Fwd:

An interview with the members of Seattle’s most exciting young theatre troupe, conducted via chain letter.

Photography by Andrew Waits for City Arts.

The “talk-back,” in which audience members engage in a dialogue with actors directly after a show, is one of the theatre world’s more unpredictable traditions. Sometimes it fosters further understanding; sometimes it lets the air out of a great performance. After the talk-back following New Century Theatre Company’s production of Orange Flower Water last year, I witnessed the former, as the show’s small cast batted back responses with ease while sprawled across the set’s queen-size bed, a scene that evoked John and Yoko’s famous “bed-in.” Heavy subject matter was on the table – betrayal, divorce, redemption – but everyone in ACT’s Bullitt cabaret theatre was cracking jokes and chatting openly.

Hans Altwies, Ray Gonzalez, Betsy Schwartz and Jennifer Lee Taylor, all founding members of NCTC, had just given searing performances in contemporary American playwright Craig Wright’s play about marriage and infidelity. Remarkably, the actors never left the stage – instead, when not “in scene,” they stood or sat on the sidelines and watched as their counterparts fought and as their spouses cheated on them. Their reactions were painful to see; it was staggering emotional work. And now the actors were onstage ribbing each other, both as professionals who challenge each other and as close friends.

This was the second show for the fledgling NCTC. Their debut, The Adding Machine, which transformed ACT’s Falls Theatre into a riveting underworld, sent the company to the top of every local critic’s list in 2008. Orange Flower Water in 2009 didn’t garner the same fever pitch of acclaim. And just a month or so after their third production, On the Nature of Dust, a new play written by company member and resident playwright Stephanie Timm, the company seems to be in limbo, not nearly established but well beyond the golden sheen of “new” that armors young business ventures.

After three years of intense collaboration among thirteen people, the group is realizing that they need help in order to run their company like a responsible business and still achieve their artistic goals. These actors and producers, who have, collectively, over two hundred years of professional experience producing theatre, have to negotiate their own contracts, plot fundraising campaigns, update their Web site and read scripts – all while trying to get or keep regular paying gigs at other theatres. The company tries to meet once a month, always at night, after their kids have gone to bed. All members serve on committees to execute marketing, development and production needs. They try to give actors lighter loads in production, though that’s not always possible. They (modestly) pay their equity actors, directors and technical directors, and they don’t spend more on a production than they make back in ticket sales and donations (average production costs total around $65,000). 

How do they make it happen? Why do they keep it up? How long can they keep going? These are questions that are a bit too off-topic to bring up in a talk-back. Still, at this pivotal time, I wanted to hear how the company would answer them, as individuals and as a group. In that spirit I used a chain letter to interview NCTC members. The members who responded reflected on their process of making theatre when they are at their most vulnerable and tired and then forwarded the questions on. What they revealed includes a lot of valuable lessons for anyone working in collaborative arts: that it often garners more pain than pleasure, that your work can serve others’ needs more often than your own ... and that, still, something that makes you a little crazy pulls you forward.

What was the last chain letter you received? Did you participate?

PETER DYLAN O’CONNOR: Ah shit, I get those crappy email chain letters – “pass this on to ten people you know and you’ll be a millionaire by the end of the week.” Fuck you. Don’t waste my time.
MAKAELA POLLOCK: It was probably some good-luck-will-come-to-you-if-you-pass-this-on-or-else-you-will-be-crippled-by-some-unknown-disease letter.
RAY GONZALEZ: I was pissed my friend sent it to me.
BETSY SCHWARTZ: I’m not superstitious.
MJ SIEBER: My mom often sends me very conservative chain letters about Obama’s fake birth certificate. I only respond to her.
MICHAEL PATTEN: I cannot remember.
STEPHANIE TIMM: It must have been elementary school.
HANS ALTWIES: It was a money-making scheme.
DARRAGH KENNAN: I tend to ignore those things.
PAUL MORGAN STETLER: It seemed silly.
JAMIE HERLICH: I’m embarrassed to say ... it was a flip-flop exchange that asked me to send a pair of flip-flops to the first person on the list, then forward the letter to five friends and end up with a mailbox full of flip-flops. I felt too guilty to stop the chain. I received three pairs, two of which were so cheap and uncomfortable that I never did wear them.

The company recently closed its third production. How do you feel?

PETER: Tired.
BETSY: Happy about the things that worked. Mindful of the things that did not.
STEPHANIE: I feel good.
PAUL: Getting over a little case of the sniffles, but otherwise good. Thanks for asking. On The Nature of Dust was a milestone for us, as it completed our first round of three plays that fully encompassed our mission: presenting lost classics, underrepresented contemporary plays and world premieres. Oh, and by the way, we’ve ended up in the black for all three of our shows.  Which is pretty much unheard of in the theatre world. Take that, stupid economy.
RAY: It feels great. We applied the lessons of the last two shows and, production-wise, ran very smoothly. There didn’t seem to be any “oh shit” moments.
MJ: Nervous. It was not the success we were all hoping for.
MAKAELA: Glad we have made it this far. But there are certainly no laurels to rest on around here.
JAMIE: Simultaneously proud, worn out and anticipatory.
DARRAGH: I will stand by Steph and her work always. We need to be her feeding ground.
HANS: Slightly less confident about the possibility of longevity. Inspired to try everything under the sun.
MICHAEL: Satisfied, with the caveat that I wish more people had seen the show.

For you as an artist, what do “economic hard times” look like?

PAUL: Business as usual. Now the rest of the work force can get a little sampling of an artist’s day-to-day life. Welcome aboard, folks. How’s that Top Ramen taste?
PETER: Well, the theatres in town that pay a wage that an actor can (partially) live on are choosing plays with much smaller casts. So there are fewer jobs to be had. In some cases they are bringing in one-person shows from out of town. Then there are no jobs to be had.
MAKAELA: The big theatres have to cut jobs. The little theatres get bold, because every show could be the last.
MICHAEL: Far fewer opportunities for gainful employment. Much more challenging environment for asset acquisition.
HANS: Raising funds is going to be nearly impossible. Bring it on.
RAY: It feels like economic hard times are always a reality in the theatre. Maybe because our first fundraiser meeting we had was the day the stock market went down six hundred points.
STEPHANIE: I’ve worked since I was fifteen years old. I think my writing is better for it, but the difference now is that I can’t even get a day job. I have my MFA, but [teaching] jobs are fewer and farther between than acting gigs. I’ve been out of the administrative loop for three years, so those places won’t look at me. For me, these times are really frightening.
JAMIE: Some days it looks bleak; other days it feels like we as an industry can really use this opportunity to change the status quo.
DARRAGH: I am blessed to be working. I am so thankful. 

What’s hard about keeping NCTC going?

MJ: Recently, it feels like we are half asleep and the moment the dream begins, we are stirred awake by the reality of how much time, work and money it will take. And unions ... 
HANS: We’re trying to do things differently, so we have to question everything and get up in each other’s grill all the time. In a good way, the quality control is rigorous.
PAUL: We understand now why most people who start theatre companies are in their twenties and fresh out of college. Unfortunately, the way we’re doing things right now – choosing a show, raising funds for the show, producing the show, rest, repeat – simply isn’t sustainable.  
JAMIE: We are struggling not only to get the funding we need, but also to get the cash in the bank at the time that we need it. 
DARRAGH: We don’t get paid and we get together on borrowed time. 
PETER: I have lived in France and Russia. I have traveled to Africa and Southeast Asia. In countries with a fraction of our resources, there is an exponentially larger amount of support [for artists]. In 1994 when a loaf of bread cost fifteen cents in Russia, artists were paid by the government as civil servants, with benefits and free bus tickets and subsidized rent and respect. In NCTC, six of the thirteen members have children, many have mortgages and all of us have college debt. Like all Americans, we want to travel and buy new cars and go on vacations and afford our cell phone bills. But, it’s hard, damn hard.

Your early press clippings paint your beginnings as a group of people commiserating over wine. After some considerable success, what do you commiserate about over wine now?

MJ: Now we drink Cristal and light our joints with hundred-dollar bills.
PETER: Staying true to ourselves.
MAKAELA: Raising the baby that we birthed.
MICHAEL: Scheduling, money, space.
RAY: Getting back to what got us to this point.
BETSY: Trying to find the time to commiserate over wine.
HANS: We whine about not being able to drink wine at our meetings.
PAUL: There’s no money left in our budget for wine. 

How does theatre (as a business, field or community) need to change?

HANS: The key is “business.” A business acquires capital to create value to garner more capital. The arts start with a value, then look (hopelessly) for capital to continue to provide the value. That’s a problem.
RAY: More risks need to be taken.
PETER: Until theatre doesn’t have to compete with TV, Hollywood, YouTube, Guitar Hero or any other immediate media, it may not change. 
MJ: The art of storytelling through a linear character-based form evolved, and the further it goes, the more dust gathers around theatre. Theatre will always be around, but the people who make it need to reimagine how it’s done. I don’t think it’s only about the ideas presented in the stories, but how we tell them – nudity and lasers! It can only be us who do it, and we must ask for help.
MAKAELA: We need to be better listeners, better predictors. 
MICHAEL: In a nutshell, I feel that America needs to adopt more of the perspectives on theatre and its relevance to society that Europeans hold.
STEPHANIE: Theatre needs to embrace what is unique about the way it can tell stories. We live in a time when we are bombarded with literal storytelling – and most of us are not required to use any part of our imaginations. You want a boy on a magic carpet? Voilà! CGI! There he is. You don’t even have to imagine – you are fed it. Theatre is exciting when it doesn’t show you literal representations of people, places, spaces, dialogue – and you bring your imagination to fill in what it’s giving an impression of. A thrilling moment in theatre for me was when I saw Book-It’s Awakening. The main character was cradling this bundle of fabric, which was cooing, so you know that’s supposed to be a baby. Seconds later, this bundle of fabric that was endowed with such life gets shaken out and becomes a rug that people walk on for the next scene. Nothing short of brilliance.
PAUL: I think it has to start with the artists. And then it needs to be marketed with a twenty-first-century mentality. Seattle used to be one of the hottest theatre towns in the country back in the ’80s and early ’90s. Besides ACT, Seattle Rep and Intiman, there were at least six other equity theatres in town of various sizes doing all sorts of different programming. All those theatres are gone now, and there is this huge hole between the fringe theatres (Washington Ensemble Theatre, Annex, Balagan, etc.) and the big houses. The middle is gone. And everyone seems to understand the need to bring that back. The folks at ACT get that, and they’ve been unbelievably supportive and encouraging to us.

How could our city support artists better?

MAKAELA: By coming to the show.
DARRAGH: Does our city support artists? Boy, that would be nice. 
PETER: Honestly, I think Seattle does a very good job of supporting the arts. One exception: when Hollywood was looking for cheaper grounds to make their films and came knockin’ on Seattle’s door, the mayor’s office wasn’t interested in closing 5th Avenue downtown on a Friday night. So, Hollywood said, “Fine, we’ll take our four-million-dollar-a-day biz and pour it into some other city.”
RAY: I think we ask quite a bit from people now. We ask them for their money to produce shows, we ask them to spend a lot of money to park, then we ask them to pay a lot of money for a ticket.
Hans: It would be more than a third of the battle if there were subsidized spaces ... and many of them.
STEPHANIE: Get theatre in the schools. I teach playwriting in high schools, and I’m always surprised (though I shouldn’t be!) that most of my students have never seen a play.
PAUL: Take a cue from Chicago, which is known for being a blue-collar city chock-full of professional sports teams and die-hard fans, yet it’s one of the most renowned theatre towns in the country. They take pride in the fact that they are producing some of the best work in the country and, as a result, the rest of the country wants to see what it’s all about.
JAMIE: Instill a culture of appreciation for the arts. This starts with the schools and arts education – first saving arts programs, then building them up and recognizing them for the true value that they provide to a student’s well-being and future success. There are many studies proving that the arts provide significant educational value to all students, regardless of their ultimate field of study or career.

What theatre is Seattle not seeing that we should?

PETER: Plays that are not hinged on the relationship to a board of directors or an aging subscription base.
MJ: There is a play that has fifty roles in it. Can you imagine what fifty actors would look like onstage together who were not singing and dancing? It’s inconceivable to me, but damn, I would be spellbound.
MAKAELA: The stuff that is so bold it is likely misunderstood. 
MICHAEL: New work.
PAUL: Playwrights like Martin Crimp and Phyllis Nagy and Carlos Murillo and Annie Baker and so many others whose work has never been produced in Seattle. I’m convinced that part of the success of The Adding Machine was that, while people may have heard about the play, almost no one had ever seen it. (It had one production in Seattle about thirty years ago at the Bathhouse, which only seats about ninety people or so.) So it was an entirely new experience for a Seattle audience. They saw an eighty-five-year-old play and no one knew what the hell was going to happen next.
BETSY: “New work” does not necessarily have to mean “work that was just written.”
JAMIE: Theatre that intrigues and inspires, rather than solely entertains. 
HANS: We need more explosive, opinionated, well-thought-out productions; never mind the budget, make our eyes, ears and hearts sing. 

Best reaction to a show from an audience member?

PETER: My dad came to the show eight times. No words were necessary. 
PAUL: After our curtain call, we all went back to our dressing room and started changing into our street clothes. There was this strange rumble coming over the intercom, and finally we realized it was the audience still applauding. We thought it would end in a few more seconds but it didn’t, and we all sheepishly went back out for an encore curtain call in various states of undress. Not a single audience member had left.
BETSY: I can’t think of a specific one ... laughter is always nice. 
MJ: A dear friend of mine was dying of cancer. He saw the show two weeks before he passed.  Afterwards, he waited for me in the audience. He stood up, embraced me, cried and thanked me for my performance. It was the last time I saw him.
MAKAELA: A colleague walked up with a face-splitting grin and could only sputter, “I’d pay to see that every night – I want to bottle it and carry it around with me!” 
RAY: Someone whispered that my character was a jerk.
MICHAEL: Gasps when Tybalt stabbed me, and applause for jumping up the stairs with my pants around my ankles.
JAMIE: A woman stopped me to say that my performance had changed her perspective entirely, that she had a new view of many things in the world.
HANS: A woman came to a production several times and hissed at me. •

Two important founding members were unable to participate in this interview: Amy Thone and Jennifer Lee Taylor.  Let’s hope they don’t suffer the full consequences of “breaking the chain.”