a poor player

“The artist is the only person; his antennae pick up these messages before anybody. So he is always thought of as being way ahead of his time because he lives in the present.” (Marshall McLuhan, 1970)

One of Marshall McLuhan’s most interesting observations on media was the notion of the “rearview mirror.” The metaphor he employed was that media (and technology) acted as a rearview mirror to culture. The technology appears to be “the future,” but actually reflects to you the past. Westerns, for example, were very popular TV shows in the 1950s, and a good example of how this principle worked: a modern device depicting some version of the culture’s past. TV shows you where you’ve been, and almost never does it show you where you are or where it can take you.

I though if that after writing my last post below and the going out to catch up on blogs I’ve missed for the past two days because of a sinus infection. As I was reading, it occured to me how “old-fashioned” I am in my thinking in many ways, despite the fact that I have some technological capability. I am assuming, of course, that most of the people whose blogs I have become interested in are all younger than I am, and so what I’m reading when I read their ideas has something to do with the future. It’s giving me some hope.

I don’t see much in the way of theatrical theory these days. You look at some of the 20th century figures in the theatrical arena who articulated very expansive theatrical theories – Stanislavski, Meyerhold, Brecht, Artaud, Grotowski et. al. – and then you compare that with the relative paucity of published theatrical theory today (who can anyone name since, say, 1980, whose ideas have taken root enough that a whole different type of theatre gets created? Foreman, maybe?) But after my tour this evening, I realize I’ve been looking in the rearview mirror, even technologically. Any new theory will not present itself in a published article, book, or newspaper, even if that particular journal or newspaper appears on the web!. The NY Times on the web is precisely the rearview-mirror effect McLuhan talks about.

There’s stuff going on in New York City, for example, of which I had been totally unaware. Occasionally it will make The Times, but more often than not I now think it’s going to be mentioned – and perhaps even created – through the blogosphere. One person published a small bit of a new script here and asked for comments. Another blogger meditates on global consciousness and much more. Others are combining theatre and politics. A lot of them are playwrights, some are reviewers; all of them are decidedly well-read (where have I been?? Backstage, mostly but oh well…), smart and quite bold. These men and women are not going through traditional methods of getting their thoughts out. I won’t read them in academic webjournals. Yet I sense the kind of theatre they’re writing and creating is both the now and the future. If you’re lamenting the death of Broadway and Off-Broadway, you’re looking in the rearview mirror.

Rearview mirrors work both ways, though. You can see not only what you’ve passed, but what’s gaining on you. Reading what these people have to say made me feel tonight like I’ve been doing 30MPH on the Autobahn. If you’re a stodgy academic like me, you’d better get with it and stop reading American Theatre and Backstage as if they contained all you need to know about the theatre world. Search out and read blogs, nationally and internationally. It’s what’s in front of you that matters. -twl

A few days ago, something came in the mail for which I have been waiting 32 years. I greeted its arrival with a mix of skepticism, irony, humor and a small amount of disbelieve. It was my application to apply for membership to Actors’ Equity Association.

Having completed my recent one-year stint the the American Shakespeare Festival about two weeks ago, I also completed my Equity Membership Candidate requirement of 50 weeks (I had 52). When I originally auditioned for the gig in January 2005, I don’t recall in the audition notice any indication of the EMC program. But on the second or third day of employment, we all filled out our paperwork for EMC and paid the $100 to start. Along the way there was a barrage of misinformation as to whether or not we would actually get the 50 weeks. The rumor said that we would not get credit for our 2-week vacation or for any time when the Equity shows were not running (about 4 weeks). However, a simple call to Equity in NYC verified that we had a 52-week contact, so we were going to get 52 weeks. Sure enough, 10 days after completing the contract, the application showed up in my mailbox.

When I first graduated from undergrad school and went home to Long Island with a high school teaching job in the offing and the New York theatre scene beckoning, I knew getting my AEA card was something I had to shoot for if I wanted to work in the theatre full-time and become a “professional.” I really didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to that fact, however, as I was more interested in working in an ensemble environment and with the people who also migrated to NY after graduation. I did that for three years, until I got into NYU’s MFA program, from which I summarily dismissed 8 months later for telling the master acting teacher he was full of shit. The following fall I left NYC, never to return on any permanent basis.

Throughout the years I eventually decided that a teaching career was more what I really wanted, and began to pursue that goal. I worked at non-union summer theatres to build my resume. When I finally got my current position at Fredonia, I began to work in Buffalo, which has had its issues with AEA over the years. Even though AEA now has an agreement in Buffalo/Rochester, I was getting so much work in Buffalo as a non-union actor, as well as building enough of a reputation, that I was basically getting Equity-level pay without having to belong to the union. In fact, when I negotiated my upcoming contract, the managing director thought I was already AEA. When I told him I wasn’t but expected to be so by the time the show went into rehearsal, he said, “Look, Tom, it doesn’t matter. The offer is $384/wk regardless.” In other words, AEA pay without having to pay AEA dues.

I’ve toyed with the idea of not joining. I have a habit of doing things like that. I toyed with the idea of not accepting tenure when I became eligible, until I was told that not taking it would really screw up the contract and set a dangerous precedent etc. etc. The same is true with Equity. I’ve had numerous issues with them over the years. I particularly dislike their method of admitting members. They are the only labor union I know that thinks it’s good to have less members rather than more. They work hard to keep people out, unlike any other union. For the dues they take the membership really receives very little back, as they have nowhere near the power of unions like IATSE or the musician’s union. Their EMC program is very hard to complete; I was fortunate in that I had a full one-year gig. Most people have to put together 6-8 weeks at a time to get 50 weeks, which means finding at least 6 EMC gigs. Should I really join a union which is more like some sort of exclusive club, and no guarantee of quality?

The answer is yes. The reason is that, whether I like it , agree with it, or not, the card is a credential which carries at least psychological weight. When I’ve told people that I was not Equity, I always get that quizzical look in response which says “Why not?” Some, of course, verbalize that, to which I reply that I’ve never had the opportunity. Which is true. I left New York at 28. I never really settled in another major city. I did non-union summer gigs. Only Studio Arena in Buffalo could hand out AEA contracts. For reasons which remain a mystery to me even now, I was never offered even a walk-on role at Studio Arena, the LORT house in Buffalo. I believe that the AD at the time either didn’t like me, or I lived so “far” away that he would have to provide me housing under Equity (FYI the distance is 47.5 miles).

This Equity/non-Equity divide of course hurts theatre as a whole. it separates actors into “haves” and “have nots.” The best person does not necessarily get the job if the theatre is union. You can’t even get a chance to audition. Even at universities, if two candidates apply for the same acting teacher position, the union actor has the upper hand simply because they carry the credential. Students think Equity actors are better because they are “professionals” (it doesn’t even matter if they haven’t been on a stage for ten years, they have “the card”). You can work as steadily as any actor in the world, but if it’s all non-union work, the impression is it’s not “professional.”

So I guess what I’m really saying here is that I want the cred. I don’t want to have to defend myself anymore for not being a “professional.” When I walk in the classroom I want the students feeling like they’re getting instruction from a professional. And yes, it will be nice, once I’m offered a part, to know I can’t make anything less that the union minimum. And after 32 years of waiting and wondering, it may finally silence the small insecurities yet lingering in the back of my ego.

But is “professionalism” a concept that has any relevance anymore? Is the notion of “professional actors” hurting or helping the theatre in this postmodern age? Has the model outlived its usefulness? Are there other models of being a theatre artist we should be employing to bring theatre alive again in communities large and small? In reading one of Matthew Freeman’s recent posts, he asks the question about the work/life/art balance. It’s a very critical and important issue to address, especially for someone like me who spends time talking to and training the artists of the future. I am one who believes that the concept of the “professional actor” is one that will not serve the growth or health of theatre in the 21st century. I hope to tackle that issue in more detail in the very near future. -twl