Sunday, April 2, 2000
When art swims out of the mainstream, it often has trouble surviving
By The Arts & Entertainment Team Of The Post-Dispatch
Some pictures offend. Some music leaves listeners holding their ears. Some plays bite the hands that feed them. Should the avant-garde have to fight to survive, or should the region be more aggressive in supporting it?
Nobody pretends that the St. Marcus Theatre was a dream location. The church basement on Russell Boulevard was off every beaten arts track. The light board was rudimentary, the dressing room cramped, the house seats merely folding chairs.
Then there was the St. Marcus' most remarkable feature, two big, permanent pillars at the front of the stage. Not many theaters boast a structural detail quite like them.
But now that it's been closed by the church that owns it, the St. Marcus is remembered by St. Louis theatergoers and artists with warmth -- and also with a little panic.
A lot of good work was done at the St. Marcus -- challenging performance art, new scripts by local playwrights, re-imagined versions of standard shows, even an occasional classic.
The warmth is reserved for those memories.
The panic sets in at the thought of what happens next.
Will there be places in St. Louis for art that is outside the mainstream? Is there an audience that wants that enough to support it? What do the answers to those questions say about our city?
Little flows out of the mainstream
The closing of the St. Marcus has focused attention on the theater scene, but in the visual arts and music scenes the situation is much the same. Mainstream work abounds. Outside of that, choices can be scarce.
To some extent that's only natural. By definition, avant-garde theater, painting and music won't attract a big audience, in part because its aim often is to spotlight -- shout, even -- that which society doesn't want to see or hear. But there's a world of difference between small venues and no venues at all.
An arts scene without room for eccentric work or for failure cannot flourish. It neglects some of the very audiences whom it ought to serve -- and it tells artists who want to try something different that they better try it someplace else. It cuts itself off at flower and root alike. That's a way to wither, not grow.
Defining "innovation" can be very difficult
What constitutes nonmainstream theater, anyhow? Content isn't much of a guideline. What is outside the mainstream? Violence? Sexual explicitness? Alternative lifestyles? Hard language? By those standards, many recent winners of the genuine-establishment Tony award qualify. For example, the Sam Mendes production of "Cabaret" that recently came to the Fox was as edgy as anything on the St. Marcus stage. But it arrived with a distinguished Broadway pedigree, including a Tony for Best Musical Revival, and drew an audience of some 24,000 people. That same cosmopolitan gloss polishes the nervy "Closer," the current production in the Repertory Theatre of St. Louis's Studio.
But what about the work created and presented by small local companies? Surely, there is an audience for it.
Performance artist Tim Miller packed the St. Marcus when That Uppity Theatre Company's AC/DC series presented his solo piece, "My Queer Body," drawing about 200 people a night, some 600 in all. Other performance artists sold out, too.
"There is a value in work that speaks to, about and for various populations," said Joan Lipkin, artistic director of Uppity. "The idea of a singular audience is outdated.
"I hear a lot of talk about diminished audiences -- questions like, 'Where is the audience?' To me, this is thinly coated way of saying. 'Where is the white audience with considerable disposable income and time?'"
There are many audiences that need serving
"Many audiences are out there that need to be served -- women, people of color, people with disabilities, the elderly, gay and lesbian people, people of various ethnicities, people without much money. These are people who have the same basic social and spiritual need for art as anyone else. Why wouldn't they?" Lipkin asked.
So where will such audiences go now? That depends on where presenters like Lipkin can find space cheap enough to maintain on a small budget, yet also functional, flexible and accessible. If there aren't pillars in front of the stage, that would be a big plus.
"St. Louisans aren't aware of how facility-poor we are," said Jill McGuire, who heads the Regional Arts Commission and hears frequently about the plight of artists.
The prospects aren't obvious. Grand Center, the old Washington Avenue garment district, the South Grand neighborhood and the University City Loop all have advocates, but the center of avant-garde cultural life in St. Louis has yet to be determined.
Some people like the idea of a big theater complex with several stages, at Kiel Opera House or someplace else. But a development like that takes time and money, two scarce commodities. And the question isn't what will be available in five years; the question is where to go now. Troupes that wait too long to stage another show are often troupes that fold.
"Rent" is more than just the name of a show
"I cannot overstate the importance of the rent," said Scott Miller, artistic director of a St. Marcus mainstay, New Line Theatre. "A show that is not a commercial success won't sink us" if the rent is low enough. Young artists, in particular, need venues where they can afford to try out ideas that may fail. The bottom line can dull the cutting edge.
An affordable, established venue allows artists to concentrate on their work, not on real estate. Audiences also prefer stability, Lipkin believes. Over time, she says, audiences get to know theaters, building communities that transcend the footlights.
A few small companies -- among them HotHouse in the ArtLoft building on Washington and St. Louis Shakespeare Company, which shares the Grandel Theatre with the St. Louis Black Repertory Company -- have their own homes. Many don't -- and fewer do without the St. Marcus.
Instead, they scramble. Case in point: Midnight Productions.
Operating on a staircase
Midnight has performed at the St. Marcus, yes, but also at art galleries, bars, recording studios and abandoned breweries. If you gave Midnight a staircase to work on, it would probably come up with a play you could do on a staircase.
"It's interesting for us, and I think it is interesting for the audience also, to see that it doesn't take a proscenium to make a theater," said David Wassilak, cofounder of Midnight. "A nontraditional space can evoke a mood that suits a particular work.
"On the other hand, each situation has its own drawbacks. Lighting equipment, sound equipment and chairs for the audience are not things you are likely to find in an empty warehouse."
Others also find stages where they can. Christopher Jackson, whose CJ Productions were based at the St. Marcus, is opening his new musical, "I'm Dating Myself," at an art gallery in the Central West End. Curtain Call Players, which performs mainstream musical comedy, bought an old Kirkwood movie house. Unity Theatre Ensemble took over the Black Rep's old home in a north St. Louis community center.
Miller hopes to close the New Line season with "Hair" at the ArtLoft theater. HotHouse, the resident company there, has welcomed Babylon Productions' adventurous, late-night shows there after its own performances.
More is more
"The more energy and activity, the better," said HotHouse artistic director Marty Stanberry. "If more productions come in, I think our audiences will cross over. We can do marketing together, too. It's a snowball." Now Babylon president Chas Melchior is trying to organize a small theater association to promote that kind of cooperation on a wider scale.
That could prove invaluable, said Susan Gregg, associate artistic director of the Repertory Theatre of St. Louis. In her early directing days in New York, she was involved in similar projects and she said everyone benefited. "I directed plenty of plays on other people's sets," she recalled. "No small group can support a facility alone, no matter how important its voice is."
But even if money were no object -- and money is always an object -- there may not be enough space, period. The crunch gets even harder when you want to do something avant-garde. Agnes Wilcox, who was artistic director of The New Theatre, found that out the hard way.
When she decided to present "Love! Valour! Compassion!" she had to postpone the production for more than a year while she hunted for a venue. Ultimately, Webster University came through.
Wilcox feels sure that homophobia slammed doors in her face, although no one said so out loud. (Terrence McNally's Tony-winning hit deals with a group of gay friends.) Particularly frustrating was her suspicion that some people who turned her down actually admired the play.
What will people think?
But some venues "were afraid of what others might think," said Wilcox, whose troupe folded last year. "One great risk to the arts these days is self-censorship. We can fight censorship. But when it's not overt, it's very difficult to defend against it."
Furthermore, she cautioned, artists shouldn't be too sure that self-censorship afflicts only the money people, such as producers or theater owners. In the interest of winning the support of audiences, donors or boards, artists can do a fine job of censoring themselves.
It's understandable. Artists who answer to no one but their muse may end up with their muse for an audience. "It's a question of balance," said Gregg. "You can't bully the audience. You can't push the envelope until it rips."
Moaning and groaning accomplish nothing. Gregg says that artists who work outside the mainstream must take responsibility for building their audience and for developing venues -- ideally, with the cooperation of others in the community. "That was what was so handsome about the St. Marcus," she said. "Part of society said, 'Here, use our basement.' And artists did."
Somebody call the cops
At roughly the same time that the decision to close the St. Marcus was announced, word came that the Midtown Arts Center, home to a quartet of small visual arts galleries, would soon be history as well. The Midtown umbrella organization has plans to relocate in Ste. Genevieve, but the exhibition spaces formerly housed at Midtown's cavernous building on Washington Avenue remain in a state of limbo.
One of those galleries created a bit of a stir last April when it presented an installation piece graphically dealing with the practice of female genital mutilation. An internal struggle at Midtown lead to a temporary closing of the show, and at one point city police were even called in to take a look.
Such controversies are rare here, as most local exhibits tend to lean toward traditional forms of painting, sculpture and photography. Conceptual pieces and installations, especially those with a political bent, aren't the norm at most galleries.
They have to search for a welcome home. But visual arts outside the mainstream have an advantage over their performance cousins: exhibit space can be fashioned from an empty room. No formal stage, light grids, or sound boards are needed; four walls may be enough.
As a result, local art viewers do get the occasional dose of contemporary work presented in unconventional fashion. The hours are often odd and sporadic, and viewing conditions and locations aren't always ideal, but the tradeoff often proves worth it. Prime examples include the raw loft space on the ninth floor of the A.D. Brown building downtown and the nearby ArtLoft exhibit area. The old Lemp Brewery, site of the current all-women exhibit "Venus Envy," also gets sporadic use.
Recently, two makeshift galleries also emerged on side streets in the University City Loop: Gallery Michael Williamses Closet and Krista Jansen's The apARTment Gallery. The two entities are literally what their names declare them to be. Keith Buchholz, director of the Vault Gallery at the shuttering Midtown, plans to run things from his home, with exhibit space now destined for the walls of the Coffee Cartel coffee house. He laments the loss of the established site.
"We had pretty good turnouts, although I probably sold only two pieces of art over the past year and a half," Buchholz said. "But it was a loyal audience of viewers. If I didn't present a show for some reason, I'd really hear about it."
Despite the lack of financial support, Buchholz doesn't seem deterred from his mission of presenting new and innovative work. He considers galleries such as The Vault a necessity.
"A scene needs that unconventional stuff out there," he explained. "It helps the pendulum swing just a bit farther in one direction. In the end, it challenges and possibly elevates the art in the more conventional spaces."
Buchholz admits that audiences for such work might never be large, but he feels that St. Louis has plenty of room to grow. It's tough in this town, he says, adding that the city often lives up to a conservative, Midwestern stereotype.
Energy potential exists here
Betsy Millard, executive director of the Forum for Contemporary Art in Grand Center, agrees that for a city of its size, St. Louis lags in terms of financial support as well as attendance for cutting-edge work.
"I don't know what it is exactly," she said. "We have the potential to be an energized place such as Portland, Ore., (where Millard recently visited), but we can't quite get there."
The Forum's conceptually driven Project Room has proved itself one of the more innovative spaces in town, and Millard notes that the institution's future home (due to open two years from now) will have a substantial space for innovative performance as well. "We won't be able to accommodate a permanent theater company," Millard said. "But we will be able to host some of the more challenging theater and performance-art pieces that might come to town."
The Forum already partakes in such crossbreeding, having in the past featured the New Music Circle, Midnight Productions and an annual, one-night festival of local performance artists.
And while there isn't much of it around, West End gallery owner William Shearburn feels that there is plenty of support and opportunity for challenging work here, mainly due to the strong arts programs at local colleges and universities.
At his own gallery, he features locals such as Andy Milner, Tim Liddy and Kit Keith (whose painted takes on female stereotypes stand as one of the area's top examples of cutting-edge art).
It isn't always a financially sound venture, but Shearburn is committed to these showings. "And the turnout is almost always very good," he added. "I find that people here are interested in new work."
But commercial gallery owners as a whole realize, and rightly so, that their bread and butter is work that appeals to a wider audience (established collectors, decorators, corporate clients, etc.). Controversial and cutting edge perspectives may be essential to a viable art scene, but they don't pay the electric bill.
St. Louis in Wonderland
It could be argued that the St. Louis Art Museum treads in similar territory. After a long and storied history of safe bets (including the mainstream poster child "Angels from the Vatican"), the museum is making a big deal of its upcoming "Wonderland" show of installation work. The hope is that "Wonderland" will help establish the museum as territory for convention-busting and not just consensus-building.
Will audiences come in droves as they did for "Angels" and "Masks?" That remains to be seen. If they do, then a message might be sent to the museum staffers that new and different sometimes means "better" as well.
The responsibility of the big institutions
Who's responsible for making innovative art happen here? Artists and audiences, certainly. But also the city's more stable arts groups.
"The larger institutions have a responsibility to help the smaller groups," said Susan Gregg, who works with the big Repertory Theatre.
"They take the heat off of us. They do work the larger groups could never do. Twenty-one thousand people do not want to see those (very avant-garde) plays in any case."
Some arts institutions do lend a hand. The Center of Contemporary Arts, for example, is home to the Women CenterStage, a series of performances by and for women. COCA agreed to host the 4-year-old series because the organization recognized there were artistic voices that were not being heard and audiences not being served, according to Brad Graham, co-curator of the series.
Making it work, though, has been difficult. Selling shows is a constant challenge. COCA has spent considerable resources and staff time working with community groups, churches and schools to build audiences.
"Doing this means finding an audience, which means going outside the constituency you serve," said Graham. It's expensive and time-consuming.
But COCA's experience may show other arts groups why it's worth the effort. The outreach has expanded their year-round base of support and broadened the diversity of the people who come through the door.
The arithmetic of success
"Bottom-line ticket sales aren't the only indicator of our success," said Graham. "There's a psychic balance sheet we look at: Does this serve a need in the community? Does this give a voice to the voiceless?"
Funding agencies can also help develop innovative work. In addition to assisting established organizations, the Missouri Arts Council recently expanded its involvement with small and minority arts groups. "There's room for all those things in a community that is thriving and challenging to its people," said agency head Flora Maria Garcia.
Helping new work along is not easy, according to Garcia, who recognizes that the "community's response, in general here, has been to what makes people comfortable."
Last year, MAC started a "New Works, New Opportunities" program. Its goal: to challenge artists by offering financial support to works that pushed creative boundaries.
Unfortunately only a handful of applicants asked for the money. Garcia was surprised, but understands why artists might have overlooked the opportunity. The national controversy over government arts funding, centered mostly around objections to controversial National Endowment for the Arts grants, has created a climate of uncertainty.
"There's been a lot of backlash over the last 10, 15 years," she said. "A lot of artists are self-censoring -- even though funders are not censoring."
She is optimistic about the future and said the agency plans to offer the program again in coming years.
The Regional Arts Commission also tries to reward innovative work. In addition to monetary grants, the agency provides technical and management advice to small companies. Key to small group success is developing audiences and part of RAC's work involves assisting arts groups with marketing.
But she echoes the artists' plea for more cheap, available venues -- where all kinds of work can be shown. Only then will there be the stability that allows artists to create, and audiences to discover, the work.
Looking Grand
To solve that problem, many look to Grand Center Inc., the city's arts district in Midtown. With blocks of real estate and scores of buildings, it could be the natural home for small and alternative groups.
Grand Center president and CEO Ann Ruwitch makes it clear: "We are 100 percent supportive of having the alternative arts organizations in Grand Center."
First, however, Grand Center may need to develop more and affordable performance spaces. New venues are expensive and solid plans need to be in place to meet operating costs once they open.
Small groups don't have the money to do that, but perhaps coalitions of theater and visual arts organizations do. Grand Center has been working with a group of local arts presenters to explore rehabbing the old Medina Temple as an arts co-op. The plan, however, would cost "several million dollars," according to Ruwitch. That's a daunting figure for groups that measure the audience in three or four digits, unless local corporations, foundations and individuals decide the effort is worth supporting.
Recently, Grand Center began to explore the option of creating an "arts incubator," a space where new or struggling groups can house themselves while they grow. Grand Center is investigating what kind of incubator might work here and the effort sounds promising. But it may be a long way off unless funders step to the plate to help it along.
"These ventures take an enormous amount of discussion and time," said Ruwitch. "The great challenge here is to the philanthropic community. It has to be at the table and value these initiatives."