Results tagged “audience development” from Program Notes

by Eva Yaa Asantewaa
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If I tell you that I'm over seeing the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater at City Center, please do not misunderstand. I mean no disrespect to either of these venerable institutions. I'm merely grappling with a revelation (no pun intended) that lit into me one evening last season as I sat near the back of the theater and, with my 55-year-old eyes, attempted to make sense of those acrobats of God leaping, spinning and sashaying on a stage that suddenly seemed as far away as heaven. It was a stage too far, wonderful dancers, working their hearts out, too far, and I'd had about enough of that distance as I could stand.

Which led me to muse about the possibility of seeing the Ailey troupe in an entirely different way. Why not up close and personal? Why not a special show, every now and then, when we could get to watch one or two Ailey marvels dancing something small and intimate in a setting where we might actually be able to track the thoughts crossing their brows, the nerve synapses firing in their muscles, the divine flow of their breathing? What about the possibility of seeing an Ailey dancer do the kind of choreography that might not have to be writ large to read across distance and make an impact, the kind that might take us on new journeys of discovery? What a boon that would be for the dancers themselves, for adventurous choreographers lucky to work with them, and for people like you and me. And what a lure that might be for new audiences.

Part of the problem for me, I realize, is that I started out as a young dance fan watching (and later reviewing) companies like Ailey and New York City Ballet and then quickly plunged into the postmodern milieu. Thirty-plus years into professional dance writing, I find myself looking at major, mainstream dance companies with the sensibilities of someone raised by wolves. I love these wolves because they have never stopped demanding more from themselves, from their art or from their audiences. Now I am spoiled, and I demand more from everyone and everything.

What I demand, in this instance, is closeness.

Some related thoughts come to mind, in no particular order.

Dixon Place
The last time I sat on one of those front-row sofas at Dixon Place, a batch of dancers (Lynn Neuman's Artichoke Dance Company), wielded switchblades and moved noisily within a paper enclosure. They cut holes in the paper just inches from our faces. Later, the Amazon-built Cary McWilliam deliberately lunged in my direction, stopping short of landing on top of me--but not by much. Her arms were braced on either side of me, and she just hung there. Instead of responding with a massive heart attack, I was thrilled by the immediacy of this action. Only later did I ponder the consequences: With cellphones silenced and tucked away, how quickly could anyone have reached 911?

Okay, I realize that the possibility of getting slashed or flattened by jet-propelled dancers is not exactly attractive to potential dance audiences.  Let me back up and try another approach.

When I see a show at Dixon Place, I'm close enough to the performers to catch a hit of their enormous energy and to really see just what it is that they do. My friends, there's nothing like that. If you want to interest new audiences in the work of dancers, make sure to give them a few experiences up close. I don't care if you have a huge dance company. Think like a drug pusher: little samples, little hits. Works every time.

They'll never forget it-even without the knife-play. Instead, it might be something quite benign, like Doug Elkins's Fraulein Maria, in which The Sound of Music is hilariously, brilliantly condensed and reinterpreted for the itty-bitty stage at Joe's Pub. Or it might be a showing of Aszure Barton's work-in-progress, A Traveling Show, which recently made the best use of a smaller-than-her-usual cast on the petite stage of the East Village's charming Duo Theatre. Size matters-as long as it's small, and close.


Yanira Castro
This woman has a reputation. For making audiences stand up, move around, have dancers move around them in close proximity. She also once herded and confined her audience in plexiglas boxes and bid them sit on backless benches with not a sliver of space between one person and the next. When you attend a Yanira Castro dance, you can't just sit back (literally) and take in the show. And this is all to the good. For one thing, it reminds me that I am a body, not just a mental sensibility, and that puts me in a different relationship to the bodies that I'm observing. I can't swear that this has had a salutary effect on most dance critics...sigh...but I like the direction it's moving in.

She's not the only choreographer working this way, of course. William Forsythe's You Made Me A Monster had viewers standing defenselessly while a trio of hulking, crazily-moving dancers pelted through and pushed by. The first section of Tere O'Connor's Rammed Earth had dancers moving among audience members whose folding chairs were strewn across the floor, facing various directions. Added to the usual profound joy of watching Hilary Clark, Heather Olson, Matthew Rogers and Christopher Williams work their craft was watching that craft slip out from behind your left shoulder.

Miguel Gutierrez brought us all up on stage with him for Everyone. Sure, we were still neatly aligned in rows of folding chairs, but only a few rows, and we were rarely more than a few feet from him and his increasingly rambunctious dancers. Daniel Linehan (at Dance Theater Workshop) and, more recently, Alex Escalante (at Danspace Project) and Aynsley Vandenbroucke (at the Baryshnikov Arts Center) arranged us in a communal circle enclosing their action. And there are many more examples, especially from artists creating site-specific work.


Sites for Bored Eyes
Which brings me to the issue of space. Let's go wild and realize that wherever you have space, you can have movement. How cool is it when creative movement responds in a fresh way to the fresh realities and challenges of a space that is not already officially designated for dance! Why are we not seeing more dance breaking out all over town-in the supermarket, for instance, where a group of visual artists replaced cans of peas with cans decorated with their own designs?  Dancers, start looking at every space as your potential stage. Even if you don't have the legal right to use that space, you have the right to play with it in your head, and maybe that will bring a new charge to the work you do in conventional spaces.

We need to plop dance down in the middle of people's lives, right in front of their faces. That way, it will no longer seem to be some elitist thing-apparently, a huge no-no in America-where you have to be dressed up, physically and mentally, in order to attend and comprehend. Take dance to the people, where they live.


The Nerve of You
I have this theory, based in my experience in psychic practices--and, I suspect, many years of watching dance intensively--that we're subliminally, deeply connected to the performers we watch. It goes back to what I wrote earlier-that we are bodies, too, and our nervous systems and our spiritual selves are altered by what we see and by those subtler realities that we do not detect in any conscious way. We truly understand a lot more about dance (and dancers) than we realize we do. This is especially powerful when we see dance up close.  Works with theater and musical performances, too. I don't know about you, folks, but I crave this, and I think it's the cure for America's alienation from body and soul and dance.


To hear more from Eva Yaa Asantewaa, read her blog.  
To learn more about NPAC sessions such as "Beyond Audience Development: Innovative Strategies for Performing Arts", visit the website.

by Kristin Sloan
Discuss! To comment on this entry, click here.

Growing up outside of Boston, going to cultural events was a special treat that my parents would arrange as often as they could. Whether it was going to the Wang Center to see Boston Ballet, or going to Greatwoods to see Huey Lewis and Tower of Power (my first "rock" concert), they always made a big deal out of it - because it was. It was expensive, it was a major time commitment, it meant getting our family together and traveling to a location relatively far from our house; but the important end result was that we were experiencing something creative and engaging together, and that excitement and desire for culture and live performance has continued with me.

Now I live in New York City with my boyfriend, who shares with me two somewhat competing qualities - the drive to get as much accomplished in a day as possible as well as an earnest desire to share experiences that will enrich our lives beyond the work we do during the day. I don't know if it's because we live in a place where there are an overwhelming number of options (and you wind up spending money the second you walk out of your apartment), or if we're just uncomfortably busy, but it can be a challenge for us to plan ahead and commit to get out to a live performance and make a night (or day) out of it.

The mere fact that there are so many things today vying for our attention means that it can become a big and often debilitating decision figuring out what to do when we actually have the opportunity. Many of us have limited time to give to leisure activities, and we usually have plenty of options for spending that time - from surfing the internet or watching tv in our pajamas, to getting dressed up and traveling to a performance (and everything in between). In our case, the desire to see a live performance is there but we need an extra little push.

For us, that push often comes in digital form, whether it's an email from an arts organization, a mention in a blog, an online review, a notification from a social networking site like Facebook, a recommendation from a peer or an event filtering site... Pair those things with a presence in our physical environment - like a wild posting on the street - and there's a good chance that if we like what you are offering (of course things like programming, venue and timing come into play too), we'll try to find a way to take you up on it. The performing arts have a challenging model to begin with. So much time, effort, and expense go into the preparations and final product of any performance (whether you're just talking about the performance itself, or what it takes to train all the people eventually involved in putting on that particular performance). The only direct opportunity you have to recoup these expenses is through a live, one-time only, show to which only so many people can buy a ticket. Each of these select individuals only wants to pay so much for that ticket and once it's over it's gone forever.

The percentage of time throughout the year that even your most zealous patrons spend with your organization (i.e. sitting in your theater) is low, so how and where could they be interacting with your organization and developing a deeper connection to what you do when they aren't seeing it live in front of them? Go to your audiences (current and potential) - wherever they may be, and establish an ongoing connection with them in that space.

New technology can provide relatively simple and low cost ways to stay connected to your current audiences while also reaching out to new audiences. Even if we can't come to your performance this time around, if your digital presence peeks our interest, technology can make it easier for you to continue a connection with us, making your next message stronger. If you've got our attention, you can also do simple things like asking for our email address, or offering a feed so that we can subscribe to updates on your organization. Communication can become smarter and more targeted by being automated and customized based on how the patron wants to be contacted and what they are interested in. There are so many possibilities!

The Winger was partially born out of the realization that my friends and peers seemed to have very little knowledge of what I did all day as a dancer - which is completely understandable. How could they know without being there? The idea was to try to give an illustrative and personal look into my everyday experiences using the web. In my opinion, the creation of a work of art is often as interesting as the finished product, and I wanted to find a way to share that. In turn, the site has also become a place for people who already enjoy dance to further connect with the companies and the artists they love, outside of the theater. Something to note... no one can talk about what your organization is all about better than the artists who are a part of it!
 
Perhaps it might be helpful to break things down and discuss the topic (Best Practices for Developing a Diverse and Committed Audience) while realizing that we are all audience members too. I've explained what works in getting me to a live performance - what about you?
  
 
-  What is helpful in convincing you, personally, to buy tickets to see a live performance? Forget about "best practices" for a minute, what gets YOU in a seat? Why?

  
- What strategies have you seen organizations take to build more diverse and/or committed audiences? Did those initiatives work in getting you more involved or getting you to purchase a ticket? Do you think they were successful in engaging other audiences and even convincing them to buy tickets?
 
 
- Why do you think the initiatives you have seen were successful  - or not? What might you do differently?


To hear more from Kristin Sloan, visit The Winger. 
To learn more about NPAC sessions such as "Best Practices for Developing a Diverse and Committed Audience", visit the website.