Thursday, June 25, 2015
Thanks, Tim. It’s an honor to be in your company, along with Michelle and Richard, to address all of you at this milestone celebration of our field.
One of the things I cherish most about LMDA is this dynamic network of dramaturgs – at all stages of career and life – who generously mentor and inspire one another. Although I still very much feel like an ECD, I suppose I’m now approaching what some would call “mid-career” – that vast expanse of time where you’re so immersed in doing the work that you don’t realize how much time is passing. Now, taking a moment to look up, and look back, I can trace every significant professional break I’ve had to members of this organization.
While I was pursuing an M.A. at Catholic University in the ‘90s, professor Mary Resing invited Cathy Madison, then-literary manager of Arena Stage, to her dramaturgy seminar. As Cathy spoke about her work in a literary office, I lit up, and immediately applied for an internship at Arena for the following season. While there, I felt my spine straighten – from student to emerging professional – as production dramaturg on two mainstage shows. I benefitted from the incredible openness of directors Doug Wager and Michael Kahn to my tentative, then more confident, contributions.
I attended my first LMDA conference in 1999 at the University of Puget Sound, during which I stood in awe at the assembly of icons of our field – all so warm and accessible and lovely. (I also remember an incredibly passionate debate about whether or not to form a union, which I observed with mouth agape – but that’s a reminiscence for the conference bar.) After I finished a theatre history degree at the University of Washington, Geoff Proehl and John Wilson, whom I’d met at the conference, not only gave me my first teaching gigs but also took me under their wings as master dramaturgs and educators. Their faith in me has been, and continues to be, a priceless gift.
And this very conference in Chicago twelve years ago, the inimitable Greg Gunter tried to convince me to consider applying for a crazy job helping him develop musical theatre for Disney on Broadway. (I was like ???) But for reasons still somewhat of a mystery to me, I landed the job, found last-minute replacements for my classes, and once again moved my ass across the country. What was supposed to be a short detour from my intended academic career turned out to connect to deeply held values, fulfill lifelong dreams, and blossom in ways I couldn’t have imagined. I’ve been able to work on projects that have impacted millions of people. My colleagues and collaborators are incomparable artists, thinkers, producers, and friends. It’s amazing what you can do when you are surrounded by good people with a desire to make great things. Among other gifts, this job has opened doors to guest seminars at colleges around the globe; freelance gigs at cool places like the Kennedy Center, Berkeley Playhouse, and New York Theatre Workshop; and even opportunities to employ my fellow ‘turgs. Saying yes to a call from left field can be a powerful thing. Although I’ve certainly worked my butt off, I feel tremendously lucky – every single day.
Speaking of left field, as president-elect of LMDA, I’m excited by this chance to give back to the organization and its members who have meant so much to me. This does not mean I’m not sweating bullets. But I suppose in order to grow, you’ve got to move towards that thing that scares you – as we sometimes advise the writers with whom we work. Thank God, I’ve got a year to shadow the indomitable Beth Blickers, and I’ll have the sage counsel of Brian Quirt and the rest of the Board to catch me when I inevitably stumble.
Despite challenges of definition and employment, our field has come a long way in the past three decades. We’re still here, and growing. We believe in the work, which we execute in innumerable ways. We are not afraid to morph and innovate. And we have each other’s backs. It’s a remarkable thing, this community. Because there’s no good reason to be a dramaturg. I mean, who in her right mind would put in this much work for other people’s glory? But I truly believe it’s not a choice. We’re born this way. It’s a calling, or rather a recognition – and ultimate acceptance – of who we’re meant to be, how we’re meant to move through the world and make art. It’s a love of craft and process and possibility that transcends any particular project, job, or career path. It’s a way of connecting to people and ideas that crosses national, linguistic, and disciplinary borders. I’m profoundly grateful to be in your midst, among my tribe, once again today.
I’m a naturally optimistic dude. (I suspect that may be why a day job at Disney has suited me for over a decade.) I’m also pretty ambitious when it comes to possibility and people. I like having a big crazy vision then finding smart allies crazy enough to tackle it with me in practical ways. I’d like to see us stand firmly on the legacy of these past thirty years, and challenge ourselves to imagine something new. What if the value of a dramaturgy degree weren’t tied to landing a scarce job in a theatrical literary office? What if we assertively recruited our counterparts in television, film, and other mediums of dramatic and creative development to join our fold? There are thousands of executives who work with dramatic writers and have no idea we exist – or that there are other, perhaps more productive, ways of working and being. What if we became a home for like-minded individuals in other fields who have no trade organizations of their own? What if their training and experience in other disciplines helped us break new ground in the theatre? What if we took the hemispheric impulse of our name change seriously and pursued active artistic, institutional, and organizational relationships with collaborators south of the Rio Grande? What if we went global? What if we dared to unleash the power of our unique intergenerational nexus of institutional, academic, and freelance workers beyond that which feels comfortable, parochial, and safe? What if…? I’m sure you have some answers, or at least more, and better, questions.
During my president-elect year, I plan to do some serious, and seriously fun R&D – to become aware of some of what I don’t know that I don’t know. And I’ll start by hosting a series of “What if?” salons. If you’re interested in walking toward the thing that scares you for the chance of discovering something remarkable, come find me.
I look forward to great things in this gift of an opportunity to serve you. Thanks.