good things come in small packages

I struggled with the title for this post.

I thought of "jealousy".

I thought of "money".

I thought of "struggle," "frustration", "competition," "self-esteem," "success" and a few other words that currently escape my memory (short term memory REALLY sucks lately).

Here is the deal:

Another youth theater organization is in the running for a million dollar prize through a giving community. This organization has been very successful financially. I've only seen a few of their shows, which have been engaging. They do good work; they deserve support.

And they have gotten it. They have received several grants and awards that have helped fund their organization. They have several corporate sponsors. They currently have an annual budget of over $350K.

My youth theater organization is smaller and has had significantly less financial success. On the plus side, we have always operated in the black. We have more than twice as much money this year than we had last year.

BUT

We don't pay me, really. We haven't enough money to pay me, or any other staff (we could really use a producer and a stage manager). We haven't enough money to get a reliable rehearsal/storage/performance space.

The reasons for the differences in financial success are several that I understand: geography (we have no specific location, they have an urban location), grantable population (partly due to our origins, we are far too middle class white bread), length of time (partly- as they started about 8 or 9 years before we did) and size (hence today's title). There are probably other reasons that I am unaware of-- or I fear-- my self-esteem struggles-- are they better than we are?

I struggle with the idea of success. Is my group a success? Am I?

I struggle with community. My group grew out of family and friends and a cohort working outside the traditional educational community. Our best times, our best seasons, our best years were those times that a core group of young artists had been working with me and with each other deeply and personally for a number of shows, even years. We achieved true excellence, I believe.

I have resisted getting bigger and growing corporate when it seemed to threaten that community; and even so, that community has had to be rebuilt again and again.

Is it time to deliberately move away from this personal, family-feel artistic community to something larger?

I feel frustrated by these questions. Part of my theory of art-- theatrical or otherwise-- is that not competition, but collaboration, feeds art. Also, I believe that the more theater there is, the more we all benefit... BUT I am still jealous of this group's success.

If I'm so good why ain't I rich?

There has been good-- great good-- that has come out of my group, and the all-volunteer group that it grew out of. This great good has been highly individual, however.

One of my friends-- a founding member and partner of both the all-volunteer group and the current group-- has been urging me for a number of years to let both groups go.

You have your PhD, she says. You have gotten all you can get out of it. Now it is just more of the same.

And she is right, I suppose. I have "gotten all I can get out of it." But that sentiment feels hugely selfish to me.

But maybe I should be more selfish.

Maybe I should make my group smaller but more expensive.

Maybe I should make it bigger, more diverse and find corporate sponsors.

Or maybe I should just get a job at Tim Horton's.

what am I supposed to do?

I am having another of those moments of existential angst.

Or, another series.

I have founded two youth theater groups. Both are still active-- the younger one, for older kids, about to celebrate its tenth anniversary is quite active, the older one, for younger (and older) kids, is about to celebrate its eighteenth anniversary. The older one (for younger kids) has been less active in recent years, while the younger one (for older kids) has been quite active.

None of my own biological children has been in a show in a number of years now.

So why am I still doing it?

I'm not getting paid-- I get an occasional stipend, which would not even cover mileage (if I were to charge mileage).

I believe in the power of young people as artists. I believe in the power of theater to transform lives.

But my faith is being challenged lately.

Since the "poisonous comedy" referenced in 2008, I have had more challenges in the culture of the organizations I have founded. Parents objecting to the material (well, if you don't think your 12 year old should be exposed to Shakespeare, so be it-- take 'em out!).

Young people treating the group as a social club -- to the point that the artistic endeavor suffers.

And young persons and older persons disrespecting me, the material and the process.

This is not what I signed on for.

At the same time, I will find -- in the same production-- that theater, my directing, Shakespeare-- some combination of these-- has changed a young person's life for the better.

All at the same time.

The tentative plan I have now is: meet with the core group of teens. Tell them how much I have been hurt. Tell them how much I believe. Ask them to join me with whole hearts.

Or leave. Leave now. Create your own group!

Or-- I could retire.

2010 could be a watershed year. Either re-invent ourselves. Or make our exits gracefully.

stories: why I became a theater artist

I struggle in my relationship with my father. Ever since my brother was born, it was clear that as the only son, my brother was also the favorite child.

My dad has tried to be supportive from time to time. My dad is NOT a feminist, but he has tried to be enlightened from time to time.

For instance, when I came home with some extraordinarily high score on some standardized test or other, my father urged me to broaden my horizons.

He said, "These are great scores. You could do anything. You don't have to feel limited because you are a girl. You could do anything... you could become a doctor, a lawyer, an engineer... as long as it didn't require talent, you could do it."

So I became an actor.

luck, the Scottish play and destiny

It is over. It went really well.

And I am still wondering what I am supposed to be doing with my life.

I was going crazy in the last two weeks. Would I have a set? Would it rain (in the outdoor venue)? Would I have anything resembling costumes? Would I have enough weapons for an "army"? Would the youngsters playing children and apparitions burst into tears? Would we cover costs? Would the sound ever work? Would the youth who routinely dropped character in EVERY rehearsal stay in character?

And my dear husband says that I go through some similar period of angst with each play, so much so that he takes it as a sign that the play is almost ready.

And that is true: I do.

BUT...

It seems to be worse each play (see "Poisonous Comedy" below).

(He says that I say that too... and he's right... BUT)

This is THE SCOTTISH PLAY. It is notorious for being unlucky.

And yet, and yet...

The set rose almost by magic on our tech Saturday. Teens and moms and dads pounded and painted and toted and transported and we were transformed.

The only rain was a torrential down pour during our final dress rehearsal-- and we managed to finish the rehearsal huddling under the pavilion, which would be our rain-back-up-plan.

And since we HAD a back up plan, we didn't end up needing it!

Moms showed up with sewing machines and created the needed costumes on the spot.

While the ordered costume swords NEVER ARRIVED, the loaner weapons, our shields and pikes armed the troops adequately.

Some of the young ones (and the not so young ones-- hormonal drama) DID burst into tears, but not onstage, and they carried on with their parts.

We covered costs and even made some money.

Sound gurus appeared from almost nowhere and we heard the play.

And wonder of theater magic wonders, my "problem child" got "into it" and made me and his mom proud.

So it worked. It went beyond just working, the play was marvelously well received by the audience.

And yet, and yet--

Is this what I am supposed to be doing with my life? None of my own children are a part of our troupe anymore-- they have all aged out. Even more odd is that very few of the current troupe know ANY of my children; if a current member has awareness of one of my kids, it is as someone of legend.

Also, I am tired of struggling at the last minute to pull it all together. I am tired of having no home, of having my car packed with props and costumes, of getting NEW people to help produce and promote each show.

"All I really want to do is direct"

On some days, I know that I have a tremendous and profound impact on the lives of the young people I work with-- some more, some less. Some much, much more.

Yet what about my growth and development as an artist? When I am re-inventing the production team wheel with each show, it robs me of the time for research, for intense rehearsals.

And not to be too crass about it, when do I get paid? Part of what validates a person as a professional is to get paid. With our operating budget, there is no way I can be compensated for my time in anything near a professional way.

Heck, we can't even pay me mileage. (Mileage for this play process, at the federal rate, would have amounted to over $900)

I struggle sometimes with the idea that perhaps I have already fulfilled my destiny. Maybe it is accomplished in the four wonderful young people I have brought into and brought up in the world. Maybe I have already touched that one special child that needed me.

Maybe I'm done.

Or maybe I'm supposed to write.

Or maybe I'm supposed to act. Or direct adults. Or teach.

Or retire.

Oh, wait, can't retire. Haven't really worked yet.

theater magic needed... and all will be well

I am working like a madwoman on my dissertation project/play of Midsummer Night's Dream with 7th and 8th graders that opens THIS FRIDAY and is plagued by more problems than Waiting for Guffman... SEND LOVE and PRAYERS that Theater Magic will do its work and all will be well

(After Saturday I may somewhat return to the world of the living)