The pros and cons of less traditional spaces

This monthly column is dedicated to dance, but in the broadest sense of the word. In the Twin Cities (and other places, of course) we use the word generously: forget high kicks and turns, it could be ten minutes of bodies breathing and twitching on stage, with maybe a simultaneous poetry reading. Experimental theater, physical theater, performance art, devised work, and clowning - if it’s not Shakespeare, Tennessee Williams, or Puccini, I might call it dance. I’ve learned a lot about creatively presenting work from the Twin Cities dance community. These choreographers and performers make dances for art galleries and closets, home spaces and abandoned buildings. Without the staging confines of a traditional play script, the possibilities for venues are a lot more extensive. It makes sense: traditional performance spaces are expensive, and a large and prolific arts community means that there are a lot of folks vying for the same funders, ticket holders, and grants. Less traditional spaces mean cost savings, but also the potential to connect with a more varied audience base than that which buys season tickets to the Guthrie, Jungle, or Cowles Center. The White Page is a newer gallery space located in South Minneapolis, run by a collective of visual artists dedicated to fostering collaboration. In this spirit, they open the space to outside artists for residencies and performances, taking a cut of ticket sales and selling drinks at the events to raise funds. The space itself is a clean, simple rectangle with a storefront window. It can accommodate 40-60 people, depending on whether it’s a more traditional set-up with chairs for the audience, or a more freeform standing/milling space. I’m at The White Page to attend Bring in the Indigo: Performance from NY & MPLS, a night curated by the performance duo Fire Drill (Emily Gastineau and Billy Mullaney). Gastineau comes from a dance background, and Mullaney from a theatre background, but the two make a range of performance rooted in movement and experimentation. Fire Drill has created Bring in the Indigo as the Minneapolis stop for two performance groups on DIY tours (Panoply Performance Lab and Future Death Toll), and have invited a range of Minneapolis performance makers to join the two groups (Cock E.S.P, Samantha Johns, Dustin Maxwell, Hiponymous, Glow Mechanics, Beasthead, and Dustin Maxwell). Together these groups share a mixture of performance works that skirt various ends of the music-theatre-dance-performance art worlds. As I’ve written about before, I have a bias towards this kind of scrappy, set-free, low-tech, intimate performance. I sit down for the first half of the performance just a touch closer to my seat neighbors than my Minnesotan self might prefer, and I can easily see the audience members sitting on the other two sides surrounding the performance space. Hiponymous (Renée Copeland and Evy Muench) start into their tightly choreographed duet, and I’m grateful for my seat close to the performance space, which allows me to get sucked into details of facial expression, breath and effort. But as the first half of the night progresses, I remember that non-traditional spaces require a lot more consideration of the audience experience. Without the clear rule book that we’ve come to expect in a traditional theatre experience (buy tickets, sit down, clap), sophisticated lights, clear sightlines (at least at times), or a great deal of distance from the performance, the audience sometimes needs a little extra love. The moments where this consideration was extended during the show went far – the times where I was confused (Where do I look? Why is it so loud in such a small space?) pulled me out of the experience. For instance, following Hiponymous is performance art/noise group Cock E.S.P. (with Jaime Carrera that night), which made me immediately regret the close proximity that I was grateful for in the proceeding act. The short Cock E.S.P. piece was so loud that I spent the time debating the best way of discretely saving my hearing, eventually opting for a winter hat. My fellow audience members were grabbing paper and Kleenex to shove in their ears, wincing as pieces of the performers’ set (cymbals, something resembling scrap metal) flew around the space, coming way too close to hitting us for comfort. While watching out for flying objects, I tried to get into a diplomatic headspace (They want the audience to be in a state of discomfort; what are these artists exploring?), and then arrived at the conclusion that I really didn’t care, and that I actually do like my hearing. I remembered that non-traditional spaces are great because there’s nothing separating you from the work – and sometimes, as an audience member, I want my space. Walking into a grab bag of performance of that nature (eclectic, unknown), it’s nice to have a guide for the night. Fire Drill excelled at being these guides. I was grateful to have a program, and to know that I’d be both sitting and standing over the course of the night. Gastineau and Mullaney presented little intermezzo-like palate cleansers between pieces. Some literally cleansed our palates (spoons of sorbet given to each audience member), and others were simple but captivating minute-long performances: a swinging roll of tape, the making of a giant ball of foil. These small moments kept us onboard and together as an audience, and were some of my favorite performances of the night. Most of us will present work in a non-traditional space at some point, and throughout the night I found myself thinking about how I can get better at doing this. This winter I produced ten different house shows, and I have no doubt that I was guilty of sometimes overlooking audience comfort, sightlines, and a general understanding of rules of the space. I remembered that small gestures and considerations go far. For instance, during the second (standing) half of Bring in the Indigo, I viewed Dustin Maxwell’s mesmerizing, Butoh-esque window installation performance and didn’t realize that I had the option of listening to one of three pieces of music available on listening devices with headphones while I watched. A planted audience member helped me out by putting a set of headphones in my ears, and the piece was that much more interesting and enjoyable. It’s a balance: for myself, I’d rather cast off the traditional theatre rule-book for a night of the unknown, understanding very well that I might have moments of confusion and discomfort. Does every audience member feel that way? Probably not. Nights like Bring in the Indigo energize me with their resourcefulness. Want to make work or go on tour? Create an affordable way to make it happen, and stop waiting for a bag of money or the perfect opportunity. Do-It-Yourself requires time and process for problem solving and finesse, but it means that you’re regularly making and sharing the work – well worth it in my opinion.