The Merging of Storytelling and the Digital World

Not sure if this is exactly what we’re talking about, especially about the shilling at the end (I love George Carlin’s take on the Crucification: Hey, get your Jesus t-shirts here…there’s always someone ready to make a buck.)

But she’s using the right buzzwords, isn’t she? Online reading experience like no other. The reading experience will be built by you, the reader. The digital generation.

I know this is a stretch and also kind of grotesque (for God’s sake, woman, where’s your artistic integrity?) But it’s also a clear indication of where the world of storytelling is moving.

Pottermore.

Talking Pictures

I missed the photo exhibit at the MFA that Ilana suggested seeing, the one called Stories made up of evocative images that caused your imagination to conjure up stories (at least I think that was the gist of it.) Instead I opted to see The Mountain Song, which I highly recommend. TMS is steeped in storytelling, the kind of storytelling that can only be told on the stage, which is, afterall, the kind of storytelling playwrights concern themselves with.

This video was posted by someone on my Facebook page today. You'll see the easy segue I made from pictures to storytelling. I think the point I'm trying to make is how powerful images, especially photographs and paintings, can be because they are static, like sitting ducks, and they allow us storytellers to just work them. As an example, August Wilson was influenced by at least two of Romare Bearden's paintings for The Piano Lesson and Joe Turner's Come and Gone.

In the world of things, images are very giving.

“it’s on”

i love this passage by june jordan. there is energy, struggle, and enthusiasm for the struggle:

"My life seems to be an increasing revelation of the intimate face of universal struggle. You begin with your family and the kids on the block, and next you open your eyes to what you call your people, and that leads you into land reform into Black English into Angola leads you back to your own bed where you lie by yourself, wondering if you deserve to be peaceful, or trusted or desired or left to the freedom of your own unfaltering heart. And the scale shrinks to the size of a skull: your own interior cage.

And then if you’re lucky, and I have been lucky, everything comes back to you. And then you know why one of the freedom fighters in the sixties, a young Black woman interviewed shortly after she was beaten up for riding near the front of the interstate bus––you know why she said, ‘We are all so very happy’? It’s because it’s on. All of us and me by myself: we’re on."

what does the last line mean to you?

i have thoughts: engagement, engagement, engagement, i read from that line, which i didn't understand at first; a line which i first read as stunted, an anecdote which seemed to blunt the edge of the beautiful paragraph that proceeded it, but then the revelation crested and i summoned june's insight: engage, engage in the struggle, bliss out when you engage in the struggle, engage, engage. "it's on": be in it, live it, live the struggle.

and douglass too, maybe: "without struggle there is no progress."

always a reminder.

anita hill: the vocabulary of art, the vocabulary of legality

i left class early last week to hear anita hill speak at a fundraiser for the ywca. she was quite impressive. she said a bunch of powerful things, but what was most striking was her reference to the breakdown of complaints filed to the eoc last year: 17 percent of the sexual misconduct allegations were filed by heterosexual men. this interested me, in part, because it contradicts the basic assumption that victims of sexual misconduct are exclusively female and the perpetrators are always male.

it's also interesting to be exposed to legal vocabulary that surrounds sexual misconduct and the wide spectrum of terms - and the many degrees of subtlety - that such vocabulary includes: sexual misconduct versus sexual harassment versus sexual abuse versus sexual assault. the legalistic vocabulary that we use greatly impacts how we conceive of such actions: the choice of "victim versus survivor" or "perpetrator versus participant" are moral claims, as much as they are legalistic ones.

as an artist who delves into the murky terrain of sexual abuse, i've often considered the realm of the moral to be creatively stifling. yet, i want to be responsible and i want to be real. to approach my characters and my poems with humanity, it has seemed important for me to ignore the moral and legalistic vocabulary that hill employed. as an artist, i ignore such language, but as a citizen, i can champion it.

Targeted Theater Reviews

If we want more people to go to the theater, we need to rethink classic theater reviews.  No matter how well written, the format has remained unchanged in my lifetime, and this means that nothing has been done to adapt to the rapidly evolving media and entertainment picture.  Of course, many online sites allow average people to add comments or rate a play-- but who are these people rating the plays?  Do their tastes align with yours?  How many of the ratings are "salted?"  This voting method has some value on Broadway where hundreds of people rate a play, but for a three week Boston run, you can bet the majority of ratings and comments come from friends of the cast, etc.

My proposal is based on my experience going to the theater with a group of friends-- dinner before, drinks and discussion after.  There's Beth who offers only a thumbs up or down; if she was entertained it's up.  Steve is focused on the performance itself; the interpretation of the text and the quality of the acting and directing.  Tom is our quirky sophisticate, well rounded in the arts, a generalist.  Michael is scary smart (especially when he brings Olga) and his reflections generally involve an in-depth knowledge of whatever the subject matter, and a fine tuned achademic understanding of theater, combined with a silly Russian wit and tendency toward darkness.   I'm more of a text person, and I can get excited by a well written play even in a mediocre produciton; I also love theater so much that a single strong performance, an innovative set design, the seeds of brillance in a play that needs more development can all excite me enough to make the experinece worthwhile.

In my reviews, I would not provide a single rating-- seriously, who does this speak to-- the few people who happen to share the critic's specific aesthetic? (Remember, The Globe gave "Vengence is the Lord's" a good review.)
I would talk about which types of people would and would not like the play-- perhaps develop categories like:  Theater as Entertainment, Die Hard Theater Lovers, Performance Junkies, etc.  Of course I would come up with much cuter names, or just name them after my friends (we all know if we're  a Beth, a Michael, etc.)  I would tell readers that everyone but "Entertainment Junkies" is going to love this play, or that the play is for "Die Hard Theater Lovers" only.   Both attendance and satisfaction would soar-- instead of a show that has a generally unfavorable review, now it would be a play that will appeal to one or two types of theater goers.
But it's all about the overall experience these days-- so we should notch up the fun and excitement.  With each review, let's suggest restaurants in the area that are thematically tied to the play-- if it's a romantic play in the South End, Acquataine might be a good bet... but for a contemporary new work with a group of friends, the bar menu and great Jazz at the Beehive might be better.

Now let's update show talk backs.  Who really wants to sit there listening to some lonely person in the audience talk for ten minutes about themselves in the guise of a question?  I want to hang with my friends over drinks and talk about the show.  What if the review featured a great place for drinks after, and maybe had a special offer for theater goers-- how hard would it be to convince Betty's Wok and Noodle to give away free family style appetisers to people who come after a specific Huntington show and buy drinks?  This way, we can talk to other people who went to the show if we feel like it, but also have our own space.

And the media organization who writes a review like this?  They're adding interest, involvement and value for their readers; supporting local theater, restaurants and bars; bringing the arts to a wider audience.

Playwright Horizons

I was talking to a novelist/playwright yesterday about submitting plays to theaters versus submitting manuscripts to literary agents/publishers and he was saying that the theaters he submitted to often failed to send him even a form response to his queries.  In general, he found literary agents/publishers to be more courteous in this regard.  As someone who's submitted full-length plays in the past (to no avail), I did want to point out one theater in particular, Playwright Horizons, which never failed to write me back a personal letter with at least one paragraph addressing the specifics of my play.  The paragraph pointed out the play's strengths and also the reasons why they were passing.  Even though I was being rejected, I at least took solace in knowing it was read.  
 
 
I know that the economic realities of theater make it impossible for every playwright who submits to a theater to get personalized feedback.  But I did want to point out this one rather extraordinary place where they're doing just that.    

Adaptation

I believe that when someone adapts a piece of art from one genre to another, they should really take to heart the concept of adaptation.  The tranfer from one genre to another shouldn't be seamless; otherwise, why adapt at all?  People who complain, for example, about books being adapted into movies, quibbling with this missing detail or that one always baffle me.  The question shouldn't be: is it a faithful movie?  It should be: is it a good movie?  (For an example of an overly-faithful, bad adaptation of a book into a miniseries, see Empire Falls.  Actually, don't.) 
 
That said, there's one adaptation that I find an exception to the rule, a piece of theater adapted into a movie (by the playwright) that still very much feels theatrical (perhaps because theater is simply in the DNA of the story).  I'm talking about John Guare's Six Degrees of Separation.  I assign it in my Intro to Creative Class and reread the play and rewatched the movie recently and I still find it as dazzling and strange as ever.  And thank God Guare didn't simplify or streamline the plot or cut any of those wonderful monlogues.  It's about as funny and lovely and devastating a piece of art (in any genre) as I've ever read/seen. 

Dead Authors …

Back from a few days in Berlin. Unavoidable, yet incredibly energizing intellectually. I did not have a chance to visit the theater (I basically flew in, gave my talk, and flew out), but I was able to have some amazing conversations, some of them focused on what is increasingly being called social media theater. At this point it's old hat for bands like Nine Inch Nails and TV shows like Lost to make use of social media platforms like Facebook and Twitter to advance a narrative (and drive audience share). But individuals are starting to employ the same platforms to explore character creation.

There are, for instance, a number of "dead author" Twitter feeds. These are just what they sound like: People channeling the persona of, say, Mark Twain or Ralph Waldo Emerson to "speak" to a readership. Think about the implications of this. It's an acknowledgement that not only creative works, but the creative minds behind them, have entered a public domain. As with "fan fiction," a quasi-political statement is being made here: Stories are collectively owned, intellectual property be damned. I've made a "Twitter list" of dead authors, so you can easily get a taste of what I'm talking about by going here. What will also be evident is why people are calling this "social media theater." What we're seeing is the emergence (I would argue) of an inherently dialogic artform.

In the next post I'll look at more explicit forms of theater playing out on these platforms.

When Collaboration Goes Bad

Shannon Reed is one of those working playwrights who isn't famous but keeps plying her trade in New York City because that's what we all do. She and I have never met, though. Our relationship stems from me playing the character of Doc in her play, Sure Not, here in Boston at a SlamBoston about two years ago. Victor Shopov directed. (Victor is a friend and also an actor, having just won an IRNE this past year for best actor for Zeitgeist Theater's production of Enron.) We held true to her script and, while the Slam is voted on by audience members, I'm proud to say that the producer of that particular Slam confided in me that our little ten-minute production was her favorite.

Anyway, unfortunately, here is a description and a rant of something I suspect happens a lot in the life of a playwright. It's happened to me once. It's a horrible, horrible experience where you're sitting captive in the audience and just want to crawl under your chair. This is the other side of that collaboration that we talk so much about, that we pine for, that we treasure.

An MBTA Musical

Does theater have to take place in a theater? Absolutely not. As a matter of fact, I'm very intrigued by site-specific productions. I just wrote a play set on a hog farm in Indiana, and more than once I dreamt about it set on a real porch on a real farm house with real chickens running loose in the yard.

So many traditions are breaking in the theater: the fourth wall, the straight narrative. Why not just break the whole physical building?

T: An MBTA Musical || FlashMob || The Bro Song

Interactive Blogging for the Blogless

I don't generally read blogs and am only reading this one and contributing as part of Illana's dramaturgy class.  While I often lose interest after reading the first few lines of  blog posts, I have found some real value here-- the Ira Glass commentary definitely helped me focus on development and not on the frustrating inability to create on paper the complex yet focused and emotionally provocative play in my head.  Ira Glass bought me time before I have to be brilliant.

So rather than just accept my general dissatisfaction with blogdom, I started thinking about what kind of a blog I would read.. and look forward to... and interact with (I do love that blogdom does not observe grammatical rules).

The great gift of this blog is that Illana is hosting... so what do I really want from her?  My first thought is that I would love a "play reading" blog where each month Ilana suggests a play to read... then a few weeks later posts questions/comments and starts a discussion.  Okay, yes, I am not as "media dumb" as a bag of hammers, and I do realize that what I envision sounds more like a chat room.  But Illana and others on this blog have so much in depth knowledge about the most exciting new plays... I'd love to read an extensive commentary after I've finished the play and then watch and see who will challenge her... I think that would be fun... I know I'd read more than the first two lines... I'd read every month... I'd send in comments...

What Fiction Readers Can Learn From the Theater

Recently, a good friend of mine watched an acquaintance give a reading of a short piece at a New York bookstore.  I asked how it went, and she replied, "Boring.  He read in a monotone voice off a sheet of paper and went on forever and ever."  As someone who's sat through my own share of dull readings, I sympathized with my friend.  I also wondered: why is it that some writers take the oral reading so lightly?  Of course, not all writers are performers (many are paralyzed by the idea of reading in front of strangers).  
 
And yet, I'm always shocked when a writer takes a podium only to joylessly keep his head down, droning out sentences without modulation or emphasis, dialogue blending into exposition, one paragraph bleeding into the next.  Do they believe the brilliance of their words alone can redeem flat delivery and general listlessness?
 
There's something about a theater and a stage that energizes those on it.  Maybe it's the reminder that whatever is happening, whether it's a simple reading or a full production, you're a performer whose primary aim is the enjoyment of your audience.  When writers read publicly, they become advocates for their stories.  As an audience member, I'm persuaded that I need to hear that  story--not by an impressive introductory list of credentials--but by an author taking hold of my attention and showing me--by voice, pacing, gesture--just how alive and essential the world he or she created is.      
 
   

War Horse and Theater as Spectacle

Watching the Tony Awards on Sunday, I was particularly impressed by the dazzling stage horses of War Horse.  It reminded me of when I lived in New York and directed a visiting aunt and her family to Avenue Q.  I knew it was a risky suggestion, but when I talked to her after the musical, her complaint wasn't at all what I expected: "I was hoping for a little more spectacle," she said. 
 
This course has forced me to think about all of the ways in which theater is more than just a story set to dialogue.  When I strive to make my work more "theatrical," I'm being asked to realize and employ all that live theater can do to heighten my story.  This isn't to say that good theater necessarily needs special effects, like those incredible horses.  But it does mean that if I intend to be a serious playwright, I should always be looking for ways to make the theater work for me.  In short, my aunt, who shelled out over $400 for her family's night out, had a valid point (though I'd still watch Avenue Q over Spiderman any day). 

nikki lee: performance is identity and identity is performance

if you all don't know nikki lee, you should: she's a korean american photographer who assimilates into various ethnic/cultural world. to say she poses as members of these communities is to miss her point entirely. lee becomes part of these communities. identity is performance and performance is identity, whether she is punk, yuppie, gansta, stripper, skateboarder, or even the "real" and really elusive nikki lee. to consider her work alongside the transient and complicating factors of race and class makes her project more rich -- and also more complex.

ps: she also has a background in fashion. the interdisciplinary artist is yet another topic to explore.

http://www.tonkonow.com/lee.html

miscellany: nadine gordimer, death, writers with writers or writers with accountants?

"The best way to write is to do so as if one were already dead, afraid of no one's reactions, answerable to no one's views." ~ nadine gordimer

i love this quote -- i love how gordimer describes writing as the most extreme of acts.

on an entirely different note:

i wonder what you guys think about writers hanging out with writers: for me, i sometimes feel driven to an almost maddening degree of self-consciousness. the dialogue feels strangely circular, and the conversation feels often more about words than about life. why is this so? how can writers break out of this prison? creative cross-fertilization, perhaps? make new painter/actor/accountant-friends? i also acknowledge and value the importance of community for the writer, because the act of writing is inherently lonely.

Suzan Lori Parks: Miss Biography, You Win Tonight.

Tonight I read an old profile of Suzan Lori Parks by Hilton Als in the New Yorker. I hadn't read it since the original publication, way back in 2006. (But I do have a vivid recollection of the photo spread: Parks, with serious platforms and a toothy grin, wraps one leg around Mos Def.) The profile is, as remembered, a trove of wisdom: "When she started listening, she couldn't stop writing." and “I often say that I’ve never written about anything I’ve experienced. Of course, that’s not true. But it doesn’t appear familiar to me at all. And maybe that’s because I have to be in a kind of coma in order to write. If it appeared familiar, I wouldn’t." and finally, SLP on LA: “The weather’s nice, and it doesn’t snow, so you don’t have to worry about slipping. But I think what actually happens is that people grow older faster here, even though they spend so much money trying to look young, because they have to give up things that they really believe in.”

What is most profound, to me, is how SLP is both compassionate and ambitious: love and power do not sit in contradiction for Parks, but instead are strengthen by the existence of the other. Because, really what good is love without power? And what good is power with out love?

Check out the profile in full: http://www.newyorker.com/archive/2006/10/30/061030fa_fact2?currentPage=3

More Carrie Mae Weems

Elizabeth, thanks for opening me up to Carrie Mae Weems. What a wonderful artist, intellect and beautiful woman. I recommend you all see her website at http://carriemaeweems.net/ also check out this really terrific clip of her posing questions to Wynton Marsalis and Cornell West, two of my heroes. I love her questions and also the fact that she doesn't let them answer them...they seem so beautiful just laid out there. Then watch Wynton mesmerize everyone with his trumpet.

Women & Broadway

From our friends, the Guerrilla Girls...

GGOT_TONYSTICKER2011

How to tell your friends you are too good for them.

I get the tweets from @minnesotaplays, a source I got from Ilana that I highly recommend following. There's always something interesting coming out of there, but this one really caught my eye. It sort of seemed to fit into that category of "how to tell a playwright, you did/didn't like her play..." And yet, quite a different twist. Kevin T. Houle writes that he can't come see your play (even though he loves and respects you!), because he's so good at what he does and how well he sees and understands theater, that he has ruined himself for being entertained. He will love your acting (maybe) but will hate what the designer did, so it's no fun for him. He will wish your director had asked for more passion (as he would have) but she didn't, and he can see the defects. And although he still loves you, it's best that he not be at the reception afterwards, because that would just be such a drag for him, being a drag to be around for you. I'm sure you can understand this poor man's plight.

He offers this by way of explanation: "I can't help myself. You may be giving the performance of a lifetime, and the director may have found the definitive interpretation of the script, but I probably won’t notice because I'm too busy checking out the roughness of the bark, and the color and shape of the leaves on each individual tree. Being such a process-oriented director serves me quite well in the rehearsal room, but it fails me during performance."

Extreme honesty or annoying insolence? Making a joke? I don't think so. I appreciate his forthrightness in saying something we can all relate to on some level when seeing a poor performance, but I suspect he believes he could be seeing the original 1959 cast of A Raisin in the Sun and he wouldn't be able to handle his proclivity for peevishness. His conceit and arrogance speak for themselves. How he could err in submitting this is beyond me. That the editor saw fit to run it is even more interesting.

He wraps up by saying:

"But, thankfully, [my little issue of not wanting to see your work because I can't get over myself] hasn’t yet deterred my love of the art form and my involvement in such a creative community. If it ever does, I’ll be sorry for the both of us."

He'll feel sorry for us, too. Wow. Just wow.

Looking for Inspiration?

The outfit deviantArt has released a Periodic Table of Storytelling for your enjoyment (and use?) -- check it out in its full size, here.

Periodic Table of Storytelling