{"id":506,"date":"2023-09-26T00:01:00","date_gmt":"2023-09-26T00:01:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/scenechange\/?p=506"},"modified":"2023-09-26T05:35:13","modified_gmt":"2023-09-26T05:35:13","slug":"ren-faires-vs-basements-how-risky-is-nonprofit-art-when-no-one-dies-if-you-fail","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/scenechange\/2023\/09\/26\/ren-faires-vs-basements-how-risky-is-nonprofit-art-when-no-one-dies-if-you-fail\/","title":{"rendered":"Ren Faires vs Basements: How Risky Is Nonprofit Art When No One Dies If You Fail?"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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(Image by Steve Buissinne from Pixabay)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ve had this completely wacky, unfounded theory of the production of art on a stage. It\u2019s called, for lack of a better name, \u201cRen Faire vs Basement.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The theory goes that \u201cRen Faire\u201d art (art presented at a Renaissance Faire, Fringe Festival, or by buskers, improv groups, and standups) uses approximately the same process during respective creations. The key is: they don\u2019t finish. They never <\/em>really finish the process, even after an opening day or night. They continue to work the piece in front of audience after audience\u2014testing ideas, improvising, and otherwise molding a never-hardening ball of theatrical clay. The writers\/performers continually listen just as much as they sing, dance, tell stories, or otherwise perform. The crowd dictates the changes\u2014sometimes not just one crowd, but over time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In a few cases, this can happen in pieces that seem to have been \u201clocked.\u201d There can be quite a bit of leeway in the performance of a symphony, for example, by continually changing the beat, rhythm, and even the particular instruments that were intended to be played by a long-dead composer. Jazz and rock are not the only musical art that can accept improvisation and nonconforming choices on a performance-to-performance basis to hone the performance into something malleable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In that sense, this kind of art is not unlike the beach. The waves continually hit the shore, sometimes with brute strength. The change is continuous, as is the placement, size, and relative erosion and re-packing of the grains of sand. It\u2019s different every time we go, although the general structure remains the same.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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(Photo by Fabian Wiktor on Pexels)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

The other kind of art, Basement, is constructed out of sight of anyone until an arbiter decides that it\u2019s ready for an audience to experience. Strict rules dictate the presentation of this kind of art. And because it never sees anyone but that arbiter (the director, the conductor, etc.), there is but one manner in which any audience will see it, whether it is on night 1 or night 101.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They finish. It is done when it is done. It is a personal kind of art\u2014personal to the creator, the director (and design staff), and the performers. In that sense, it is not unlike a 1914 Stutz Bearcat, one of the most attractive cars ever produced. Singular, sleek, and unchanging, save for perhaps a new coat of paint (exactly the same color as the previous color) every now and again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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1914 Stutz Bearcat<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Personally, I prefer (if forced to choose) the Ren Faire style. While never perfect, the goal is to establish a working relationship with the all the people in the space\u2014including the audience. Far too often, Basement art can be precious, in a sense, and exclusive. For me, it\u2019s the difference between rough-and-ready group aspiration and refined individual execution. In the latter, there is no need to participate, only watch and listen. In the former, there becomes a rooting interest in the outcome.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And that\u2019s the case, in general, when determining why nonprofit arts organizations in the United States are either closing, in danger of closing, or in denial about what a charitable organization can do in order to make its community thrive. It\u2019s a question of stakes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Artists speak all the time about \u201craising the stakes.\u201d Or, in actuality, the appearance<\/em> of raising the stakes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because what is art but a pretense<\/em> of life? A contextual odyssey of great thoughts, notions, ideas, and complex human situations that help us all discover what life is about, to be sure. But a pretense nonetheless, at least in the most elemental ways.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Art is a depiction, not the actual thing that is being depicted. So when Greta Garbo fatally jumps into a moving train in the 1935 MGM classic Anna Karenina<\/em><\/a>, at no time was the actress in any danger. A few minutes after Romeo and Juliet die, they get up for their curtain calls. And when the third movement of Fr\u00e9d\u00e9ric Chopin\u2019s Piano Sonata No. 2 in B flat minor<\/a>, otherwise known as \u201cThe Funeral March,\u201d is played in a concert setting, it does not kill anyone in the process. All are moving, jarring, and meaningful. But they\u2019re not real.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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