. . . Or, The Chance To Express An Uncensored Vision
By Beatrice Basso
When I started to hear the word "commissioning" applied to theatre years ago, what came to mind were Renaissance princes and popes asking the best artists of their time to decorate churches and palaces - or, alternatively, my mother "commissioning" my paternal grandmother to make two sweaters (one for me, one for my sister) every winter.
Paying an artist (although my nonna was only given presents, not cash) to create something that will benefit both artist and commissioner is as old as the world, it seems. The faith shown in that act is greater than if one were simply to acquire a piece of work after its completion; the artist's work is trusted to be successful before it's completed - in fact, before it's even started.
Of course, the price an artist often had to pay was one of integrity. Popes and princes wanted their image to be flatteringly - if not faithfully - reflected back to them. While a not-for-profit theatre might give suggestions to the playwright in terms of theme, although even that is rather rare, it generally leaves the playwright free to express him/herself and does not presume to dictate the impulse for the artist's next step.
"Commissioning playwrights is telling them that their work is so valuable, their artistry so significant that the theatre wants to support in every way the writing of their next project," Artistic Director Gordon Edelstein said. "But I never tell them what to write."
There typically isn't a strict temporal limit either, although a year or two is considered the acceptable time to fulfill a commission.
What a theatre gets in return for a commission is not only the potential for a great play on which it has first dibs for production, but also a permanent association with it.
That's why a world premiere is, more often than not, a commissioned work. The playwright maintains the copyright on the work, but even if the commissioning theatre does not end up producing the play, that theatre can be "there from inception and part of the DNA of the piece," as literary agent Morgan Jenness recently wrote me in an email exchange. Quickly adding: "it's the most creative way a theatre can be involved - particularly if the work comes out of a real dialogue between the artist and the theatre - finding a real marriage of passion and interest".
That dialogue can take different shapes, depending on the specific project and on the individual artist's needs. There is no right way: a new play may need little intrusion and lots of implicit trust. Another may benefit from just a reading or two; yet another may need a long series of workshops before being ready for production, like The Blue Album last season.
The number of commissions a theatre is able to give in a year depends on the money set aside or raised for that specific purpose and on the ability to sustain over time the appropriate dialogue with the playwright.
While Long Wharf currently can afford only one to two commissions a year, the numbers go anywhere from the abundant commissions of South Coast Rep in Costa Mesa, CA, with an extensive program reaching 10 commissions a year, to the average two, three or four of places like Berkeley Rep, La Jolla Playhouse or Denver Center Theatre (which has now moved to six a year).
In the case of Long Wharf's relationship with Craig Lucas, the collaboration is one that certainly is proving successful through time.
"The best part about commissioning writers is finding those with whom you can create an enduring collaboration and supporting the creation of their work over years, even decades," said Jerry Patch, head of the Literary Department of South Coast Rep for many years and now Artistic Director at the Old Globe.
Prayer for My Enemy is the second play Craig has written for this theatre and a third is on its way. When asked about the ongoing support of this writer, Gordon praised Craig for his "uncanny ability to eavesdrop on our lives. Craig shows aspects of us that we wouldn't want to show or are embarrassed to show. He is able to put our own complexities on the stage," he said.
Craig wrote a beautiful note about the value he finds in being a commissioned writer:
"I love commissions from not-for-profit theatres, because - unlike newspapers and corporate-run movie and TV studios - the theatres are inviting you to express yourself, nothing else.
"To find any venue now in America where one can speak uncensored is well-nigh impossible. I have never been told what I could or could not write for the theatre and no play I have ever written has been fully suppressed. I don't believe we quite take on board how important, how critical this is, and how grave the cost of its demise might be.
"Public discourse is at an all-time low. There are only two positions - right wing to moderate. You cannot hear another side argued persuasively in any mainstream venue that I'm aware of.
"Because the playwright maintains copyright of his or her material and does not require the backing of immense sums of corporate money, theatre remains a beacon for the airing of human experiences in public: shared experiences. We don't get these alone in our homes, even if every last one of us is gobbling up 'American Idol,' we are still alone. Text messaging is not as comforting as breathing together in the dark. For me it's as basic as that.
"I applaud the communities, board members, audiences that support theatre. My life certainly depends on it and I think you could make an argument that many more lives depend on it."
Here's to "a marriage of passion and interest" between an artist eager to express an uncensored vision and a theatre that wants that vision to be realized and available to audiences.
