Time for some real talk. 

 

Let me begin by saying that the views and opinions expressed in this blog are mine and mine alone. I am not going to say anything off the wall; we aren’t talking about the shape of the planet or anything like that, but I may brush up against some things that others in my field might disagree with. That’s fine. I am trying to read some tea leaves, trust my gut, and tell you why I haven’t been sleeping much the last few days. 

 

I am concerned. 

 

It has been a true honor, over the last several weeks, to be able to bring these blogs to Connect-Bridgeport. It’s been a nice outlet for me as my theatre company has shut down and I am left with an unprecedented amount of time on my hands. I have tried to be open, honest, and most importantly, positive. 

 

While I am striving to remain positive, I am concerned. 

 

Theatre specifically, and live performance in general, has been a dying art form for years, perhaps since its inception. We are up against the blitzkrieg that is digital media and entertainment. Like the song says, “Video killed the radio star.” Well, video killed radio, cinema challenged video, and now streaming is changing everything all over again. Yet through all of this competitive and fatal innovation, live entertainment has managed to carve out its niche because it offers one major thing that you can’t get from a small or large screen: a truly intimate and unified transient experience. 

 

In 2017 researchers at The University College London Division of Psychological and Language Sciences released findings from a study that concluded that audience members’ hearts synchronize while watching live theatre. The team found that as well as alongside individuals’ emotional responses, audience members’ hearts respond in unison, with their pulses speeding up and slowing down at the same rate. 

 

In order to carve out this niche, live entertainment has taken two paths: either go big or double down on the simple traditions that made the art forms great in the first place. For example, theatre today runs the gamut from the big, spectacle rich, technology-dependent Broadway blockbusters to the intimate, interactive, story-centric approaches of many companies that focus on the preservation of the classics or the creation of new works. Live music is on the same spectrum: from sold out arena tours with lasers, smoke, and pyro techniques to the solo, unplugged, singer songwriter in a nearly empty Nashville bar on a Wednesday afternoon. 

 

Regardless of which scale of entertainment you prefer and regardless of at which point an artist is working, all of it is essential to the arts ecosystem; and right now, all of it is shut down. Ironically, TV and movie production is shuttered as well.  

 

There is another way that artists in the live performance world have worked to keep their work and their art form on the minds of consumers: education and experiences. Performing artists have also become teaching artists, not just presenting the final product but inviting others to experience the creation process and learn how to create as well. Things like classes, workshops, coaching sessions, open rehearsal halls, book and poetry readings, improv jams, pro-am dance events, and even chefs’ tables allow consumers of the art an immersion in the work of the artists they support. The old adage that “those who can’t do, teach” really hasn’t ever been the case, but now more than ever the doers are the teachers. 

 

That education and experience work has also stalled for most artists, but for others it has moved to the virtual world: to websites, video chat apps, and social media. The virtual form is the great equalizer and in some ways could prove to be the biggest risk facing your friendly neighborhood artist. 

 

Last week I was scrolling through Facebook, as I am sure many of us spend countless minutes doing these days, and I came upon an old friend, Bridgeport boy, live streaming via his phone or tablet some music from a room somewhere in his house. We were only a few miles apart. He was strumming and passionately singing a cover of a familiar tune. In between songs he would welcome people, encourage comments on the stream, and direct all of us watching to a link where we could access his virtual tip jar. At the same time, further down my Facebook feed was another live stream video. It was Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood live from an empty stage at the Grand Ole Opry, professionally produced and absolutely free. Guess which one had more viewers. 

 

The virtual form is the great equalizer. 

 

I am as guilty of this particular sin as most everyone else. I had the choice between watching a local artist from his couch broadcasting through a cellphone or one of the greatest selling country music singers of all time on a professional level broadcast. I picked Garth. But here’s the scary part. 

 

There was a time when Garth was the local guy from the couch playing for tips in the local bar, strumming and passionately singing a cover of a familiar tune. People in the bar tipped him, they supported him, and with persistence and a whole lot of luck, he made it. As this pandemic rages on and we enter this period of re-openings and re-closings, you can be assured that one industry isn’t coming back anytime soon: live performance. Which means that my friend is going to be looking for his tips and his support from people who can access the biggest stars in the world absolutely free at the touch of their fingertips. 

 

It’s actually become a little daunting the amount of free content that has emerged over the last two months. In the theatre world alone, YouTube is now full of free shows from Broadway, the Stratford Shakespeare Festival, and London’s National Theatre, to name a few. This is old, archived content that companies have already produced and paid for. It costs them nothing to stream it, and while they can’t make any profit, they’re receiving a lot of goodwill currency. 

 

This is why I am concerned. 

 

Live performances aren’t going to go away forever; human nature forbids that. But we are going to lose a generation of artists and arts organizations. It’s inevitable. If nothing else, the COVID-19 pandemic is going to create a gap in the lineage of the performing arts. If you are already an established artist with fans and deals and most importantly, content that you can use to keep your brand relevant, then you probably get through this. If you are an up-and-comer, if you are just on the brink of that big break, if you have just made the decision to take the plunge and chase your dream, I don’t know. I hope I am wrong. 

 

I do know it’s just not safe right now for people to be close enough for long enough that our hearts beat together. I know I am right about that.  

 

Are you concerned? Good.