Impressions of Artists on Display, Part 1

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“If only I juggled or did something ‘cultural’ “ – text message to me from an anonymous artist on the exhibition floor at the 22nd Annual Midwest Arts Conference (hosted by Arts Midwest at the St. Paul RiverCentre from Sept 9-12). Remember the State Fair, where you walk by rows and rows of cows in their stalls, with their keepers penned in there with them? The exhibit floor of the Arts Midwest Conference is something like that only without the hay and the shit on the floor. And, in keeping with the artistic theme, the stalls are separated by waist high black curtains rather than wooden slats. But otherwise, it’s the same kind of meat market. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a good meat market. Well-organized, and everyone is nicely dressed. And there really is no more efficient way for all these art presenters from all over the Midwest, from cities as small as 1000 people to as large as Chicago, from small civic arts council to colleges and universities to big presenters like the Ordway, to find out what possible shows they can bring to their stages, to coordinate with other presenters near them so they can make tours easier for artists, to discuss the various and sundry issues that arts presenters face – If you live in the Cities, and especially if you’ve never spent any time in suburban or rural America, you may not realize how many people are out there, diligently trying to bring something “cultural” or, at least, some really cool juggling to the civic life of their community. Below are some random impressions from the conference floor:
  • Believe it or not, we’re missing out on a wide variety of cultural events in the Cities. I had no idea there was a Happy Days: The Musical or Toxic Avenger: The Musical or, really, I had no idea about half the musicals that were on display and available for purchase. You name it, someone is singing about it. There’s a show called CSI: Live. I don’t know if that’s a musical but I hope so.
  • I’ve always wondered how Tim Conway and Amy Grant wind up at the Mystic Lake Casino. Now I know: Most of the booths aren’t manned by individual artists but by talent reps – agents, managers, their assistants, people with really nice smiles and firm handshakes who understand the “art of the deal.” These managers represent rosters of clients. One booth managed people like Amy Grant and Tanya Tucker. Another group, called New Folk Booking, handles only folk music acts that are “pushing the boundaries of folk music.” Someone else represents Broadway touring shows and down a few stalls is an agency with colorful posters for the less-than-Broadway touring shows, like Route 66: the musical. The booker at Mystic Lake must have it easy once this weekend is done.
  • I talked to a manager from Canada, Debbie Peters, who represented ten music acts from Northern Canada. (Does this qualify as cultural to a presenter in southern Iowa?) Her agency was called Magnum Opus Management, which sounds grandiose until you learn that it shortens to MOM. . . She got into the business because her children were in a singing group, and she became their manager. Though they had since grown up to other larger managers, but she stayed in the business . . I wanted to hug her.
  • In the first half-hour I was there, I overheard a conference attendee on the phone outside the convention hall, worrying loudly about massive budget (and possible job) cuts at his organization.
  • There wasn’t much diversity in the room among people representing presenting organizations. I could pretty much notice a difference between city folk and country folk largely by how expensive their shirt looked or how quaffed their hair. That was the extent of the diversity. . . I don’t believe in diversity for only for diversity’s sake; but I believe that if these people are making decisions about what kind of work to spend their community resources on and to share with their community, it might be helpful if – across the board, from big city to small town – they didn’t look like they all came from the same womb. I don’t know the solution. I suspect it isn’t as simple as “Well, that’s just what our town, mostly, looks like.” I suppose these are just the types of people who want to go into this kind of business. Still. . . Something about it makes me feel tired.
  • That being said, boy, did a lot of these people seem sweet – genuinely motivated by a desire to bring interesting stuff to their towns. I got to sit in on the Iowa presenters meeting where they discussed issues specific to their state, challenges of the current economy, and also how they might “block” program some acts (program the same acts into different venues close to each other in one state) – thereby making it easier for those artists to tour and also making it possible perhaps for this block of institutions to get discounts – and, boy, were they sweet and optimistic, excited about the new and surprising work they might find. One guy, from a town of only 6000, talked about how he had booked his entire season last year at the conference and, even in the economic downturn his subscription base had gone up significantly! I think his point was that quality is worthwhile . . . He said that, in the past, before he came to the conference, he would program his 9 events “by guess and by golly.” . . . "By guess and by golly". . . I wanted to hug him too.
There is more to say about art, entertainment and artists - including excerpts from an interesting conversation I had with the rep for the Goodman Theatre's Desire Under the Elms, among other things - but I’ll save it for part two. And, if you’re at the conference, feel free to send me your own thoughts.
Alan M. Berks

Alan M. Berks is a Minneapolis-based writer whose plays have been seen in New York, Chicago, Phoenix, Indianapolis, San Francisco, and around the Twin Cities. He helped create Thirst Theater a while back. Now, he’s the co-founder of this here magazine. He’s also written Almost Exactly Like Us, How to Cheat, 3 Parts Dead, Goats, and more.