmed by you to commit its suicide?

    Josh: That’s right.

    Tjaša: Or to walk the tightrope and most likely she’ll fall, and so she does.

    Josh: Yeah.

    Tjaša: That’s crazy. Okay, amazing. And can you talk a little bit about where this came from in terms of, it was almost like a response to the fear that the AI and that the robots will take our jobs?

    We looked at the circus as being this pinnacle of human ability… We felt that was a pretty safe industry that robots wouldn’t move into. Ironically, robots are moving into the circus.

    Josh: Yeah. So the original sort of concept, the reason why we were sort of provoked to create this, was that at the time, and I still think there’s quite a bit of this, there’s this fear that robots are going to take over. There’s a fear of loss of work around all of this, especially now with artificial intelligence getting as good as it has so quickly in the past couple of years. So for us, for René, we looked at the circus as being this pinnacle of human ability. This is the thing that we always go to to see people doing death-defying acts, actually doing something that they are avoiding death in these moments. And they’re things that we look at as being very inspirational. We wish we could do that. We wish we had that skill. We wish we had that ability, and we thought robots would never be able to do that.

    They wouldn’t be inspired the same way that we would from looking at other humans. So we felt that was a pretty safe industry that robots wouldn’t move into. Ironically, robots are moving into the circus and into performing arts and things like that, but we wanted to create something where we could start to have that conversation and show a robot as not being able to do those things, yet still have it be entertaining, still have it be something that we could watch, but we can start to have a dialogue about how there’s still things that we need humans for. I mean, even me, we needed me to program René to be able to do these things, so.

    Tjaša: Yeah. I think that what René arose in my mind was the sense of paradox and almost like futility. It was almost like making fun of our assumption of its capabilities. And of course, this conversation in the spectrum of artificial intelligence is just getting bigger now because the robots can do more things, but basically, the human projecting on a robot or artificial intelligence continues.

    Josh: Yeah, absolutely. Yeah. It was a factor of how much we could afford at the time to purchase this robot that couldn’t actually do so much. But I think to your point, it is a perfect opportunity to show this dichotomy of something that’s designed around precision. So it should be able to do things incredibly precisely and specifically. It should be able to juggle, right? Juggling is just precision, throwing a ball and catching it exactly where it needs to be. And yet, it’s actually pretty difficult to get a robot to be able to juggle. There’s a lot of different sensors and things that are involved, and it also starts to lead into the fact that it’s impressive but not impressive in the same way that it is to see a human do it. We would look at a robot juggle and we say, “Well, of course you can get a robot to juggle,” but doing the same tricks with a human, that’s impressive because we can relate to how difficult that is for us.

    Tjaša: Yeah, I’m not able to juggle at all, unfortunately. I’m able to juggle with two, but I’m just—

    Josh: That’s juggling.

    Tjaša: It’s juggling, just catching two balls and—

    Josh: Sure.

    Tjaša: … ascending them in a semicircular movement. I was also looking into your Field Day Games that made me laugh. This was born during the pandemic where people couldn’t be in the same space, but there was still a craving for physical interactivity. And so I found this. Compete in simple games with groups over a video call to spill, drop, break, crack, ignite, burn machines in our studio. Everyone wins, except Josh. He has to clean up. That must’ve been fun, Josh. Tell us a little bit more about this particular project and its implications and journey.

    Josh: Yeah, yeah. So as you mentioned, it was early pandemic and we were trying to think about what we love to do is make physical things move, sense, breathe, change, react to people’s movements or the environment in some way. And so, the pandemic, though is difficult in a whole host of different areas, for us, it meant that we couldn’t be in the same space and we couldn’t make physical things that could actually interact with people within a space. So we thought about, well, how could we continue to explore in that time and what could we come up with, knowing that everything needs to be virtual or remote or over Zoom? And so we came up with this idea of the Field Day games, which are a perfect thing for a whole group of people to get together, to get on a field, to play these games and compete.

    But we can’t do that during this time. We can’t be together. So we created these games that you could play over Zoom, through the browser, and they were all one team versus another. And we started really small with just a couple of our friends, eight or nine of our friends, and we created these robots, these small physical representations of various games. So the games we did were the tug of war, an egg toss, and then a relay race. And so on the screen, you’d be pulling a rope with your friends while looking at a live view of these robots pulling back and forth depending on how you’re pulling on the screen, and you have to try and beat the other team. And so we were trying to think, “Okay. Well, what’s going to make this exciting?” Sure. It’s the idea of something being physically changing based on my inputs, but we wanted to raise the stakes. So in all three of these games, they make a mess. What you’re trying to do is you’re trying to make a mess in our studio, and so—

    Tjaša: Which is so satisfying. I was feeling satisfied by just watching the trailer. The crashed egg, the cereal falling, the piece of paper burning. Oh God, it did feel like the stakes were really high.

    Josh: Right, right.

    Tjaša: I could burn down the studio if you just, I don’t know, had to urgently run to the bathroom or something silly as that.

    Josh: That’s right. Yep, yep. I am there with the fire extinguisher, and every time I’m feeling the anxiety mounting as we get closer and closer to the flame and then it’s right, I have to clean up at the end. But we did this, we scaled it up to play with almost nine hundred people in one game.

    Tjaša: Wow.

    Josh: We’ve done this for team building, we’ve done it for new student orientations at universities. We’ve done it as just ticketed events or part of larger conferences. And yeah, it’s really fun and it’s something we still want to explore, especially now with teams being remote in different places. How can you bring people together around these things that sometimes we’re lacking, these physical objects.

    Tjaša: So what you’re really doing is you are trying to connect people?

    Josh: Right, yeah.

    Tjaša: And you’re using technology to make them feel connected, to make them feel together, and to make them feel that they actually have a physical impact. Their actions on the screen are having physical impact.

    Josh: Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. And we found that, a lot of times over Zoom—I teach, that’s another thing that I do. I teach at a couple of different universities and my students won’t have their cameras on or they won’t engage, or they’ll be communicating with me through the chat on the side. And so it’s a very alienating platform to just be online over these videos sometimes. And so we also were trying to figure out how do we get people to actually collaborate in these mediums? And so before each of these games, we would explain the rules of the games and we would give them a little practice page and they would go to these pages, completely separate from the robots. They wouldn’t even know what the robot would be quite yet. And they would rehearse, and they would practice, and they would strategize, and they’d have to figure out how are we going to all tell each other when to pull this rope together, and how do we do it in such a way where the other team doesn’t know what we’re doing?

    And so they’re coming up with ideas, they’re throwing things out, they’re practicing, they’re trying out different concepts, and then we have them come back and then actually compete in this giant room with sometimes hundreds of people. And you have to figure out what’s the strategy? What are we all doing? How are we working together in this medium?

    Tjaša: That sounds so much fun. I’m thinking in terms of theatre, the medium of theatre, what is really the intersection of technology and theatre? What can they give to each other, in your words?

    Josh: I think we think a lot about immersive stories, how can you get the audience actually involved either by contributing to the theatre itself or creating individualized experiences of theatre? And I think that science, technology are really opening the doors of what we’re able to do, especially now with generative pieces where we can directly have people influence the content, the audio, the visuals, maybe the narrative itself. I think that there’s a lot of opportunity that’s still yet to be explored of how we can involve people and still have a goal. The idea of theatre, of storytelling, is to impart a certain message or have some sort of response from the audience, but maybe it doesn’t need to be a static piece anymore. Maybe it can be something that has some interactivity to it.

    Tjaša: I just wonder, and this is not a trick question, I’m just like, there’s three dots in my brain. I’m being like, can we see the Field Day Games as a theatre piece?

    Josh: Yeah, I think so. I think that there’s drama involved, absolutely. There is this story. Whenever we perform or actually put on some of these experiences, we give them the whole story of where this came from and what we were trying to accomplish and what we hope they can feel from it. Like you were saying, feel more connected, especially for student orientations and things where just a couple of months ago, they wouldn’t even come on campus, they would just be online and they wouldn’t even know their classmates. How can we get them to come away with it with a certain feeling of being more close to their classmates? And I think that is theatre, especially with that narrative arc that we’re putting forth in the experience.

    Tjaša: Yeah, because there’s space, there’s participants/actors/witnesses, there’s an emotional arc, there’s an interactive component. I love interactive theatre, so I’m always looking for that.

    Josh: Yeah.

    Tjaša: And the story is embedded in the action. So it does seem like all of the components are there.

    Josh: Yeah, I think, my background’s in theatre, whether it was performing magic or for many years, I was doing technical theatre, all through college. Actually, before college I was doing that, and I graduated my undergraduate in architecture, but I blended that with theatre. And so for many years, I was actually working as a theatre consultant, so helping architects to design theatres. Looking at rigging systems, dimming systems, how can we create these support structures for people to produce theatre? And so it’s always been, honestly, top of mind, how we can create or support these people’s stories or narratives or what you’re trying to get across. And so I love doing that with my own work as well, and also, working with other storytellers.

    Tjaša: Also, you mentioned that you love doing things that are immersive. I saw this project that you did back in 2019, Where There’s Smoke by Lance Weiler, an immersive theatre production that premiered at Tribeca Film Festival. I was really moved when I actually read about it. I’m just going to share with our audiences a little blurb about it: “In 1983, our van burst into flames on a family vacation. Eleven months later, our house would burn to the ground. As I explore my past, I find mysterious connection to these blazes and come face-to-face with a closet full of skeletons. Inspired by true events in my life, Where There’s Smoke details the connections between two mysterious fires and my father’s battle with cancer.” Sounds like incredible project. Is it still possible to see it anywhere? Is this touring?

    Josh: So unfortunately not, right at this moment, but there are a couple opportunities that are coming up. In a couple of weeks, Lance will be doing a live version of the show in Portland. I’m not sure exactly, the details of it, but I know that’s coming up in November. And then we are looking to have a tour next year in 2024.

    Tjaša: Amazing.

    Josh: Yeah.

    Tjaša: Okay. You’ll give us the details so that we can plug it in, all the links, etc. but—

    Josh: Yeah, love to.

    Tjaša: Awesome. Amazing. Tell me a little bit about your role on this project.

    Josh: Sure. So I actually worked on the sort of third incarnation of this project. So it opened in Tribeca in 2019, 2020 hit and Lance ended up redoing the entire show as a virtual experience that he could do using some online collaborative tools like Miro, which is sort of like a white boarding tool. And then, just last year, we started talking around December about how we could bring it back and how we can change it and bring some of the digital aspects of what he did in the second version back into the first version. So we sort of went right back to the beginning again, we had all the content, but we had to figure out what are we going to do? What are we going to workshop? What structures should we try and use in this new version of the show? So in the original version, Lance had recorded all of these stories with his father as he was battling with cancer, and they had this amazing score to the show that was written, a beautiful score.

    And so these were the components that we had, as well as Lance’s father’s artwork. So we kind of went back and we figured, well, why don’t we create a more individualized experience and people can kind of go and actually look through all of his father’s physical things, his photographs, his camera, his clothing, his journals, and things like that while listening to this score and the stories come up. So we created this new version in 2023 at ArtYard, which is an unbelievable facility in Frenchtown, New Jersey. If anyone is interested in amazing art and exhibitions, they’re an unbelievable location, and they have residencies also.

    Tjaša: Good to know. Thank you.

    Josh: Yeah. And so we created—

    Tjaša: All the artists friends, listen up.

    Josh: Yeah, yeah. Highly, highly recommended.

    Tjaša: ArtYard in Jersey.

    Josh: Yeah, wonderful people. And so, we created this version where it became an individual sort of headset experience where people would walk around with a flashlight in a darkened room filled with Lance’s father’s photographs, and through your headphones you would hear music and stories come based on how you actually walked through the room, how you interacted with things on the tables, how much time you spent in certain areas. And it was actually a fully generative experience in the sense that, every time you went through, each person would have a totally different experience.

    Tjaša: Wow. Tell us more. How did you build that?

    Josh: Yeah, so we used what’s called an RTLS. It’s a real-time location system, and it allows us to track people as they move throughout the room. So we hit a small tracker inside the flashlight, and we created some custom hardware that’s also inside the flashlight that we can live mix eight channels of audio. So as you’re walking around, we can bring in the synthesizer and bring down the saxophone, and we can start to get things to decay and break down as you’re in the experience longer. And we also can affect things in the environment itself. So if you walk up to this giant mosaic that we created of thousands of Lance’s father’s slides, the lights would come up on it and the light on your flashlight would fade down so we could really interact with the room, the space, and sort of change things as the guest would move throughout the space.

    Tjaša: Amazing. I’m just kind of imagining whenever the music starts degrading and the people maybe become uncomfortable and start speeding up, or I’m just wondering how this affected a human body, right?

    Josh: Yeah. So we experimented quite a bit on this. So we did lots of play tests, lots of experiments with what happens if we serve a story when you walk up to a table. What happens if we serve a story when you leave a table? Which might indicate that you are ready to hear more and that you are done with your current location and you want to do something else? So we played with all these different conditionals and ways of directing attention, and we found that most of the time, it really didn’t matter too much what we gave people because they would just start to make their own connections. They might see something at one table and then remember a story that they heard a couple minutes ago and start to say like, “Wow, how did you connect and make me go to this place?” And we’d say, “We didn’t. You found these connections all yourself in these ways.”

    Tjaša: Oh, beautiful.

    Josh: Yeah, it was really amazing to work on.

    Tjaša: And so these different audio tracks, you said that there was eight of them, so I imagine that there was eight possibilities basically at, I don’t know, each coordinate, you probably broke it down into some kind of a grid?

    Josh: Yes. We had these different zones around the room, exactly. And so we would know, are you in a zone? How long have you been within a zone? When you leave, and what direction you’re leaving. And these eight tracks would change. Sometimes they would be playing a story, other times it would be totally instrumental and sort of mixes of this instrumental music. But each time you would hear a story after that, the music would degrade more and more and more. So as you go through the experience, it gets darker and darker until eventually, you can’t interact with anything within the space anymore. Nothing actually responds to you. There are no more stories to hear, and it’s time for you to sort of let go and complete your experience.

    Tjaša: Interesting. I guess my question is, what was the shortest, what was the average and what was the longest time of a human journey in this immersive piece?

    Josh: Yeah, so it’s great you bring that up because, because we’re tracking everyone, we have all of this data and we can analyze it and see how many stories are they listening to, when, how are they moving around? And yeah, we found, the shortest, a lot of people, I wouldn’t say a lot of people, some people found it just too much. They walked in and it brings up a lot of feelings around grieving and loss. And for some people, when they go through the very first visualization exercise that we have them do in order to introduce them to the space, sometimes it’s just a little bit too much for them. They might have something recent that they’ve experienced. And so, we definitely have some people that have short experiences.

    Most people, it’s around thirty-five minutes for the actual time within the space. And we have had people go longer than that, even if they don’t get any more stories, even if they don’t get any more interactions, they have a beautiful, long sort of last track that they can listen to and they can just sit within the space and just let themselves process and think and reflect.

    And so we’ve had some people who’ve stayed in there up to an hour, just being.

    Tjaša: Wow, yeah. Do you consider yourself an inventor?

    Josh: It’s a good question. I don’t know if I’m an inventor. I think that I call myself a creative technologist, and I like that term because I think that I used technology, whether or not it’s something that I’ve developed or I found, in creative ways. So I think it’s more of a cook, a chef. I’m mixing all of these different ingredients, sensors, outputs, things like that in order to find something creative that works in service of a story. Sometimes we’re asked to be engineers and engineer something and really design something new from scratch that has a lot of research and development. But no one on my team is a traditional engineer. We don’t have an engineering degree, we have no… I have a lot of respect for people who are actually engineers, so we don’t call ourselves that, even though, that is sometimes what we’re doing in our work.

    Technology doesn’t have to be something that uses electricity. It doesn’t have to be something digital… For me, it’s really about the interaction.

    Tjaša: Yeah. What does technology mean to you?

    Josh: That’s a good question. I think, for me, technology doesn’t have to be something that uses electricity. It doesn’t have to be something digital. I think that it is creating some sort of, I think for me, it’s really about the interaction and kind of looking at it from a human to mechanism to interface to sensor relationship. And so, when I think of technology, at least for me, I think of that relationship and what can we create in order to augment or add in a physical sense. That’s what we like to do. I’ll give you another example. We’re working currently on a project for a company called Sloomoo Institute, and they are a slime amusement park, is what I like to say.

    Tjaša: Is that the one in Soho?

    Josh: Yes. Yep. They’re in Soho and they’re expanding very rapidly. They have a location in Atlanta and Chicago that opened a year ago, and they have a new one that’s opening in Houston in a couple of weeks. And we’ve been working with them for years to think through some of their experiences and how we can help them to get more flow, more throughput, and just enhance the experience, in general. And so, one of the areas we’ve been focusing on has been their DIY bar where you can make slime yourself. And it’s so fun. There are so many options of things that you can play with, of ingredients and textures, colors, fragrances, charms, all these things you can mix in. And it’s sometimes overwhelming. There’s so many choices. So how do you get people quickly through this experience so that they can make something that doesn’t feel completely overwhelming?

    And so, from a technology perspective, from a designer perspective, our first way of creating a response was to create these vending machines. And so for every color, for every scent, we had these vending machines, you could put your slime in, press a button, there’d be pumps behind the scenes and motors, and they would drop these powders and fragrances and all this into your slime. And it was great, but it was very complicated and difficult to maintain. There are challenges of creating all this automation for these types of companies. And so we’re actually now making a second version that has no electricity, no motors, nothing in it, and we’ve turned them all into gumball machines. So everyone gets these tokens, they can put them in, and it just uses human power to turn and twist the pumps and things that are behind the scenes. And I still consider that technology, even though we’re not necessarily using electricity or anything digital, there’s a lot of engineering and design behind the scenes in order to create this enhanced experience for people.

    Tjaša: What’s the role of intelligence in technology?

    Josh: Interesting. I don’t know if there necessarily needs to be a lot of additional intelligence. I think that things could be actually relatively stupid. And I think sometimes it’s good if it’s simple and stupid and does one thing correctly, and it’s robust and it’s efficient. I think that that, sometimes, honestly, a lot of times what we do is better than building in a lot of additional smarts into the situation. But there is a fine line. There’s a fine line between, when we say, “I have a smart light bulb.” How smart is that light bulb? It’s not actually that smart. It could change the colors, but that’s not very smart. It’s connected. I think connectivity is amazing, and that’s allowing us to do a lot of this type of work, but I wouldn’t necessarily say that it’s particularly intelligent. Yeah.

    Tjaša: I love that. So you’re saying that smart is really simple and that it’s more of connectivity and less intelligence that makes technology?

    Josh: Yeah. I think for us, the connectivity is sort of what opens up, Where There’s Smoke was all about these connected, enchanted objects, people walking around with a flashlight and it feels like nothing more and yet, it is heavily connected to the experience. And for Field Day Games, people are connected, but these devices are also connected. And there’s a lot behind the scenes of this sort of backend in order to make it all work. But it’s very simple. It’s very straightforward. You pull something on the browser and it pulls a string in our studio.

    Tjaša: Brilliant. Oh my God. Yeah. I don’t know. There’s just something so joyful and satisfying in the work that you do. And what kind of comes up for me is the memories of camping, of actually being in nature. A flashlight, the school textbook, me and my friends at thirteen, we went away for a scouting weekend or a camping weekend, away from our parents. And the world is our oyster, and it’s going to be exciting, and it’s going to be full of our own innovation of how to spend time and connect the dots of this vast universe. And I think that your work has similar ingredients.

    Josh: We love to call upon older technologies, things that seem to be kind of lost or forgotten. Even these flashlights, when we talked about the form of the flashlights, we wanted it to feel like those big chunky plastic flashlights that we used to have in the eighties with the big handle and the giant batteries in them. One, because it allowed us to hide a lot of stuff inside them. But two, yeah, there’s this feeling of remembering the times outdoors and or an emergency flashlight or having all these connotations to it. Yeah, I think all of that comes into play when we try to think about these interactions. Yeah.

    Tjaša: Beautiful. Josh, thank you so much. This was so delightful.

    Josh: Thank you.

    Tjaša: Tell us, please, where we can find you, where we can follow you, and what’s the next thing that we can see from you?

    Josh: Sure. So our website is Doubletake.design. On Instagram, we are Doubletakelabs, @Doubletakelabs. And what’s coming up? Well, right now we are gearing up to do this installation in Houston for the Sloomoo Institute, so that’ll be open in early December if anyone’s interested in checking it out in Houston. And we are also working, as I mentioned, I teach, and so I’m sort of developing this new class actually, with the Digital Storytelling Lab at Columbia University. And so we’ll be doing a creative coding class there in the spring. So it’s pretty exciting.

    Tjaša: This podcast is produced as a contribution to HowlRound Theatre Commons. You can find more episodes of this show and other HowlRound shows wherever you find podcasts. If you loved this podcast, I sure hope you did, post a rating and write a review on those platforms. This helps other people find us. If you’re looking for more progressive and disruptive content, visit howlround.com.



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  • Completing the Unfinished Sentences of Our Ancestors with Jonathan McCrory

    Completing the Unfinished Sentences of Our Ancestors with Jonathan McCrory

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    Leticia Ridley: Welcome to Daughters of Lorraine, a podcast from your friendly neighborhood Black feminists, exploring the legacies, present, and futures of Black theatre. We are your hosts, Leticia Ridley—

    Jordan Ealey: And Jordan Ealey. On this podcast produced for HowlRound Theatre Commons, a free and open platform for theatremakers worldwide, we discuss Black theatre history; conduct interviews with local and National Black Theatre artists, scholars, and practitioners; and discuss plays by Black playwrights that have our minds buzzing.

    Leticia: Jonathan McCrory is a Tony Award and Emmy-awarded nominated producer, two-time Obie Award-winning Harlem-based artist who has served as executive artistic director at the National Black Theatre since 2012 under the leadership of CEO Sade Lythcott. He has directed numerous professional productions and concerts, which include How the Light Gets in, Klook and Iron John, Dead and Breathing, HandsUp, Hope Speaks, Blacken the Bubble, Asking For More, Last Laugh, and Enter Your Sleep. He has worked at ETW, at Tisch NYU, with Emergence: A Communion, and Evoking Him: Baldwin. He directed Exit Strategy and A Beautiful Day in November on the Banks of the Greatest of the Great Lakes at SUNY Purchase.

    Jordan: In 2013, he was awarded the Emerging Producer Award by the National Black Theatre Festival in Winston-Salem, North Carolina and the Torch Bearer Award by theatrical legend Woodie King, Jr. He’s a founding member of the collaborative producing organizations Harlem 9, Black Theatre Commons, the Jubilee, Next Generation National Network, and the Movement Theatre Company. McCrory sits on the National Advisory Committee for howlround.com com and was a member of the original cohort for artEquity. A Washington, DC native, McCrory attended the Duke Ellington School of the Arts and New York University. In this episode, we had a chance to talk with McCrory about his work with the National Black Theatre and his ongoing commitment to nourishing and cultivating Black creativity and Black life.

    Leticia: Hello, everyone. Welcome to Daughters of Lorraine. I am Leticia here with Jordan Ealey and we have a wonderful, wonderful guest for you all. Jordan, who is our guest today?

    Jordan: Our guest is Jonathan McCrory, executive director of National Black Theatre. Welcome to Daughters of Lorraine.

    Jonathan McCrory: Hello, hello, hello. Happy to be here.

    Leticia: Yes, I love this energy. Let’s go. Let’s go. You know when you see a really good show with some bomb performers and they just give you what needs to be done and you’re, “Oh, wait a minute, maybe I need to jump on stage.” That’s what I’m feeling right now, so I appreciate it. I appreciate it so much.

    Jonathan: Oh, yes, yes, yes. No, we need to give you all the sunshine because I’ve been up for a while. A hot minute. I’m able give you, you know? Let’s bring on that love. Bring on that grace. Bring on that energy, that Beyonce energy.

    Leticia: Yes, energy.

    Jonathan: Hey, hey, hey.

    Leticia: Before I get stopped, before they copyright, that’s when Beyonce is like, “Snatch that theatre podcast off of everything.” But I’m feeling the energy. I’m feeling the energy.

    Jordan: Exactly, exactly. We would love to just start off with hearing a bit about your journey. How did you come to theatre? How did theatre become the medium that you wanted to tell stories in? What makes this particular art form resonant for you as an artist?

    Jonathan: It’s so interesting when you asked me that question, I’m just like, “Did I choose theatre to tell stories?” and I would say, “Not necessarily.” I choose theatre to try to transform lives, to try to have a conversation on that emergence of what does that care mechanism look like that truly helps to embody, awaken, and actually enliven our humanity. And if that comes in a telling of a story, totally dope, happy to do that. I feel well versed in getting that done. But what I don’t feel well versed in, but I feel very excited by learning every single day from my colleagues, from my own experiences, from artists, from people in the sector, is how to be more human, how to actually show up more human. I think that that’s an ever-growing sentiment that keeps on evolving itself. And I think that theatre is the conduit that I feel like I can do it all.

    I can do a little bit of dance. I can do visual art. I actually do the exploration of the excavation of like, “What are the human tools of creativity that we utilize to actually manifest life, to show a reflection of life?” And so for me, it’s not necessarily about the story. Even though the story is important and I want to tell diverse and interesting and inciting and intriguing stories, yes, I do; and also I think, at the heart of it, I’m trying to figure out how to be more human throughout it all, trying to figure out, “How do I get you, the spectator me, the viewer, me, the participant, to be in an intersecting relationship around, regardless of how specific the story is, we’re talking about a Black woman story, a trans woman story, a trans man story, a Black male story, a Black kid story, an elder story, all the binaries? When we start talking about all the binaries, how do I make it so that you feel humanity at the end and not necessarily the binary?”

    So, you can start to understand that this is your kinfolk that we’re actually talking about. And through your kinfolk, we actually need to be more caring when we go outside in the world.

    Jordan: I was just going to say, was there a particular early point in your journey?

    Jonathan: Oh, you aren’t talking about where it came from, you’re talking about where my seedlings come from. You want to be like, “Where your kinfolk be and how you get up in here?”

    Even though the story is important and I want to tell diverse and interesting and inciting and intriguing stories, yes, I do; and also I think, at the heart of it, I’m trying to figure out how to be more human throughout it all.

    Jordan: Yeah. Where are your roots?

    Jonathan: “When did it start?” I was like, “Stop playing on your life. Stop being all theoretical. Let’s get to the actual.”

    So, I’m DC raised, DC born and raised. Was born and raised under the privilege and under the real, from a creative standpoint, of Duke Ellington School of the Arts, one of the oldest Black arts high schools in the country. I was in their drama department. and also I was in their subset, which was a new burgeoning program called the musical theatre program . And through that rigorous/dedicated/experimental/curious, I didn’t know what … I went to Duke Ellington not because I was like, “I’m going to be an artiste.” I went to Duke Ellington because I refuse to be a number in a big old school and a big public school. My parents refused that for me. I refused that for myself.

    And so the arts actually became the salve so that I could learn how to be me, really honestly. So that’s when you asked me about “how did I get into theatre?”… theatre was not the destination, theatre was an accomplishment along the destination of trying to really love myself and love who I am. And it actually gets me in alignment with the theatre that I get to be a part of, right? When I say those words, “Love myself, love who I am,” I think of what Dr. Barbara Ann Teer says, “Learn to love yourself,” right? And art has been a mechanism for me and this journey of art has been a mechanism for me to learn to love myself.

    So I went to Duke Ellington. I was in DC, I like to say, when it was Chocolate City. Still, it is still, but sometimes a little bit more white chocolate than it’s actually chocolate-chocolate, right? So I was in DC when it was Chocolate City, got to really get to have the privilege of witnessing what it meant for, I would like to say, the ratchet to the rich or the elegance, to the unstable, to the questioning, to the wandering, to the vagrant, to the fully secured kind of spectrum of our community to be in one space with each other, right? And really understanding that we all deserve love at the end of the day. We all deserve compassion. We all deserve healing.

    And I really have to say a big shout-out to my grandmother who has transitioned, but in this moment, her spirit is so close to me in this way of saying that she taught me, as being a social worker, the heart of what it means to serve, the presence of what it means to serve. And through her stewardship and through her care of being one of the key staples to raise me got to witness what care looks like as an actual tangible source, and how love, if we lead with love, how we also can be a radical voice to change the world. So that is my fort, my grounding, my foundation.

    A lot of different intersections I could talk about in this moment in that foundation, from the teachers that I were able to have to the experiences of being in Chocolate City, to the advocacy of my parents, to making sure that a child with dyslexia and ADD and whatever else I have did not see themselves as a prescription note of failure, but actually a prescription note of success or accomplishment or achievement. So all of those are what live inside the vortex of who I am and art became the curious grace note for me to actually get to know myself more, which then I kept the curiosity going, went to NYU, studied at CAP21, left CAP21, went to ETW.

    And the curiosity was never to land on the stage as in the act all, but to land in the space of figuring out what does home look like? The curiosity of what does home for a Black body in this current context. That led me to starting a theatre company with a group of my friends called the Movement Theatre Company that’s still going on today; and then that led me to start a producing company called Harlem 9, which is still going on today; and then landing me ultimately in the position as what I’m now as, it wasn’t how I started, as the executive artistic director of the National Black Theatre.

    So all of these intersections, all of these modes, all of these different levers that get to be unlocked are really stemming from this simple curiosity note that wasn’t about me being a theatre practitioner, this curiosity note of, “How do I get to be the best human? How do I get to be the most full human in this body that I get to occupy and steward?” And I still think I’m in the space of becoming whoever that is, still in the space of understanding that person is. And I’m grateful to be surrounded by so many beautiful people who keep me honest, keep me grounded, and allow me to live in the space of that honesty on a day-to-day basis.

    Leticia: I love that and I’ll just say I have an older sister who’s also a social worker, and I know she’s going to listen to this episode since she’s going through all our podcast episodes. So hey, Tanyisha. Thanks for listening.

    Jonathan: Yeah, sis. Shout out to family.

    Leticia: I love that you brought up everything that you do, right? The Movement Theatre Company, which we are huge fans of, Harlem 9, National Black Theatre with Dr. Barbara Ann Teer. And we have found that these spaces are either dedicated to Black life and living, and/or has it as one of its centers—that it’s concerned with Black people. Can you talk a bit about what it’s like working the American theatre industry where there may not always be time or space given in big American theatre to celebrate the facets of Blackness? And how do you remain grounded in your vision of centering the Black experience?

    Jonathan: Yeah, how I remain grounded is that I do not participate in the American system. I create my own oasis. This thing is a burning building on fire. I choose not to go into the burning building. And all of those scenarios that you have uplifted and all those scenarios of my career, I’ve been blessed in this way, I’ve never had to work for PWI white theatre as an administrator, only either founded my own thing or I worked in a Black-ran, Black-led, Black-founded organization, founded by a woman, still run by a woman, right? A woman of color at that, right? And so, in all of those ways that you’re uplifting and you’re navigating, I have been fortunate to actually always be able to root for my core because my core was a part of the ethos.

    Now, it doesn’t mean that was perfect. It doesn’t mean there were other parts of me that weren’t uplifted or wasn’t silenced or wasn’t … There are parts of me that weren’t actually liberated in the consciousness like, “Was my quirkiness accepted? Was my queerness accepted in various different ways, right?” Erasure, it shows up everywhere. However, when I will say, even going to Duke School of the Arts, I had been fortunate to be raised under a Black ethos and being raised by a Black ethos.

    The only time that I found myself out of a Black ethos was when I was at NYU. And what I ended up doing there is that I, my freshman year, people will say they were with or around me their freshman year, I went to every freshman who was melanated and I said, “We’re supposed to be friends, so let’s be friends. There isn’t a reality where we’re not able to do this arm in arm.” And part of that was the fact that I went to an all-Black high school where I was arm in arm all the way with other Black colleagues, who… I wasn’t othered in that way. So I found myself linking up to reassure the foundation that helped me succeed so far and doing that in a predominantly white institution, which is NYU.

    What I will say to meet a part of the question, part of the question, is saying I’ve always worked outside of the system and said, “I’m going to create my own,” or, “I will go where my own are actually my kinfolk that I feel like vibrate from me are actually tilling or working.” I’ll also say that I’ve been able to do that because or also my mechanism in doing that is also rooted in a deep sensibility of I don’t see the acceptance of American theatre as my accomplishment, but the acceptance of my community or my people as the accomplishment, right? That is my destination, create space for them.

    My destination isn’t American theatre because the American theatre hasn’t actually ever done anything for me besides remind me that there are elements of me that aren’t good enough. There are elements of me that are either appropriated. There are elements of me where you don’t understand who I am. And I think that is the problem when we try to just whitewash things with just America itself, right? When just say… When we don’t actually localize the need or the trauma or the hurt or the pain to being what is happening in my part of the garden is not necessarily what’s happening in every garden. It’s your garden. And so I try to utilize my flourishing in my garden. And if that means that you get to be a beneficiary of that flourishing, awesome, but I’m going to take care of my garden. I’m going to make sure that my garden is well-attended, well taken care of, is clear about what it’s here for, is passionate about wanting you to do more of it, is expanding into the horizon of its own becoming. And if I can do that on a day-to-day basis, then I’ve done something of a benefit on this planet, right?

    That I might not solve the big question because maybe that’s not my task to do. And I think sometimes you get lost as to what is our task on this planet, what are we actually supposed to be doing, right? I say at my best days, I am just completing the unfinished sentences of my ancestors. And if that means that I’m just “period,” and I’m just putting a period on the end of a sentence, I’m putting the dot on an I, I’m crossing the T—I have done my work and that I can actually leave feeling complete.

    My destination isn’t American theatre because the American theatre hasn’t actually ever done anything for me besides remind me that there are elements of me that aren’t good enough.

    So it’s not about me doing all the things, right? Me eradicating. Because I didn’t start racism. It’s not about me ending poverty, because I didn’t start poverty, right? It’s not about me ending hunger, because I didn’t start starvation, right? It’s about, “What can I do with the time that I have, with the resources that I have to meet whatever else of solution to the equation?” And there’s something that one of my friends, one of my friends, Chelsea D. who was in DC, big shout out to Chelsea D. in DC if she is listening—Hey, girl!—is that she said something coming to me that I feel like lives inside of this answer just a little bit, which is this quote that I have, the sticky note, and it says, “I live in the spirit of answered prayers.” And this notion of spirit of answered prayers means that we get to actually have a conversation of, “It’s already done. My desire is already done. I am now walking now in the space of it becoming, not the space of me earning it or whatever. It’s already been paid for.”

    Now the question is, “Have I created enough space to actually receive it? Have I created enough space to actually hold it?” We could talk about this building, right? This beautiful new building that we’re going to put in the National Black Theatre, right? And when I say this, it makes me think of this new building at National Black Theatre is going to occupy. I have to create enough space to hold it, not just something that’s going to be given to me. Yes, yes, the space is set. Yes, it is being designed. Yes, there’s money being raised. Yes, there’s money already received. Yes, all those things are true, right? Yes, if you go on 125th Street, you will see a tower that is our new home, right?

    These are things that are real. These are things that are true. These are things that are actually happening, yet and I can’t sit on, “Well, the doors of the church will just open,” right? The doors of the church don’t ever just open. Someone has to open them. Also, someone has to make sure that the soul of the church is actually ready to receive a congregation when it’s hungry, when it’s in need, when it’s ready. And so the idea of living an answered prayer is saying that, “Okay, I prayed for this opportunity to run an organization that was run by Black people, that was in Harlem, that owns their own space, that’s dedicated doing Black work. I prayed for this. So I’ve been living in that answered prayer. However, I also had to stretch in a nuisance of becoming in order to actually receive the blessing.

    So the rigor and the workload and the precipice of actually having to stretch into uncomfortable spaces to evolve is real. And that is not saying, “You don’t have to do that.” You do have to do that. And also it is to a North Star that you have already earned. You have already given the space and precipice to live inside with abundance. So the question is, will you allow yourself to go through the process of evolution, which is not going to be comfortable or are you going to allow yourself to be stagnant and stay still in a space where evolution’s not part of your equation?

    Leticia: Oh, you better preach, you better preach.

    Jordan: I’m taking so many notes. I’m taking so many notes. Wow, that was amazing. I love that, “Living in the spirit of answered prayer.” I love, “Finishing the sentences of our ancestors.” There’s just something beautiful about thinking of life as a continuum, not as this linear progressive thing, but as a constant conversation. And I love that. I also love the idea that you brought up around creating an oasis, creating something outside of the system and fostering particular spaces. And something that we’ve been having accidentally on this podcast this season is specifically around Black theatre institutions and the ways in which it’s so critical, right? We just talked about Black Theatre: The Making of a Movement, a documentary that featured Dr. Barbara Ann Teer rather prominently in it and other folks who’ve started other Black theatre companies such as Douglas Turner Ward, and Amiri Baraka, and Vinette Carroll.

    And we’d love for you to talk a little bit more about, one, the kind of importance of the institutional space for Black theatre, but also the ways in which within the National Black Theatre, for example, how these environments cultivate and nourish Black creativity.

    Jonathan: Yeah, yeah. I’m going to go back to go forward just a little bit because you said something that I just want to drop as a contextual frame sometimes when we talk about ancestors. Sometimes when we say, “I’m powered by my ancestors,” and Toshi Reagon, who I think got this evolution from Dr. Pauline Gumb, the artist, Alexis Pauline Gumb, they were talking to another… and I think Alexis actually dropped this wisdom onto Toshi and Toshi dropped this wisdom onto me, and I’m going to share it to you just, so that we could think about it.

    When we say “ancestors,” sometimes you don’t acknowledge the veracity of ancestry that we’re actually talking about. And they actually were bringing in the nexus of both of those entities into this now moment of now, right? And that we can’t actually… When we say, “I’m powered by my ancestors. I’m bringing in my ancestors,” we are bringing in the good, the bad, the ugly, the hurtful, the joyful, the resilient, the thriving, the abundance, all in one moment, and we’re having a conversation. That is the most human moment if we actually center it that we possibly can imagine. Because we’re not editorializing what is possible. We’re not editorializing what has happened, and we’re not editorializing who made us, what made them. And we’re actually giving access to all of them to now either do right by their past or to complete what they didn’t get to do. And we get to be the author and curators of what that looks like. We get to be the editors of actually being able to cultivate that pathway forward. That’s what we get to do. And that is so beautifully luscious when I think about that, right? So I just want to name that.

    Now to your question that you asked because I was going back to go forward. So thinking about that—

    Jordan: Sankofa.

    Jonathan: Yes, Sankofa, ashé.

    So thinking about this idea of defined Black spaces and the need for the defined Black space, I always go back to this beautiful human behind this quote, “I’m not your Negro,” and he stands behind me always as a reminder of a lot of things, and we could talk about that later, but he’s a very significant: James Baldwin is a very significant figure spiritually, emotionally, and physically inside of my vortex of who I am as an active creative doula in the present world, is that in I’m Not Your Negro, the last thing that he says is that, “Until America deals with this infatuation, with creating a nigga, psyche of a nigga, the presence of a nigga, the precipice of a nigga, there will always need to be something else. There will always need to be.”

    And I always took it as there will always need to be a National Black Theatre. There will always need to be that. Because until you, we as America, and that is Black folks as Americans, white folks as Americans, people who represent ever, until the global society actually wrestles with its desire and its need to consistently craft a narrative and a psyche for a nigga to show up that they’re afraid of, that they want to control, that they want to belittle, that they want to benign, that they want to emasculate, right? Until America deals with that and the global psyche deals with that and actually has a recompense with that need, there will always need to be defined space for an alternative solution to this thing called the creation of sacred care, loving, compassionate space.

    And I don’t want to use the word “safe” because safe isn’t something that I’ve been challenged to really think about, is not a word that we all can actually promise. I can’t promise your safety, but I can promise a space of compassion, right? But that need will always show up. That need will always show up because America is afraid to even reconcile with its own spook and ghosts that actually have established this society to be what it is. It hasn’t made recompense on it, it hasn’t actually reconciled with it, and until it does, that need for a self-defined space, self-determined space defined by itself, like so many of our predecessors did during the Black Arts Movement, like so many of our predecessors are doing today, all of that is necessary because the psyche is still pervasive, and the psyche is still prominent, and the psyche is what is causing illness on ourselves, on our society and in our possibility of a progressive future.

    Leticia: I grew up in California and there is… I don’t even remember a Black theatre in my community at all, right? And I grew up around other Black folks, and California is, probably how they like to describe it, a melting pot, right? And when I decided to study Black theatre specifically and Black performance, learning about all these Black theatre institutions that took Blackness as a serious entity that it was in its many facets, and again, I have my critiques for the Negro Ensemble Company and why they decided to produce a white playwright the first year they put shows up. But I think what you also are pointing to is, and this recalls what you said earlier about how having institutions that help folks who are Black understand themselves a bit more without the concern for the white gaze or whiteness or trying to make money, which I think, we could talk about the theatre industry, what does it mean that all these Black shows are showing up on Broadway, but when they get there, great shows, absolutely great shows, they can’t survive, right?

    They have to do social media campaigns in order to thrive in having a space like the National Black Theatre or the Movement Theatre Company or Harlem 9 rooted within predominantly Black—

    Jonathan: Or Penumbra, or having an Ensemble [Theatre] studio in Houston. The list is rich: True Colors in Atlanta, the Lorraine Hansberry project in Seattle, all of these cases, Carolina Black Rep down in North Carolina. There’s possibilities, but I just wanted just to name a few as we start to talk about it.

    Leticia: No, no, absolutely, absolutely. And me and Jordan have also been discussing, and this is why we were, one, so excited to talk to you about how do we as having this platform, Daughters of Lorraine, uplift some of these other Black theatre institutions that folks may not even know are in their communities or may not know that it is a community center. I like to think about Black theatre institutions as serving more of a community center, right? It’s not only about putting the thing up on stage for you to see, but it’s about serving. And you spoke about this early, this localized community building that is important to the work that Black theatre institutions do.

    So, I just want to sort of name that and put that out there, that it’s always been the longer legacy of the addressing the needs of the community in which it sits while also doing this thing that we call theatre, we call performance and using that as the conduit.

    Jonathan: What I’ll say is that we need as many platforms as we can to be reminded of the history that we are all inheritance of. The reason why I was so dedicated to supporting the creation of a Black home is, because when I was at Duke Ellington School of the Arts, I got to witness the power of what it meant for my fellow artists to see an Ailey show up in the world. Like them having Ailey as a testimony for them to live up to or for them to think about, “Oh, I want to dance at Ailey,” or, “Oh no, I never want to dance at Ailey,” or, “Ailey is like my jam,” or, “Ailey is something that inspires me,” or, “I’m going to do another company because Ailey’s never accepted.” All those things, that creates possibility.

    And having that north star is deeply, deeply important when you start talking about the larger vernacular of what is possible for our community and what’s possible for us. So for me, the commitment that I’ve been doing for thirteen years and the commitment for basically my entire career, about thirteen years at NBT, has really been about I want to create the Ailey for theatre so that a Black artist when they’re in Duke Ellington School of the Arts or they’re in the Minnesota or they’re in Chicago or they’re in some Midwest location, they want to be a theatre person, they have a space like an Ailey, like a National Black Theatre to say, “Hey, I want to go to New York and I want to see their work,” or, “They ain’t doing the work because the visibility of where we’re at. They’re not doing the work that I’m excited by, so I’m going to start doing this over here.”

    All of that is necessary. All of that is necessary because all of that actually generates the opportunities that the universe has been waiting on for us to be more human. We need all of that.

    Leticia: It refutes the idea of competition, right? It refutes the call of capitalism that we have to be in constant competition with one another in order to illustrate our importance when the reality is like, “No, we’re actually collaborators. Even if you may not want to do the thing here or you may not see yourself fitting, that you can create it over there or you can go to this other theatre,” right? And all that is necessary work.

    Jonathan: Exactly. And it dismantles this idea of crabs in the barrel, the old adage of crab’s mentality. This old adage, as it basically says, because competition does breed champions. Barry Gordy said that when I was working on Motown. It’s like, “Competition breeds champions,” and I do believe that, right? Healthy competition is necessary. It’s that friction that’s necessary. When we get into capitalistic competition, we start talking about appropriation, acquisition, and actually dominance. And I think that’s a little bit different than healthy competition. Healthy competition without the lens of capitalism on it is actually what’s necessary, but where we actually are living in is competition geared with capitalism, which is about actually dominant, “Who is the biggest? Who absorbs the most? Who actually steals, that sucks up the air? Who actually…”

    Because there only can’t … Because society, humanity reminds us that our psyche is, although crafted majestically, we neuter it to only accept one. There only can be one. There only can be one American treasure that is given all of this energy, right? There can’t be more than one. You can’t feed the loaves. There can’t be equanimity because capitalism makes us think that there is only a hierarchy to it, when reality is that nature also lives in a democratic society, a democratic way of life that is unilateral. There actually is no hierarchy when you actually think about nature. A bumblebee is just as important as a lion. An elephant is just as important for the ecology of a nature to show up as much as a giraffe, as much as a zebra, that one doesn’t have more dominance over the other.

    And it also shows us that if you don’t not have a healthy amount of each in a system, you actually do not have a healthy body to actually run with, work with and navigate with. We’re learning this right now. We don’t have enough bees, right? If we don’t have enough bees, we don’t have enough flowers. If we don’t enough flowers in here, we don’t have enough vegetables. We don’t have enough healthy pollination. We don’t have enough healthy trees, healthy new growth that’s showing up if we don’t have enough bees. If we don’t have enough butterflies that show up in the world, we might not have enough… Climate change actually showing up, right? Wind is not formed, right? A butterfly generates and supports the wind production on this planet, which reminds us that the delicate acts of simplicity, the delicate acts that we all live in, the smallest acts that we actually produce actually have the largest ripple effect on the marathon of this global planet. Might not be the most immediate successful thing, but in the marathon of living on this planet, it does have a big impact and generational impact.

    So, my question is always: how are you living, not for you, but living for the future? And what I love about this man right behind me, James Baldwin, if you read all sixty of his essays and you really were to study all sixty of his essays, you would come to a realization that this human, this majestic human was writing, not for himself, but writing to create a blueprint for us, people that he would never meet, a world that he would never see.

    He was asking us to link to the curiosity of what does healing look like, knowing that he might not be the one to experience it.

    Leticia: We give it up to Mr. Jimmy B. and all that he gave us in this world.

    I want to ask you, I know you are someone who wears many hats, right? You are a director and also a producer, right? So what is your dream play of directing or producing? Would it be a James Baldwin play, or is there a new playwright or artist that has really caught your attention?

    Being precious about my choice and deliberate about my yes actually creates a calm over what is possible.

    Jonathan: Wow, that’s a really good question. What’s so interesting about my career is that it’s all been intersected with the curiosity of staying present to my now moment. And I actually have always just been afforded the aptitude to receive these blessings along the road, right? My brother James Ijames wants me to direct one of his pieces, right? It’s not that I sought it out, it’s not that I said, “Hey, I want to direct one of your work,” is that he’s giving me the privilege to pour in my creative brilliance in a different kind of way as I predict him but as a director into one of his brand new works. So for me, that’s deeply exciting and deeply heartwarming, but it’s not something that I sought out per se. But also, the work that he wants me to do is mine. It has my DNA all over it, right?

    When I think about The Gathering: A Sonic Ring Shout and working on that and being the director of it and helping to conceive the concept of it, I sit back and I say, “I wasn’t seeking to do a eighty-person orchestra, fifty-person choir event.” It sought me out. I needed it as much as it needed me, and in the moment that I was ready to receive, it showed up in my life. So if I was to say anything, I want to be made more available to receive projects that are in need of me and the moment that I need it as well. I’m blessed to have a job where I don’t have to live in a gig economy where I have to do other work all the time in order to make a living like that. I get to be precious with my choice and be deliberate about my yes.

    And by being precious about my choice and deliberate about my yes actually creates a calm over what is possible. I never thought I would create a film, but yet I got this commission to create a film, and I got to do it, and it premiered on PBS for five national showings, and then on top of that, it got me an Emmy nomination, right? Never thought of that would ever happen in the wildest dreams. And I’m not saying all these accolades to boast, but I am saying these accolades to frame that the presence of abundance is possible of whatever space you want it to be in. I think the question is, is that really for you or are you just taking it for other reasons?

    Now, I’m not trying to knock anyone’s hustle. We all got to eat. We all got to make a living, right? And I just ask, “At what point does your living get affirmed by that little, not the big, the little intuition inside of you that comes from a higher being versus that outward expression of the mental saying, ‘I need to make this dividend in order to be able to put food on my table?’” You need to put the food on your table. You need to get that, the Maslow of need. You need to make sure you can eat, you have a roof over your head, and you have some clothes on your back. So you have to take care of that. You got to do that.

    And then I ask, “How do you build a career, build a life where that no longer is any kind of concern, no longer a concern around that, now you can start having a conversation with this other part of your existence that is much more vast, much more wide and actually allows for you to be just stated in your choices and how you can make moves and make changes?”

    Jordan: Yeah, I love that. And I appreciate the idea of being more choosy, right? Being more selective and I like the, I wrote this down of, “Deliberate about my yes.” Because like you said, there can be a constant need to produce, produce, produce and slowness is both possible and necessary for us to be true to ourselves.

    Jonathan: Our mascot at NBT is a turtle. And it’s a turtle because the tortoise always wins, but it takes us time. Now, if you were to look at NBT, you’d be like, “Negro, you don’t… You all be doing all the things. What does rest mean in you all? You all’s definition of rest is not my definition of rest and what you all definition of slow,” but you’re seeing something that took Sade fifteen years to do and me thirteen years. And it’s almost like we’re having, I don’t want to equate that we’re at our Beyonce moment, but it’s almost like Beyonce, right? Beyonce had almost twenty or thirty years of training before she started to blow up and we met her at her blowup, many of us did, not when she was training, not when she was at… Not to blow up Beyonce like that, but not when she was at 106 and Park and Michelle fell and she just looked at her. You know what I mean?

    We’re not in those moments, right? Some of us, you don’t even remember those moments, but those moments gave birth to the Beyonce we now get to appreciate and the Beyonce that even she gets to appreciate. What I love about her documentary that she has is not necessarily the opportunity to relive the concert, which is awesome, love to do it. However, it’s fit into the insight of why the concert was the way that it was. I want more… The way that she thinks is an elixir that many of us could actually yield so much grace and glory from. The way that she’s purposeful and intentional about how to invest radical change inside of the ecology and economy that doesn’t know it, right?

    She gave some bus drivers an opportunity to have their name permanently cemented in glory when you look at those credits. I ain’t never seen that before when I saw a concert on film or TV. I don’t remember seeing the bus drivers’ names being seen and witnessed that way. And so—

    Leticia: Just talking about the stagehands at the beginning, oh.

    Jonathan: Even to talk about the ways in which a Beyonce, which you would think that she gets whatever she wants is met with, “No, you can’t get that, right?” or, “No, that’s not going to happen. And then she has to be like, “No, but I just researched it, so I actually can. So what are we going to do?” And helping to refine this understanding that it’s not … Because what I see in her is not aggression. What I see in her is not bullying. I don’t even see boss. I see clarity. As someone who is so clear about how much she loves herself, her people and this moment that she won’t let anything distract from the clarity that she knows. And that if you want to say is boss life, then totally fine, but I just want to say that it is something quite… For me, it’s something more elevated than boss life. It is clarity.

    And that precision of clarity of being able to ground yourself in that truth is something we all can learn a lot more of because many of us are not clear about how we want to move. Many of us are not clear about what does it mean to engage. Many of us are not clear, not willing to be clear about why we were put on this planet, and we won’t take the time to because we want to be a part of a larger system. We want to be a part of the machine. But what she gives us as an example and in those glimpse of those moments in that documentary and then all the other documentaries actually, if you were to piece them together, is that she helps us to understand if you were to unplug from the matrix what shows up.

    It does mean that you’re rigorously working. It does mean that you are creating a destination that is unfathomable to anyone but yourself. It does mean that you’re having to turn those noes into yeses with a clarity of grace and with a clarity of dedication and focus. It does mean all that and it also means that you get to produce the biggest platform for us all to come to together and fall in love with ourselves over and over and over again. It doesn’t mean you’re going to be successful the first time out. And it also means that you have to be willing to be a student of your own design, a student of your own teaching, a student of your own mastery, a student of your own vessel and also understanding, and I think this is where the way in which she thinks is where I find a lot of kinship and my kinship also helps me to understand the kind of…

    Because I have that same kind of kinship or I appreciate that same kind of kinship, I’m also able to have a deeper appreciation for the ways in which she does stuff in silence. If you were to think about BeyGOOD, if you thinking about the way in which she gets back to community, she doesn’t really boast about it, right? She understands the machine that she’s a part of. She’s a part of the machine. She has built a whole universe of people who are counting on her in order to make sure that they have a living, right? And she knows that. But I’ve rambled on too much about Beyonce, but yes, that’s—

    Jordan: No, we are a pro-Beyonce podcast, and something I want to say before I shift us into our next question, but, is that what you brought up around process, I’ll always remember that quote from Homecoming when Beyonce’s like, “People don’t like to rehearse because that’s when you don’t look your best.” I’m paraphrasing, but she’s like, “Rehearsal, you’re not perfect, and people want to skip that step. They want to get to that last product, but rehearsal is where you learn.” And so I’ve always kept that close to me, and it’s absolutely the master thinking around process and rehearsal and practice and dedication.

    But yeah, one of our last thoughts before we wrap up is around… We know that the National Black Theatre is partnering with Conflux. You mentioned The Gathering, right? And we’d love to hear a bit more about this project.

    Also, we are such huge fans of DC, anyone from DC. We both lived not in DC, but outside of DC, in Maryland for years and got to meet amazing alum of Duke Ellington and all the spaces. So we’re like, “Yes, we love DC. We love DC natives.” So we’d love to hear about this programming and what it might be like to return to that space, and yeah, just anything about that.

    Jonathan: Yeah. So two or three years ago, Kamilah Forbes invited me to imagine an evening of orchestral works and turn it into an evening-length worth of an event. So a big shout-out to Kamilah Forbes from the Apollo Theatre, executive producer of the Apollo Theatre. She was like, “Brother, I have this thing that I need to turn into an evening, and I think you’re the one to do it. Can we do this?” And I was like, “Yeah, I think so. I don’t do orchestra, but okay. I guess I do orchestra now.” And through some real clarifying lenses and clarifying understanding, I knew National Black Theatre needed to be a part of the conversation because the pedagogy and the roots of what I was going to draw from were really leaning into the fundamental principles of NBT.

    So with the Apollo, American Composer Orchestra and the National Black Theatre, we crafted this evening called The Gathering: A Collective Sonic Ring Shout that happened at the Apollo, first event that actually showed up in the wake of the shutdown in their big historic space. It was a full sold-out house and it was a fifty-person choir, eighty-person orchestra, animating seven sonic works. It started off with a acapella work by Abby Dobson where she uplifted this signature work that she has called “Say Her Name” and the “Black National Anthem” mashup. Then it led to a work by Joel Thompson called “The Seven Last Words of the Unarmed.” It was the New York premiere of that work. And “The Seven Last Words of the Unarmed” are taking seven last words of male identified bodies and amplifying it through this eighty-person orchestra and this fifty-person choir so that we can create memorial and create release and create a grace through it.

    And then what we did is that we started doing a call and response. So, I had Jason Michael Webb respond in the spirit of the ring shout, respond to Joel Thompson’s work with a new contemporary work. Then we built on top of that by going to Courtney’s “Sanctum,” the piece called “Sanctum,” and her work was dealing with brutality just in general and police surveillance. And then that was partnered with work by Toshi Reagon. So Toshi Reagon was responding Courtney. And then we went to Carlos Simon’s “Amen,” and that was being responded to by Nona Hendryx.

    And this goal of these seven works was basically to chart you through all seven of your chakras. So we utilize the color that each chakras are grounded in to create a spiritual landscape for them to go from their root chakra to their crown chakra and taking those colors that are associated with each of the chakras as the fundamental principle to taking to a higher space. So it’ll go from grief to actually joy, even from joy to exaltation to hallelujah to your amen, right? And so to guide us on this journey, I had some original work penned by Mahogany L. Browne that was then videotaped, and she’s been the virtual host that guided you through the evening and her big Gaia-like presence, big shout out to Katherine Freer, Kate Freer, who was the projectionist, was then broadcasted in this space almost like she was…

    What I told Katherine was that I want her to feel like, I don’t know if anyone’s seen Lovecraft Country, but when she went to outer space and she found herself in outer space and she felt her God’s presence, I was like, “I want that human to show up in this space, so that regardless of what triggers are showing up inside the room—because we’re dealing with police brutality, we’re dealing with the unarmed, we’re dealing with all these and also the pandemic and also the shutdown—so that regardless of whatever anyone’s going through, there’s this North Star, this precipice here that is in the space and helping us to march our way through.” So she guides you through all seven of your chakras.

    And so we did that. It was a sold-out house. It was pretty spectacular, I have to say. And after I did it, I was like, “I’m done. Be good. Moving on. Next project. Let’s go.” And so a funder actually came up to Sade and myself and said, “What are you doing with this? This has to move.” And we’re like, “Yeah. Yeah, right. It’s like a million-dollar thing. I don’t know where you all are thinking, but it moving like that, do you all know who you… We don’t do orchestra.” Again, it was like, “We don’t do orchestras, but okay,” and they were like, “No, no, no. If you can dream it, we can make it happen. We’re happy to be a funding partner with you to moving this because this piece is that significant and that important.”

    So then we started really dreaming, and one of the dreams was to go to the Kennedy Center or go to Carnegie Hall. And so, we were able to partner, a big shout-out to Mark Bamuthi Joseph down at the Kennedy Center. He opened the doors for us to really create and scaffold a program where we are now Conflux partners of the Kennedy Center, and we are doing the show June 1 in the Washington, DC. And what does it mean to be Conflux partners, and then where is this expanded to, right? So it’s expanded from a one-day exploratory event to a week-long exploration that will take over the Kennedy Center campus and create something magical for us to engage with.

    The idea is that it’s called The Gathering: A Space for Narrative Change where we will basically take the whole week to unearth some of the narrative changes inside of our community, inside of our culture, inside of society that have unseated the rigor, the beauty, the majesty of Black folk and put them back into the center. What does it mean to put us back into the center of our own story and of our own righteousness and our own right? So the evening will be cascaded by a land acknowledgement that will uplift the local community that was once there at the Kennedy Center called Slabtown. It was a predominantly Black migrant community that was displaced to build the Kennedy Center and to build what we now know as Watergate, the hotel.

    And now we are going to do a land acknowledgement to uplift that history knowing that there is a land acknowledgement on the property right now to First Nation folks, Indigenous folks. So we’re going to do a land acknowledgement to Slabtown and to that community, paired with we’re going to have a quilter who’s going to be in-house for the entire week that’s going to do a response piece that’s utilizing quilt or textile technology to tell our narrative, tell our story of being that space for narrative change. We’re going to have a panel discussion with some of the key stakeholders, a part of it, so that we have a discourse of dialogue. This all happening that one week.

    We’re also going to do a ring shout on the property of the Kennedy Center so that people can experience what a ring shout is. We’re going to then do The Gathering: A Collective Sonic Ring Shout that will happen in the Opera House at the Kennedy Center on June 1. Tickets will be going on sale at the end of January, top of February, so please be on the lookout for them, but that will happen. And then we’ll conclude with a dance party. The idea is to do a Learn to Love Yourself dance party, putting on our founder’s quote, “Learn to love yourself,” really creating a love salve at the end of this whole investigation.

    So that is where we’ve grown from this one-day event to this week-long investigation of what does it mean to create narrative change that really roots and centers Black and Brown folks and allows us to be whole and holy.

    Jordan: That is so amazing. I can’t wait to come to DC and experience that. We always need to excuse to go back to DC. Always. It’s like, “Yeah, of course.” Oh my God, this has been such an amazing conversation and hearing not just about your work as theatre artist, which is broad and expansive and amazing, but just like your ethos and your attention to all facets of being a human and bringing that into these artistic spaces is just incredible. And so we are really excited that you joined us today on Daughters of Lorraine.

    Jonathan: I’m really appreciative. I’m really excited for the work that you’re doing, and I look forward to future conversations that deal with National Black Theatre’s work and also potentially some of our other artists actually being able to join the conversation.

    Jordan: Oh my God, we would love that. We would love that. Yes.

    Leticia: Thank you again for joining us and thank you all for listening. This has been another episode of Daughters of Lorraine. We’re your hosts, Leticia Ridley.

    Jordan: And Jordan Ealey. On our next episode, we’re discussing the new movie musical, The Color Purple. We have so much in store for you all that you definitely will not want to miss. In the meantime, if you’re looking to connect with us, please follow us on Twitter @dolorrainepod, P-O-D. You can also email us at [email protected] for further contact.

    Leticia: Our theme music is composed by Inza Bamba. The Daughters of Lorraine podcast is supported by HowlRound Theatre Commons, a free and open platform for theatremakers worldwide. It’s available on iTunes, Google Play, Spotify and howlround.com If you’re looking for the podcast on iTunes, Google Play, or Spotify, you’ll want to search and subscribe to Daughters of Lorraine podcast.

    Jordan: If you loved this podcast, post a rating or write review on those platforms. This helps other people find us. You can also find this transcript for this episode along with a lot of other progressive and disruptive content on howlround.com. Have an idea for an exciting podcast, essay, or TV event that theatre community needs to hear? Visit howlround.com and submit your ideas to the Commons.



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  • That Which We Call a Struggle: A Response to Ife Olujobi’s “$5000”

    That Which We Call a Struggle: A Response to Ife Olujobi’s “$5000”

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    Such is happening right now, thanks to Ife Olujobi’s sharp acumen in sharing her struggle with pay equity as a playwright working at one of the most well-funded and influential theatres in the United States (New York City’s The Public). The criticism kicks off before we even get into the meat of the text where even the essay’s publisher, the Dramatists Guild, catches a stray for failing to pay her to talk about failing to get properly paid. The long and short of the piece itself is that Ife got a production opportunity, quickly realized the pay was trash, said “BBHMM,” found out that wasn’t quite so easy, lobbied and rallied and lobbied again, then ultimately ended up winning an increase not just for herself, but for future playwrights. The entire saga is an account of her truly phenomenal mix of courage, advocacy, and endurance. I cannot stress enough how rare those qualities are to find in a single person. I’m not even a playwright and I need to thank her for her example and for the real material gains she won.

    As someone who has been thinking about labor and theatre for a while as both an artist and organizer, a few things in Ife’s story stood out to me. Since graduating from The Juilliard School, I’ve been fortunate to build a career as an actor working at most of the most well-regarded theatres in New York City, and yet I’ve consistently found myself and my fellow artists struggling in subpar working conditions. And so I’ve spent the past four years developing a political education project utilizing theory to raise the level of worker power in our industry. From those experiences, I know many of us are asking why this kind of thing keeps happening and what we can do about it. This is my attempt to build on Ife’s experience towards an understanding of larger economic forces working against theatre workers with some ideas on what we can do about it.

    Class. Class? Class!

    Ife used the term “conflict” a few times and rightfully cautions others that in advocating for additional pay, “conflict is often necessary.” I would agree, and add that this isn’t just any kind of conflict—it’s class conflict in particular. In my reading of her account, there are two types of characters that appear in her story: the group of people asking (fighting, really) for more money, and those in a position to decide if they get it. These positions, or relationships to capital if you like, are the broad outlines of what constitutes economic classes. I note this not to squabble over semantics, but because class conflict (or struggle) is more or less the bane of our collective existence. Everything from shorter work days, minimum wages, ventilation in workspaces, adequate breaks, etc, had to be fought for in situations just like this. None of it was freely given. Our ability to improve economic processes rests upon our ability to understand how they function. When we understand our struggles as class struggles, we clarify our position in an ongoing history and gain access to a long-standing, deeply refined, and highly effective conceptual arsenal. It is therefore our responsibility to take up these tools, and to resist the tendency to feel we have to reinvent the wheel or start from scratch.

    From a class standpoint, Ife’s story is one of being exploited. Exploitation, in its simplest terms, occurs when those who produce value do not get their fair share of it. That’s pretty much any job, including creative ones (even if you make a million dollars on a film set, the studio is making a hundred million). The details are beyond the scope of this writing (Karl Marx’s Wage Labour and Capital will help), but it’s important to clarify that exploitation is not primarily a moral issue. Properly understood, it is structural. Which is to say, exploitation will invariably occur as it constitutes the operating logic of our present economic system (capitalism). While certain individuals may help us out, and certain reforms may occur, exploitation cannot be reformed away, and no amount of kindly supportive folks will change the demands of the system itself.

    This is why every Public employee named can be the loveliest person ever (I’ve met many of them and they are), but the organization as a whole simply did not bother updating their pay schedule, even for inflation, in over a decade. It is also why the theatre’s artistic director has been nonetheless compensated something to the tune of almost a million dollars a year while one of the last times I acted in a new play there I was paid $413/week (before taxes, agent fee, and union dues to be exact).

    Now, here’s the tricky part. Exploitation is made possible not because of disparity of wages per se, but because only one class directs the flow of value. There are those who produce value and those who control it once produced. Returning to our earlier positions of class: the working class generally produces value, while the employer class (and the substrata among them, the managers) control what to do with it. The secret sauce to maintaining this whole dynamic is that the appropriated value mostly gets directed toward employers increasing the standing of their enterprise while breaking off the bare minimum for their workers in the form of a wage. Because us workers need a wage to survive, we tend to take what we’re given.

    Put this way, it’s all pretty bleak and all of us, not only playwrights are subject to it: directors, actors, heck—everybody is on record going through some version of this problem (of which “Nothing for the Group’s” Bills, Bills, Bills column keeps a running tab). This is generally how capitalism works: concealing a more general and pernicious law (structural exploitation through value control) behind the appearances of what is most familiar and normalized to us all (money/wages) that never quite gets at the root of the problem.

    The above is only the briefest, most general account. All of those dynamics are at a play in Ife’s struggle, but there are many unique factors, too. For one, The Public is a nonprofit, not conventional enterprise. Additionally, as she mentions, playwrights are prevented from unionizing, and this is because they are considered property owners (the play is their property, which they contract out). These, however, are not obstacles to our problem, they are contradictions—component processes of the larger system. These contradictory particularities are not facts that refute the structural compulsion of exploitation under capitalism, but merely give it specific character.

    This isn’t a problem unique to The Public, its staff, or Ife. Nor is the solution one of minting more playwrights like Ife or agents like hers to save us. It’s structural. Not even just industry-wide, but economy-wide. 

    For example, who did everyone have to rally for in the end? The board of directors. Nonprofit boards tend to be stacked with (high-earning, “successful”) artists associated with the company (and… family members, for some reason), but everyone knows it’s the lawyers, doctors, investors, and entrepreneurs that make the system tick (and many agree it’s a problem). The logic of their corporate influence, privileged as it is by their high standing in the corporate economy, coupled with the financial reality of running a theatre (real estate, labor costs, etc) and larger, increasingly punishing macroeconomic trends result in for-profit logics within ostensibly nonprofit spaces. This is evidenced when Ife notes that The Public attempted to “take a collective issue—fair pay for all playwrights—and turn it into an individual issue.” In any other space we would see this as anti-worker, anti-solidarity behavior predictable of an Amazon or Starbucks.

    To reiterate: this isn’t a problem unique to The Public, its staff, or Ife. Nor is the solution one of minting more playwrights like Ife or agents like hers to save us. It’s structural. Not even just industry-wide, but economy-wide. The good news is that the solution isn’t bespoke either. Nobody is coming to save us, because we save ourselves.

    It’s Time to Get This Bread

    Ife notes that they were a member of Creatives Rebuild New York (CRNY)’s Artist Employment Program (or AEP, itself inspired by the Comprehensive Employment and Training Act). I’m proud to mention I was in the CRNY Think Tank that helped design the AEP and its sibling Guarantee Income (GI) program. Speaking only for myself, Ife has fulfilled the great promise of those programs. Yes, AEP and GI ensure access to a stability that is all too uncommon for artists. But I believe that stability should then be the means whereby artists can question why such a program like the AEP needs to exist in the first place, perceive the various contradictions inherent to artistic exploitation, and use the vantage of their newfound stability to change underlying issues. This is exactly what Ife has done.

    Ife notes the relationship between their real, material stability and their concrete actions to engage in advocacy: “My status as artist-in-residence/employee made it easier for me to engage in difficult conversations because it lowered my fear of retaliation from the theatre, and it also gave me the ability to call certain meetings I may not have been able to call if I were engaging from the outside solely as a playwright.”

    So, kudos to Ife and kudos to CRNY. The question for the rest of us becomes, how do we carry their work forward? More generally, how do we participate in this kind of work without the financial funding of the Tides Foundation and what seems like a one-of-a-kind champion of an agent?

    In short: we link up. We think together, we act together. We organize.

    Theatre workers facing the same problems must get together and communicate. Through dialogue, we devise a shared goal and an attendant set of strategies and tactics for achieving it. From this unity and solidarity, we share resources of various kinds (financial, human, intellectual, social, etc), buffeting our individual efforts. Remember, we are not starting from scratch! Study is an indispensable aspect of organizing efforts to sustain themselves—of labor history, organizing techniques, historical contexts, and economic realities. The important thing is to adapt what you learn to shape your effort to the specificity of the goal around which you are organizing.



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  • Discovering Contemporary Theatre by Italians of African Descent

    Discovering Contemporary Theatre by Italians of African Descent

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    A panel discussion and reading of excerpts of plays by Italians of African descent.

    Featuring:
    Nalini Vidoolah Mootoosamy, playwright, The Foreigner’s Smile
    Margherita Laera, translator, University of Kent
    Elena Bellina, NYU
    Isabella Livorni, NYU
    Laura Caparrotti, Artistic Director, KIT – Kairos Italy Theater

    In English.

    Part of the series Black Italia
    In collaboration with KIT – Kairos Italy Theater

    Black Italia is a series of events (book discussions, theatrical performances, film screenings, lectures) sponsored by Casa Italiana Zerilli-Marimò in collaboration with NYU’s Department of Italian Studies. It aims to promote conversations on the intersections of race, identity, and migration in Italy. Conceived in connection with courses taught in the Department of Italian Studies, Black Italia revisits the format launched by Casa Italiana’s Virtual Salons: Discourses on Black Italia, held virtually during the pandemic, by bringing together artists and scholars in order to address questions about race and racialization across Italian history and its multifaceted diasporic geography.

    About HowlRound TV

    HowlRound TV is a global, commons-based, peer-produced, open-access livestreaming and video archive project stewarded by the nonprofit HowlRound. HowlRound TV is a free and shared resource for live conversations and performances relevant to the world’s performing arts and cultural fields. Its mission is to break geographic isolation, promote resource sharing, and develop our knowledge commons collectively. Anyone can participate in a community of peer organizations revolutionizing the flow of information, knowledge, and access in our field by becoming a producer and co-producing with us. Learn more by going to our participate page. For any other queries, email [email protected] or call Vijay Mathew at +1 917.686.3185 Signal. View the video archive of past events.



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