Two weeks ago I had the great fortune to attend my first TCG National Conference in Seattle. I had debated on whether or not to attend, but having just relocated to the Emerald City I felt that it would offer an unprecedented chance to mingle and meet potential new colleagues, visit with old friends, and bask in the warmth of a collegial gathering of like souls. I wasn’t to be wrong in my choice to attend.
As a matter of course, attendees must be affiliated with a member organization or be sponsored by such an organization as an independent artist. As I was neither, I quickly approached the Seattle Children’s Theatre and Linda Hartzell, Artistic Director and Kevin Maifeld, Managing Director. With great generosity and enthusiasm, Kevin Maifeld agreed to a sponsorship that would allow me to attend. Seattle is an amazing city. For anyone who hasn’t visited, it really must be placed on your urgent “To Do” list. There is so much art and culture here it really can seem overwhelming. I have spent all of my life living in Texas, the majority of it in Austin with a brief five-year internment in Plano (a sterile northern suburb of Dallas.) For its part, Austin has a great amount of culture. As a blue oasis in a red state, there is much to see and do and experience in a city that prides itself as the “Music Capitol of the World.” There is regional theatre, a vast fringe theatre contingent, ample dance and visual art and a robust and thriving academic arts community. But Seattle is beyond what I had anticipated.
The Emerald City is also a bastion of blue in a sea of red. And it was wholly appropriate that the theme of the TCG Conference was “Theatre in A Polarized World”—a theme that was geared to spur discussion and to further the ongoing dialogue that has risen to the forefront of the minds of all artists in this emotionally charged climate of moral value and right vs. wrong; red vs. blue; Christian or other. The diversity of this city is a marvel. Its climate is ideal. The culture, as was mentioned earlier, is omnipresent—a city that wears its heart and mind on its sleeve. There are book stores everywhere. There are art galleries on every corner. Fitness crazed citizens can be found running, hiking, jogging, walking, boating and every other form of outdoor and indoor activity. Gardens flourish and there is a deep sense that this city, like most in the Pacific Northwest, values the beauty of their world.
It is with great affinity that I must acknowledge the superb leadership of Ben Cameron, Executive Director of TCG and his staff for putting together such a wonderful gathering. I also appreciated Mr. Cameron advocating the legitimacy of theatre for young audiences and for repeatedly mentioning Seattle Children’s Theatre as one of the host theatre organizations. During the two and a half days of the conference, we mingled and talked. We heard speakers that were intellectual marvels that spent time extolling the virtue of liberals (as if we didn’t already know it.) One such speaker, a quiet and soft-spoken gentleman of easy demeanor, spent his time not behind the podium (always a dangerous indicator) but to the side, sitting comfortably before a rapt crowd. To say his lecture was one of the highlights of the Conference would be an understatement. His name is George Lakoff, distinguished scholar and linguist teaching at Berkley. His talk was centered on his book Don’t Think of An Elephant; an explanation as to how the conservatives have managed to take control of this country. It was one of those moments when nearly 800 attendees all sat as quiet as church mice all leaning forward in their seats jaws agape at the information being provided. Basically Mr. Lakoff spent his time laying out his thesis based on years of research into the tool of “framing” used by the Conservatives—mastered by them and so nefarious as to set the work of the Left and the Liberals on their heads. It seemed so simple, so logical. So much so that when his time was finished there was a brief collective moment of group shock. As if to say as one, “It can’t be that easy?” But yes, it really seems to be the case. For those who haven’t read the book, RUN don’t walk. For those that have, share it with your friends, your family or anyone that has become as frustrated and disenchanted by our current government as I have.
And then this morning, not unlike any morning, it happened again. A horrendous act of hate targeted against civilians. This time not at the United States, but at Britians—a coordinated bombing attack on London’s Underground Railroad system. The images were flashing across the screen of the television. The news crawl was zooming across the bottom of the image with an ever-lengthening littany of adjectives to describe the horror and carnage. And all I could think of was how all of this was being framed. And sure enough, our country called it acts of hate, acts of terror targeted at civilians—which of course it was. But it was the moving speech given by Prime Minister Tony Blair that placed the tragedy in its rightful place but using words of encouragement, of hope, of a common value that peace will prevail. That he used the word hope is in itself a sign of the difference of our current government and many around the world. It all goes back to George Lakoff’s lecture and book (again, RUN don’t walk to get it.)
But what does all this have to do with theatre? Everything. As a field dedicated to young people, we must not lose sight of the fact that what we give our children and young people does have an impact. We are the custodians of the moral future of these children. I hesitate to use that word since it connotes something different to everyone. But if we are to counteract the Conservative agenda and definition of what is moral, then we too need to frame our art in such a way as to give the Right no chance to spin it to their usual advantage.
As a race, I have always maintained that there is an innate ability of some to see the future even without knowing it. This capacity to intuit, or seer for lack of a better term is evidenced by many people throughout history. Those that come readily to mind are some of the great science fiction writers of our age that have, through their writing, predicted far into the future. H. G. Wells, one of the first great writers of this new genre saw a future rife with assault and devestation (see the new War of the Worlds film). His story of alien invasion, however bleak, makes a turn at the end that allows humanity to prevail against all odds. Gene Roddenbery, father of the Star Trek phenomenon, saw in his future a world with mixed races, worlds and ideologies. His technology of laser guns, sensor devices, hypo-sprays, hand held computer devices seemed crazy and an impossible fiction, but, nearly thirty years later, we have cell phones, lap top computers and PDA’s that are direct results of one individual or many individuals dreaming of a future.
It essentially boils down to one major component—hope. This is the key. Even in a world of chaos there can be hope. I see it everyday in a flower; a burly man feeding his two pugs ice cream outside the café in which I now sit; the laughter of a child; in the paintings that are proudly displayed in galleries. I see it when a grassroots organization holds back the tide of construction in our urban cityscapes where instead there will be a garden or common area. I see it when two men or two women can walk down a street holding hands and no one even consider whether it is sexual or not.
And in our field, I see it when a theatre filled with young people is compelled to turn and face the stage and nudge their parent or friend in anticipation of what the future of the next fifty minutes or hour and a half might bring. I have seen it here in Seattle at every production I have attended at Seattle Children’s Theatre. The children of this city have culture and know it for something special. It is an amazing sight coming from a city where at least half of the population has never seen a play. I have taught college students that have never seen a play. But when they have, whether adult or young person, something occurs. There is a microscopic change. Something occurs. And with luck and with time, this microscopic change will grow and multiply. I believe that what occurs is hope. Not unlike the organisms that end up destroying the alien invaders in H. G. Wells’ story; this growth of “hope” will prevail. It is what Tony Blair referred to in his speech, it is what George Lakoff talks about in his book, and it is what I see in the faces of children when they see live theatre.
It is my hope that what we do—the plays we write and produce, will feed this seed of hope and give our young people the immunity to the hate and vitriol that we must now contend.
