I believe it started here. This particular permutation (or iteration) of the discussion of theatre and class, seems to have begun in the American Theatre article about Mabou Mines.
"In terms of awards, Mabou Mines is in the black. But Mabou Mines as a business? Why has it been broke nonstop from 1970 to the present? It has never been in the black—never." Asked if he is competitive, Breuer replies, "What am I competitive about? Anybody who was truly competitive would put all their energies in a money board. That's how supposedly it works in New York. Look at the Wooster Group—they've owned a theatre all their lives. Look at the difference between us and Bob Wilson. Look at the difference between us and Richard Foreman. Maybe it's a class thing. They have access to funding and support. Other than art, Richard has never worked a day in his life. I've had hundreds of jobs. The competitiveness is against the system itself. The system is out there to crunch me. To avoid it, I have to be crass. I think it has to do with class. We're not upper middle class like everybody else in the avant-garde. Maybe Mabou Mines is the only truly lower-class theatre."Bang.
Sean of Working Group responded with an idealist's viewpoint, that working class and upper-crust institutions and artists can not only co-exist, but can help each other out.
To which CultureBot responded here with a series of questions.
What does it mean when you have to work for a living to support your art when other people don’t? Is there an inherent critical bias? Cultural Bias? Funding Bias?Sean of Working Group responds by pointing out one of the illest paradoxes of being an up-and-comer in the theatre world - You have to make a lot of work, and it all has to be really good. There's not another way to "make it", right?
More responses at Parabasis and Adam Szymkowicz and Venal Scene.
My responses after the jump.
Okay. First of all, let's look at some facts about Mabou Mines. Their expenses (for 2004, the most recent year available on Guidestar) totalled more than $600,000. More than half of which came contributions of one form or another.
Then again, it looks like their highest-paid employee could be making a lot more money at McDonalds if she wanted to.
So, what, exactly, does Breuer mean is his comments above? Is he broke? Does the company end in defecit every year? Or does he just mean that they're broke compared to some other people?
Let's check that out ...
Wooster Group's expenses for 2006 (the greatest of the past 3 years) $1,059,442. A good bit more, yes, but guess what? Their contributed income is only $130,000 more than Mabou's. Huh? Let's look at compensation. Yes, there's a fairly significant difference here. Kate Valk and Elizabeth LeCompte are making 34 and 30 thousand, respectively.
Ooh, this is interesting.
Richard Foreman? Ontological-Hysterical Theater's total expenses for 2006 - $410,856! Total contributions? $234,436! Less than Mabou. Richard Foreman gets paid $9520 as Executive Director. (Of course, whether that listed fee includes Foreman's fees to direct and write plays or not is unknown. It looks like the Wooster Group figures include their artistic fees, but it's unclear for Mabou and Foreman.)
So, again, I gotta ask, what does Breuer mean exactly? Are they just later to money? Are they doing more with their share? Are they getting paid less? And yes, those figures can obscure a lot. It's not all laid out plainly for us in their 990s. But it does seem clear that Mabou, though in debt, is not working on a shoe-string budget by any means.
Probably though, Breuer has had to work harder, and has been paid less than many of his contemporaries, and he's understandably proud of and bitter about that. I will be too.
But if Mabou Mines is a working class company, what does that make the rest of us? Are we the poverty division of the theatre?
On to Culturebot's questions.
What does it mean when you have to work for a living to support your art when other people don’t? Hmm. I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at here. To answer honestly, it means that you're making different choices. It might also mean you're less talented, either at making art or selling it. It might also mean that they were born rich and you weren't. Very likely it means that you haven't made selling it (to the market or to funders) a top priority. I know I didn't until very recently. I almost ignored that aspect of it. Recently, I've found it to be easier than I expected, but it's creating a number of challenges I didn't expect. I don't like feeling beholden to those that give me money, but I do, and it's no fault of theirs.
Is there an inherent critical bias?
Not inherent, I don't believe, but it's there. I know I have a difficult time dealing with critics who are confused by our practices. A lot of our decisions that seem illogical or ill-advised to them are based solely on money. We have to do shows when we can, in the spaces we can afford, so yes, we may have to open on Memorial Day weekend or run it for only 2 weeks, or not do matinées. We can't pay actors very well, so sometimes the cast doesn't fall into place until the last minute. All of those things, which might seem like sheer stupidity of the outside, are functions of our lack of money.
Cultural Bias?
Duh. Yes. Some people don't like a show unless it has a pretty set and hundreds of lights. They don't know how to deal with it otherwise. They judge the show by it's trappings.
Funding Bias?
Not ostensibly, but I'm sure that if you already have money, it'd be a lot easier to provide matching funds (by making a donation yourself) or provide other trappings, some superficial, some significant, that make your business look more successful than it actually is.
Sean does make a good point. Your work should be good if you want an audience, and it should be successful if you want funding. And you really can't get either if you don't make enough of it to get noticed and look serious. We face this all the time. It's difficult to be ready to capitalize when success does come. If I've spent 6 months making one show, and it's a big hit, what happens to those excited audience members during the next 6 months while we're making another show? Ugh.
Breuer though, is a hero. When he says he's working class, I know what he means. He's not well-paid, and he has to work for it, and he does. He's got the guts to get through it and make shit happen.
From the article:
"He will go as far as he has to to get his work made," she says. "He is legendary that way. There were rumors during the making of DollHouse that he might turn up with a paper bag full of cash to pay the crew and keep them working. End-run game is his middle name. I say this with a lot of affection to his dedication and commitment. He will go farther than most."
He doesn't dress like a movie-star or a super-star scholar. He's not about image. He's about the work. The work. That's working class in the arts. Right on.
Okay. Exhausted with this. Responses? Post and trackback please.
