We’re over at Don’s place today, as he sets off a first volley of discussion about real, working city & theater partnership models that should be proposed and refined and shopped to new and changing political administrations: right now.

Basically, the argument goes: the government will get more bang for its art-supporting community-organizing buck by supporting lots of small, local programs rather than a few massive ones. Here in Chicago, we have examples of several arts support programs in a microcosm that quickly pokes holes in arts admin ideology with healthy doses of arts reality. So the programs that have survived are often quite instructive, and we lay them out on the table for you.

Brilliant stuff, and I can’t think of a more apropos subject for the arts in an economic crisis. How do we serve the community, stay alive and vital, without being a burden?

1. Tony/Chuy pose a great question.
2. Tony frames it in a way that is open and without pre-judgment as to what the “right” answer is, so genuine discourse is possible.
3. All input is considered and responded to when appropriate. People aren’t being *talked over* (ignored). Even I stopped lurking and wanted to join in.
4. People aren’t commenting just to comment.
5. People are invested in the conversation and curious about the question. Not commenting just to comment.
6. The core group of bloggers (from the Chicago area) communicate well with each other. Differences of opinion don’t devolve into personal attacks, though there may be good natured ribbing.
7. They don’t take themselves too seriously, so they make it fun to participate in the conversation.

I am framing this on my wall.

New Features in the Chicago Theater Database Today! I’ve turned on a number of aggregating counters that will be used in future sorting functionality, but for the moment I’m having fun seeing who exactly are the busiest artists (weighted to benefit the most prolific playwrights), companies, venues and most-produced plays in the existing and evolving online census of Chicago Theater.

Lots more analysis to check out about the Chicago Theater scene - and thanks to a number of our contributors who have been knocking off a TON of history and program input projects in the past few weeks.

That said, two special mentions today for folks I don’t normally link to:

Scrappy “Jack” John Clancy reposts his essay on the rehearsal process, which reads as fresh as a lime soda. Though, as a designer, I have to take issue with the idea that it is “Best to forget about the play entirely during technical rehearsals and leave the poor actors alone.” But of course, he’s mainly talking about managing actor energy, not a director’s energy. Good stuff.

And if you haven’t read Dark Knight Dramaturgy yet, (the amazing Chicago expat Dan Rubin, who is now in the literary department at ACT), today’s the day to start. Dan’s posts are nothing short of illuminated in general, but he begins a series today on effective strategies and resources for playwrights to get their works included in some of the most high-profile festivals in the country. Knowing Dan’s approach to literary management (Dan was both dramaturg for New Leaf’s Girl in the Goldfish Bowl and assisted greatly during the Goodman’s Horton Foote Festival), I can say with trust: he’s your man on the inside.

This post in particular is a must-read for all you underproduced playwrights out there.

One of them says, “I’m going to tell so and so: don’t get your hopes up.”

These are the moments where I get angry at broadway and cash-in productions. The audience comes to them with hopes. And the story is so often disappointment.

Few patrons have high hopes when they risk their evening slumming it in a storefront show. But that’s why we can blow our audience away when we display quality, immediacy and craft.

But we are linked - indeed dependant - on larger theaters. We are part of the same brand of “theater,” even though we have been consistently a different animal for over 30 years. This is something that I think is lost on arts marketing gurus when they tell me that the key step for me is to improve my product. It’s not entirely true… I have to improve my product, and then find a way to keep it good for four years while we find our audience - self-funded - on a largely word of mouth marketing campaign. It works… slowly.

I want to improve the brand of theater in total, because I find myself in an unfortunate position - shows like dirty dancing don’t benefit my theater with their show-specific splash of marketing. But when those shows disappoint, my theater DOES suffer.. These patrons think… Man, i hate theater. If a large budget show can’t deliver satisfaction, how could a tiny theater run by a couple dozen people with a $3,000 budget?

That’s the message I’d like to deliver to them: we can surprise you. we can create a memory that doesnt’ disappoint. But my marketing budget can’t yell over the noise… and my first step isn’t going to be bemoaning the capitalist system in the hopes that will make my efforts suddenly socially relevant again.

Our message is spread slowly, cheaply, inevitably, one person at a time. I do doubt I’ll ever reach these women on the train with this message: good theater doesn’t disappoint. It’s like treasure, you have to sift through a bit, and maybe you have to find a trusted reviewer or friend who can help you find the good stuff. And it’s not all live remakes of movies from our teenage years or the high school musical we remember being so cliquey and odd - that’s a good thing sometimes, no? But man it is worth making a part of your week.

Good thing I brought postcards.

It’s some very interesting food for thought, and if you’re a habitual theatrosphere lurker, it might be a nice and reasonably safe place to test out that $0.02 you’ve been dying to spend. The whole conversation is illuminating some new approaches to a theater-and-blogsophere disconnection problem - perhaps what our world needs now is more face-to-face and in-depth discussions of theater and why we love it and why we need it and how to make it better.

Along the same lines, thanks Tom and Dennis for your insightful and useful comments on my “Here’s a To Do List for Us” post. For those of you reading outside of Chicago, I don’t think anything truly bad (maybe just periodically disappointing) can happen from a locally-driven organization that connects the idealism of the TCG Mission (or any national-scale vision) with an on-the-ground grassroots infrastructure. It gets people talking and doing, and reconnected to other people that can help. The League of Chicago Theaters is a fairly established version of idea here in Chicago, but it’s so both ubiquitous and awkwardly-funded here that its grassroots aren’t always showing anymore. When it does connect theaters to programs that help them, it has proven incredibly successful, and you bet I’m thankful they’re working on our side.

Will Richardson at Web-logged busts it all open for you with advice about integrating digital technology with education from George Lucas, of all people.

“We need to get kids asking ‘why does that happen?’ as opposed to ‘why am I learning this?’”…

“The system falls apart around innovation. This is going to happen because there is a disease out there called digital technology. It is going to change education. All we can do is run out in front of it and guide people along.”

When George Lucas calls digital technology a disease, well now, that makes me sit up and ask “Why does that happen?”

1.) After learning a whole bunch of French in Junior High, then living in northern Japan for three months when I was fifteen, then majoring in Japanese in college, then visiting nearby Montreal and Nova Scotia periodically, every time I try to speak French I end up using French nouns and Japanese verb conjugation and noun-first verb-last sentence structure. “Ma francais wa totemo hen neeeeee…..”

2.) As a child and young teen I would explore the ditches and basement holes of my father’s construction business, talking to myself. During those afternoons, I created a complex sci-fi narrative of a world called Lycinthia, a desolate desert world run by a corrupt military-industrial complex, in which elite pilots harbored fugitives in robot ships called “walkers” dozens of stories tall - kind of like walking skyscrapers. This would later turn into a couple short stories, and has led to my inability to keep a pair of jeans clean for longer than a few weeks.

3.) I lived next door - literally, next door - to the only private Frank Lloyd Wright Usonian-style residence in New England - and worked as an intern in the only Frank Lloyd Wright-designed theater in the country - and worked on a prominent play about Frank Lloyd Wright in the past few years. This is what I have to say: As a person of above average height, I have nearly killed myself on that guy’s stairs more times than I can count. I hate that diminutive bastard.

4.) My pets have historically been named after Wizards: Merlin, Gandalph, Archimedes (you know, the “Eureka!” dude and also the owl from Sword in the Stone), and Nimbus (which was actually accidental. He looks like a puffy, fat, grey cloud. I read the Harry Potter books later.)

5.) I get profound episodes of deja vu, which freak me out. I enjoy a little mystery in my day.

6.) I am a geography nut. After getting obsessed with the Galapogos Islands as a kid, I got a big old atlas and proceeded to memorize every capital of every country that existed at the time. My favorite places on earth are the exposed granite peak of the Perpendicular Trail in Acadia National Park, the onsens of Hanamaki, Japan, and Armadale, Isle of Skye, Scotland.

7.) I once got so annoyed when I was 12 or so that I couldn’t find spices in my mother’s kitchen that I alphebetized the entire kitchen. As in: Spatula, then Spoons, then Sugar. In order. She was concerned.

Tag you’re it (it’s hard to find untagged folks now that Rob K. has tagged everybody): Dan, Marsha, The Chainsaw, and Mr. B.

Now, if you’ll excuse me I think I need to get around to calling that therapist already.

I’ll make it easy for you later in this post. But first let me make the case to you.

It’s not because the acting is superb. Though it is.

It’s not because Sharr White’s script is deeply resonant in ways we couldn’t have imagined when we started the rehearsal process. Though it is.

It’s not because we at New Leaf deeply care about fostering a dialogue with the entire theater community and theater-going public with our work. Though we do.

It’s not because New Leaf’s work is crafted and priced to be a high-value evening. Though it is, and this week Time Out Chicago has said as much with a big red star labeled “Cheap” next to our Critic’s Pick - a coveted prize that I can’t remember seeing on another show.

It’s not because bloggers are always Pay-What-You-Will at New Leaf. Though you are.

It’s not because this is your last chance. Though it is.

It is because Six Years begins a triptych season - an important season for a relatively small company - that asks the question “How do we build a future from a present that we didn’t expect?” It is a question that needs to be answered. Now. And we believe that our work offers an opportunity for our audiences to break open big questions like that in a new way - an entertaining way that engages and fosters conversations and thought for days after the show.

We ask that question three times this year, on three scales, in three shows: Once as a nation of families. Then as an individual, alone and without support. Then as a community, together. We ask it three times because when you ask a question like that, you need to feel the question out on several levels: The big picture, the local picture, and your own picture.

I hope you can make it. I want you to make it, and I’m eager to know what you think and what resonates with you. Because you are smart, and your opinion will inform my work.

This post was inspired by a great post that just popped up from my new second-favorite theater town in the world: Here’s looking at you, Vancouver.

I don’t invoke God very often in my life.

But MAY GOD BLESS Madelyn Dunham.