Author: r.ostrow

In Against the Romance of Community, author Miranda Joseph explores the notion of community and what it means to create a community space. Joseph primarily argues that while communities seek to create an all-inclusive, safe space for a group of people who identify similarly with one another, they also inherently exclude others. In essence, Joseph says that to develop a sense of “us,” one must also create a counterweight of “them.”

By examining the concept of community, Joseph also looks at how people identify and categorize themselves into social and cultural groups. Her main takeaway implies that people ultimately navigate through the multi-dimensional facets of their identity such that they call forward what is most relevant and makes them feel the most safe. She identifies that a community could be formed on the basis of identity, unity, or communion.

Joseph incorporates the idea of ethical producing of queer/POC works by first examining the mission statement of a theater group who tries to establish who their market, or “community” is and how to best serve them. The group struggles to be inclusive without pandering to every possible emotion of every audience member, though ultimately settle on a problematic exclusion of a key group of the community they tried to represent.

Joseph goes on to look at how different cultural institutions define their community, and how some communities are not nearly as different from others structurally despite how different their people may be. She argues that, at their cores, all communities are a byproduct of capitalism because of an unequal distribution of wealth and power.

Reading this piece in the context of the class made the idea of ethically producing both more and less daunting. While it seemed almost comforting to know that all you can do in producing a work is pick your audience and strive to support them in the best way you can, it also felt disappointing to realize that you will never satisfy everyone. Joseph seems to discourage people from trying to achieve an unattainable utopia so I would have liked some more suggestions of what to do instead.

At the very least, I feel like the introduction of the notion of “us” and “them” regarding communities created a thoughtful framework for me to examine future productions. For example, if I am working on a show that is representing an “us” when I am part of a “them,” I need to constantly remember to create space for the community regardless of my other-ness.

An example I could relate this to is what I imagine the experience of being a hearing performer in Deaf West’s Spring Awakening might have been like. While hearing actor Alex Boniello technically shared the role of Moritz with Deaf actor Daniel Durant, Boniello had to consciously give Durant the room to perform without drawing too much attention to himself. Although the community of this show was meant to be deaf and hearing audiences together, Boniello’s upstaging of Durant would have compromised that mission by interrupting the experiences of deaf viewers.

I also attended the staged reading of A Chip on Her Shoulder by Honest Accomplice Theatre with Dana and Zeynep on March 27^th. The reading was brought to the audience as a workshop during which the small crowd was encouraged to fill out feedback forms before the production went to its next iteration. The piece was a devised work that began with interviews with women in the STEM field from Virginia Tech. Through minimal staging and low, yet compelling light design, the cast weaved together the similar but different experiences of several women.

I think that this reading was as successful as it was unsuccessful in several regards. The way each actor personified the wide range of characters delighted me. In particular, I was happy to see trans actors playing characters whose stories were not completely contingent on their trans-ness. At the same time, I definitely feel like the script and staging could have used more work. The stories the women were telling, at times, were awkwardly paired and way too long or otherwise just not very interesting. The staging, while logical, also sometimes strayed towards boring.

Nevertheless, the story made me think about the seven years that I was a STEM student. Listening to the women express their grievances about being underrepresented and underestimated made me reconsider my experiences. Was I a “bad” engineering student, or was I just led to believe I was because my teachers didn’t take my work seriously? Was I drawn to studying the arts because it is where my talents lie or because it’s a field “for women”? If I had continued to pursue a career as an engineer or a doctor, would I be as trusted as my male counterparts? Even now: am I as incompetent as I feel, or am I suffering from imposter syndrome because our culture normalizes and encourages women to be insecure? Why is it that, at work, my words hold less value than my male coworkers? Is it my gender or my work experience?

The insight I was most delighted to take away from this show was how a reading works and what the right questions are to ask from an audience when seeking feedback. As I was preparing for O, Earth and Faust, I thought back to this production as a reference for the general structure of the way things “should be.” The simple yet efficient staging, suggestive costuming and thorough feedback form felt like the perfect baseline example of the essential elements a staged reading should include.

As an example of queer/POC theater, this felt ethically produced as actors were given the opportunity to represent the voices of others like them without being reduced to a stereotype. I am interested to see how this piece develops into its next form as a “docu-musical.”

Admittedly, when we first approached O, Earth, I struggled with finding a way to contribute to the creative process without overstepping my boundary as a white-ish, straight-ish woman working on a show that heavily features queer POC. Further, I wanted to try a production role that I had not done before but was afraid to select something I might be bad at. Ultimately, I agreed to try Professor Werther’s suggestion of being the costume designer.

My process began with simply reading the play and developing a general concept. I knew that this show was meant to showcase its diverse cast and creative minds, so if this were a full production, I would have liked to shop or buy materials specifically from stores or companies owned by queer or POC. As a workshop, I wanted the cast to shop from their own closets so as to inject their own personality into their characters. I felt that if I picked pieces that were too obscure or hard to find, I would have not succeeded in my goal. I wanted to ensure, if possible, that no one had to buy any of their costume pieces.

Next, I met with Z to discuss her ideas for each character. She virtually introduced me to the cast by compiling a folder of headshots of each actor alongside their names and roles. I asked Z to give me any specific color palettes she might want for each character alongside their overall “vibe.” She wanted each character’s costume to look as if it derived from the time period during which they lived and encouraged me to include a diverse range of colors. We swapped some ideas and resolved that I would create moodboards with several options of costume pieces for each character that she would relay to the cast.

In creating the moodboards for characters based on real people, I made sure to include a photo of what the actual person looked like. I did not want their costumes to replicate any of the figures’ clothing identically, but rather seem like something else that may have existed in that person’s wardrobe.

For every character, I did a preliminary Google search for pieces representative of the ones Z requested them to have as well as their related accessories and clothing items. I took extra care to make sure that the clothing items were something the actors might feasibly own by picking out more simple, contemporary pieces as well as selecting photos from clothing sites featuring their current selection.

In order to remain flexible, I included a couple of different outfit options for each character that all suggested the same characterization. To keep the actors on track should they want or need to deviate from my suggested items, I included some brief descriptive bullet points. The notes included offered details about color palettes and overall style.

After having the moodboards approved by Z and making adjustments where she felt was necessary, she sent them out to the cast. The cast was supposed to respond if they had any major concerns or questions but otherwise bring any potential pieces to rehearsal.

From rehearsal, Z sent me pictures of the actors in their costumes as they owned. She asked me for feedback if an actor had several different options and overall checked in that each costume fit our shared vision. Roberta filled in the blanks by acquiring and providing any missing pieces or accessories.

Altogether, I feel okay about my part in the production. The cast all looked beautiful and true to my moodboards (ridiculously so), but admittedly I can’t take credit for putting it all together. Z and Roberta had done most of the hands-on work with the costumes and did an absolutely stunning job. A flattering metaphor to describe me might be that I was the “architect” while Z and Roberta were the “carpenters,” but truthfully, they painted the picture and I took the credit.