Whatever Happened To Class?

Okay, let's talk about it. I'm actually kind of nervous, to tell you the truth...

One thing that gets consistently ignored in conversation about theatre is class. It has not come up in either of the panel discussions I've been on, is rarely mentioned in the blogosphere, almost never in interviews in the press, or coverage of theatre companies. I know we like to pretend we live in some kind of class-less society or something (the American Dream!) but that is, as John Edwards' "Two Americas" speech reminds us, completely not true. I feel the impacts of class deeply in directing, but that's probably because it's my own corner of the theatreverse. If we in the blogosphere really want to improve theater, I think we need to start talking about it and what it's impacts are.

First, I'll come clean. I come from an upper middle class background. I live off a mixture of inheritance and earned income, and I live with someone, which drives down my monthly expenses. I have, at times, used this money to help pay for the work that I do as well.

What this means for me is that I don't have to work two jobs while I direct shows. I quit temping when I directing, and go back to it when I'm done. Having not done this occasionally, I can feel the advantages that this gives me, in that I am well better rested, more focused, and able to spend more time on rehearsal prep during the day.

Most of the directors I know of who are in my peer group (in their late to mid twenties here in New York) who are successful (regularly working, often covered in the news, well regarded etc.) come from money, have serious money, or received some kind of major financial backing or subsidy from a family member, loved one or whatever at key points in their career. I'm not saying these artists don't deserve their success. There's enough of a meritocracy still in place that you have to have some talent. But in a job that is as much about the hussle as directing, their success (and mine, although it's considerably less than the directors I'm thinking of) would be nearly impossible without the financial end.

Not to mention how much of directing costs money. The Lincoln Center Director's Lab, which has been one of the most wonderful, formative experiences of my young director's life, doesn't pay you to sit in the Beaumont for twelve hours a day six days a week for three weeks. Only those who can afford the time off of work (and housing, which they try hard to find for you) can do it. But that's nothing compared to Williamstown which charges you money for you to work there, and charges the most money for the most entry level internship (in other words, the people who need the job the most and will probably do the most work and gain the most from it have to pay the most money). Or graduate school, which is widely considered the best way to jump start your career, if you get into one of the right ones. People who can pay Yale's $30K a year tuition outright are at an advantage to those who will go into debt for it.

And of course there's biography and connections, which are usually a function of class as well...

I could go on and on, but what I really mean this post to be is an introduction to a broader conversation, a conversation that i hope will continue in the comment threads here and on other people's blogs as well. So off of all of this, let me pose a starting point, a beginning quesiton... I've laid out here some of the ways I see class impacting the theater scene, and impacting who gets chosen to direct what play, and how. What are some of the impacts you see? How does class influence your field in theater? What do you think are the implications of all of this

update check out Adam's thoughts here.

Comments

[freeman]

The implications are pretty clear. Having a little money makes it easier for people to take artistic risks and take opportunities.

The real question I have is...what can be done about this? Should anything be done?

[Joshua James]

Whew.
Big topic.

Well, I don't know what to say . . . except that the moneyed class does have serious advantages in this field (in all fields, but particularly this one) and it is a different world for them. I still feel it, even though I do much better now than I ever did, I'm hyper aware of class and money.

Hmm, it's so broad a topic, I don't know what to say. Let me just share a little bit of my story.

I come from a far lower economical stratosphere, poor farming town in Iowa. I majored in theatre in college primarily because that's the scholarship offered. I don't know that I could have afforded it without the acting scholarship (I also had an academic one) . . .

I went to grad school at Iowa and in addition to my assistantship, worked two jobs . . . one as a bouncer at a pool hall, and another as a direct care worker for the disabled (I'd get up at six to get them out of bed and ready for their day, then go to class). Working outside jobs was against the rules of our assistantship, but everyone looked the other way, because to depend only on the assistantship was to starve.

They took grad acting students once every three years. In the beginning there were 14 of us. There were only two that could be really described as working class, Dave and I. He also worked.

It seemed, at times, that we spoke a language different than everyone else.

One of my classmates, from Jersey, was adopted and definitely on the upper economic scale. Her parents would fly out to Iowa for every show she was in, regardless of the size of the role, and they would take separate planes, just in case there was an airplane crash so that my classmate would "still have one parent left to love her" . . . no lie, that's what they did, every time.

Dave and I just didn't know how to relate to someone like that.

[Joshua James]

What I meant with my last comment was, not that poor parents don't love their kids as well . . . just that it seemed . . . I dunno, like a different world . . . I'd never even been on a plane at that point in my life . . . neither had my parents . . .

[David]

Oh boy... and good luck with this one. Seriously. In this country, we can scrap about religion, tell everything about our own sex lives, and even pick our nose on the el... but talk about money? Class? Financial privilege? I don't think so. To point out that those with money -- and, therefore, the time and opportunities that money buys -- have certain advantages rankles everyone.

Those who come to the game without money want to believe -- no, need to believe -- that effort and talent will get them anywhere; those who have the financial resources that give them the time to perfect their craft and make the necessary connections don't want to admit that they, quite simply, had/have an advantage.

But your search for answers, and the sharing of your own story, deserves more than just a "good question!" response from me. And anything I write is also bound up in my own history with money and privilege. So here's my disclosure (not that I think everyone who participates in this conversation needs to do this):

My financial/artistic life is best summarized as "born very poor, married very well." And in between being born and "marrying" (as married as two men can get outside of Massachussetts) I worked my ass off, from my first paper route when I was eleven, to working full time while going to school full time, and then building my own business after I graduated.

So, I've sort of seen all of this from both sides. And the simple fact is, it's better to have money -- and, as a result, the privileges that money affords. Hands down.

This isn't a comment on talent or hard work. I know people at every point on the financial spectrum, and there are awful/brilliant artists and lazy/hardworking people across the board. And, when you're broke, you sort of have to cling to the "American Dream," no matter how flawed, because if you don't, you're likely to just throw your hands up in the air and give up.

But the American "dream" is called dream and not "reality" for a reason. Money makes a difference. Period.

(This is odd: Just last night, at an Easter dinner, we had this same debate about money... although it wasn't at all connected to the art scene.)

I'm not saying that money is bad. And I don't think that the pursuit of money is an evil, per se. Nor do I think there's any particular honor in having come up from poverty. I'm not nearly as high-and-mighty as all that. But not having it exacts many costs, getting it exacts other costs and compromises, and having it comes with its own costs.

(Now, substitute the word "rewards" for the word "costs" in the previous sentence, and you'll come up with a sentence that is, in my mind, equally true.)

Struggling against relative poverty often requires -- and generates -- great creativity. Having the resources and security of money can also support and unleash great creativity.

Just a final point, and then I'll stop rambling and start reading: With apologies to the troupe (who always get brought up when the issue of money and art comes up), the House Theatre, here in Chicago, is often held up as the model of what "kids" can do when they've been given a nice wad of cash from their parents. Their early, post-college efforts were quite well-financed, which was clearly in evidence in their productions -- they could afford to mount some very expensive shows, with all the bells and whistles.

But in the early years, that money wasn't necessarily matched with obvious talent -- so, the talk around town was, here's a bunch of rich -- albeit energetic -- kids getting to play with Daddy's money, and look at what they've come up with: lots of sizzle, but no bacon. Simply put, this group could afford to regularly create and mount original work, never having to resort to the "canon" to raise cash, because the gravy train was running pretty thickly.

True and/or fair (or not), they labored under that impression for a number of years. And while their shows did well, that was often because of the flash, not the content.

But, as they've grown up (literally), so have their shows. Yes, they still have the financial backing that makes most storefront theater ADs salivate and squirm in envy, and yes, there are people who still think they are stuck in the fifth grade... but they've also begun to create some work that is no less inventive, but -- and I'm not sure how to write this, since the words "edgy" and "young" are all in vogue these days -- is also much more mature.

So, their case begs all of our questions. Should the House Theatre not exist because they didn't pay their own way? Should the art they've created be ignored because money was less of an issue for them? (As a whole, I might add, not as individuals.) I don't think so.

But what do we do for the artist who doesn't have easy access to cash, connections and time? What about the artists who start their creative work later in life, because their early life was all about survival?

Well, I don't have any easy answers. And I've rambled too long. I need to go off and earn some of that money we've been talking about.

[adam]

I posted something about my own situtation. Also after reading George's intro the the recent New York Theatre Review I've been thinking a lot why I don't think or talk much about theory. Part of it might be my UMass education but I think also it's that I don't have a lot of time to think about why I'm doing what I'm doing. I just do it. If I had a couple more hours a day, maybe I could write a cohesive manifesto. Right now, I'm just trying to get the work done.

[Scott Walters]

I, too, come from a working class family. My mother left school after 9th grade and left home with her younger sister in tow -- she worked in a factory. My father graduated high school, took a correspondence course, and worked as a production control manager in local factories as well. I was the first to go to college, and the first in my extended family to get a doctorate.

How did this background affect me? Well, it is the same as has been mentioned above: when you have to support yourself, it takes a lot of energy that can't be devoted to your art. There was a time, when I was first married and working at a restaurant supply company in Minneapolis that I would try to read after dinner and always, always fell asleep on the couch. When I did a show, I had a hard time staying focused at work -- especially when my car died and my wife and I had to get up at 5:30 to catch a 7:00 bus. During those years, I didn't do a whole lot of theatre.

I think that is the real cost of the lack of money for young artists -- the inability to practice their art. That is the only way to get better. As David notes above, the artists of House Theatre benefitted from being able to focus and practice, and inevitably they got better.

But I also think that people who have money, or (perhaps as importantly) come from a moneyed background have a sense of confidence that the working class people lack. Even when the money is tight, it has always seemed to me that people who come from wealthy backgrounds weather it with more grace, and are willing to take greater risks. It is like they see the universe as more benevolent than working class people, who never seem to shake the sense that it could all come crashing down. At least that's who it has felt for me.

When I received tenure a few years ago, I felt a noticeable sense of being "safe" -- finally, security. But it didn't last long, and it was back to Faustian "striving."

When I look at myself, I see a lot of determination, a lot of hard work, but I don't see much grace. I think that comes from the way my personality developed within the context of my environment, and I think it shows in my productions, which tend to be focused and energetic, but not very graceful. That is a real problem when, like now, I am directing a graceful piece like "The Philadelphia Story," or (God help me) a Coward piece, which is almost totally foreign to me.

Class has replaced homosexuality as the subject that dare not speak its name. I will look forward to other's musings. I'd also draw your attention to my past post on my blog: http://theatreideas.blogspot.com/2007/03/dudley-cocke-class-censorship.html

[David Moore]

Scott, so glad you added to the conversation. As I was writing my own rambling comment, I kept thinking of your blog, Theatre Ideas, and how the subjects of class, money, community, grass-roots anyting, etc., come up so regularly over there.

And of course, I was so caught up in my own thoughts, that I completely forgot to point people your way. Sorry 'bout that.

[Malachy Walsh]

If race is the biggest fault-line in American culture, class is the most invisible.

I've always thought Paul Fussell's funny CLASS was the most insightful book on it ever written.

And I think a lot of what he says applies to who can practice theatre in the US - and how they/we do it.

I'm from an upper-middle class family but all my income is self-generated. I work in advertising which can generate - in a good year - over 6 figures. In a bad year, it can mean nothing. I owe about $80,000 for my MFA. As a couple, my wife and I owe A LOT more.

Money, however, isn't the total issue. The psychographic that Fussell describes - the desire for a comfortable life surrounded by Pottery Barn/Crate and Barrell catalog objects that make my neighbors just a little envious - is a big part of what makes me middle class.

Moreover, I have a sense of entitlement to this lifestyle - and that is not a good thing.

All this affects not only when and how I can work in theatre, but also what I consider success in theatre and what I expect to get out of it.

[dan]

I think the impact is, as the above comments make clear, that the POVs of theatre artists tend to skew toward people from higher incomes.

When I was growing up and doing theatre, I was very aware that my family had more money than my friends. Most of my friends did not go to theatre school for college, but picked up some more practical vocation. Those who did go to theatre school tended to be from the middle class, like me, or the upper class (although more than a few severed financial ties with their family to pursue this).

When I got to college, most of my classmates came from families far wealthier than mine. This inversion confused me, not only because I suddenly wasn't the kid who had the money, but because race and gender inequality issues played a large part in school culture, and trumped comparative family income. Personally I was baffled as to why I was broke all the time and going into huge debt, even though I'd grown up with a sense of economic privilege.

Both situations taught me that theatre was essentially like baccarat -- a game for the wealthy. I knew that I had spent enough to get in the casino, but I would have to play at the $10 table. That changed when I married well. Now I play at the $15 table.

Which leads me to my answer to your second question...Playwrights (like directors) often seek MFAs to further their career. They often pay for their first productions (most colleges and conferences offer workshops on this, and that shows how much the industry assumes this is a necessary step). So deep pockets not only help, but are invaluable as a playwright, even though a large portion of a playwright's work does not require a big investment. I wonder if recent easy access to credit has caused some writers to do deep wallet damage to themselves, in pursuit of the big strike. Like prospectors of old.

I wonder if this is historically the case: that artists (like revolutionaries) have tended to come from middle and upper-class backgrounds.

[David Moore]

Just one more thing I'd like to throw in:

Despite my non-moneyed background, I have enjoyed -- consciously and unconsciously -- a number of "goes without saying" privileges: I'm white. Male. My IQ (that is, my ability to take written IQ tests) is high. I do not have a physical handicap that restricts my ability to meet day-to-day needs. My parents did not beat me, there was food enough on the table, I had a dry (albeit shared) bedroom to sleep in, etc., etc.

You get the point. The mere fact that I am engaged in this discussion means that I've had it -- and still have it -- a hell of a lot better than the bulk of the human population.

Which is not meant to put a damper on this discussion or to say it's not worth having. It's just to point out that we're talking about the concerns of a fairly rarified population, in a fairly rarified environment. A necessary bit of perspective, for me.

[Malachy Walsh]

This is a little off-topic, but reading Dan's comment, I thought I'd clarify one thing - while getting an mfa was important to furthering my career, if i really wanted to do that, it would've been smarter to take what I borrowed and use it to BUY a theatre.

But i wanted to write. That's why i did the mfa - 3 years of pretty much uninterrupted writing. I got to write.

Going to grad school for an mfa in writing to "further your career" is usually a mistake, since getting into an mfa program doesn't mean you have the talent to make it in a career. It just means you have the talent to get into an mfa program.

Again, a side issue to the larger question - but it's important to know, I don't regret the borrowing. It's a fact of life: the average person these days ends up with as much as $20,000 of debt from undergrad.

That is also a middle class fact of life.

[Working Group]

We've been writing about this at are site as well. And the solutions we have been working on developing.

http://workinggrouptheatre.blogspot.com/2007/04/one-leg-on-class-issues-cash-trappings.html

and

http://workinggrouptheatre.blogspot.com/2007/04/a-note-and-anecdote.html

[Scott Walters]

When I worked at Performing Arts Journal (believe it or not, George Hunka and I both had the same job several years apart), I remember being told by somebody there that Richard Foreman had inherited money that he used to support himself during his younger life. If this is true (and I could be misremembering), it is another example of how financial freedom can allow one the freedom to develop one's aesthetic free of concerns over The Market.

[Col]

Good for you for addressing this, Isaac.

It is a big factor in cast dynamics, too, IMHO.

[isaac]

Col,

wanna elaborate? i'd love to learn more about where you see it come in!

[Jason Grote]

I'm a welfare baby, born to a single mom. I paid my own way through a state college and more than once had to shoplift to feed myself. One time I asked my friend Mike - now a New York City cop - for two bucks for a loaf of bread. He was a big Les Miz fan and was actually very touched. I paid my own way through NYU with the help of a scholarship (1/3 of tuition) and beaucoup loans. I make $36k a year at Rutgers before taxes and about $12k for playwriting and freelancing for the past two years, though 2007 looks to be more.

I think the class taboo in America is largely mythical - we talk about it all the time. But as I say in this RAIL article about Lucy Thurber:

http://www.brooklynrail.org/2007/4/theater/watching-with

The *way* we talk about it is strictly policed.

[cgeye]

One more thing class means: It means delay.

Delay, while establishing a stable work history, in order to pay down the undergraduate debt, let alone graduate school debt. Delay, while going to playwriting classes provided as "enrichment" by theatre schools to amateurs: Night school, by any other name.

Delay, while avoiding ridicule from co-workers, as when they find out some other worker bee is trying to write country songs, or start any other small creative business. They wonder whether the work's for kids, or families, or anything fitting some utility of home, club entertainment or family, and if it's not, isn't that getting a bit big for one's britches?

Delay, in even learning that first performances usually are self-funded, which means creating an ad-hoc theatre company and knowing actors, which means attending plays, which means long days and long travel home, if one can make the schedule on public transportation, and sleep deprivation, on the job.

It means wondering whether one is developmentally delayed, in wanting to write plays without a degree or a theatre gang, when it's a young man's game, when you are neither. Mostly, delay makes one wonder whether all the stories and dreams are stale, or dead, beyond anyone's desiring of them.

We pay with money, or time, or both, when we don't have class to back us.

[cgeye]

Oh, Jason -- thanks for introducing me to Lucy Thurber's voice. She sounds like good people.

[Slay]

I have responded to some of this right here:
http://www.avltheatre.com/forte/2007/04/lets_talk_about_class_1.html