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Exporting Nova Scotia

 

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Audience watching City In Stereo, photo by Mel Hattie

I am eight floors up, sitting at a round banquet table adorned with white linen, eating a rustic-looking oat cake I was told is amazing.  It is.  In front of me is a placemat for my coffee cup, letter pressed with the words ‘East Coaster’. ‘You are all my winners,’ I overhear one of the project leaders say as we are about to get started.

Going around the room there are approximately a dozen other people including musicians, novelists, soap makers, crafts people, and fashion clothing producers. We are part of a focus group hosted by Nova Scotia Business Inc. in the World Trade Centre in downtown Halifax. All of us in the room were invited to give input on how this new 2 million dollar fund will be spent when it becomes public in March 2016.

Prior to the meeting we were all asked to imagine ourselves in the future.  ‘Please relax, and close your eyes’, was the instruction.  ‘Imagine you are at the end of 2025… about 10 years from now. You’re enjoying a conversation with a mentor, or a trusted business associate, or a close friend – someone you haven’t minded sharing your frustrations, dreams and goals for growing your business outside of Nova Scotia. You’re feeling pretty happy and satisfied, because you realize that over the last year you had actually arrived where you wanted to be a decade earlier. What is it that you’ve achieved?’

I pause to think for a moment.

Nova Scotia Business Inc. (NSBI) is the private-sector led business development agency of Nova Scotia.  The Nova Scotia Government created a new fund for NSBI to focus on export development within sectors of the creative economy.  NSBI’s mandate is to attract global investment, to create new jobs across the province and to work with companies in all communities to be more successful exporters.

I came into working with NSBI last November when I participated in a Trade Mission to Belgium, Germany, and The Netherlands. That opportunity emerged from the work I was doing as Industry Producer with Magnetic North Theatre Festival in 2014 when it was in Halifax.  I oversaw the international export buyers program at Magnetic North, which was funded by The Atlantic Canadian Opportunities Agency (ACOA). ACOA along with NSBI lead a European trade mission every fall, and in our Magnetic North wrap up meetings with ACOA I proposed I go along for the experience. Rarely are non-profits invited, and almost never theatre makers.  So, I lucked into it you could say.

About ten years ago I was lucky to not be sued by the Beckett Estate.  My friend Elling Lien and I created a parody of Waiting For Godot using wind-up toys, which we called Winding Up Godot.  We performed it one night to a limited capacity of fifteen. It was a sort of dark joke on how unsustainable theatre is, and where we place the measures of success.  What emerged on a deeper level were questions about the commodification of the human experience, and privatization of public space.

The conversation in the World Trade room makes me think about the gap between art and business. It makes me think about the forces that compel us to become more entrepreneurial.

The facilitator is handing out some sheets of paper.  She asks us to turn our attention to the barriers we face getting us to that 2025 achievement we all envision for ourselves.  The sheet placed in front of me is filled with photo thumbnails like a menu and I am going to point to the thing I want. Some people in the room are choosing a photo of a bunch of surgeons working on a patient, some an open road, some a child eating a brownie, someone a menacing great white shark.  It’s all looking pretty good, and then I notice the image of the grim reaper.

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Chad Dembski in Farewell, photo by Tim Matheson

Recently, Nova Scotians were urged to choose an image for the future. Released in February 2014 by the OneNS commission, a document produced by Ray Ivany put out an urgent call to action under the title: ‘Now or Never’. Its conclusion: Nova Scotia must change its direction in a dynamic way or else it’s headed for irreparable harm based on present demographics and economic realities.

Nova Scotians need to be more optimistic, more united and therefore move away from outdated reliance on government.   “Without trying to raise panic bells, we are sounding a version of an alarm. We think we are teetering on the brink and it is that combination of demography and economy of potentially a long-term inexorable slide,” said Ray Ivany.

I take a look down at the page and I choose the picture of a landscape with two hands framing it as if it were a shot in a movie. I explain that for me the image I chose is about framing the authentic beauty of a place, about capturing a fleeting moment.

In the past four years I presented work as Secret Theatre in Wales, Scotland, Denmark, Iceland, Ireland and throughout Canada. Secret Theatre’s work is hyper-local in content and uses processes that are less conventional and more demanding. I believe exporting this work abroad is actualizing the deeper artistic goal to connect local conversations to global communities.

In 2025, I will be 48. Raised on a philosophy that you should go where the work is, friends who started families and some who have bought houses are talking about moving away. Some already have. What will I have achieved that enables me to stay?

We are now in a moment when Nova Scotia is seeking to redefine the roles artists by exploring forms that are not fixed in government, but instead take root in principles of production and distribution, which are more economically driven.

The inherent danger is cultivating a practice for the sake of consumption. The crucial issue is the manner in which art is commodified and how that changes the art and culture of this place. Could we be looking at the de-artificiation of art, or an industry that cheats its consumers of what it promises?   Authentic culture replaced by a culture of sameness.

As the meeting wraps up, business cards are exchanged, and I grab an oatcake for the road.

Why Do I Stay Here?

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Photo: “Ivor Johnson’s Neighbours” by Charlie Rhindress, Ship’s Company Theatre, 2009. Clockwise left to right: Gordon Patrick White, Frank Mackay, Amy Stewart and Deb Allen.

My name is Gordon Patrick White, and I am an actor from Newfoundland. When I graduated university at 24, I planned to work my way across the country, and decide where I wanted to live when I got to BC.

I got as far as Toronto and turned around.

There were a lot of reasons. I was very headstrong, very green, and thought I would take the city by storm. I wasn’t prepared for Toronto. Hundreds of people were showing up to the same auditions. I was surprised by the racism and ignorance I encountered. I did not even have a job or a place to live. I got an offer to go back to Newfoundland, and I didn’t return to the “big city” for a long time.

I lived out of a suitcase for 3 years. I kept landing in Halifax and the Nova Scotia area. I worked with a lot of talented people, good people. I saw work from some of the theatre companies: Ship’s Company, Festival Antigonish, Two Planks and a Passion, and more. I hung around the Atlantic Fringe Festival, which had a vibrant, fun energy. Halifax is the home of Neptune Theatre, the biggest theatre company in the Atlantic Provinces. At the time, there was a booming TV and film industry. The theatre community was warm and welcoming. Halifax was just big enough, and not too big. It was affordable. And Nova Scotia still had the ocean, something I didn’t realize I would miss.

Today, I see things differently.

Rents in the city have soared bringing them closer to other major cities in the country, but the wages are still low. Downtown is filled with closed buildings and others waiting to be torn down to make condos. I see people struggling to make ends meet. So their spending for an evening out has gone down.

The theatres are also struggling to make ends meet. Audiences are down everywhere, the costs to produce are getting higher, and the funding has not increased. Rehearsal times get shorter, casts get smaller, the run – and even the season – shrink.

This year, the Liberal provincial government has drastically cut its film tax credit. An industry that had built itself up to a national success story is now in a tailspin. The government has shown a huge lack of awareness of how the arts industry works. Without a competitive tax credit, many TV and film projects that were planning to shoot here have moved on to other parts of the country. The opportunities for casts and crews go with them. People are leaving. They are selling homes, leaving loved ones, sadly having to walk away from a city they helped shape, and a community they love. This ripple affect permeates through all walks of life in Nova Scotia, especially the theatre community.

The “go out west” idea is a continuous debate to anyone in the Atlantic Provinces. Now, it is even more constant. I have a suitcase; I could leave too. Why do I stay here? In an attempt to answer, let me talk about some of the other things I am seeing here.

First, in a response to the tax credit cut Neptune Theatre painted this on their loading doors:

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This is an attempt to remind the public that while the arts aren’t necessarily like other industries, it is still an industry.

Second: Neptune’s Studio Series this season features co-productions with other companies in the province: Festival Antigonish, Valley Summer Theatre, and DMV Theatre Collective. This is a great programming strategy. The largest Nova Scotian theatre company gets to showcase local talent, and the regional theatre companies get second mountings of their productions (in DMV’s case, first) for the larger audiences that come with a big urban centre. This is a step in the right direction.

Third, the Atlantic Fringe Festival’s funding turn-around during its 25th anniversary year.

In June, the Halifax City Council cut its grant by 40%. The Fringe, under the festival director Thom Fitzgerald, rallied quickly. An IndieGoGo campaign was launched. Fitzgerald and the Fringe board members reached out to remind the public that it is worth celebrating 25 years of Maritime theatre history. Fitzgerald also kept the pressure on City Council, defending the festival and asking them to reconsider. In a letter to council he wrote:

“Our IndieGoGo crowdfunding campaign has raised $2,245 from 34 donors in 3 days. […] Don’t let the public’s generosity dissuade you from using public funds to support the festival; every dollar will be used to further the cultural life of our city.”

On September 8th, Fitzgerald announced that the HRM city council not only restored the Atlantic Fringe Festival’s annual grant, but increased it. The change in policy is due, in large part, to the community rallying together to defend the organization.

Why do I stay? This community is why. This community that struggles, fights, scrapes and scrounges for whatever they can get, in an attempt to reach out, to engage, to tell stories. And I am right here with them. I’m here because I love this adopted theatre community of mine.

I want to build a stronger, more vibrant busy community. I want to engage new audiences and work with my peers. I want to engage in a meaningful dialogue about diversity in theatre – here in Nova Scotia and in the rest of Canada.

I want to reach out to the rest of the country to remind them that we are here and, every now and again, art happens.

 

Extending the Invitation

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Stewart Legere in Zuppa Theatre’s Pop-Up Love Party, photo by Mel Hattie

In Halifax, one of the main ways people see theatre is through personal invitation.

Zuppa Theatre’s board gets together before each show to email everyone we collectively know who might like to see a Zuppa show.

Last week, I talked to a fellow board member at the Bus Stop Theatre Cooperative about strategies for selling shows, and he told me his favourite one: giving each member of the team ten or twenty tickets.

Another related experience I had was at a recent dance show organized by Kinetic Studio that was both artistically and strategically genius. They had 20+ three minute acts. That’s a lot of people with friends and fans to invite.

What I am trying to point out is this: there are ways to do outreach that feel personal but don’t involve asking people one by one. Newsletters can be programmed to address each recipient by name. You can record a voicemail message and send it to the cellphone of every person who saw your last show. You can engage large groups by connecting with community leaders.

This all makes sense to me. Theatre makers must place an emphasis on hospitality and individual engagement. Theatre is a gathering. The art only exists when the artist and audience encounter it together.

In Halifax, we have an incredibly warm and welcoming theatre community. People never hesitate to support each other’s shows. Reviewers actively promote local companies. Students and emerging artists connect and collaborate with top established artists. In all of these ways, our community is tight-knit and strong. It’s largely for this reason that personal invitations work so well.

Yet when we think in terms of a “theatre community”; we are saying that there are some people who are on the inside, and some who are not. And so many people are left out. They’re not on our mailing lists or in our social media networks. Sometimes this can be hard to remember. For example: during this election campaign, I had to repeatedly remind myself that there are people in Canada (a lot of them, actually) who vote Conservative. None of them seem to exist in my social world.

These blind spots, in the context of audience outreach, can limit the conversations that happen in and around the theatre. When we are surrounded by people who share similar experiences and think the same way we do, we are less likely to question our own assumptions. Connecting with more diverse audiences asks artists to be more rigorous.

Let’s try to imagine how people who are not part of the theatre community might feel about going to see a show. They might not even realize it’s going on. Or maybe they do realize, but they don’t feel welcome. My boyfriend didn’t see much theatre in Halifax before we started dating. I asked him why. He said the independent theatres seem to a lot of people to be “prohibitively cool”, which isn’t, I don’t think, the kind of cool we’re going for.

It makes sense to me. There are lots of events I see posters and ads for that I never even consider attending, mostly because I’ve never been before and it doesn’t seem like a place I would fit in.

But what if a friend asked me to go to a metal concert with them? Or if someone in my community told me they were putting together a group of people to go and see the next roller derby game? Or if a card saying, “You’re Invited” to an upcoming contra dance arrived in my mailbox?

I really think I would go. And if I had a good time, I would probably go again.

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The StART Festival at the Bus Stop Theatre, photo by Mel Hattie

I recently saw my first Symphony Nova Scotia show. It was a collaboration with a favourite local musician, Rich Aucoin. As I sat in the audience this thought actually went through my head: I should subscribe to the Symphony.

As in this case, an invitation to new audiences can come in the form of an artistic collaboration with someone they already know and like (think of 2b’s The God That Comes, which introduces Hawksley Workman fans to the theatre, or Zuppa’s Pop-Up Love Party, which does the same for foodies). It can also happen in outreach, by finding existing networks not yet connected to the theatre community. It can sometimes be as simple as saying; “we’d really like to see you there”.

It’s worth noting that there are many complicated factors I haven’t touched on, including privilege and accessibility, that hugely affect how and whether audiences see theatre. I think that starting with an honest, human approach can be a good first step to listening and learning about other people’s perspectives and challenges.

Building new connections can be really hard. It can be exhausting to reach past the world we’re familiar with. We often don’t do it because we are tired, there’s not enough money, and it is hard enough to reach the people who already know our work.

In Halifax, there are exactly five producing companies on operating funding. Most companies can’t afford to hire administrative staff to focus on outreach activities. It is a huge problem that our theatre companies are not better resourced.

It is also problematic to put outreach at the bottom of our list of priorities. We might think that selling the show is separate from – and less important than – the art. But theatre only exists when people choose to be in the room with us. Inviting lots of people from all different walks of life is a hugely important step we can take towards enriching the work.

I have a lot respect for artists who see everything they do, including the organizational side of things, as being a part of the artistic practice. In Halifax, artists often do their own audience outreach out of necessity. If we see outreach in a social and creative light, maybe we will be excited rather than exhausted by its challenge.

 

Stephanie Yee: Open Waters

As a performance and installation artist, my interest in audio is about asking questions about who we are as a culture. Storytelling and dialogue are compelling as I consider character and seek out ways to explore interior/intangible environments: I believe that I am who I am because of those around me.

Susan Leblanc: Summertime

I have had a long-time interest in what our voices can betray about us. How we change it to get what we need and how it changes involuntarily as our emotions shift and change. When my first child was born, I swore to be aware and careful with my voice and now that that child is 3, I am at times pleased, and at other times appalled at the sound of my voice in relation to her. In this residency, I explored the joy and shame of how I relate vocally to my children, and to create a piece that captures our complex and amazing relationships.

Patrick Blenkarn: Play

Play asks you to play. Just play. It is somewhere between an instructional monologue and and inspirational monologue for the flamboyant musician within you. It puts into direct conflict actions of play and the social/behavioural superego in each of us that polices experiences of liberation.

Susanne Chui: Beautiful Mountain

I’m excited to explore the limitless possibilities of sound. As a dance artist I focus on movement and the visual world. To dive into sonic waters is exciting and intriguing. What will come out of it? Who knows! That’s what excites me the most.