Theater In My Basement's Manifesto
Mark S.P. Turvin
(home office) (602) 912-0117
I can be reached for comment via e-mail at:
mspt@goldfishpublishers.com

Received 6/6/02

Theater In My Basement
"This is not a conspiracy . . ."
Contact
Christopher Danowski-oritutu@hotmail.com--(602) 870-8918
Ilana Lydia-ilana_lydia@hotmail.com--(602) 278-9255

Manifesto
As in Yoruba ceremony, we begin our work by honoring our ancestors: We give thanks to the first storytellers, the mothers and fathers of young children; to mythmakers, the creators of gods; to teachers, subversive growers of character and reason; to Plato, crafty playwright and secret champion of the arts; to Euripides, destroyer of worlds; to the first comic actors, uniters through laughter; to protestors and outsiders, creators by necessity; to traveling players, servants to the crowd; to Shakespeare, inspired scribbler; to those swept by vision into a movement beyond their own making: the Surrealists, the Dadaists, the Cubists, the German Expressionists, the Feminists, the Magical-Realists, the Performance Artists, the Fringe. Next, we honor Eshu (or Ellegua, or Esu, or Exu, or Papa Legba), the deity of the crossroads, of chaos, of confusion. And finally, the litany of deities: Divine Mother, Holy Father, Beloved, Teacher, Friend; The 11th Hour Muse; and all Saints of all Religions. We give thanks.

In war-time, the most honorable act an artist can do is to make the waters muddy (vs. making the pie higher). Propaganda serves the needs of the moment; art serves the needs of the ages. There are enormous powers in the surround demanding our attention, demanding that we refer to them as good or evil, and depending upon the color of our skin, we generally only get one choice. Art is an ideological wedge in the stone heart of the world, revealing a spectrum beneath the black & white surface.

Not everything should be revealed; we believe in secrets, but we can't tell you why.

The last century was the bloodiest one in history. The 21st began when the richest nation received its own bloody initiation into the world. Since there is no end in sight, our art should reflect this state of affairs. Unfortunately, there are more than enough models to draw from (from the surrealists to the post-colonialists, feminism as a tool to investigate and dismantle the practices of nationalism, rules of rebellion from Northern Ireland, West Africa, Southern Mexico, etc.). We are also aware that each tragic epoch needs its own rules, and its own art. In the U.S., however, we've been in the habit of pretending that we're the only game in town, and that our art has no ancestors. As a result, we've produced a lot of bad art. So, we're decided on creating art that is specific to our time and place, but we know that no great rite can take place without a prayer to the ancestors first.

We're counting on the day that the U.S. values artists; much like in those backwards countries where they have time for these things; places like Mexico, or the outback of Australia, or Berlin.

We're not opposed to moving to Berlin.

But we recognize that art in general, and theater in particular, has been left for dead in this country by all but a devout few. Less than 2% of Americans attend live theater. Why should they? An awkward and over-expensive beast lumbering through strange rituals, theater doesn't earn a place in the community because it has nothing to say that can't be heard elsewhere. The people are not to blame.

Then why another theater? Because at its best, theater shakes the foundation of the soul. It changes minds, shapes lives, and plants the seeds for great action.

Then why an experimental theater? Because 2% isn't good enough. Because every person alive on this planet desires to experience something which moves them, touches them, surprises them, delights them. Because traditional theater speaks to traditional theater audiences, and we claim the freedom to talk across boundaries of class, ethnicity, education, experience, fortune, religion.

We live in a desert. A new theater here, that does mainstream work (a good bet business-wise, or at least a better bet, but rather impractical now that the world is changed), is like bringing more bread. There's nothing wrong with bread, in fact, some people can really use it. But we also need water, and there is none. We consider ourselves Water. This is based on personal experience of having been extremely thirsty. It's our turn to find the thirsty people.

What is water? What is the nature of water? What makes our water better?

It's unfiltered. It comes from a well that runs in the center of the earth, like a cenote in Yucatan, like blood in the veins, like the marrow in the marrow. Our water is so good, you'll be drinking it long before you need it, so you won't become dehydrated.

One function of art is to entertain. We've found it impossible to be entertained by most of what's offered, even before 911 but particularly afterwards. We refuse, then, to create art that actively or subvertly addresses only white, upper middle class audience members with a judeo-christian world-view. This includes most of the art made today in the U.S. We do not pretend to speak to a universal sensibility, since one does not exist. Our aesthetic is based on multiplicity; not tolerance, since this connotes a putting-up with. We like to be face to face, and get everything on the table. We believe in warts. We also think that warts are more entertaining than Andrew Lloyd Weber.

We are inclusive. That is, we are not making difficult work accessible to the average audience member, but changing the demographics of audiences in general; in other words, to make an elitist art form available to excluded audiences, and make the elite audiences eat themselves. We're dedicated to access for anyone: the homeless get in free. We'll even bring theater to them. We actively recruit alternative audiences. Tattoo and piercing nights where those folk pay half price. Acid head night. Dilated pupils get $2 off. Objectified Other night: bring a testimonial of your own oppression, and your friend gets in free.

We believe that cannibalism is entertainment, and we practice this when we eat vegetables that grow from the ground which is made from the bodies of our dead. We honor the dead by burying them, and then eating them. One day they will do the same for us.

From buried traditions--artists and thinkers of the past--we create theater that provides sustenance for the living.
Let us rip and tear into the food from the ground; let us drink deeply from the Water, so that living can begin.

Mission

* It is TIMB's mission to create revelatory performances of experimental theater which incite discussion and debate and ultimately prepare the audience to be willing to be moved by life.

Guiding Principles

* To take what's given--time, material, resources--and use it to it's fullest potential. To operate from a place of gratitude and abundance rather than lack and scarcity.
* To provide an atmosphere of trust, safety, and respect in which new ideas can be tested.
* To offer audiences challenging theatrical experiences which are drawn from new scripts, new adaptations, ensemble created pieces, and new workings of classics.
* To actively recruit new audiences and surprise traditional audiences into new ways of thinking.
* To treat every member of the artistic community--audience and creators--with integrity and as a full human being. To work towards creating a real understanding when disagreements arise, to be inclusive rather than elitist, and to bring humanity back to the business of entertainment.
* To explore and redefine what it means to be an audience member or theater practitioner.
* To be led by artistic vision rather than practical limitations.

Goals and Objectives

* To offer performances--and orientation and discussion of performances--to groups who might otherwise not attend theater.
* To provide background information about the concepts behind each performance to the audience, inviting them to be aware of the experiments taking place.
* To choose material which is immediate, relevant, and artistically demanding.
* To run mindful rehearsals.
* To hold playful designer jam sessions.
* To break down the wall between design and performance. To involve the author, design and production staff, whenever possible, in the rehearsal process. To encourage the exchange of constructive artistic and operational ideas at all levels.

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Index of Goldfish Publishers Web Pages:

Goldfish Publishers Home Page
Mark S.P. Turvin's Plays on the Internet
A Voice from the Audience ; Theatre Reviews for the Phoenix Metropolitan Area

 

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