I am here to talk to you all about the incredible and eye-opening experience called APAP. APAP stands for Association of Performing Arts Presenters. We went to look for new performances for next years schedule at The Cultural Center. APAP is a huge event in New York where a bunch of performers and their agents get together to showcase their acts to venues. Venues can get information on the acts and who to contact to reserve them for their programming. My teacher Ms. Donovan and I drove up there on a Friday afternoon with minimal traffic and a nice view to accompany us. The drive took us 5 hours approximately and as soon as we entered New York, my jaw dropped. I had not been there since I was little, and that was with my father for the opening day of the Lion King, which he marketed, on Broadway. It is a beautiful city with shimmering lights and buildings as far as the eye stretches. I wanted to wake up from my lucid dream but I was pleasantly surprised to find out I was not dreaming. As our car pulled up to the hotel, it was as if I was entering the home of the Wizard of Oz. The lobby was futuristic, with interactive touch panels on the walls and a Starbucks, in the hotel! Ms. Donovan and I were quite tired and hungry, so we quickly went to our “room palace” and then had an exquisite and sophisticated meal at McDonalds. I then headed off to bed and could not wait for what would happen the next day, and the action did not even start yet!

The next day I woke up at 7 and was told to meet Ms. Donovan, the technical director of the Cultural Center and Mr. Hunley, the director of the Cultural Center, at the main lobby. We had a beautiful breakfast buffet at the Hilton and then we were off to our workshops. The workshop Ms. Donovan and I attended was about leadership and how to be a leader in your community. They discussed aspects such as getting the community involved in your shows and also unique ways to generate income. One of the most interesting aspects covered was the use of technology and social media to promote your theater. The idea that really stood out was, before a show, when the director is making his welcoming speech, he would tell everyone to take a picture of the person sitting next to them, and tweet that picture. This would help advertise the theater and get all the friends of the audience on twitter to see the social and joyous aspects of going to the venue. That was an interesting idea that I would love to take place at our performances. I added some input in this workshop as well. I talked about how having free performances and free workshops are important because it lets people know about the other performances and shows, that the venue is upbeat and caters to the public. Ms. Donovan talked about The Cultural Center Facebook page and how it helps people keep in touch with the venue. Overall, it was a great workshop where I, personally, learned a lot.

Ms. Donovan and I met with Mr. Hunley shortly to talk about the workshops we went to and then Mr. Hunley parted from us once again. Ms. Donovan and I were off to Leo, a show that requires a long explanation. On the stage, there is a large projector on the left. On the right of the stage there is a box with three walls, like a room. A guy comes out and he lies on the ground with his feet touching one of the walls. On the projector, though, we see him standing up straight. The whole show is based on this gravity idea. I thought the idea was very interesting, but the show got boring very quickly. There just was not enough going on with the idea to be interesting.  

After the show, we walked back to the hotel to rest and get some lunch before our next show, Snow White. No, not the, “happy dwarves”, Snow White, the Grimm, “I poisoned her 50 times”, Snow White. However, we did not see the whole show. You see, what happened is that Ms. Donovan and I realized that we have absolutely no idea how to read the Subway system in New York. So, I downloaded a Subway system application for my Iphone. This was hard to read and the map on it was so confusing I thought it was some sort of Egyptian. So, we got to the Subway station, and ended up taking the train the wrong way for about 15 miles. We then got on the right train to the right direction, and we were already 30 minutes late. When we got off, we had to walk about two miles, so by the time we FINALLY got there, the intermission already was about to happen. But let me tell you, this show was absolutely positively fantastic! The show was a mixture of everything from opera, dance, story telling, and acrobatics. It is my top pick for the show I would say would be a must-be for the Cultural Center. It would be so beautiful in our theater, with the amazing lighting design, the elaborate costumes, and the intricate set pieces. I actually told Mr. Hunley that I would help pay for it to be here! I was serious!

After we hiked, took the right train, and hiked some more back to the oasis which some call The Hilton, we rested for about a half an hour. After we rested, we got a quick dinner at a café across the street, and were off to our next show. It was beautiful that the next show was a short walk from the hotel. Saying I was excited for this next show would be the understatement of the year. The next show was Rockapella, an outstanding, world renowned, acapella music group that does every kind of genre of music you can imagine.  We thoroughly enjoyed it. Some of the great songs they did were, “you’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,” with their low bass singer doing an exact replica of the song. They were brutally honest, telling the audience how they sold out and were doing jingles for products such as Almond Joy and Pepsi. They also had an audience participation aspect, where they wooed a young woman and fought for her attention. In the end, it was unbelievably entertaining and I would love to see it at our theater.

After this, we walked down to another theater about 3-4 miles away to see some cirque shows. What was unfortunate, though, is that when we arrived, there were no more performances until an hour, and we were beyond exhausted. So we walked into one of the rooms, and a cirque troupe said that they’d put on a two-act show just for us to see. The show, I had to admit, was very mediocre, but I may be prejudice because I have seen full-scale Cirque shows, like Love in Las Vegas. I was not very impressed; it was like the same thing I have seen over and over again. We went to another one that was not very entertaining at all, and I was very bored and felt awkward for the performers. This was not the highlight of the day at all. We decided to walk back after these and get some shut-eye.

The next morning, I woke up, had the breakfast buffet, and then headed to my meeting with the Front of Office Manager of The Hilton. That is my dream job, and it was such an honor to talk to him. He told me about how his average day is, how he got this position, and what he did for college. The part that interested me is that he mentioned bartending through college to gain more income, and this I would be interested in because I have an outgoing personality and that is needed in that profession. He told me how he used to be the food manager and he was promoted to this position. He has been with Hilton his whole life and enjoys it. Then, he took me on a behind-the-scenes tour of The Hilton. We saw where the maid’s headquarters were, he told me how they do their laundry discreetly, and we even went underground at one point. It was a lot more humongous than I thought! It was a great tour and it was informative for me.

After my meeting, we went down to the performance center where the Cirque’s were, and saw some dancers. All the dances were mediocre, but the one that stood out was Riedel. If you remember, in the middle of this year, we had a huge blackout for several days. Riedel was supposed to perform, but due to the power, we had to cancel this. It was unfortunate because they are extremely talented dancers and the public would have enjoyed it. Riedel’s performance at this center was unique, sophisticated, and yet simple and left you with a feeling of euphoria. I hope we can fit them in our schedule sometime next year.

That was the end of APAP. It was a remarkable experience that I will never forget. I saw many performances that will make next years program outstanding and one of the best ones I’ve seen. Everyone was amiable and looked like they were having a great time.  I wish I could have stayed longer, but I had school to attend! I thank you all for reading my first blog. I hope you enjoyed my in-depth experience of APAP.

I confess to you now that I have some musical crushes of my own–but I hasten to add that I have discussed the topic with my wife, and she admits to similar feelings about certain musicians and their music.  We’ve compared notes.  We’re OK with this.

My wife’s musical crushes include jazz icon Joe Williams, charismatic pop artist Lou Rawls, and the romantic, bass-voiced Barry White.  Now, the astute reader may detect a pattern here:

…and may well wonder how she ended up married to this:

…but please remember, dear reader, that we are talking about musical, not romantic, crushes.  My wife’s romanticfeelings have verged not toward the classically handsome, sweet-throated heartthrob types she listens to, but rather toward the slightly awkward, nerdy, but earnest type she met in college.  Lucky for me!

With that distinction in mind, I now confess to the following musical crushes:

The Good Lovelies.  I will be forever indebted to the one who introduced me to this Canadian trio.  Their original songs are sweet yet thoughtful; freshly innocent yet intoxicatingly sensual at times; beguilingly simple yet sophisticated; they look at the world with wonder and delight.  The three-part harmonies are tight as a drum and the melodies are pure joy.  They are both good and lovely.

Stacey Kent.  She’s the vocal equivalent of the girl-next-door: sweet, understated, delicately swinging interpretations of jazz standards and new classics.  Tasteful song choices; gently sophisticated but always easy on the ears.  She sweeps me right off my feet.

Champian Fulton.  Her voice has been called idiosyncratic, and it’s a fair description.  No one else sounds like this young jazz singer and pianist, though I hear notes of Billie Holiday and especially Sarah Vaughan.  Maybe it’s because she sings and plays together that her interpretations of the American songbook are so fresh and vital and playful and full of joy.  I could listen for a long time.

Eliane Elias.  She embodies the beauty of her native Brazil.

Hilary Kole.  With one glance at her, you might off-handedly assume that it’s her stunning looks that have made her career–but take a listen.  She knocks home a jazz ballad or a swinging standard from the first bar: gorgeous vocals paired with the kind of song-inhabiting meaningfulness you might associate with the finest cabaret performers.

OK, I’ve confessed all my musical crushes.  I know you have some, too–what are they?

By the way, three of these will be appearing in the coming Cultural Center season!  We’ll be announcing the full lineup the first two weekends of August at a special Gilbert Players cabaret.  You can also sign up for our email list to make sure you recieve early notice of the new season.

Two intrepid turkeys loiter at the Cultural Center front entrance, shortly before Thanksgiving 2010.

The existence of the Cultural Center here in rural Central Massachusetts is counter-intuitive to many people.  Patrons have often expressed their pleasant surprise to discover such wonderful programming at a performing arts center set among farmlands and forests.  Performing artists themselves have told me on numerous occasions that they thought their GPS devices were malfunctioning the further “out” they drove!

I discovered some time ago that what seems counter-intuitive actually makes complete sense.  Sure, our population is spread out, but so are our options.  The Cultural Center helps satisfy a hunger for performing arts opportunities that are local, accessible, and affordable–and world-class to boot.

But several discussions with our peforming artists have revealed another beauty of rural presenting–a deeper, more subtle, and much more important beauty. 

I didn’t make the connection at first when Clifton Anderson and his group reiterated their appreciation for the reception they received here.  These seasoned jazz musicians from New York City played a sizzling concert–complete with standing ovations from the audience–followed by a CD signing in the lobby and an after-party at Picasso Restaurant that lasted until the early morning.  I can still hear the laughter of patrons and bandmembers  joking and swapping stories over late-night snacks and drinks.  As the last few guests hugged goodbye, the band and I relaxed for a few moments and finished our drinks.  With earnest wonder and delight, Clifton reflected on the evening: the connectedness he and his band felt, first with the audience in the Abby Theatre and later with folks at Picasso.  Of course, these professionals make a living connecting with audiences and do so very well, but this was different: there was a warmth radiating from the patrons.  It wasn’t just the band reaching out with their music and their generous spirit: rather, Clifton felt an unusual reciprocity among the patrons, an open readiness to connect, a friendly spirit that took him by surprise in a refreshing way.

I had never experienced anything different: I’ve basked in the warmth of our patrons since the Cultural Center opened, so maybe the uniqueness of our situation hadn’t fully hit me.  Then I had a nearly identical conversation with the guys in the Hot Club of Detroit.  And again with the Dixie Bee-Liners.  Everyone wanted me to understand: your patrons are different.

I think I finally understand.  While it’s tempting to see the performing arts as a one-sided transaction (performer actively performs; audience passively watches and listens), professional performers see things much differently.  To them, a show is a conversation with an audience.  They sense a response from patrons, and the more profound and enthusiastic that response is, the more exciting and substantive the conversation will be.

We rural New Englanders may not be the most demonstrative people around, but it turns out our patrons come to performances (and after-parties!) with a heightened readiness to have that artistic conversation.  Just as artists who reach out to patrons are often called “generous,” our patrons are generous toward artists: generous in attentiveness, interest, curiosity.  They are open to the joy of the experience.

How to explain it?  Maybe it’s the beauty of tight-knit communities.  Of people who know and care about one another.  Of a town common and a farmers’ market.  I guess it’s just the beauty of rural arts presenting.

Every year in New York City, the Association of Performing Arts Presenters (APAP) holds a conference devoted to the growth and support of professional and talented artists and performances all across the globe.  APAP represents nonprofit performing arts centers, agencies, managers, companies, self-represented artists, etc. It is the dominant resource of networking for the development of performing arts. As a senior in high school and an Arts Management intern at the Cultural Center in my school, I was given the opportunity to attend this conference and experience real world networking at its best.

Although my teacher had given me a thorough summary of my schedule for the next couple of days, my anticipation and curiosity increased when I arrived in the Hilton early in the morning for a wonderful breakfast to start my day, where my fellow Arts Managements Intern and our two teachers discussed the schedule. After breakfast, we walked up to an enormous room set up with stations labeled in alphabetical order for people to receive their name tags, brochures and information packets for the APAP conference. Once my company and I got that taken care of, we split into groups of two, each group heading off to an information session we thought would be valuable in relation to the work that takes place at the Cultural Center. The session I attended was called “The Future of Digital Infrastructure for the Creative Economy.” In all honesty, it started off quite slow and less than exiting. However, I began to pay attention in detail to the presenters’ ideas and input. I became interested in what they were talking about, which I established some questions from. I learned more about the business of advertisement and publication and found it an interesting topic to explore.

Following the session, my group met up again and proceeded to an excellent jazz showcase by a handsome young man named Dominick Farinacci. All the artists at the APAP Conference displayed their talents in showcases – performances exhibiting their music, art, etc., in a brief amount of time. Farinacci seemed to incorporate many types of emotions through his music simultaneously. It was relaxing, giving off a stress-free vibe all the while being captivating and passionate. In contrast to a lot of modern day music that seems superficial, his performable was very respectable, as it was obvious he was not performing for the sole purpose of publicizing himself, but because he loves music. It was marvelous to be In New York City five feet away from a talented performer and have the opportunity to network with him.

Lunchtime had approached, and we were all ready to eat. Ally – the other intern and whose house I would be staying at for the visit – took us to a tasty Mexican restaurant right in the middle of Manhattan. Over burritos we happily discussed our opinions and input about the information sessions and the showcase. I analyzed the aspects of the session and how it may or may not have been beneficial in relation to possible strategies we could use at the Cultural Center; I realized that much of the material presented in the session was already recognized and put to use at the Center. Mentioned in the session was the encouragement of using technology as a means of advertisement and publicizing, and it was evident to me that the Center had been practicing these same kinds of strategies for some time now–for example, its organized website that displays upcoming events to patrons efficiently. However, the session was far from a waste of time because much of the information I learned from it I was highly unaware of, and it was satisfying to know that the Cultural Center is ahead of the game.

Soon we were all satisfied and no longer hungry. Ally and I practically wolfed down our chicken burritos in less than five minutes while Ms. Donovan was a little slower, and Mr. Hunley took a good twenty minutes longer than us all – the man knows how to eat. We left the restaurant and went to what was my favorite part of the Conference – the Expo Hall. During this time, I was able to meet with artists and agents and share information with them. I informed them about the Cultural Center and my role as a student intern, while they shared with me their work, music, and talents. Exchanging contact information and conversing with a broad variety of people was an exciting real-world experience in which I saw first hand how networking works.

After the Expo, my company and I attended a few more showcases, some interesting and others wacky and dull. Ally and I called it a night while Ms. Donovan and Mr. Hunley continued to explore the APAP Conference. Ally’s beautiful apartment, right next to the Hilton and overlooking the lively streets of Manhattan was a marvelous place to rest after a busy day.

The next morning, Ally and I made our way to the Hilton to meet Ms. Donovan for some final showcases in order to scope out some good dance performances, while Mr. Hunley was taking part in a different part of the conference. We were presented with many different types of dancers and dancing styles, all very unique and interesting, and found a couple routines that we liked very much. Finally it was time to say good bye to the big city. The APAP Conference taught me useful information and provided me with new ideas and insights. Although, I already knew how well-run the Cultural Center is, the APAP Conference made me realize just how organized and professional it is.

I’ve heard that some of the more commercial arts presenters are primarily concerned with “what will sell.” On the one hand, this is a somewhat “democratic” approach in that the will of “the public” is the primary determiner; on the other hand, at its most extreme, this represents a crass devotion to the bottom line that opens little room for programming that surprises, delights, and enriches.

I’ve also heard of presenters whose priority is to educate; to expand people’s artistic boundaries with new, cutting-edge, challenging works of performing art. I can see how this curatorial approach would offer lots of world-expanding arts opportunities—but, again, at its extreme, I think it’s rather patronizing and may often fail to connect with people’s tastes, backgrounds, and experiences, or to bring joy, which, for me, is as important as—and maybe an integral component of—artistic integrity.

I’m still new at this, so maybe I’m being overly simplistic (or complicated?), but my general approach is to present performers who are wonderful. When that’s done, it seems to me, a) patrons do in fact purchase tickets, and b) patrons become willing participants in the process of artistic discovery—they’ll take advantage of opportunities to discover new artists and new genres.

I’m so pleased to hear patrons report that they’ve come to expect consistent quality from Cultural Center programming—that they feel free to take risks and catch shows that are new to them, because “if someone’s playing at the Cultural Center, they must be good.” I take that trust very seriously—which makes my search process all the more painstaking.

I suppose I start with a set of qualities I’m looking for. These qualities form a kind of filter in my mind’s eye and ear, so that I can disregard the vast majority of what I see and hear, and, when I encounter a potential match, quickly lock onto it.

I’m looking first, of course, for excellence in an artists’ respective genre. First impressions are really important here: I need to be knocked over and stunned by beauty, virtuosity, creativity.

I’m also looking to be refreshed by new work, new sounds—a sense of vibrancy. This helps me narrow down my genre choices a little bit: tribute acts, for example, are off my radar, though there are many fun and entertaining ones out there. Similarly, I have to skip the many wonderful once-groundbreaking musicians who now make a career playing the songs that originally made them popular, as much as I might enjoy their music. I’d rather present the folks making ground-breaking contributions now.

So am I looking only for younger, early-career musicians? I’m definitely open to them, but not exclusively. If you saw Tom Rush here in our first season, you know what a dynamic show the old man played—for nearly three hours! (He and I bantered a bit onstage about the fact that his career was well on its way before I was born!) Tom’s early records were big folk hits in the sixties, and I’m sure he could continue to surf along on that repertoire. But, instead, he played new material from an album he was about to release (even politely declining a few shouted requests by audience members for some of those earlier popular tunes). At a very mature stage in his career, he’s playing concerts that sparkle with life and vibrancy—and, in my mind, he’s a great example to all of us (especially the students in the audience) of what it means to be vibrantly creative for one’s entire lifespan. I lock onto that.

I’m also looking for artists who can connect warmly with our student/volunteer staff, and with our patrons. This criterion is a little harder to assess ahead of time, and requires some “advance work”: seeing live shows, making some calls, asking around. My track record of selection here is very good, though not quite perfect. The vast majority of our artists have been warm, personable, interesting people offstage—and that comes through in their performances. (Livingston Taylor was one great example.)

And, of course, on a more pragmatic level, I need to be able to present the artist affordably to our patrons….without losing too much money in the process! (You may be interested to know that ticket revenue typically just barely covers the cost of our public programming—some shows come out a little in the black, some a little in the red, and overall it’s about a wash. Rental revenue from private and corporate events helps cover shortfalls and pay the light bill.) I insist upon presenting the best performing arts opportunities at ticket prices that allow regular folks to attend frequently. Given the relatively small size of our venue, this presents some challenges that can be overcome with a wide search and a bit of creative negotiating. Phenomenal emerging groups (like Grace Kelly last year and Eilen Jewell this year), as well as solidly established nationally touring groups (like Brooks Williams last year and Clifton Anderson this year) are within our reach. And, with scheduling flexibility and a bit of sweet talk on our end, we can occasionally attract stand-out, well-known artists (like Livingston Taylor last year and Lúnasa this year).

As the pieces of the programming puzzle start to come together, I become attentive to the overall picture they create: does it represent a variety of genres that touches deeply upon known interests in our community, while also presenting opportunities to discover wonderful new realms? Does it represent a balance of adult vs. family-oriented opportunities? Does it cut across age-groups and invite people of various generations to meet up and enjoy common experiences? Do the performers represent folks from various backgrounds? If so, I’m nearly done—whew! That feels good. If not, I need to keep tweaking until I can answer “yes” to those questions.

So how do I actually find those wonderful artists? Well, this blog is getting a little long as usual, so let’s make that the subject of my next installment.

See you soon!

-Sean

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.

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.