When you're in college, it's impossible to see past college. To put it even more specifically, it's impossible to see into a time where you will do anything but go to class, do homework and get drunk on a weeknight (going to work hungover is not nearly as fun as going to class, mostly because your friends won't be there to comment on how legendary last night was). So now that I am an adult (for the most part), here are the things that I have discovered about living in the working world.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Friday, October 7, 2011
A "Threepenny" for Your Thoughts
A couple of days ago, I was lucky enough to be able to see the Robert Wilson production of The Threepenny Opera at BAM, which unfortunately is only running for a limited engagement, courtesy of the Next Wave Festival. While Threepenny is an oft-mentioned work in the musical-theater cannon, it's rarely successfully mounted. Consider it the lower-maintenance sister of Cabaret, Chicago and Sweeney Todd; the slightly-grungier one who likes to bite and knows German.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Why Make Art? Are We Still Asking This?
I was at work today in the midst of finishing up on editing the November issue of American Theatre magazine (since the last time I posted, two issues have come out that had my name as part of the masthead, pretty cool!) and I got distracted by a blog post. Brooklyn-based playwright Matthew Freeman, whose work I have not yet seen, was addressing an article from the Wall Street Journal, one that questioned why playwrights write plays.
Not surprisingly, most playwrights (like most artists) do not make living from writing plays. Tony Kushner makes his living as a screenwriter, eventhough Angels in America is an established piece of the American theatrical canon (and he has also inspired a theatrical tribute, a sure sign of immortality). Terry Teachout, whose work I also have not seen, writes that the reason playwrights write is because you meet the "nicest" people in the theater and because of the audience's reactions.
Freeman's rebuttal (emphasis mine):
I'm more inclined to agree with Freeman. People write, paint, play music, act, sing, are generally artsy for the reason that they cannot do anything else. It's a compulsion. Artists that I've spoken to say it's because they do not feel like they were meant to do anything else. "It feeds my soul." "I just fell in love and it wouldn't let me go."
As for myself, I wonder why the question of "Why be a playwright?" exists. It goes without saying. And for that matter, why engage in the arts and humanities at all? Why work in non-profit? Why am I a journalist? Why do anything that doesn't pay a salary or ensure financial stability?
I'm not even going to point to the sociological reasons of why art is important and keeps man in touch with his humanity, his compassion, spirit. Or that helping others is its own reward.
No, I'm more inclined to think that it's something more primal than that. It's a need to do devote your life to this thing because it's what you love and what makes you happy and what you feel like you're the most skilled at and what you felt like you were meant to do.
As a great man, my dad would say, "Making money is easy. The important thing is to do what you love. Money is not important."
Not surprisingly, most playwrights (like most artists) do not make living from writing plays. Tony Kushner makes his living as a screenwriter, eventhough Angels in America is an established piece of the American theatrical canon (and he has also inspired a theatrical tribute, a sure sign of immortality). Terry Teachout, whose work I also have not seen, writes that the reason playwrights write is because you meet the "nicest" people in the theater and because of the audience's reactions.
Freeman's rebuttal (emphasis mine):
Honestly, I do like that I've met nice people, but as a playwright, that is not why I write plays. I also don't write plays because I really like sitting in the room and hearing the reactions (a luxury, apparently, that TV writers don't get?) I don't do it for applause, or to satisfy myself or feel the love of others. Frankly, the theater I like is usually a bit terrifying and difficult: the sort that makes people leave feeling unsettled, and not like they love you.
I write plays because they are the long-standing, traditional form of art that I've chosen for my medium. Does there need to be further explanation than that? Just because photographs exist, does that mean painters need to explain why they still paint?
I'm more inclined to agree with Freeman. People write, paint, play music, act, sing, are generally artsy for the reason that they cannot do anything else. It's a compulsion. Artists that I've spoken to say it's because they do not feel like they were meant to do anything else. "It feeds my soul." "I just fell in love and it wouldn't let me go."
As for myself, I wonder why the question of "Why be a playwright?" exists. It goes without saying. And for that matter, why engage in the arts and humanities at all? Why work in non-profit? Why am I a journalist? Why do anything that doesn't pay a salary or ensure financial stability?
I'm not even going to point to the sociological reasons of why art is important and keeps man in touch with his humanity, his compassion, spirit. Or that helping others is its own reward.
No, I'm more inclined to think that it's something more primal than that. It's a need to do devote your life to this thing because it's what you love and what makes you happy and what you feel like you're the most skilled at and what you felt like you were meant to do.
As a great man, my dad would say, "Making money is easy. The important thing is to do what you love. Money is not important."
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