I thought it would be fun to try my hand again at old-school
theater blogging. A few days ago, George Hunka at Superfluities Redux wrote
about the end of the theatrosphere. Blogging about theater was once a popular
pastime among theatermakers. Back in 2003 or so, a handful of us got together
and thought it would be fun to carry on conversations about theater over the
internet. Hilarity ensued.
As blogging became popular, the theatrosphere expanded to
include a number of people from around the world. I think one of its strongest
points is that we were independent from institutions. While it was true
journalists were members of the group, I never had the sense anyone served as
an institutional mouthpiece. We blogged about a variety of topics, including
sexism, new play development, MFAs, submission fees, Rachel Corrie and the role
of the director. It was all fresh territory back then. There were no
assumptions, no “been there done that.” There was a feeling in the group that
we were breaking ground, comparing notes and talking about things in a new way.
I learned a lot. I met new people and expanded my knowledge about
theater, writing and life. I believe strongly that the group changed things for
the better.
I also acknowledge that things were occasionally dicey. Some
of the flame wars were not illuminating. A few were downright ugly.
There were several reasons I left the theatrosphere in 2007.
I discovered someone was using my content for a theater project. I felt
violated. It was around that time my Hollywood friends informed me that
producers were combing through blogs and actually basing projects on blog
content. Apparently, they assumed you could swipe a significant amount of
someone’s life legally. So I’m guessing a number of people (in or out of the theatrosphere)
might’ve quietly stopped blogging for that reason.
Also, I was country before country
was cool. I moved twice from 2004 to 2006 - New York to Austin to Alabama. I attempted to do theater
here in my community and ran into major problems. Lack of resources was only a
small part of that. Plus, the theatrosphere was urban-oriented. I didn’t think
my contributions were valuable.
As well, I often felt there was an
all-or-nothing attitude about theater blogging. Either you did it 100% of the
time or forget it. As much as I loved theater, that didn’t work for me. Theater
is just a part of my identity, only a piece of who I am as an artist/writer. I
do other forms of writing. I have a book project, for instance. Some people
know me as an energy healer and meditation teacher. My practice in that area
focused on artists, including theater folks. But I never felt like I could
write about those topics if I was a theater blogger.
Therein lies the crux of problem,
I think. Because when I remember all the people in the community at that time,
we each had something powerful to offer. For example, George had his incredible
intellect. Issac had widespread interests and was extremely articulate. Joshua
had wisdom and fantastic suggestions. Scott was steadily becoming an advocate
for people in my position. Mac was a funny, cool dude who could lighten things up. Obviously I’m leaving a lot of people out, but you
get the idea. Everybody had a place. But after the group grew, I often felt
like it was a struggle to be heard. I wasn’t in the position to meet everyone
after a show. I was also one of the few women (and only woman at the beginning).
When we all came together back in 2003/4, my gender wasn’t an issue. But when
the community grew, I started to feel marginalized. It’s not anyone’s fault really. It was just the dynamics of
that situation.
For me, George’s post about
theatrosphere is timely. I’ve recently gone back to reading theater blogs,
particularly Superfluities Redux and Parabasis. I also adore Don Hall’s blog. I
started reading it again at 5:30 a.m., when I have to call people in Seoul,
Korea to tutor them in English. I
found Don’s blog to be a nice, energetic wake-up in the morning.
When I blog about theater, I do it
at the Clyde Fitch Report. They don’t tell me what to write and I have no idea
who is actually reading my articles. Those two elements are a good thing. I can
focus on what I see or need to say.
Also, writing for a website that
is not my personal blog gives me more leeway. Look at it this way. What would
you rather say?
“Hi! I’m Laura Axelrod with the
Clyde Fitch Report. It is a NYC-based blog. And I’d like to talk to you about
nudity in theater.”
Or
“Hi! I’m Laura Axelrod and I have
a blog. I’m calling from my basement. And I’d like to talk to you about nudity
in theater.”
I’m kidding, of course, but you
get the idea.
One of the biggest challenges over
the past year has been figuring out what to do with Gasp. I’ve also been
working on having a “right relationship” with theater. Doors are opening for me
in publishing and I’ve been encouraged by professionals in that world to write
about other interests on this blog.
As far as the current state of
things, it is hard to have a meaningful conversation on Twitter. I respect
other blogs, 2amt especially, since they know and have been infinitely
supportive of my situation. But I understand what others are saying in the
comments section at George’s blog.
From my vantage point, I’ve grown
weary of the “what we need to do to improve theater” discussions in this country.
These conversations sometimes seem desperate and creepy. Has anyone yet suggested
kidnapping people, holding them hostage to create an audience and then mugging
them for funding? Because that’s the vibe I get sometimes from the balcony
seats, where I sit. If I were a potential audience member, I’d run far away
from theater after reading some of these conversations.
During my time in the theatersphere,
I’ve tumbled with a few people. I know Scott and I have gone at it several times
and I apologize for the intense flaming. I know I’ve told the rest of you off
in my head at least once in those years, so I apologize if my secret thoughts
gave off nasty vibes.
Wow, is this a personal post? Do
we still do that these days?
I'm going to open up my
comments, but despite my fears of a spam avalanche. If anyone chooses to link to this
post, I kindly request the following: Please don’t say that this is a painful
post. So much of my stuff back in the day got spun with that adjective. “Laura
Axelrod writes this painful post about (name the situation)” And I’d sit there
looking at my monitor, completely confused. Were my observations hurting
people? Or did they think I was in pain?
Either way, you should know I’ve written this post with a big-ass
smile on my face.
(Picture of dog used to illustrate my emotional state while writing this post.)