Race Prompt for Week 10

Oh, the tangential paths I’ve trod as I prepared to write this blog prompt… It’s not surprising that a topic such as “Race” would do that, given the ceaseless resurgence of the term, it’s definition, and it’s agency in societies worldwide. And then we meld that with the world of theatre – tangential paths, I tell you. And it all started with Harvey Young.

Al Pacino cast as a Cuban Tony Montana in Scarface

Young primed us nicely for the idea of “theatre and race” as he shared a personal experience in which he was distracted during a production of The Voysey Inheritance when an African American female actor addressed a white male actor as “father.” He questioned the dramaturgical choices and the implications of that choice for the storyline. He also pondered whether it could have just been the result of colorblind casting. You know, the politically correct endeavor to cast the best person for the job regardless of “race.” It’s a lovely idea, and while it is often employed, the question was raised in class – what if it ends up doing a disservice to the plot? After all, we aren’t colorblind [save the 8% men and 0.5% of women in the world who actually are, but that tangent turned into a silly old rabbit hole so I jumped out quick]. But you catch my drift – we see what is in front of us! All of it. Our brains want to make sense of it, and our brains are smart. If it doesn’t compute, we’ve got questions and then all of a sudden our theatre experience turns Brechtian. We’re often “aware” of the “race” of the thespians that tread the boards in front of us, but Young points out that that’s not inherently a bad thing. He highlights a difference between the awareness of race and racism, and refers to “race” as a “concept…that we know does not really exist and is simply a fiction invented to divide people.” [I snapped my fingers to that comment as I made a hard left to follow a path that would lead me towards the origins of the term “race.” If you’re interested, I offer the article “From ‘Nation’ to ‘Race’: The Origin of Racial Classification in Eighteenth-Century Thought” by Nicholas Hudson and available on JSTOR  https://www.jstor.org/stable/30053821?seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents as well as a perusing of Ashley Montagu who has declared “the fallacy of race” as “man’s most dangerous myth.”]

Robert Branch as MLK, Jr. in Kent State Univ's The Mountaintop

Yes, Young tantalized us with the concepts of racial interpellation, racial socialization, and racial habitus that he esteemed essential to embodying race, however we were left high and dry before we saw how it was applied to theatre [I’ll spare you the full tangent here and simply leave it at this - $10, new on Amazon]. Thank goodness that Michael Greyeyes swooped in and saved the day with his dynamic performative keynote address. As he and Chief Bromden escorted us through his pedagogical evolution, we were privy to both his inner dialogue and outward manifestations. Although he had returned to grad school so that he could interact with roles in classical works for which he “would never reasonably be considered,” he instead found himself drawn to postcolonial theory and postmodernism. Thus he was set on his path to “blow up his program” – rock the boat, question the status quo, reject the preciousness surrounding western fine arts curriculum and teach what would best serve the diverse university students that he taught. When he decided to no longer teach ballet, it caused an interesting wave. Like a Jenga tower, he yanked out a foundational piece of movement training that, in the eyes of his colleagues, prepared the students for Restoration drama. Greyeyes’ position was basically, “I didn’t choose to pull out that particular piece for no reason!” As he’s moved further away from the “false light of the moon,” he’s been awakened and defogged – a reference to a quote from Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, “The stars up close to the moon were pale; they got brighter and braver the farther they got out of the circle of light ruled by the giant moon.” [Immediate thought as I finished this article: Grass Dancing for Daily Practice = rabbit hole.]

Zoe Saldana in "blackface" for Nina Simone biopic

Patricia Ybarra utilizes Quiara Hudes’ “Elliot Trilogy” to walk us through a methodology to read Latinx plays. She states that the themes and tropes of cosmology, affect, family legacies, a quest for belonging, and hardships encountered in the barrio are common throughout many Latinx dramas. Hudes’ plays are no different according to Ybarra, so she explores how important community and vertical relationships are while also using North Philly [shout-out to the City of Brotherly Love] to represent a “true north” where the characters decide to return to in order to make community and reimagine “the self.” Ybarra notes that in her staging of Water by the Spoonful, she took care not to make the scene where Odessa spoons water onto the floor too poetic because her goal was to show ritual as ordinary. A good summary of this article might be that it is of utmost importance that the Latinx traditions and cultural nuances be seen as ordinary and ever-present within the context of Latinx culture.

Things began to feel especially impactful (as if they weren’t already) when Brian Herrara got our wheels turning about casting again. Alas, this topic that Young got us ready to receive at the beginning of the week was now here and packed in a neat little educational package…well, actually five neat little educational packages. Herrara’s 5-university college tour to view productions of In the Heights served the purpose of investigating the question of culturally conscious casting and more specifically the question, “Do we have the actors for that?” And by the word “we” he’s especially referring to university theatres. The dangers of pan-Latinx casting and assuming “automatic authenticity” are cautioned against on account of the vast and wonderfully unique differences among Latinx ethnicities. In a university setting where the casting pool may not always be sufficient to fill roles for Latinx characters, Herrara maintains that careful adherence to linguistic fluency, cultural competence, and creative coalition can lead to a successful production. Although casting is a rigorous job that’s altogether artistic, pedagogic, and ethical, ultimately the appearance of authenticity lies in the eyes of the beholder. You can bring the audience to the proverbial water, but you can’t make ‘em drink it if they don’t like the taste.

Jonathan Pryce in "yellowface" for Miss Saigon

Mark Lew’s blog tackles the topic of “race and theatre” from a different angle. As co-director of the very successful Ma-Yi Writers Lab, the largest collective of Asian-American playwrights ever assembled, he questions whether ethnic-specific writers’ groups are even necessary any more and then immediately answers his own question in the affirmative. He speaks of an anthropological gaze that pigeonholes writers of color into a culturally biased lane that restricts them to driving at the speed of “family history drama.” A great quote that stands out to me is, “Inside the Lab: inter-dimensional time travel. Outside the Lab: ethnic family dramas only, please.” He states his disdain for the lack of diversity in theatre and offers a number of scenarios that would increase the representation of people of color in theatre. Oh, and after an entirely too long a list of recent examples of yellow face, he shares that he despises it…unless you’re talking about David Henry Hwang’s political satire of that same title. Check out this article about Hwang’s Yellow Face for another interesting read: https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2014/may/12/david-henry-hwang-miss-saigon-yellow-face-racial-casting

All right folks, we’re doing choose your own adventure this week. Choose from one of the following to delve into for this week’s prompts. Or you can be like me and follow all the tangents. Feel free to really share and engage with each other in the conversations that our 50-minute classes felt way too short to accommodate this week. Happy musings!

Herrara speaks about coalitional casting beginning on page 31 of his article. Have you ever seen this “non-minority ally” approach in action? What did it look like? Did it serve to leverage the “privileged ubiquity of whiteness”? Do you think, like Herrara, that the coalitional casting approach can effectively balance out “privilege to amplify awareness of racial and ethnic inequality rather than efface it” OR do you think it’s a bunch of hogwash? If hogwash, what about it turns your nose up? What alternatives would you suggest when people of color are not available in the casting pool? (Let’s talk university level.)

OR

What are your thoughts on this “anthropological gaze” that Mark Lew speaks of? What do you make of the ethnic family dramas “lane?” Are culturally specific theatre companies and initiatives such as the Hispanic American Arts Center and Ma-Yi Theater still necessary? On whom do you feel the responsibility lies for creating more opportunities for persons of color to be more represented, and more accurately so, in theatre? Actors? Educators? Playwrights? Reviewers? Production Staff? Casting? Expound!

You took the words right out of my mouth...kinda

Verbatim Theatre: the land where the phrase, “you took the words right out of my mouth” can’t be thrown around lightly. This became especially clear as I progressed through the class readings assigned last week. At first glance, verbatim theatre seems a simple concept - a work that shares the exact words that were spoken by others at some point in history. Thinking about this re-telling of stories can almost begin to feel all warm and fuzzy as you ponder stories you may have heard a family elder recite over and over…until Carol Martin and Robin Soans unwrap the warm, fuzzy nostalgia blanket and hand you the words "exact," "precise," "accurate," and "literal" in it’s place. Anyone else feel that draft?

Like many of the concepts we have studied thus far, the depths to which one can reach when striving towards the true essence of this theatrical style intrigued me. But Martin and Soans have a valid point – verbatim theatre and documentary dramas need a shape of some sort (i.e. selection, order, etc.) and when these dramaturgical choices are applied, then all of a sudden the play doesn’t seen as uniquely different from a conventional play as the playwright might have hoped.

Last year around this time I had the honor of being a part of a Lynn Nottage world-premiere entitled One More River to Cross: A Verbatim Fugue. This was not a play written by Lynn Nottage, but rather a work that was adapted by her. Nottage sifted through thousands of interviews (2,300 to be exact) that were conducted as a part of the Federal Writers Project (FWP) between 1936 and 1938. The FWP was an effort of the federal Works Progress Administration similar to the Federal Theatre Project mentioned in class. During that two-year span, writer-artists were sent to the homes of emancipated slaves in the post war South to interview them regarding their experiences and memories of slavery. They included first-hand experiences as well as stories that were told to them by those who had passed before them. Nottage chronologically arranged the accounts from the beginning of the slave trade through emancipation, without changing the narrative text as recorded. In the "Verbatim Fugue" the narratives are periodically divided by Negro Spirituals that topically correspond to the stories being told.

The cast consists of 2 men and 2 women who tell the stories of multiple former slaves and a chorus. My character was Woman #1 and I shared narratives of 13 different ex-slaves. It was a most humbling and chilling experience to speak those words “knowing” that they had been spoken by actual people who lived those experiences. But to be honest, more than the “verbatim” aspect, what really shook me at my core was the substance of the stories. Whether the interviewers recorded a “de” versus “the,” etc. didn’t really bother me at the time as I took the "verbatim" claim with a grain of salt.
Interpretation is another factor to consider in Verbatim Theatre. I remember a particular rehearsal where Man #2 said the word "galluses" in one of his narratives and the director found it necessary to explain to him that galoshes were footwear and that it had probably just been spelled differently on account of the interviewer trying to capture dialect. The actor then went onto explain that in his research he found that galluses were actually suspenders, which made sense in the context of the text and created a completely different visual enactment of the story.

The Library of Congress has done a fabulous job of documenting and making these narratives accessible to the public. In light of this week's blog prompt, it was interesting to read what has been written about the accuracy of the narratives that Nottage then adapted,

"In the Depression years between 1936 and 1938, the WPA Federal Writers' Project (FWP) sent out-of-work writers in seventeen states to interview ordinary people in order to write down their life stories. Initially, only four states involved in the project (Florida, Georgia, South Carolina, and Virginia) focused on collecting the stories of people who had once been held in slavery. John A. Lomax, the National Advisor on Folklore and Folkways for the FWP (and the curator of the Archive of American Folk Song at the Library of Congress), was extremely interested in the ex-slave material he received from these states. In 1937 he directed the remaining states involved in the project to carry out interviews with former slaves as well. Federal field workers were given instructions on what kinds of questions to ask their informants and how to capture their dialects, the result of which may sometimes be offensive to today's readers. The field workers often visited the people they interviewed twice in order to gather as many recollections as possible. Sometimes they took photographs of informants and their houses. The interviewers then turned the narratives over to their state's FWP director for editing and eventual transfer to Washington, D.C."

-- Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers' Project, 1936 to 1938, Library of Congress Link

Lynn Nottage, Playwright

So in addition to the selection, order, etc. of the narratives that Nottage had to arrange, there was skepticism regarding the accuracy of the narratives to begin with based on the phrases that I highlighted in bold text above. So can One More River to Cross really be called “A Verbatim Fugue?” Consider the following insights into the process:

"The Slave Narrative Collection in the Manuscript Division at the Library of Congress consists of narrative texts derived from oral interviews. The narratives usually involve some attempt by the interviewers to reproduce in writing the spoken language of the people they interviewed, in accordance with instructions from the project's headquarters, the national office of the Federal Writers' Project in Washington, D.C.

The interviewers were writers, not professionals trained in the phonetic transcription of speech. And the instructions they received were not altogether clear. "I recommend that truth to idiom be paramount, and exact truth to pronunciation secondary," wrote the project's editor, John Lomax, in one letter to interviewers in sixteen states. Yet he also urged that "words that definitely have a notably different pronunciation from the usual should be recorded as heard," evidently assuming that "the usual" was self-evident.

In fact, the situation was far more problematic than the instructions from project leaders recognized. All the informants were of course black, most interviewers were white, and by the 1930s, when the interviews took place, white representations of black speech already had an ugly history of entrenched stereotype dating back at least to the early nineteenth century. What most interviewers assumed to be "the usual" patterns of their informants' speech was unavoidably influenced by preconceptions and stereotypes.

The result, as the historian Lawrence W. Levine has written, "is a mélange of accuracy and fantasy, of sensitivity and stereotype, of empathy and racism" that may sometimes be offensive to today's readers. Yet whatever else they may be, the representations of speech in the narratives are a pervasive and forceful reminder that these documents are not only a record of a time that was already history when they were created: they are themselves irreducibly historical, the products of a particular time and particular places in the long and troubled mediation of African-American culture by other Americans."

-- A Note on the Language of the Narratives, Library of Congress Link

This is really interesting stuff - click here for more information on The Limitations of the Slave Narrative Collection

As the Pickering and Thompson chapter on Verbatim Theatre states, at it’s core documentary and verbatim theatre “attempt to represent events objectively for the audience.” Saidiya V. Hartman seems to agree as she assess the limitations and usefulness of the FWP Slave Narrative Collection,

"How does one use these sources? At best with the awareness that a totalizing of history cannot be reconstructed from these interested, selective, and fragmentary accounts and with an acknowledgment of the interventionist role of the interpreter, the equally interested labor of historical revision, and the impossibility of reconstituting the past free from the disfigurements of present concerns. With all these provisos issued, these narratives nonetheless remain an important source for understanding the everyday experience of slavery and its aftermath.... I read these documents with the hope of gaining a glimpse of black life during slavery and the postbellum period while remaining aware of the impossibility of fully reconstituting the experience of the enslaved."

-- Saidiya V. Hartman, Scenes of Subjection: Terror, Slavery, and Self-Making in Nineteenth-Century America (New York, 1997), 11.

Basically, acknowledge that one should take in Verbatim/Documentary Theatre with a “grain of salt” but also acknowledge that taking it with that bit of salt is probably more useful than not taking it at all. 

She took the words right out of my mouth.

Time and Theatre...and music videos

Ok, let’s see if I can get these thoughts that have been swirling around in my head out in a coherent manner…..

Theatre and time. Time and theatre. There were so many interesting readings this past week, and admittedly I too cried out into the ether many times with my grievances. Particularly chaffing was the article referring to Single-Tweet Plays. Maybe it’s my constant internal struggle with social media, but I found it so hard to wrap my head around 140 characters being a piece of theatre. What? Just writing that sentence almost pulled me back into hysteria. I don’t aim to put limits or edges on the definition of theatre – that’s not my place. Good for those who find fulfillment in utilizing the least amount of keystrokes possible. But my definition of theatre requires a bit more substance – there’s a journey that visual elements and plot development takes me on that I simply do not get with 140 characters. I will say that long-form Twitter theatre is more to my liking, although rather than theatre it feels more like an adventure book. There is an organic quality that live theatre offers that, again, I miss with Twitter theatre. With that being said, I’ve bitten the bullet and attempted to write a single-tweet play:

[Girl enters]
Girl: (elated) Where did you find that?!
Friend: Five-below! Was only like 3 bucks – cool, huh?
Girl: (deflated) Oh.
[Girl exits]

Now that that’s done, I’ll move forward to a topic that really threw my mind for a loop – the notion of lengthened time in art. It amazed me to think that in La Monte Young’s work to develop the musical concept of stasis, a form that allows time to “stand still,” one chord of two notes can be held for up to 45 minutes! My first thought was, "Yeah, that's not a piece of music - that's two notes being held for 45 minutes." Why did I feel this way? Because there were no variations, no changes, no heightened skill level required (especially if played on the piano, just about anyone could do it), no journey. But perhaps if I sat in a room for 45 minutes, listening to a sing continuous chord I would have an experience. I can't say for sure because I've never done it, but it's seems that experience might drive me a bit insane. 

Why?" was my resounding question all week. Why attempt to manipulate time in the extremity? The answer, based on the readings and class discussion, seemed to be, "because it can be done." As the Adam Neely YouTube video said, it's like climbing Mount Everest - you put a lot of effort into it just to see if you can do it (paraphrased). A lot of effort is continuously going into ASLSP written by John Cage. The centuries it will take for that piece to be concluded boggles my mind. I was almost intrigued to go witness a key change one day, but then I learned that it's possible the song could be in a "rest" for a number of year (as it is currently) and suddenly I was cured of that desire. After the deliberations over what might be the slowest music, in the end it comes don to what one chooses to pick as music. What counts to them, Neely stated. He asserted that music is often used to express what cannot be expressed in words. Yes!! Finally something I completely resound with!

There was a thought that I had during class that reminded me of that very concept. I recently had the privilege of doing a reading of a colleague's new script entitled, "Trophy Room." (wink wink) One of the characters loved Bill Wither's song, "A Lovely Day" but one of the younger characters could not comprehend how that extended note at the end was even allowed to be recorded! In effect he was questioning if it was even music. Being someone who personally loves that song, and that part, I can relate to Bill Withers and his creative team. When you get to that point of the song, there is a joy that resonates throughout all 18-seconds of that note - which he holds straight, no chaser, no vibrato. To me, it's reminiscent of a child who is let loose on the play ground and rounds full force, head to the sky, releasing an exclamation of pure happiness. To each his own. But I couldn't stop there. I had to ask the question, was that the longest note ever sung? Well, I'm not the only one who asked that question...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H_jnASqj3xk

This led me down the YouTube rabbit hole and I began to search for the longest music video. This has been debated at length - cyber insults being thrown left and right. There are those who insist that Michael Jackson's 1997 video "Ghosts" takes the record at 39 minutes, 32 seconds even though Pharrell Williams created a 24 hour music video of his song "Happy" on loop. Those in the Jackson camp feel that "looping" doesn't count, where as critics of Jackson say that it was not not the length of a single song, but rather more of a "film." Check them out for yourself below

Michael Jackson's "Ghosts"

https://vimeo.com/233465951

Pharrell Williams' "Happy" - 24 Hour Music Video

http://24hoursofhappy.com/

Real-"Life" Sentence

About three years ago I was fortunate enough to catch the premiere of an incredible play entitled V to X (read, “5 to 10”) written by a local Philadelphia playwright Kash Goins. This work, as the title suggests, unapologetically highlights privatized incarceration (industrial prison complex), the US justice system, and the implications on the communities that are disproportionately impacted by incarceration rates. Because this is not yet a commonly known play (I have full faith that it one day will be), I’ll share some details. The setting is “a prison.” The set design within the black box theatre utilized jail bars to separate most of the audience from the action on stage. There was one row of seats in front of the bars. The majority of the action happened on stage where there were several cells represented. The cells belonged to characters in the play and they would alternate between those spaces and the center-stage common area. Two inmates’ cells were actually at the feet of the audience which helped offer an immersive feel.

This play lends itself very well to Schechner’s axioms for environmental theatre. I remember the sheer mix of shock, terror, and sorrow that both paralyzed me and overwhelmed my senses as the lights went black at curtain. How much more would an immersive quality add were it staged in an actual prison.

Welcome to Eastern State Penitentiary - a former prison in the heart of Philly that stands in ruins. Famous for being one of the most expensive jails at one point in time, it also housed Al Capone for about a year. (I say ‘housed’ because the famous gangster was offered luxuries not extended to the typical inmate - you know, oil paintings, oriental rugs, fine furniture, a radio to listen to his beloved waltzes). The prison gives general tours of its facility and offers the opportunity for Paranormal Investigations - a more privatized, exploratory experience.

In my mind’s eye, the immersion experience would begin with a free exploration of the space. Let the audience roam and explore! Much like Sleep No More has been described, I’d like to see artifacts placed throughout the space that would span about 6 cells facing each other. Allowing the audience to interact with the props, photos, clothes, personalizations or lack thereof, and space will give them a sense of who these characters may be and create a familiar intimacy with the prop items. For example, when the inmate picks up that letter I more deeply resonate with his reaction because I also read the sweet nothings that had been penned and now have greater context. As Schechner states, all production elements speak in their own language and how one audience member interprets that “language” may provide an entirely different experience for another.

This would be a mix between a transformed and found space although it will largely remain as is. The idea is for the space to “speak.” Too much addition would alter that effect. The bars of the cells lend well to the axiom that focus is flexible and variable. Seating would be strategically placed throughout the space with the prison guards letting the audience know when they can move about. During some scenes they would be allowed to roam and follow the activity. During others, due to activity of the actors, they would need to find a new seat if desired...like musical chairs, so to speak. 

Environmental immersion is a powerful theatrical tool, especially for works with a social compelling component. V to X, which is getting it’s first professional theatre debut later this month, is just exactly that. It’s very easy for most people to walk into a theatre and be a silent spectator. Heck, it’s almost just as easy for most folks to walk through life in the same way. But when we are truly affected by something due to engagement on a moving and personally meaningful level, we have been challenged. Challenged to be different; challenges to grapple with the discomfort; challenged to reject the status quo. Environmental Theatre...I dig it.

(This may be a completely useless additional rambling, but I’m also obsessed with the underdeveloped idea of capturing live audience reactions and playing it back at appropriate times [layered if necessary] in order to evoke a personalized experience each performance. Whether laughter, gasps, exclamations. Perhaps it would need to be guided in an introductory setting [curtain speech maybe?]...I’ll think on that a bit more...)

Dark Matter Matters ;-)

This week’s post prompt led me to August Wilson’s Century Cycle of plays (also known as the Pittsburgh Cycle). This is August Wilson’s 10-play journey through the African-American experience in the 20th century. Starting in the 1900s, there exists a play for each decade of the century and Wilson uses realism in the African-American vernacular/tone to tell these stories. The plays were not written in order – the first was Jitney (set in the 1970s) and it hit Broadway in January of 2017. Click HERE for a Playbill highlights video.

So where is the dark matter? It lies in a character that emerged about halfway through writing the cycle of plays – Aunt Ester. Aunt Ester was a centuries old (three+ centuries to be exact) former slave whom characters went to for wisdom and direction. She was often mentioned, though never seen until Gem of the Ocean, and told various characters to do things that would connect them with their inner strength. August Wilson himself came to refer to her as the “most significant persona of the cycle” and represented “the embodiment of African wisdom and tradition – the person who has been alive since 1619…and has remained with us.” So rather than being dark matter (no pun intended!!) that highlights hegemony or politics, Aunt Ester represented a social morality within the African-American community.

When you read or watch a Wilson play in which Aunt Ester is mentioned, the ambiguity that surrounds her is thick and yet her presence is undeniable. He writes her in such a way that leaves you wanting just a glimpse of this magnificently old sage. Well, as I alluded to, that actually happens in his play Gem of the Ocean. This is the only play in which Aunt Ester is an actual character on stage. This play is set in 1900 but was written in 2003, just two years before Wilson’s death. In his writings, Wilson talks about how influential Aunt Ester is and that he esteemed her so much because she is from whom all his characters came. 

I am an enormous fan of August Wilson and admittedly was a bit sad to learn that the dark matter was "dispelled" when Aunt Ester became an actual character in one of his plays. However, when I saw that Phylicia Rashad portrayed her I could not have been more satisfied because, well, Phylicia Rashad.