The Line in the Sand - A Reflection on US Gun Culture

 The Writing's on the Wall, and It's Written in Blood

Sex. Religion. Politics. When we were young we were taught the three "no-nos" of polite conversation. With the 2016 election on the horizon it's getting harder and harder to have a coffee house conversation without any of the three wiggling its way out into the air. At the risk of suffering a house divided, I have kept politics mostly to myself for some time, but in the wake of the Orlando shooting I have come to the sobering realization that President Obama is right: "To actively do nothing is a choice as well". For this reason, I have decided to lay my cards on the table with respect to gun laws and the gross negligence of the United States Government in regulating the sale and trade of weapons that make any human being instantly lethal.

Amid the swarm of sympathetic Facebook posts and enraged newscasts, the story that caught my eye was this New York Times article that outlines the inefficiency of federal regulations in determining the eligibility of potential gun owners. At least eight of the shooters from the past sixteen mass shootings passed the background check required to purchase a firearm despite such apparent red flags as mental health problems, FBI investigations, and suspected involvement with terrorist cells. All the same, these people were able to walk into pawn shops and gun stores and pick up a firearm of their choosing like they were ordering a pizza.

The most common argument against regulations has been, to my ears, "strict regulations only detracts from the God-fearing collectors and hunters". Besides the fact you don't need 100 rounds of steel core ammunition to claim a deer, the day of honest collectors is in its twilight years, if not in it's death throes. When I was young, you could walk into my uncle's arsenal and lay your hand on anything from an antebellum shotgun to a modern day assault rifle (full-auto, complete with n00b tube). But there was a quiet dignity in the collection - he could tell you why he had each one, its ballistic properties, and what it was like to shoot it. Target shooting or "plinking" was a past-time in my family, and it wasn't uncommon to go sink a few rounds in the river out of plain boredom. But from an early age we were taught a rifle was a responsibility, a tool for harvesting game or eliminating threats to livestock. We would never dream of walking into an Applebee's fully strapped "because I can".

And therein lies the problem. The difference between the gun culture I was raised in and the one I see today is that "gun people" no longer collect, they stockpile. In the past several years, the culture has shifted from an appreciation of engineering and capacity into a full-blown obsession with firearms simply because they are what they are. Moreover, the Conservative mentality has adopted the firearm as its flagship symbol for American freedom, and any attempt to limit firearm trade is a direct violation of that freedom. But the lifestyle of fear that accompanies their apparent necessity for a full gun case appears to me to be more limiting and detrimental to a free mind than any law that could be passed that limits what goes into that case.

Over a decade I've watched the culture steep itself in an aggressive rhetoric of fear that permeates into peoples' own homes. Too often I've been confronted with the tired doomsday prophecy "If 'they' come I'll be ready because I've got X guns and X cases of ammunition at my disposal". This idea is as foreign to me as the people these modern collectors fear. Not only do they cultivate a mental state of anxiety over some farfetched Alamo situation befalling their houses, but the crusaders carry that state of mind into the world at large. What's worse is the fear of domestic disarmament that they are willing to face in a blaze of powder and lead. My question is this: Even if there was a task force sent to your house to claim your guns, what makes you think you'd survive? And don't you think the right to carry a death machine is a silly thing to die for?

 

I have been very fortunate to have interviewed a young man who does not carry a pistol on his person, but is every bit as gun-ho as the open carry fanatics trying to make our streets and schools a war zone. "Let's say a man jumps out from behind a corner" he posits, "and grabs your daughter. You're a skinny guy - what do you do?" Again we have the same "big stick" situation every advocate for the heretical gun laws has been assaulted with time and again. We get so caught up in the "others of the day" - the family, the daughter, the wife - that we lose sight of the real issue. Honestly, in that situation, it kind of sucks to be me, but I don't live in constant fear of a mugger or shooter because I know that isolated situations like that happen all over the world, all the time, and if I live in that state the "terrorists" have already won. Furthermore, the argument that disarmament only puts honest citizens at a disadvantage is completely bogus considering the decline in homicide and suicide rates among European countries that have done just that, and even disarmed their police force.

Ten years ago I would have been happy to see a father at my local sporting goods store showing his daughter the pieces of the rifle, how to hold it, etc, because I knew it meant that we were breeding another generation that knew all the ins and outs of gun ownership, and what it means to be equipped with a weapon. Today it sickens me to see a hot pink youth rifle knowing that some young girl is sure to be armed this Christmas, and immersed into a culture that's quite frankly every bit a militant powderkeg as ISIS or mass shooters. And to the old man grumbling about the restrictions on firearms: What are you worried about? If your record's clean (and apparently even if it's not) you'll have your rifle in two weeks. Chill out.

Now, I won't get into the "good guy with a gun" fallacy floating around because at this point I think anything else I say will fall on deaf ears. I may have lost some friends and colleagues with this post, but if it means there's another voice in the crowd that won't stand for the deaths of innocents then so be it.


Food for Thought: And if you don't think we live in a culture of violence and badassery, check out this trailer for the first first person feature length action film or first person GTA game and think about the difference first and third person impressions make on our society. It's one thing to control a SIM that does all the dirty work as it puts some distance between player/viewer and the violence, but to become that SIM?. . .

When the Fire Fades: A Reflection of the 2016 USITT Ntl Conference

In traveling to the immersive National Conference this past spring break, I was reminded that what we do as artists isn’t just confined to our universities or playhouses. We live and work in a world of endless possibilities with thousands of creative minds, and getting those minds together in a room to “stir the pot” made for a week of discovery in both professional relationships and technologies.

By far the most fascinating part of the conference was the atmosphere on the expo floor. I was really taken aback at how available vendors, schools, and companies made themselves to the attendees, and I think it’s a strong testament to the familial aspect of our industry. Even in they were unable to hire, the interviewing companies were still very welcoming and encouraged technicians to apply in the time to come, which was incredibly validating to me both as a technician and an artist. Their support was unlike anything I would expect to find in the business or science world, and it made me glad to be part of the theatre community. Better still was that the communal feeling was not just limited to the expo floor.

            At the new products showcase I had the good fortune of meeting the head of a performing arts center in California, as well as some fellow students that took a genuine interest in who I was and the work I planned on doing. Like the exhibitors on the floor, they countered my “tell me about your company” question with “tell me about your work”, which felt every bit as much like an act of friendliness as it did an interview question. The sessions were the same – presenters were open to conversation and more than willing to share their expertise with aspiring artists, perhaps because they remember being in a similar position.

            The sessions didn’t feel at all like a lecture. Instead, it was easier to consider them a 70-minute training session, although there was little hands-on work. Mary McClung’s session on expandable foam and molding opened my eyes to the intricacies and time investment of making “fleshy” masks through the use of chemical foams, which sparked my interest in involved craft mediums beyond your standard paper mache and thermoplastics. When I met her again on the expo floor we spoke for some time about the medium, which eventually led us into exchanging contact information and even her reviewing my portfolio. In all that time our relationship stood in the realm of teacher and pupil while the focus remained on my work and what I plan to do with my career. It was comforting to speak with a professional on this level, rather than as a subordinate, which I feel would stifle and intimidate a young artist.

            My other session with maskmaking professionals introduced me to Wonderflex and Fosshape while acquainting me with tricks and applications I wouldn’t have imagined otherwise. Some of the information was tedious, but leaving the session I was confident that I could work with the new materials easily, even never having handled them before. In contrast, the poster series sessions we attended seemed like they were geared more towards educators, and though I took some time to poke around the ballroom, I would probably get more use from them later in my career.

            In the first day the stage expo was open, I admittedly missed one of my sessions, as I had been so wrapped up in talking with people that I lost track of time. The floor was full of opportunity, and the more I networked, the more I came to realize that the real networking isn’t just talking to people that work in your discipline, but seeking out those who may be in an unrelated field. I never would have thought a vendor from RC4 would have been a props artisan from UMKC, and when I spoke with him, he pointed me to the Stage Managers’ Association to get more connections with special effects and weapons people. It's a big world, but as my colleagues quip, "the theatre is comprised of 40 people". Everyone knows someone, all you have to do is ask.

            While on the expo floor I also made several connections with Shakespearean companies and operas while seeking out craftsmen and vendors of props mediums. Even Disney and Cirque took the time to review my resume. These are the companies that turned my attitude of “what to do next” into “what’s out there” for the remainder of the conference. I met circus people, SFX technicians, and pyrotechnicians all standing shoulder to shoulder with theatre designers and actors. It’s just awesome to see such big names making big offers to small fish like me. I had always planned on working for the summer, but I had no idea the vast scale of opportunities are out there, and I certainly never dreamed that Cirque or Disney would take any interest in me. It was reassuring to interview with them and reinforced my belief in the advice: “apply everywhere”. You never know who’s going to pick you up.

The Keynote Address, though Tupac didn’t get to speak much, was an inspiring presentation that reaffirmed my appreciation for visual art while reminding me that a “lighting designer” doesn’t have to design lights for the theatre any more than a physicist has to confine themselves to a laboratory. We saw this in the distinguished speaker series and in our sessions, where chemists, biologists, engineers, and architects alike have all found their place in the theatre, like some theatre people find their place in fashion or spectacles like extreme sports events or cruise lines. And still, many of the connections I made in those fields were able to direct me back to the theatre. It’s an incredible web of talent, that, with careful navigation and patience, has the potential to take you all the way back around to where you belong.
And belonging is certainly the order of the day. USITT has members in several foreign countries, and it honors them every bit as much as it does our artists here in the United States. Though he had moved to the US some time ago, it was still rather warming to see a student from China awarded for his scenic design – a reminder that we’re all in the arts together. We may be the United States Institue for Theatre Technology, but we recognize artists from all origins and walks of life. That kind of community is what I think makes this organization work from the inside out. I hope to return in the next year to see all the fantastic people I’ve met and the new technologies that helps make our art shine. 

            This conference is one I would absolutely attend again, and every member should consider making their way to the conference hall at least one in their lifetime. It was actually the deciding factor in whether or not I was renewing my membership in the coming fall. Compared to the investment the Institute makes in its members (at home or abroad), it’s but a drop in the bucket to pay for another 12 months of membership.

An Artist WIthout Limits: Tupac Martir Opens USITT Conference

Sparks fly at the opening ceremony of the annual USITT National Conference, held this year in the fabulous Salt Palace in the shadow of the Wasatch Mountains. Salt Lake City welcomes the Conference and its commerce with a candle in the window, if you will - a sign in the window of pubs and restaurants bearing the organization’s insignia. Friendliness abounds among the locals and the attendees alike, and why not with St. Patrick’s day just around the corner?

The Conference's keynote speaker and the bounciest man in the northern hemisphere, Tupac Martir was pressed for time by a lengthy opening ceremony, but his designs and ideas filled the room with an ambiance all their own just the same. With a pep in his step fit for the yellow brick road, the bouncing designer seemed fit to burst with ideas, yet when he spoke to the heart of his latest project, his feet stood still and the room went silent. “The most terrible thing that could happen to a human being”, he relates, “happened to me. I realized I was going to die.” And with only a moment for his audience to absorb the brilliance of his muse, he hopped back into his presentation, capping with an introduction to his latest project: a fifty year manifestation of the human Self.

The aptly dubbed Unique dissects Martir’s thoughts on what it means to be “me” through exploring a series of notes taken from his 5am journal entries that have since been distilled down into their essence, which take shape as a series of sketches against accompanying quotes. In practice, the images he draws resemble a modern version of cave paintings. When cut from sculpture, the lines reach out with a mother’s touch to brush the instinctual core of our desires - and our despair.

In speaking on his journaling process, Martir says that he would write down “everything that came into [his] head, and some of the things [he] found were very nice and very grand and others were quite - frightening, really”.

It takes a great amount of courage to thrust oneself into the sight of their heart's reflection in the search for Truth, but still Martir has undertaken the Sisyphean task of seeking out the heart of the human soul by exploring his own uncharted muck and mire. With each installment over the next fifty years, he and his team will compose a full installment of music, sculpture, and lighting; every piece in harmony with the next until the project’s completion. 

The USITT National Conference runs from Wednesday, March 16 through Saturday, the 19th and will feature displays of new technologies, award ceremonies, speaker series with distinguished artists, and a vast array of sessions available for attendees to learn about their craft from the experts.

Do-Your-Own-Thing-Ism: The Future of the American Theatre?

Among the immeasurable traits of our species, no idea is more human than the concept of identity, and no medium has served as a better outlet for expressing that identity than art. From the hands stenciled on cave walls in Argentina to modern day film and television, art remains an institution that will carry on, hopefully, ad infinitum. 

More fascinating still is the phenomena of trends that have formed within art throughout the centuries following its formalization: the Neoclassicism of the eighteenth century, Surrealism in the 1920s, and Postmodernism following the Second World War. Each movement is characterized by its own traits, like melting clocks or the introduction of domestic issues to the American stage, but has this generation found its historical distinction that will catapult it from the stage to page? 

The art form in question here is primarily theatre. Across the country, and perhaps even the world, students of the Theatre in their history courses are taught the big names and ideas that have transcended the ages, but the question on the tip of everyone’s tongue is “What will we call our movement? Who will we be to the students ages from now?” 

It’s a particularly valid question in an age where electronic communication has made the transmission and digestion of information an almost instantaneous process. As such, the cultural boundaries between styles have begun to crumble and the world is rapidly becoming a more

integrated place to live. The process is still gaining momentum, so it’s possible that its identifying traits may have yet to take shape. 

At the moment it appears the world of artistry is in a state of “do-your-own-thing-ism”, which is exactly what its name implies. As the arts are on the rise in American universities, there has been a mass influx of young artists graduating with no particular prescription for form in an atmosphere that’s open to try just about anything. For theatre artists, this means that the already slim job market is losing opportunities fast, which drives the young artists to become entrepreneurs, forming their own experimental theatre groups in found spaces with their colleagues.

You might could even consider it a rebirth of the Independent Theatre movement of the late nineteenth century. With Broadway full to the brim with musicals and Disney adaptations as well as an intensely competitive theatre scene, it’s no wonder new artists turn to “new play” houses or even each other for support instead of the starstruck conglomerate that has become the American Theatre.
In time and with careful nurturing, today’s young artistic community has the potential to blossom into a full-blown artistic movement every bit as powerful as the counter-culture movement in the sixties or the romanticism that contested the rationalization of nature. What makes this generation unique, however, is that it is self-aware it’s evolving into something spectacular. So. What will the history books read?

A Defense of the Art of Constructive Criticism

In another day working with prestigious theatrical critics, the student critics attending the KCACTF workshop had the opportunity to pass their work in front of Celia Wren (Washington Post) and Chris Jones (The Chicago Tribune). Jones spent his few hours with the critics delivering an interactive lecture before critiquing a few pieces of student-written journalism.

Jones spoke on what it means to be a responsible critic and noted how criticism, no matter who from, has the potential to damage reputations and shatter egos; thus it's always important to take special care in your writing when dropping names. Just as it's necessary to give credit where credit is due, the critic must place blame where it belongs.

Jones suggests the responsible critic will consider whether the fault is with the performer/performance relationship or the actor/material relationship. It's also incredibly important to take your time to determine whether the artist at fault is the actor or the director.

Jones went on to explain his perception of his target audience(s) and described them as two groups that can be further divided into three: the "Insiders"and "Outsiders", which are then subdivided into "the Artists", "the Attendants", and "the Absents", the latter two will be discussed momentarily.

The artists of course look at criticism as an assessment of their work while the attendants and absents see it as a kind of consumer guide. Many artists detest this function of theatrical criticism and believe assigning stars or a numerical value to their work puts a kind of "grade" on an emotional response. There's no shortage of blogs and websites attacking critics for their reviews, asserting if an artist puts their heart and soul into a piece of art there's no way it can be "bad". They argue art is a subjective industry and no one man should have the power to pass judgement.

What these artists fail to realize is that the critic understands one hundred and ten percent the subjectivity of all artistic industries - be they Art, Theatre, The Culinary Arts, Music - and that is precisely the reason his position exists: To share a trusted opinion on the intent and execution of an artistic piece that illustrates the piece with a group of readers that may share his tastes.

Chris Jones explains the two other subdivisions of his readership - the Attendants and the Absents - as those who read the review with the intention of attending the Theater, and those who read the review purely for recreation, respectively. These may be a lesser portion of his readership, but the one that has the most direct effect on the box office, and ultimately the preservation of the art as a whole.

The Theatre is struggling to survive in a world where instant gratification and the declining necessity to leave the couch for entertainment drains audiences from their seats. Many people who love the Theatre even may prefer staying at home with their on-demand films to the kind of investment it takes to visit the theater. An evening at the theater requires a financial, chronological, and emotional commitment that many are not prepared to make for something they may or may not appreciate. It is therefore the responsible critic's primary duty to offer their unbiased opinion on a work while always acting as an advocate for the Art (that is, encouraging the progression and growth of the Theatre by way of always demanding better). It is my opinion that a malicious critic or one who treats his profession as a game and the industry as a chess board has no business behind a keyboard.

A Day of Workshops

Being involved in the Institute for Theatre Journalism & Advocacy here at the Kennedy Center has turned out to be (though not a bad thing) quite different than what I expected, and the atmosphere has taken a unique shape. Given the Institute's emphasis on criticism as an art form, it's almost mystical or Meyerholdian when considered how the sessions take shape from the outside: The critics, all tucked into a small room at the end of the hall in the back of the back of the back of a theatrical building; glasses perched at the bridge of noses, eyes narrowed as forty fingers bludgeon keyboards relentlessly. Sages of the generations past visit the young artists to share their wisdom as part of an even grander festival celebrating the Arts while shaping and molding the future. Aristotle would be proud.

 Joining the aspiring journalists during the day are Bob Mondello of NPR and Chris Klimek of the Washington Post. Mondello shares his wisdom in the field of radio-delivered criticism by offering tricks of the trade and encouraging each of us to venture out and join our local radio stations because they are "in dire need of critics . . . and they want the youth". Klimek offered to read our reviews of Laugh and gave constructive criticism to help us better revise our columns. After a hasty dinner and spectacular performance of Man of La Mancha, we were (albeit exhausted) to bed to await another day.