Page 46

Art of Fringe

cdncult ottfringe 02
Patrick Gauthier randomly selects Fringe Festival participants.

To be almost entirely glib about it, my artistic contribution to the Ottawa Fringe Festival involves pulling names out of a hat.

To be slightly less glib, my artistic contribution to the Ottawa Fringe Festival probably goes unnoticed by the majority of our audiences.

To be entirely sincere about it, how can I hope to make any sort of artistic contribution to the Ottawa Fringe Festival all while staying true to the Fringe concept and ideals, attempting to marry the needs of our various artist stakeholders – emerging artists cutting their teeth; pros working out the kinks on something new; touring performers trying to keep their heads above water on the road; someone with a story to tell trying out theatre for the first time; everyone and anyone in between – and remaining open and accessible to audiences?

In September 2013 I changed jobs, moving from GCTC – where I ran the undercurrents festival – to the Ottawa Fringe (but for the sake of this writing let’s momentarily forget undercurrents will move to Arts Court and be produced by the Ottawa Fringe starting in February 2015). The two festivals couldn’t be more different: undercurrents is a six-show, curated festival of original Canadian work taking place in a single venue; the Ottawa Fringe features 60 companies chosen via lottery, across five regular venues and (in 2014) nine BYOVs, hosting local, national, and international artists.

Admittedly, moving from producing a curated festival to a non is a bit of a culture shock, if only because running a Fringe takes so much out of your control (and I like to be in control. Probably why I got into directing). Besides the obvious answer of festival programming, Fringe producing takes a good portion of the marketing out of your hands, as well as control over the majority of your venues (sometime I’ll tell you about the bar used as a BYOV that instituted a one-drink minimum without telling us, and then told ticket-holding audience members they would have to leave if they didn’t comply). And as much as Fringes rely upon and couldn’t exist without the army of volunteers who come out in 17 Canadian cities each summer, it’s inevitable that when working with more than 300 of them there will be some miscommunications along the way.

What we can control, however, is the audience experience at our festival. As theatre makers, aren’t we always (or shouldn’t we always be) obsessed with what the audience experience be when they buy a ticket to our show? How can we expand that obsession to cover 400+ performances over 11 days? Ottawa Fringe has shown excellent growth over the past few years precisely because the festival has poured a lot energy and resources into creating an inviting atmosphere for patrons, into giving them a festival experience – whether or not the show(s) they saw changed their perception of the medium or had them looking at their smartphone 7 minutes in. As a Fringe we can’t curate our programming, but we can certainly curate the audience experience when they attend our festival.

For Ottawa this curation is about more than ancillary artistic activity like concerts or free late-night programming or cabaret nights (though we certainly include our share of those as well), but also about making the ticket buying process as smooth as possible, an inviting Courtyard and festival bar, a well-designed and easy to navigate website, clean and accessible festival venues, and knowledgeable staff and volunteers. It’s the Fringe artist’s job to make the best art possible; it’s the Fringe festival’s job to create the best possible circumstances for them to succeed.

cdncult ottfringe 01

Another way we “curate” the Fringe is by attracting high caliber artists to Ottawa. Performers who have toured the circuit recognize that each stop has its own quirks and unique personality, and as an organization we need to be aware of what we can offer artists (both touring and local) besides fame and fortune. As a medium-sized Fringe Ottawa can’t compete with the revenue potential of a Winnipeg or Edmonton, but what we can offer has its own value: a warm, loyal, and growing audience base; excellent venues and technicians; and – not to be underestimated – a great nightlife and social scene (I’ll argue to the day I die that the Ottawa Fringe Courtyard is the best of its kind on the circuit).

Because of this, local professionals have come to use the Ottawa Fringe as a space to practice and experiment – for either the first public performance of a work in progress, or maybe to try their hand at writing or directing or writing and directing for the first time. That’s part of the draw for our audience: “See it here first.” With a great number of local professionals participating in the Fringe it has become even more attractive to students and emerging artists who want to showcase themselves alongside their established peers. And as we’re positioned at the beginning of the summer Fringe circuit, touring performers have found Ottawa a great place to get their show into shape in front of a friendly audience before moving on to the more lucrative western stops.

Sure, as a Fringe we leave programming to the Fates, and some years will inevitably be stronger artistically than others – but we certainly have the capacity to create the best conditions possible for audiences to find our artists. If we create those conditions we’ll attract broader base of artists to our lottery, which will increase the chances of strong and interesting work being in the festival, which will attract more audiences, which will attract a still broader base of artists to our lottery, which will…

There’s an art to that, I think.

The Trouble With Fringe

photo
Toronto Fringe star playwright Kat Sandler (Punch Up) and Red One Theatre Artistic Director Benjamin Blais stage a fight as part of the Flip The Fringe installation at the Toronto Fringe 2014 beer tent.

Fringe Theatre is a disruption of the delicate theatre ecology that threatens the stability and livelihoods of the establishment.

Fringe Theatre is the only viable path to production for a large majority of theatre creators.

Fringe Theatre is a populist low art form.

Fringe Theatre is the only place where the truly weird, risky, original, and unsafe work can get to the stage and find an audience.

Fringe Theatre is no way to make a living.

Fringe Theatre is the only way for some creators to make a living, and my 2010 Fringe tour provided a big chunk of my down payment on my condo.

All of the above contradictory statements, unfortunately, are true in 2014.

**

I started touring the Fringe circuit in 2007 and stopped in 2012, hitting 30 festivals with 5 original shows in those six summers.

In 2008, I toured my first play, Balls, to six festivals. My partner and I walked home with about $4000 each for our summer’s work. Not bad for two 22-year-olds who weren’t paying rent.

I had had some delusions that artistic directors would be scouting Fringes across the country for hit new plays to mount in their seasons, but despite favourable reviews, none responded to my personal invitations. Maybe it was something about being an unproven 22-year-old. It was, putting it mildly, a bit of a letdown to pack up the show in Vancouver and realise, that was it.

I tried mounting the show on my own in Toronto the following spring, knowing less than nothing about what it takes to produce a show from scratch. I lost more than double my earnings the previous summer. I realised the Fringe is a great training ground for producing on the Fringe, but finding your audience without a festival backing is hard.

**

The Fringe is basically the only time of the year you’ll see straight theatre, stand-up comics, sketch comedy, improv, live music, dance, musicals, even opera sharing spaces and audiences. These are all integral parts of a healthy performance ecology, and yet the practice in Canada is to keep them far, far, apart – different venues, different time slots, different audiences, different pages in the shrinking Arts sections of newspapers.

It’s always struck me that this mingling is one of the keys to the Fringe’s success. It encourages audiences to break out of their expectations and try something they’re not used to. It can make a star out of a Scottish performance poet or an aging lesbian sketch comedy duo. Let’s see Tarragon do that in its regular season.

**

Of course, some of the mainstage companies are now trying to do just that, by unearthing that rare gem at the Fringe or SummerWorks, and putting it on their stage as a finished product. And that can be even more problematic.

While The Globe’s Kelly Nestruck worries that the flood of cheap shows of varying quality that are found at Fringes across the country has reduced the appetite for professional theatre at the majors, my worry is instead that the majors are coming to see the Fringe (and similar emerging works festivals) as a scouting ground – a way to skip the expensive work of developing shows (and talent).

And so, with shrinking paths to development in the mainstream, many of us creators go off, unguided, into the Fringe, taking on huge financial risks in the vain hope that maybe, maybe, this will be the show that captures Andy McKim’s attention. And then maybe it will get a poorly promoted and weakly attended two-week run in TPM’s backspace in a couple years, which you will be expected to fundraise half the costs for anyway.

And good luck getting production grants from the Arts Councils, which are now seeing more and more applications for productions in festivals, which crowd out the grants for indie productions outside of festivals.

**

“There’s a generation of artists out there who are saying, ‘I don’t have aspirations beyond this. I want to reach this audience. I want to have a great Fringe run.’ That’s fine with me,” Toronto Fringe executive director Kelly Straughan told Toronto Star reporter Richard Ouzounian.

It’s a surprising statement coming from a Festival that is proud to tout the spinoff successes of past shows like Kim’s Convenience, Da Kink In My Hair, and, especially, The Drowsy Chaperone.

And yet, it’s absolutely true. Perhaps recognizing the absurdity of playing for long-term “mainstream” “success,” creators are setting new goals. Playing to full houses across Canada. Earning a living through the summer without waiting tables. Getting real reviews in newspapers (when was the last time you felt certain you’d get a review of your indie show in Toronto?). Building a body of work and a fanbase that comes to your shows year after year.

I’m looking at Vancouver’s Monster Theatre. London’s Jayson MacDonald. TJ Dawe. Edmonton’s Ken Brown. Boston’s Cameryn Moore. The UK’s Jem Rolls. And dozens of others who are plying their talents on the boards across Canada every summer.

And the funny thing is, they’re making it work. They may not be rich, but they’re making a living. And they’re finding an audience.

And sure, some Fringe shows are mindless, populist, disposable trash. But there’s also some rich, interesting, unique work there. Where else but the Fringe could you find a hit show about an overweight, sex-positive, self-described phone whore in a relationship with a trans man? Or a literary puppet show? Or an anarchist slam poet?

That’s not to say Fringe is devoid of challenges. The demand for slots in the Fringe rises every year, but the available audience is not growing at the same pace. The ticket prices and artist revenues have been steadily eroded by inflation. The technical limitations can compromise artistic choices. But the completely unprogrammed nature of the Fringe still offers some creators the most viable path for a livelihood in personal expression on the stage.

Anything Goes

Fringe For All by Cindy Lopez
Fringe For All Photo: Cindy Lopez

Anything goes. ANYTHING. From a solo spoken word show to a company’s debut production to inspiring contemporary dance to saucy burlesque to reading a phone book aloud onstage to puppetry for all ages to stand-up comedy to a musical to a complete train wreck to the next big thing in Canadian theatre. Anything really goes (as long as it stays within the law of course!).

But does it work on paper? Good question. If you’ve never been to a Fringe before, you might think that the concept of an uncurated or unjuried festival is a risky approach, but for over three decades the Fringe has made an everlasting mark on the Canadian theatre landscape. Starting in Edmonton in 1982, there are now seventeen Fringe Festivals in Canada and twenty-three festivals as a part of the Canadian Association of Fringe Festivals which also encompasses several American Fringe Festivals. Uniting these festivals are our unique set of ideals (taken from the CAFF website):

  • Participants will be selected on a non-juried basis, through a first-come, first-served process, a lottery, or other method approved by the Association.
  • The audience must have the option to pay a ticket price, 100% of which goes directly to the artists.
  • Fringe Festival producers have no control over the artistic content of each performance.  The artistic freedom of the participants is unrestrained.
  • Festivals must provide an easily accessible opportunity for all audiences and all artists to participate in Fringe Festivals.
Montreal Fringe Staff by Cindy Lopez
Montreal Fringe Staff. Photo: Cindy Lopez

I may be the Executive and Artistic Director of MainLine Theatre (the company that produces the Montreal Fringe), but I often refer to myself as simply the Festival Director come Fringe season. You will routinely find me overseeing operations, working on audience development or coming up with a new marketing plan. The truth is that I often feel like a protector of the festival. I’m not involved in the content of performances, I’m facilitating the conditions under which the art will hopefully thrive.

I wonder: Am I influencing the curation of the festival if I visit a ton of schools to do outreach around application time? Will there be more French companies in the festival if I post on billboards in France? Is it wrong to target the application process to specific groups? Seeing as we select by lottery, will there ever be a dud Fringe, where most of the shows aren’t very good?

Le Monstre - Théâtre Kata by Cindy Lopez
Le Monstre – Théâtre Kata. Photo: Cindy Lopez

With that in mind, it’s possible for one to be tempted to turn their back on the values of the Fringe movement. The most significant part of my job as a Fringe director is to uphold the integrity of the festival by following our national mandate and therefore protecting its values of diversity, accessibility and community. The moment a Fringe Festival anywhere starts to abandon its ideals, is the moment that festival begins to lose its authenticity. I.e., it might be easier in Montreal to acquire more funding or to sell a few more tickets if we could guarantee that every show is going to be an entertaining box office success.

The challenge is to be confortable with the risk that the festival’s artistic structure creates. For years, the Montreal Fringe’s reputation in our city’s festival landscape was built on being the alternative that welcomes boldness and brass. While always being badass. When you have a festival that has over 100 productions, it’s certainly easy to rely on the productions that push the envelope to stick out of the pack.

But while celebrating risk taking is an important part of what we do, the real passion I hold lies in the ideals, in that we are a part of a revolution in Canadian theatre that is gaining more and more momentum with each passing decade.

VIVE LA RÉVOLUTION FRINGE !

Zadie’s Shoes

Play: Zadie’s Shoes || Playwright: Adam Pettle
Shoot: Shaar Hashomayim Synagogue || Models: Seth Galina, Donovan King

ELI: You don’t know how to confess and it’s not because you’re Jewish… it’s because you’re still hiding.

BENJAMIN: I’m trying.

ELI: Try harder.

BENJAMIN: I can’t.

ELI: Why?

BENJAMIN: I’m scared. (Beat.) I’m so fucking scared.

ELI: Of what?

BENJAMIN: Of everything?

ELI: No, of what?

BENJAMIN: I don’t know.

ELI: Stop hiding.

BENJAMIN: I couldn’t… She gave me the chance and I couldn’t… I couldn’t watch her hate me. I can’t have anyone hate me.

ELI: Why?

BENJAMIN: I need them to like me… to love me. I love her… I love her so much and this… it… I would be such a good boyfriend if I didn’t… and…

ELI: What?

BENJAMIN: I did everything so she wouldn’t see it because if she saw it she would leave and I’d be…

ELI: Say it!

BENJAMIN: It’ll take over… it’ll… and then no one will see how wonderful I am anymore. How much I can love. They’ll just see it. I’ll become it… and I’ll be ugly. I’ll be so fucking ugly… so dead and ugly and… alone. I’m alone. How could I…? How can I… How can I get better?

Zadie’s Shoes was first produced by Factory Theatre in Toronto in January 2001.

Actors are Real People, Too!

Adrienne and Jacob talk with Annabel Soutar, playwright and Artistic Director of Porte Parole. The conversation ranges from an introduction to Annabel, her work and influences; the responsibilities related to involving real-life individuals as sources, subjects or performers within theatrical productions.

email: jacob@smallwoodenshoe.org or adrienne@neworldtheatre.com
tweet: #SWSPodcast
comment: Small Wooden Shoe | Spiderweb Show

Links to some of the things we talk about:

 

Carving out LEAR

LEAR 1

With LEAR we have tried, as a collaborating company, to tell the story of King Lear. This intention characterizes the difference between the first workshop we did at Hatch in 2011, and how the work has evolved since then, through the presentation at World Stage 2013, and most recently at Magnetic North 2014.

In the first workshop we executed a series of performance events that were in some ways non-dramatic, non-narrative reflections on the source material. The evolution of the work has been towards executing performance events that were narrative and dramatic, and in which there are a set of circumstances that evolve for the characters that are unexpected. This change in the direction of the work caused some of the tension in our process.

Philip and Clare have struggled to make a play together. The reasons for this tension can be partially explained by the challenges inherent to collaborating across generations; the challenges of collaborating when one person is dealing with the process of letting go of power, and the other person is trying to establish power. The ways in which they are able to serve one another in the collaboration can get lost in the neurotic response to the circumstances.

With the growing intention to offer a narrative as opposed to present an exposé on the source material, Clare and Philip continued to find themselves in conflict. Clare was reluctant to engage with the source material in a way that would require her to embody King Lear’s experience. She described finding the uncanny resemblance of the character’s circumstances to her own circumstances disturbing. She worried that speaking his words, in the context of a process where she was being confronted with her own decline as an actor and as a creator, she would go mad the way King Lear goes mad. So, she favoured the performance events that awarded a bit of distance from the story, both for the actors and the audience.

Philip, on the other hand, felt she was capable of a great performance. He felt in order to achieve this performance Clare required a narrative context in which to speak the words of the play. In pursuit of the show he had in mind, he was willing to qualify his understanding of the anxieties Clare had expressed.

In pursuit of this narrative container, Philip and Rose began to advocate within the company for a particular conceit. Similar to executing a performance of any more conventional play, we had to imagine there are circumstances that unfold that are “unexpected”. The performers/characters have to imagine they don’t know what is going to happen next. Each performer/character might have an idea about how things should proceed or how they want them to proceed, but they must imagine that at a certain point, things don’t go their way.

The clearest anchor point, as the meta-narrative was explored, was to remain faithful to ‘the geography’ of the characters in the play King Lear. The characters have certain responsibilities to enter and exit, to win and to lose, and we, as a company, hit those marks. As with any conventional play, we did this in the face of what are the limits of a particular process, but also the limits of the theatre: we have in fact rehearsed something, and that we know what is going to happen. The particular challenge of this piece was that we were highlighting, and in some ways embracing, most aspects of the artifice involved in making and presenting theatre. At the extreme other end, in a naturalistic production, the theatre makers will try to wallpaper over the things we felt were our most valuable narrative tools. We presented these mechanisms for an audience to see as part of the action of the play, as well as a part of the setting and circumstances of the play.

This work was made navigating the tension between making intuitive choices and conscious choices. This remained true even when a commitment was made to evolving the narrative experience of the piece. We understood that although this choice felt like a revision of a way of working (Hatch, 2011), we still didn’t entirely understand how this new direction of the work would be manifest. It involved carving out creative space in which we could proceed intuitively, sometimes at the expense of some aspects of what was initially a more collaborative workshop process.

However, everybody continued to contribute their own ideas to the piece. We are all still holding a corner of the blanket, and there are different ways for us to be responsible for that holding. Perhaps uniquely, no one person feels they have ownership over the design and content of LEAR, it feels like a quilt. Nobody likes everything in the play, but that’s a sign of there having been, at different moments and in different ways, space for everybody.

 

 

 

#CdnCult Times; Volume 3, Edition 6

The Magnetic North Festival took place in Halifax and Dartmouth from June 19-29 this year. Every second year the festival takes place in Ottawa, while it takes over a different town or city in Canada on odd years. This model affords the festival the ability to be ‘national’ in a unique way, representing the capital and bringing a physical a presence to different Canadian communities, while presenting work from across the country.

As we strive to run a website with a national perspective, it seemed natural to have an edition that focused on ‘Mag North’. Amanda Campbell writes on what the festival was like for someone who lives there, while Philip McKee and Rose Plotek open up the process that brought their show LEAR to the festival. Meanwhile, Charles Ketchabaw gives us a taste of what Fixtpoint is up to as they move across the country with their Tale of a Town ‘storymobile’.

Michael Wheeler
Editor-in-Chief: #CdnCult Times

Tale of a Town: Wolfville, NS

Wolfville - Laurence Smith
Laurence Smith

Painting of Jack Sherriff

We came into Wolfville, Nova Scotia unexpected.  We called the Mayor’s office and plant ourselves downtown on the Main St. in our storymobile. Shortly there after a man in a blaze orange safety jacket comes from the parking lot of a Shoppers across the street.

Him: “I heard your looking for stories…”

Us:  Yes .. about this street.

Him: “Well you should talk with Laurence Smith he’s got keys to half the buildings on this here strip.  He comes by at 10, 12 and 2 o’clock everyday and parks right over there in the lot.”

Us:  Great

When I got into an old pickup with a guy who was 80+ in overalls I expected to learn about the way life used to be on Main Street Wolfville, NS.  I did not expect to learn about Jack Sherriff a legendary theatre maker and educator located in downtown Wolfville.  When we included this in our recent play for Magnetic North more than one person within the industry came up afterwards and commented on the influence Jack had on their lives.

Laurence Smith is a beautiful old man with a big heart and a voice I am so happy to have captured for preservation.  I’m sure Jack was as well.