Joe Patti

I have recently been reminded that it is often a small incident rather than a major one that coalesces people into action. There is often no way to plan and maneuver these events into happening. Rosa Parks sits on a bus. Surely there were other people who did the same thing and met with consequences. Why then? Why that day?

When our new assistant theatre manager started a year ago, he preferred to work at a desk I hadn’t anticipated him wanting. Because we stored often used files and binders in and around the desk, I have often had to ask him to move while I retrieved it. We didn’t have time to reconfigure things until this summer which is when I suggested alternative layouts a number of times. But he never really seemed motivated to do anything. Then Wednesday I asked for his help in running an internet cable through a hole in the wall. Thursday morning I came into work and the whole office was reconfigured. I have gone into work in jeans the last two days to continue with the clean up and rearranging.

Why was the running of that cable the spark that got things going? I have no idea. I would have preferred this all to happen over the summer when I had more time. On the other hand, it provides a welcome break from reviewing last month’s expense and payroll reports.

I had the same thing happen in an online game in which I help create scenarios for players. My attempts to spark interest with subtle and blatant promises of lurking menace and untold riches have gained limited involvement at times. However a group of organizations decided to talk about setting minimum pricing for their wares and the whole game went up in arms with battle lines being drawn between erstwhile allies. I was flabbergasted at the retributive activities and threats that emerged almost immediately between people who had been friends for years and years.

It is pretty clear to people in the arts world at large that a change in the way we do business is both necessary and imminent. The problem is that no one knows what form the change will take or how to bring it to fruition. This is not to say that people aren’t trying. Arts professionals are thinking, talking and doing all sorts of little things that are hopefully greasing the skids for what is to come. But if the change is going to come from an unexpected quarter, by definition there isn’t a lot anyone can do to control its emergence. Despite the best intentions and efforts to facilitate a transition, it could be a rather bumpy ride if people are concentrating their efforts in the wrong areas.

There are times during the year where I find myself singing “Where Are The Simple Joys of Maidenhood” from Camelot. Now if you have seen my picture on Inside the Arts, you know Julie Andrews I ain’t. Part of the reason I start singing the song is because I spent half a summer in my younger days running spot light for a production. Another reason is that the image of me singing this song amuses me so. But really I can often identify with the raw romantic innocence Guenevere exhibits singing lines like

Now given those lines fall at the end of the song, I rarely get to them for all the laughing going on by that point — mostly mine.

When people hear what my job is they view it with the same romantic innocence. Surely such a cool job is not susceptible to mundane concerns like bugging agents for contracts and images so you can put a website and brochure together. Or if the mundane does intrude, it must be over shadowed by the joy of working with such amazing artists. Actually, the last bit is true except for the “mundane” concern about why people who praise the artists aren’t buying tickets to see them. So yeah, when I am singing songs like that one, I am trying to get back in touch with the idealism that made me pursuit this path to begin with.

Fortunately, people are familiar enough with the basic functions I fulfill that they don’t assume I should do my job for fun.

And there is the tricky part. Last week, Artful Manager Andrew Taylor cited a comment from the Americans for the Arts conference that, “‘We need to stop making the arts so special.” It occurs to me that the arts community needs to be in control of the way the arts are demystified. With auditioning for American Idol essentially a rite of passage being a good performer appears to be a matter of hard work, luck and getting enough people to vote for you. Anyone can do it if the stars align correctly. The necessity of talent and hard work over decades to hone one’s skill rather than a few weeks doesn’t seem to register.

The scenario shows like “Dancing with the Stars” and “So You Think You Can Dance” promote is that amateurs thrown into a crash course in a subject can compete and be winners. Even Bravo’s “Step It Up And Dance” where the contestants were trained and danced professionally had episodes where a choreographer would say they usually worked on rehearsing a piece for 5 days and the show gave the contestants 2 hours. This isn’t just limited to performing arts. MTV has/had a show called “Made” where high school kids wanting to be basketball players, cheerleaders, stars of the Spring musical, beauty queens, lose weight, promo queen or whatever worked toward their goal for a couple months. Usually the video shot during the first 3-4 weeks consisted of the person resisting the discipline of their coach. This left 3-4 weeks at most to cram the rest of the effort in. Most had some credible results probably helped by the fact that television cameras were following them around for so long.

So what is the narrative the arts world can offer?- “You can cram a lot of training in a short time and win prizes and recognition but honestly only be mediocre or you can devote your life to excellence and barely make a living.” You thought practicing scales was boring for students before? What about now that you can become a virtuoso in six weeks? Sure eliminating one kid from your school/lesson roster a week will add drama and tension and may motivate to practice harder but it will subtract from your earnings.

I agree that we have to stop making the arts so special in regard to putting it on a pedestal. But the message that accompanies it always has to be that you can absolutely participate, have fun, find fulfillment and recognition with a little training in a short period of time so come join in. However, even given great talent to start with there is a certain level you can only attain with long study and practice.

This isn’t just true of stodgy classical music and ballet. There was an article on Salon last week about the emergence of South Korea as a power in the world of hip hop dance. The South Korean dance crews practice 5 hours a day, seven days a week because they know someone is always trying to catch up. Yet the article notes, long hours of hard work on the flashiest moves aren’t enough if you don’t truly understand your art.

“When Koreans first emerged, Americans praised them for their power moves — the highflying crowd-pleasing spins, freezes and gymnastics moves — but criticized the Seoul b-boys for lacking soul. They were thought to be mechanical, unable to rock with the beat, and lacking in “foundation skills,” such as the top-rock and footwork moves that form the historical roots of the dance.”

Even in the idealistic world of Camelot, Guenevere comes to realize it takes hard work to bring dreams to fruition. (She also realizes the hazards of youthful folly, indiscretion and why bitter half sisters of the king shouldn’t be taught magic, but at least some of that can be avoided.)

From the “Nothing New Under the Sun” file comes the news that Gene Weingarten is pondering whether to return his Pulitzer Prize. Weigarten is the Washington Post columnist who won the Pulitizer for arranging and writing about Joshua Bell’s anonymous performance in a Washington D.C. subway station. Weingarten says he is pondering giving the prize up based on the fact it was awarded for originality and he has since learned someone beat him to it.

It seems that back in May 1930, a Chicago Evening Post reporter arranged for violin virtuoso Jacques Gordon to play incognito outside a Chicago subway station. Though he eventually drew a crowd, as with Bell, by and large no one stopped to listen and only one person recognized him. It also turned out that Bell played many of the same pieces Gordon did. I guess Schubert lends itself to outdoor concerts. Though he hasn’t played it in about seven years, for nearly a decade, Bell actually played the very violin Gordon used for the stunt.

While I have been critical of the experiment, I am not about to suggest he give the Pulitzer back. My beef is that the experiment seemed designed to maximize the opportunity to point out what philistines people are. We see enough evidence that people don’t value the arts every day without concocting situations to prove it. Just a year ago some students at Stanford University were miffed that NEA Chair, Dana Gioia, was speaking at graduation because they felt they deserved someone more famous.

The basic experiment is a valid one in my mind. It could have been used to measure when the best times for performing in myriad unorthodox locations might be as part of an outreach effort — or even a longer term change of venue. As far as I am concerned, the Bell and Gordon results just prove that subway stations are not the best place to reach people. So even if he had known about the event seven decades earlier, Weingarten would have been wise to verify the earlier results.

An additional reason why the more constructive approach would have been preferable. Weingarten notes that unlike the original which faded into obscurity after a day, his story gained feet thanks to the Internet. I honestly don’t think he knew it would become so widely disseminated. However, given it has it would have been much better if people were reading about a secret experiment aimed at serving them better rather than a secret experiment that proves what rubes people are.

In one of my first blog entries I noted a speech by Chris Lavin promoting the idea that the arts be covered like sports. I still get a kick out of his suggestion that:

When compared to the open access a sports franchise allows, most arts organizations look like a cross between the Kremlin and the Vatican. Casting is closed. Practices closed. Interviews with actors and actresses limited and guarded. An athlete who refuses to do interviews can get fined. An actor or actress or director or composer who can’t find time for the media is not uncommon. How would a director take to a theater critic watching practice and asking for his/her early analysis of the challenges this cast faces with the material — the relatively strengths and weaknesses of the lead actor, the tendencies of the play write to resist rewriting?

Over in the UK, The Guardian has taken up that idea a little. They had their arts writers review sporting events and their sports writers review arts events.

Since the critics approached the events they attended from their own point of view, some of their observations were rather fun. Writing about a horse race, dance critic Judith Mackrell notes that unlike the race ballet attendees have no desire to see a dancer fall to the benefit of another ballerina.

“And if, by some horrible chance, she gets injured, she isn’t going to be put down after the show.”

Visual arts critic Jonathan Jones went to a football/soccer game and noticed that:

“Wembley is a thrill, for all sorts of reasons. There’s the architecture – the raised external ramps are like walking on a north London Acropolis, and the roof leaves a small space over the pitch, generating powerful contrasts of light and shadow.”

Being an arts person, I was more interested in what the sports writers said about their experiences. In some cases, their comments echoed those of many first time arts attendees. Rugby columnist Thomas Castaignède noted, ”

I’ve passed Covent Garden so many times, but I had no idea it was so beautiful inside. As a social phenomenon it surprised me as well – the champagne, the way the audience had dressed up, the feeling that people were there to be seen, as well as to see.”

Golf writer Lawrence Donegan went to see the San Francisco Symphony perform and exclaimed,

“…when this concert ended the audience went (and I use the following word advisedly) bonkers. This reaction shocked me, because I had no idea that people who were into classical music were also into going bonkers at the end of a performance.”

Two of the sports writers were ultimately disappointed in their experiences because the unpredictability and high stakes inherent to sports was missing. Two others stated their appreciation for the parallels of mastery and passion common to both athletes and performers. Steve Bierley, a tennis writer who went to a gallery was greatly affected by what he saw.

“It should have carried a warning: This woman is deeply dangerous. I go back to the comfort of Roland Garros, though Bourgeois remained a haunting and disturbing presence. I’m still spooked.”

I thought that was great. What I really appreciated was Castaignède’s observations about seeing Tosca. I think he states the case for the value of arts attendance best. Perhaps it is because he was a top notch rugby player he was best of all the sports writers to appreciate the mastery possessed.

“I came to the conclusion that there is a parallel between what you feel during a top-class rugby match and what an artist feels on stage – and it’s not just the roar of the crowd. The people who are watching influence how you behave: they were viewing Kaufmann and driving him forward, just as they used to inspire me. I could empathise with Kaufmann’s total concentration on the performance, and the way he had to become one with the orchestra, who gave him the power to go beyond the norm. There is a physical aspect to opera, certainly; but more than that, on stage you see what in rugby we call “automatisms” – where you become conditioned to move and act by pure instinct. I had a sense of two completely different worlds coming together.”

As I noted, it is fun reading how each person filters their experience through the lens of their particular expertise so take a gander the both full articles.