Technical Theater interns and student volunteers

A slight whir from my computer.  A faint whisper from the air handling system.  A distant drone from a lawnmower somewhere on campus.  This is all I hear at the moment—and it’s not so much the sound of something as it is the sound of an absence of something—namely, the students I work with while school is in session. 

As part of my role here at the Cultural Center, I am an educator—so, working with students is, of course, part of my job.  But working without students during this eerily quiet time reminds me how different that “working with” relationship has become here.  The students’ absence leaves a void here—an impression—whose shape describes how profound and exciting that “with” can be in an innovative educational setting.

“Working with” usually denotes partnership, as in “I’m working with two key colleagues to implement this business plan.”  But in education, “working with” can take on a connotation that is a bit lopsided, somewhat didactic, and perhaps a tad patronizing.  “Working with students” in these contexts is a bit like “working with clay.”  In that sense, the students are our project; we exert influence on them; we guide, assist, cajole, rebuke, and reward them until they start to take on a desired shape.  Our work is not so much “with” them as “on” them.  We might say “I’m working on this student,” as a weight lifter would say “I’m working on this muscle group.”

In our Internship Program, we set out to establish a different kind of working relationship with students—one that would empower students to develop real agency.  Students would become integrally active participants in the work of a regional performing arts center, learning a host of diverse skills and life lessons while engaging in mission-critical work, from writing press releases to planning events to designing and running lighting.

What resulted shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but somehow did.  As students quickly gained and demonstrated all kinds of competencies; as they stepped forward, took initiative, and fully embodied these new roles, “working with” them became a true “working with” relationship: a partnership.

Don’t get me wrong.  I am still the teacher of the Arts Management Internship, just as Melanie Donovan is the teacher for the Technical Theater Internship.  We still provide leadership, guidance, and accountability.  But the more we invite students to work with us, the more collaborative the relationship becomes.  On multiple occasions, my arts management interns have taken an event in a much different—and more ambitious—direction than I had envisioned.  My temptation has been to reign in the enthusiasm—to keep things predictable, manageable, and tidy.  But when I’ve surrendered a little bit to the creative, risk-taking force that is my students—that is, when I’ve worked with them as real partners in the planning process—I’ve discovered that the payoff can be far more spectacular than I had allowed myself to expect.  That’s how last season’s Cirque show became a true all-family event, with themed children’s activities like mask-making and cupcake decorating leading up to the actual performance.

Similarly, Melanie’s technical theater interns have evolved from a motley bunch of tech enthusiasts to a true staff of experts.  During show load-ins and sound checks, interns are perfectly capable of dealing directly with hired professionals and members of a performing artists’ crew on a wide array of technical issues and questions.  Interns have pushed beyond the basic knowledge of technical systems with which we’ve equipped them and developed a dynamic, creative understanding that enables them to solve all kinds of problems and accomplish all kinds of goals.  Melanie and I find ourselves consulting with students when we run into a technical challenge we can’t seem to solve ourselves, tapping their expertise and creativity.  And they never fail to deliver.  We work with them.

That’s why it’s so weird during these summer weeks working without them.  Sure, we get stuff done, but our capacity to mount performing arts events (for example) is definitely hampered.  By definition, people you work with are people you depend upon.  People you miss when they’re not there.  That’s what the interns are to us. 

By the way, I like to think—and I’m pretty sure I’m right on this—that this “with” relationship is great preparation for the collaborative worlds of career and citizenship.  Or perhaps more accurately, this “with” brings the challenges of career and citizenship more fully and authentically into the world of high school.

Student interns work with a professional lighting designer to decorate the lobby for last season's Cirque LeMasque show

Technical Theater Intern with Technical Director Melanie Donovan and professional lighting designer Dan Jentzen

Arts Management Interns staff the Box Office

Photos: Stephanie Bolduc

Preshow antics, with arts management intern and student volunteer (photo: Stephanie Bolduc)

Glancing around the packed Abby Theatre, I breathe a sigh of relief as I watch the patrons get settled into their seats without ticketing confusion.  As the house lights dim, I turn my attention to the stage, where a man clad in a red plaid spandex fat suit is poking his head through the curtain for the warm-up act.  After laughing hysterically while my physics teacher dances with red plaid suit guy, I turn to my friend and fellow Arts Management intern, Ally.  She is beaming and I know she is thinking the same thing as me – I can’t believe we pulled this off!

Back in September, Mr. Hunley told us that we could pick one event from the season’s schedule and plan the entire thing – every last detail.  While jazz musicians and plays are entertaining, a circus themed event complete with acrobats and aerialists was, of course, the most compelling.  Hunley taught us that when bound by contract, every little thing the artist requests must be done.  So we checked and double checked that there was chilled bottled spring water on stage during rehearsal and room temperature bottled spring water in the green room, protein for lunch, and hand towels in the dressing rooms.

After anxiously watching a man balance atop a table complete with several boxes and rolling cylinders, it is intermission.  I immediately jump up from my seat, worried because I didn’t leave sooner to open the doors or help get things set up for the refreshments because I was so absorbed in the show.  I breath a sigh of relief for the second time that day when I find four of my tan shirt clad student volunteers standing outside the theater, doors propped, smiling and standing at attention.  I make my way to the box office, where I retrieve the cash box and merchandise to be sold at intermission.  Ally and I begin quickly laying out t-shirts, hats, and bags for people to purchase.  As everyone files back into the theatre at the sound of the chime, I watched as several people try to bring their wine or cookies into the theatre.  Surabhi, a volunteer, confidently asks each of them to please not bring food or drink into the theatre.  It makes me beam with pride to see the volunteers I trained handling potentially awkward situations with poise.  

When everyone settles into their seats after intermission, the curtain opens to two svelte girls in sparkly red costumes perched atop a trapeze.  One girl clings to the trapeze, the other suspended below her, holding on with just her foot.  Hardly willing to look away from this spectacular act, I sweep my eyes across the audience to find several adult faces in awe, while their children fidget.  After the girls finished their act flawlessly, the red-plaid-fat-suit-wearing guy bounces out from behind the curtain, shaking his padded posterior to the audience.  When I look around again, the adults are pleased to be watching their children grin and giggle.

As people file out of the theatre, still grinning from an amazing closing act, I see a few of our tan shirt clad volunteers thanking patrons for coming and smiling widely, as I taught them.  A mixture of relief and pride wash over me as Ally and I assist the maintenance staff with clean up.

The next morning, Ally and I take our usual route from breakfast in the dining hall upstairs to the box office downstairs for class.  Mr. Hunley sits around the table with us and we do our usual day-after-the-show talk:  what went well and what we could improve on for the next performance.  He gives us a very positive report from the Cirque people – “Every detail was perfect from the moment we walked on campus,” Mia, their stage manager complimented.  I’m not sure why Ally and I were so nervous for this performance.  It wasn’t because it was sold out – we’ve had sold out performances before.  It’s the buildup of anticipation when an event is planned so far in advance – but an artist’s praise, the look of joy on a child’s face, and a standing ovation make it all worth it in the end.

Hilton Hotel New York, site of the APAP conference

First hearing of APAP, this huge arts presenters’ conference going on in New York City, my fellow Arts Management Intern and I jokingly brought up that we would be interested in attending. Little did we know, this actually occurred.

Several weeks later, we packed our bags and got on the train arriving in New York. When finally getting there, we hopped in a cab, and went over to where we were going to stay. We tried to go to bed as early as we could, but being so excited about the next day, that was hard to do.

The next morning, after craving some hot coffee, we made our way over to the Hilton Hotel where the conference would be held, meeting Sean Hunley, the director of the Cultural Center at Eagle Hill, and our teacher. We walked into one of the main food venues, got a plate of food, and sat down to talk about what was going to happen that day.

Soon after, we went up to the next floor and registered, receiving not only our name badges, but also maps of where everything would be, which we soon realized we truly needed. Heading down another two floors, we made our way into the first session we were attending, “Arts, Agents, and Presenters: A Collaboration Equation for Success.” There, we had several lectures and discussions about things such as how a venue’s space can make or break a performance.  Many people seemed very interested in The Cultural Center, because they had never heard of a school having a performing arts center that has public shows and more performers than just students from the school.

Afterwards, we threw on our coats, and walked across the street to the New York City Center to watch Buckets and Tap Shoes, two men who switched between tap dancing and using buckets to make noise. After grabbing a cookie and water, we made our way inside the small theatre to enjoy the show.

Leaving the theatre about half an hour later, we discussed what we had seen that day while making our way over to get some lunch. After eating some salad, pasta, and sharing a piece of cake, we went back over to the Hilton, ready to get back to work. Throughout the afternoon, we saw various performers, such as the Annie Moses Band and the Sweet Back Sisters. We even ran into Vance Gilbert, who is coming to perform on March 6th! Seeing these performances helped us look at various performers that we might want to have come to The Cultural Center at Eagle Hill.

Afterwards, we made our way over to the expo hall, which basically consisted of hundreds of different stands, ranging from performers for children’s shows to different ticketing websites.

As cliché as this may sound, it really was a great experience. Not only were we probably the two youngest people there, but we got to experience something not too many people are lucky enough to. Although it was a long day, we learned a lot more than we could have even imagined knowing about business and running The Cultural Center.

In my work here at the Cultural Center, I’ve come to value and appreciate this very quality in newspapers.  At least those newspapers that embrace it.

Of course, I realize that folks looking for options in arts, entertainment, and social events can easily turn to the web–sites like SocialWeb.Net do a great job of helping patrons access and sort through the vast array of events in our area–or to social networks, where personal recommendations from acquaintances and friends accomplish the same purpose.  And, of course, we at the Cultural Center do our best to make our events as present in those realms as possible, with some success.

But the good old newspaper still provides a more consistently fruitful source of patron inquiries and, ultimately, attendance at events.  I’m not talking about advertising, which (sorry, newspapers) has yielded us little return.  I’m talking about content: articles, community listings, and those helpful “best bests” and “top picks” of things to do and places to go.  People read those, and they use them.  When they are available.

Why, when a flood of information is just a click away?  Back to my thesis about newspapers–the limitations of that physical medium, and the selection and adjudication they impose, are helpful in this respect.  Some Arts and Entertainment or Lifestyle editor who knows about the regional scene has selected a subset of worthwhile options–they have designated a few as somehow special–maybe those selections are unusual, or of great quality, or particularly timely–who knows?  What matters is that we have a manageable top-ten to choose from: and in a format we can cut out and put on the fridge or in a purse.

And I think there’s something more to it than manageability and portability.  We know that hundreds or maybe thousands of our neighbors are reading that same article or top-ten list that very same morning.  We are “in the know” about the events that will be talked about and attended.  We are part of a community.  Not the vast, geographically-disconnected community of the internet, but the limited audience of the local or regional paper.

In this respect, the newspaper is still a strong community-builder, and an indispensable source of information about community events.  Some newspapers, like the Worcester Telegram and Gazette, understand that role very well.  They’ve introduced a lovely Thursday pullout section (“Go!”) that helps people plan their weekends, in which they feature interesting stories related to weekend events, and highlight their picks for the week.  They’ve also begun a slightly edgier email alert of upcoming events (“The Weekend Starts Now”) that accomplishes a similar editorial function.

The Telegram and Gazette seems to understand two things: 1. substantive arts coverage helps to support artists and venues while providing a valued service to patrons; and 2. people will buy the paper (or subscribe to related digital services) for that very purpose.

The Telegram’sarts pages have certainly helped the Cultural Center gain traction.  And they continue to help patrons find out about us.  Of course, not all our events are highlighted there, but when they are, the results are significant.  Just recently Richard Duckett wrote a lovely article about our new season, and about the exciting production of The Rivalry we’re presenting.  The Telegram is thus able to develop the kind of content they know readers are looking for; the Cultural Center achieves greater visibility for its (very) nonprofit programming; and the public is made aware of a new and growing cultural resource in their region.  It’s community-building, and it works for everyone.

By contrast, other newspapers in our area are shrinking from this role.  Tim Kane, editor of the Ware River News, has informed us that they will no longer include our events in their community listings–instead, they ask that we purchase advertising space for all our events.  Mr. Kane indicated that this was a new policy at all the Turley Publications.  What policy?  Why would a local newspaper exclude information about events at a significant cultural venue in their neighborhood–one whose mission is to help people connect to arts events locally and affordably?  I tried by email and multiple telephone calls to get some answers from Mr. Doug Turley, but with no response.  The fact that Turley Publications owns dozens of local newspapers in this area means they are able to block information about free or affordable cultural and educational events from thousands of residents of rural Central Massachusetts.

Conversely, they are also able to be a valued source of information about those events; a community-builder, helping local folks connect to avenues for entertainment and learning that they would otherwise miss (what about the thousands of people without high speed internet connections?).  Why not do this?  Who loses?  No one!  Everyone wins–the newspaper that becomes the go-to source for cultural event information; the venue struggling to provide those opportunities at an affordable cost; and, most importantly, the public that welcomes the kinds of opportunities we provide.

I’m hopeful that Tim Kane and Doug Turley will see the critical and lively role their newspapers can play in fostering a thriving local cultural scene.

As we were talking about what it means to fashion a successful career in music, the drummer shared an interesting personal dilemma: though he excels at–and absolutely loves–music, he realizes that his personal choices could lead him into any one of a number of careers.  In a productivity-centric society, a musician feels a twinge of guilt: would it be more moral or at least more worthwhile to pursue a career that does more “good” in the world–say, “saving lives” by curing illnesses or developing vaccines?

One of the group pointed out that music can be a healing force, especially for the mind and emotions–not only in a clinical “music therapy” setting, but even in other, less formal ways.  Another suggested that one accomplishes the most good in the world by exercising one’s strongest gifts and abilities, whether that means “saving lives” through medicine or “just” making music.  In this way, we as a society have the best possible medicine and music.

The medical comparison struck me: are we so focused on preserving and extending our physical lives that we devalue the quality of the life we have while we have it?  Of course, working to improve health and “save lives” is an extremely noble and important pursuit.  But who is valiantly struggling to help us live lives that are full, rich, joyful, enlightening?  This is the realm of the musician (and artist, and writer, and parent, and teacher, and clergy member…).  Making and enjoying great music is part of living a beautiful life–in this sense, the musician is a practitioner of beauty–a contributor as indispensable as the surgeon.

When we consider music performed live, such as at Cultural Center events, its importance is even more far-reaching.  Here, musical events become shared, communal experiences that bring people together.  We move to the same rhythm, delight at the same displays of virtuosity, laugh at the same anecdote shared by the performer.  And then we talk about it.  Sounds simple–but it’s part of that rich, joyful life–the kind of life we want to preserve because it is so sweet.

This highly esteemed, 15-member professional chamber orchestra brings a program of beloved Brandenburg concertos in this special engagement.

The idea was the STAR Collaboration: Students, Teachers, Artists-in-Residence.  The result was an artistic and educational bounty.

Films should be between 10 and 30 minutes, in DVD format. All genres and topics are fair game, but films should be appropriate for a general adult audience.

Direct inquiries and submit films to:

Sean Hunley
Director
Cultural Center at Eagle Hill
PO Box 116
Hardwick, MA 01037

(413) 477-6746
sean@thecenterateaglehill.org