Category: Feature

It takes a village to scare a generation into never swimming in the ocean again. During the filming of Steven Spielberg’s blockbuster Jaws, Spielberg and his team were faced with incessant challenges involving budget, the weather in Martha’s Vineyard (where they shot most of the film), and perhaps most notably, a dysfunctional mechanical shark named Bruce. Years later, Richard Oberacker and Robert Taylor realized it was the perfect material for a musical.

Bruce, Taylor and Oberacker’s new musical premiering at Seattle Rep this May, follows the tumultuous filming process of Jaws as described in The Jaws Log by Carl Gottlieb, one of the film’s screenwriters.

“Being a film buff, I had always heard some of the crazy stories about what had gone on that summer to make the film and how insane it was,” Oberacker said. “Before I met Rob, around the 25th anniversary of the DVD, they did a documentary about [Jaws] that got released as a bonus feature [and] I started to realize that the backstory of how the film had gotten made was kind of the perfect hero story that musicals often follow.

“There’s something about our brains that finds it very delicious to find out origin stories to things we already know and love. All of the masters have to learn. We’re finding out how Spielberg became Spielberg—he wasn’t born the guy who did Schindler’s List [or] Jurassic Park. He was born with innate talent, there’s no question, but that summer, he was only 26 years old [and] he had very little film experience on this level, so he surrounded himself with people who were much more seasoned than he was. He spent that first film learning from the best and in exchange, with his own innate talent, he taught them something.”

Eventually, Oberacker got ahold of The Jaws Log and thought that if the story was to be adapted as a musical, he would use the book as a blueprint rather than trying to collect interviews independently. Eventually, he and Taylor brought their idea to Gottlieb. “Finally, we got the nerve to cold email and call Carl Gottlieb and say, ‘Hey, we have a crazy idea to pitch you,’ and Richard went out to LA and met with him at the Roosevelt Hotel,” Taylor said.

“We were supposed to actually go have lunch together and we never left the lobby,” Oberacker recounted. “We just talked and talked and talked for a couple hours and he got it immediately. He thought it was hilarious and just crazy enough that it might work.”

Unlike most book adaptations, the writers were able to draw from additional sources. “There are things in discussions we’ve had with Carl that are not in the book, the personalities and things people were thinking,” Oberacker noted. “We’re working from a much broader pallet of inspiration.”

Oberacker and Taylor also took inspiration from their Tony Award-winning Broadway musical Bandstand. “We worked with Andy Blankenbuehler on Bandstand and [he] taught us so much,” Taylor said. “If you can do multiple things at once, do them.” 

“By going through that process with Andy, we wrote into the original draft of Bruce that sense of layering [and] we took stronger risks,” Oberacker added.

For Bruce, the duo is thrilled to be collaborating with director/choreographer Donna Feore. “Two years before the pandemic hit, Richard and I read this rave review of a Music Man production up at [The] Stratford Festival in Toronto and it was Donna’s production of The Music Man,” Taylor said.

“It was just absolutely brilliant. It was functioning on so many levels that I haven’t seen productions of The Music Man function on prior to that or since then, so we kind of became superfans instantly.”

The following summer, Taylor and Oberacker were looking for a director, so Taylor emailed Feore and told her that he was returning to Stratford to see two of her upcoming productions and would love to meet her if she was available.

“By the time I arrived there, about four days after I had emailed her the script, she had been through it three or four times, she had given it to multiple friends, and it was clear that this was the perfect person to direct this show,” Taylor said.

“She’s just so creative and honestly, she’s fun to hang out with,” Oberacker attested. “There are a lot of laughs [and] she is very methodical about every word. She plans very far ahead and expects everyone she’s working with to do their homework.”

Recreating Jaws’ chaotic production process for the stage hasn’t been without its own challenges. “There’s a whole kind of incredible arc before they actually land in Martha’s Vineyard for the summer to start shooting and it’s written on the page very, very fast and it jump cuts from office to office,” Oberacker said. “Donna was very challenged by that, [but] what [she and the designers] created was so different from what we had imagined at all; it is so completely crazy what they have chosen to do and when we saw the design, we almost wept because it’s so brilliant and so simple. It’s an incredible magic trick.”

“Then, we couldn’t figure out how you are going to get from this magic trick to Martha’s Vineyard physically, and when they showed us how it happens, our jaws fell open.”

The show was set to open in 2020, but the pandemic delayed the production. However, according to Oberacker and Taylor, the pandemic has made the show more important than ever. “The show became more relevant over the past two years,” Oberacker said. “It was always fun, it was always a story about imagination and overcoming odds, but it has a resonance now that it simply didn’t have before. We were able to incorporate what was happening to us personally as artists in a very visceral way so it made it onto the page by virtue of sort of living a version of the chaos and troubles they were living that summer as well.”

“The show is an ode to how imagination and the ability to [improvise] is what will take you through almost any situation and it’s what we all have to do,” Taylor added. “This was a group of people that set out to make this film thinking they were going to have access to all of these things, in particular [a] giant mechanical shark, but the shark would just keep refusing to cooperate. Somehow, you still have to find a way to keep moving forward and being creative.”

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Bruce is playing at Seattle Rep from May 27-June 26, 2022.

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Kyle Gerstel is a 15-year-old musical theatre geek who couldn’t be happier to have found TeenTix in 2020. In addition to writing for the TeenTix Newsroom and his school newspaper The Islander, Kyle frequently performs with Youth Theatre Northwest and works with Penguin Productions to foster an equitable theatre community. When not in rehearsal, you can probably find him writing poetry, rewatching The Cabin in the Woods or obsessing over Bo Burnham.

This article was written on special assignment for Encore Spotlight through the TeenTix Press Corps, a program that promotes critical thinking, communication and information literacy through criticism and journalism practice for teens. TeenTix is a youth empowerment and arts access nonprofit.

Being an aspiring artist as a teenager can be especially demotivating; the arts landscape seems like a cavernous ocean, and getting your work out into the wide-world seems impossible. Mentorship opportunities can sometimes intimidate young people with their daunting ideals, rather than nurture the creative bud ready to blossom within. In contrast, The Merriman-Ross Family Young Composers Workshop at the Seattle Symphony offers young people the safety of honing the craft of instrumental music, guiding them along to discover the trajectory of their futures in orchestra. 

The Young Composers Workshop originated under the profound legacy of lauded classical musician, David Diamond. Honorary Composer-in-Residence of the Seattle Symphony, Diamond was hailed as one of the greatest American chamber music composers of all time, and was one of the greatest forces of composition in the 1940s. His place in Seattle’s music history is inherently intertwined with the values of the Young Composers Workshop. Founded in 1992 and originally named after Diamond and his legacy, the program’s goal was to give adolescent composers the resources and support to cultivate their creative voice within their compositions, imbuing young composers with agency to fulfill their musical aspirations. 

In December 2021, applicants ages 18 and younger applied for the 2022 iteration of The Merriman-Ross Family Young Composers Workshop. With a chance to showcase their instrumentation by the end of the workshop’s 12-week run-time, young artists learn how to develop musical themes and narratives through instrumental arrangement. The experience is hands-on, with preparation workshops taught by the Seattle Symphony librarian, and with rehearsal technique lessons taught by the Seattle Symphony Conductor.  

This season, students will have the chance to attend two masterclasses taught by Composer-in-Residence Reena Esmail. With expertise in Hindustani music, which she studied in India, Esmail bridges the divide between Western and Indian composition. Young artists will have the privilege of hearing from Esmail’s acclaimed perspective, learning further about the cultural significance and quintessence of orchestral instrumentation. The workshop’s mentorship ultimately culminates in a final, original arrangement with a woodwind quartet, string quartet, and Pierrot ensemble. At the end of the workshop, the Seattle Symphony plays each student’s compositions in a chamber concert at Benaroya Hall.

Before first attending the workshop in 2018, 17-year-old composer Elisa Johnson didn’t listen to very much instrumental music aside from the classical pieces she was learning on the piano. “Coming into the Young Composers Workshop with what I thought was an embarrassing lack of experience was hard for me. I felt completely out of place. For some time, I even considered dropping out. [However] by the end of the workshop, I had bonded with the other young composers and was able to look past my different background.” 

Elisa genuinely flourished through her time in her first iteration of the workshop. In that workshop in 2018, she composed her first instrumental score and built up her knowledge of orchestral music. These were significant landmarks in Elisa’s instrumental journey. 

The workshop also strengthened Elisa’s confidence in her musical abilities, though she sometimes “still feels the sense of insecurity” she felt on her first day. However, the camaraderie and bonding that Elisa experienced with her peers, has helped her fit in with the musical community. “I am amazed by the level of knowledge and talent that comes from my fellow young composers,” she said. “They consistently have incredible advice and feedback to give me when they listen to my music, which has only made me better at coming up with creative ideas to translate into music.”

Now in her fourth year at the program, Elisa has felt empowered through the workshop’s collaborative process. Having first applied in middle school, Elisa never expected to be accepted because at the time, most of her experience with composition was in pop songwriting. Before she discovered her passion for composition, she was an avid participant in musical theatre, gymnastics and science, and she was always curious about how chamber music would be technically different than pop-influenced composition. She included a single choral piece—her only choral piece—in her application all those years ago. Four years later, she is happy to say that taking that first step to apply for the workshop has definitely paid off.

Due to the pandemic, the 2021 iteration of The Merriman-Ross Family Young Composers Workshop had to take place virtually. All rehearsals and meetings with musicians were remote, lending to a very different musical environment. “I did not have the chance to practice attending rehearsal and giving feedback to the musicians like I would have in previous years,” remembered Elisa. “This year, I am looking forward to attending rehearsals in person and building my communication skills, which will serve me well in the future as I navigate the music industry and rely on my relationships with musicians.” 

The workshop firmly emphasizes the collaboration between youth artists and Seattle Symphony musicians when creating new musical pieces. It is one of the most integral and helpful aspects of the program, an element which was limited due to the virtual platform of 2021’s workshop. This year, students will have the chance to work with guest mentors and renowned musicians, including alumna and the workshop’s director, Angelique Poteat.

“The Young Composers Workshop is ultimately an opportunity to learn,” Elisa summarized. The group composition lessons and preparation workshops have aided many young artists in improving their creative abilities; around 300 students have gone through the program since its inception in 1993. Some of Elisa’s favorite days in the workshop are “when Seattle Symphony musicians visit and talk about what their instruments can do and how to best write for them.” These demonstrations help with the clarity of her compositions, improving her ability “to deliver clearly notated scores that translate exactly into the music [she] envisions.”

Being a part of a cohort of passionate young peers and learning from seasoned professionals in the industry can be a significant way for up-and-coming artists to gain meaningful experiences. Through her experience at the Merriman-Ross Family Young Composers Workshop, Elisa has learned more about how she wants to continue her creative identity. “Looking back on my music journey, I wish someone had told me that I was not ‘wrong’ to have had interests outside of music or to have started my compositional journey writing pop music,” shared Elisa. 

Elisa is confident in her interest in music, and she looks forward to studying both science and music in college. Students of the workshop can thoroughly explore their passion for music, allowing them to make decisive choices with their newfound individualism.                

On June 13, at the Illsley Ball Nordstrom Recital Hall at Benaroya Hall, the 2022 cohort of young composers will present their final musical scores to their families and the extended public. The concert is recorded, and participants exit the workshop with a high-quality recording of their pieces: an invaluable shard of the workshop’s experiences. For Elisa and others, the workshop offers a priceless experience: a safe space for teenagers to explore their identities through musicality, make mistakes, and emerge with a newfound outlook on the music industry.

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This article was written on special assignment for Encore Spotlight through the TeenTix Press Corps, a program that promotes critical thinking, communication and information literacy through criticism and journalism practice for teens. TeenTix is a youth empowerment and arts access nonprofit.

16-year-old playwright Valentine Wulf is partnering with Penguin Productions to bring her darkly humorous play featuring a snarky, generationally dysfunctional family to the big stage. Wulf’s work, titled Welcome to the Landfill, is the first play written by a highschooler to receive a full, feature-length production at Penguin Productions. The company hopes it will inspire more youth to bring forward their work. Shana Bestock, the producing artistic director at Penguin Productions, is adamant about the value of producing plays from diverse, young voices: “Without [them], we are lost.”

Welcome to the Landfill is laden with cynical mundanity, lies and disillusionment. The play follows a family of estranged half-siblings who are reunited following a mysterious call about their father’s death. Everyone is hiding their own secrets, which unfurl during a road trip across the Midwest to their father’s supposed funeral home. “I would say it’s a play about family and family dysfunction. It’s a play about expectation and unexpected consequences, and unexpected effects and how we deal with them. Which really resonates with us at this time, right?” said Bestock.

The ensemble starts off with Jim Janson, the grifter mastermind behind the elaborate scheme to gather his children back together. Then comes his oldest son Bernard, a tired middle school physical education teacher in his late forties (“He’s just such a dad,” joked Wulf), and his teenaged son Jeremy, onto whom Bernard projects his unfulfilled childhood hockey dreams. Jim’s second oldest, Elizabeth, is, as Wulf put it, “a micro-influencer mommy-blogger who posts Keto recipes. She calls herself an alpha female.” Her daughter Noelle is a lonely 10-year-old whose identity is consumed by the beauty pageants she competes in. She does not have much company, save for her pet, Karl Barx, who Wulf described as “one of those little crusty white dogs.”

Finally, there is the much younger sibling Vitus, who is a 19-year-old aspiring breakdancer. “He’s not very good,” Wulf sighed. “He’s stuck working at a rundown amusement park and he plays a character called Marnie the Movie Dinosaur because they didn’t want the Barney people to sue them. So he shows up in his mascot costume. He’s just terrible.” Much of the play is set in Vitus’s crammed car, in which Wulf crafts hilariously unexpected interactions that showcase copious family secrets. In doing so, she uses her play to conduct an exploration on the very human motives of her otherwise cartoonish band of characters. 

The idea of Welcome to the Landfill has roots in an uncanny speculation made about Wulf’s own grandfather. “My dad and his siblings haven’t talked to him or seen him in forever,” she explained. “And they just got a call from a funeral home one day that he died and that they had to send a check to pay for it. And my dad was sitting there and he goes, ‘This could be a scam. Like what if we just send them the check, and then we drive there—and it’s just an empty lot?’” Her father suggested she write a play about the strange thought. “So I did,” she said, but she also took creative license to make it “much more.” Within three weeks, Wulf had already drafted her vision into a play. 

In the fall of 2021, she was selected by Penguin Productions to participate in a cohort of youth playwrights called the Bonfire Collective. Wulf brought her play’s script to the very first meeting, and her fellow cohort members immediately jumped into a cold read of the work. “I’d never heard the script read aloud before. Actually, hearing how it would sound onstage really helped it come together and it helped me see what things I needed to change,” said Wulf. She quickly found that the community of Bonfire Collective writers propelled her story into being the best it could be. They would ask questions that pushed Wulf to rework the script. They would guide her to fleshing out her characters into nuclear personas. And most importantly, they would provide her with a support network to fall back on during her creative journey. 

Soon after Wulf completed the Bonfire Collective’s programming, Penguin Productions reached out to her about producing Welcome to the Landfill. “It’s so different from a lot of shows that youth get to perform. There’s no romance, there’s no talking about going to school,” said Artistic Associate Annika Prichard. “It’s really about a non-traditional family who gets pushed together in this set of really weird circumstances. And I think so many know what that feels like.”

Another thing that drew the company to the play was the wildly different age range of its characters. “We shouldn’t just be asking teens to play teens. We should allow them to expand themselves, and this play gives them the opportunity to do so,” said Bestock.

The Bonfire Collective is only one of the completely free theatre education programs that Penguin Productions offers. Its business model intentionally defies that of other theatre companies: “We wanted to entirely eliminate that pay barrier and remove that shame that’s associated with needing financial aid,” said Bestock. The company prioritizes paving an accessible gateway to theatre for youth who need it the most. One strategy it employs is guaranteeing registrees challenging and meaningful roles in play productions, regardless of prior experience. “Theatre is important because it centers humanity. So this question of ‘Why is making it accessible to youth voice[s] important?’ comes down to ‘Because it preserves our humanity,’” said Bestock.

While the Bonfire Collective was transformative for Wulf’s playwriting career, she “caught the theatre bug” a ways back, in the fifth grade. “I started in Youth Theater Northwest, which is all the way in Mercer Island, so I was pretty committed to having my mom drive me to shows,” Wulf chuckled. Her first role was Caliban, a prominent character from the magic-filled Shakespearian drama The Tempest. At the opening performance, Wulf said that “someone’s little grandma came up to me and told me that I was amazing at acting, and that I should never stop. It feels so cliché, but I still think of that moment every day.”

From observing her performance scripts, Wulf taught herself how to write plays and started taking on passion projects in the eighth grade. “Gifts can be squandered, gifts can be shoved into a corner, or gifts can be used,” Bestock said. “Valentine is someone who uses her gifts.”

Wulf is committed to creating togetherness with her play: “Theatre is such a collaborative medium, and I wanted to see how people come together to work on this,” Wulf said. “I’m excited about this because the director, the cast, the set designers might take it somewhere that I hadn’t imagined at all, and there’s this element of surprise to seeing what the finished product might look like.”

The show is set to inspire other teens who don’t know how to take their work to the big stage. Penguin Productions has expressed its enthusiasm for opening this opportunity to teen playwrights. “Work created by youth doesn’t come second to big plays that you’ve heard of before,” said Prichard. “They deserve to be on just as big of a stage, to have just as much attention, and just as much care as these really well-known plays.”

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Welcome to the Landfill will have performances on March 19 and 20 at Taproot Theatre’s Isaac Studio Theatre. 

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Esha Potharaju (she/her) is an avid arts lover based in Fremont, California. She is a firm believer in the importance of diversity in the arts. In her free time, Esha enjoys writing articles, drawing and overanalyzing comics and cartoons with her best friend.

This article was written on special assignment for Encore Spotlight through the TeenTix Press Corps, a program that promotes critical thinking, communication and information literacy through criticism and journalism practice for teens. TeenTix is a youth empowerment and arts access nonprofit.

In the beginning, there was story. Humans would gather around the fire to tell stories: how they came to be and why. The embers would rise into the star-dazzled night.

There are Marvel movies now. They seem to be released every other week or so. Bejeweled with cinema’s finest actors, these stories are now told on screens, some as big as buildings. Others, so small as to be placed into a child’s wayward pocket. The special effects of these movies are tsunamis—a flood of action, light, movement, color. They delight.

In March, Book-It Repertory Theatre is presenting Mrs. Caliban, a play that features a character: Aquarius the Monsterman. A story written by playwright Rachel Ingalls, the show is being directed by award-winning Kelly Kitchens. Adapted by Frances Limoncelli, it tells the tale of Dorothy Caliban and her husband, Fred, two pleasant people living pleasant lives, just so long as you don’t mention the children they’ve lost, and as long as she doesn’t yearn for excitement and passion. What’s exciting is a monsterman appearing at your door.

Mrs. Caliban (running March 23–April 17) is a story fantastic—like the ones told by our ancestors on cave walls and by Hollywood’s latest trendy team—but told on one singular stage in front of one singular audience for one singular moment. “Storytelling,” Torrie McDonald, Book-It’s director of marketing and communication said, “is ancient and primeval. So, the immediacy and impermanence of that shared experience of watching theatre—with no filters, buffers, rewinding or rewatching—pulls at the thread within us that runs straight through the ages.”

That thread of magic—one glittery with fantasy, suspense, and the suspension of disbelief—is being seen in theatre scenes all around Seattle these coming weeks. Book-It’s Mrs. Caliban is a stinging blend of fantasy and domestic politics, showing us the joy of finding ourselves within ourselves. ACT Theatre’s The Thin Place (running March 18–April 10), by Lucas Hnath, and directed by Brandon J. Simmons, cofounder of The Seagull Project, asks: Can we talk to the dead? Can we communicate with loved ones that we have lost? The show is having its West Coast premiere. Meany Center for the Performing Arts will showcase MOMIX’s Alice, a surreal take on Lewis Carroll’s beloved Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, a surreal children’s book if there ever was one. The production is choreographed by MOMIX’s founder Moses Pendleton.

These shows show how audiences, who have seemingly been entertained by most everything (we are inundated with movies, TV shows, web series, and much more), can still be bewitched, bemused, and bedazzled by the simple act of telling a good story well.

Obie Award-winner Lucas Hnath’s play, The Thin Place, explores a realm not far from any of us: death. But, still, far, indeed. As we slowly march through another season of COVID-19, death is all around us, and yet, we ourselves know nothing of death and what lies beyond our living. In the show, a woman says you can communicate with the dead in that boundary between the here and the hereafter. Is she pulling the wool over our eyes? Or are our eyes finally seeing the truth? Haunting and compelling, Hnath’s ghost story packs a punch, a twisty yarn that won’t easily unravel. “The play, of course, is about that hard to grasp space,” said Simmons, who is directing the production. “But it’s also about the invisible, electric space between the actor and the audience, because she is our storyteller.” Stories: old as time and as fresh as now.

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland was first published in 1865. The children’s book is literary nonsense with Alice falling through a rabbit hole and into a fantasy world of oddities and odd characters. Fans of the work have been falling for it ever since. There’s an entire industry based on the work with blockbuster movies, TV shows, games and more. MOMIX’s Alice (running May 12–14) is one such work eager to showcase its particular point of view on a piece we all know well.

MOMIX is a dance company based in Connecticut, founded in 1981 by Moses Pendleton. The company presents works that combine acrobatics, dance, gymnastics, props, mime and film in a theatrical setting. “You can see why I think Alice is a natural fit for MOMIX,” Pendleton has stated. It premiered in 2019. “An opportunity to extend our reach. I want to take this show places we haven’t seen in terms of the fusion of dancing, lighting, music, costumes and projected imagery.” Pendleton is a storyteller of movement.

COVID-19 has relegated us all to isolation and our screens for entertainment. Wonderful, to be able to celebrate art still. No matter how isolated we feel, or how long a quarantine may be, there’s still the opportunity to explore art with one another, and find our common humanity in that way. But something has been missing. “Screens don’t give us access to that thin place that lies between two living bodies in space. Theatre does that!” noted Simmons, enthusiastically. “It’s thrilling to present a play that wants to explore that power.”

Whether it’s talking to ghosts, sitting on a mushroom with a hookah-smoking caterpillar, or inviting Aquarius, a gigantic six-foot-seven-inch frog-like creature into one’s home, the power of story is certainly stronger than the power of COVID-19. The power of story is being showcased with great aplomb on stage, curtains drawn back so that audiences can marvel like they’ve marveled for eons, much longer than any Marvel movie franchise. “Theatre,” McDonald said, “Is a un-replicable experience in magic.” Un-replicable—much like each fire from which the first stories were told by. The embers rising in their particular ways to the dark velvet of our dreams.

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Mrs. Caliban will play at Book-It Repertory Theatre March 23–April 17; The Thin Place will play at ACT Theatre running March 18–April 10; MOMIX’s Alice will play at Meany Center for the Performing Arts May 12–14.

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Jonathan Shipley is a freelance writer whose work has appeared in the Los Angeles Times, National Parks Magazine, and Oh Reader!, among other publications.

For over 30 years, Book-It Repertory Theatre—located in The Armory building at Seattle Center, just underneath the iconic Space Needle—has been transforming “great literature into great theatre, through simple and sensitive production.” This process serves another part of their mission: “To inspire our audiences to read.”

With about 150 adaptations to its credit, Book-It Repertory Theatre is clearly dedicated to its mission. The nonprofit organization educates youth on literature and theatre through this process. Not only do they provide students the resources to produce plays, they also introduce children to famous authors like YuYi Morales, Mem Fox, Derrick Barnes, Jon Scieszka, Patricia Polacco, and many others. Book-It partners with schools and libraries throughout the greater Seattle area offering live performances, workshops, and giving children the opportunity to produce plays. While Book-It has primarily produced and performed plays in local Seattle venues, they have appeared in Hartford, CT, Portland, OR, Baltimore, MD, and more.

The COVID-19 pandemic has brought disruption and change to almost every aspect of our lives, and without a doubt, the arts have been impacted as well. To learn more about Book-It, and how it has been impacted by the pandemic, I met with Gillian Jorgensen, Book-It Repertory Theatre’s education director and long-time arts educator, and Jordi Montes, who has held different positions at Book-It, including tour manager and artistic producer.

They talked with me about their careers, being involved in arts education, and their experiences with today’s youth during the pandemic. Jorgensen and Montes reflect on what has changed for the organization, what has remained the same, and what they are looking forward to in the future.

“Since the pandemic, a lot has had to change…and we have had to shift. There was stuff that was hard and we were hesitant. We tour shows, we take books and turn them into plays and perform at schools and libraries around Washington—that’s what we did prior to the pandemic. When the pandemic happened, obviously, there was no more of that for the year, so we had to shift immensely,” described Montes.

She continued to tell me how Book-It had to restructure its programming to fit pandemic needs. Jorgensen and Montes, along with the rest of the team, put together a few different activities via Zoom, like workshops that were creative drama adventures, which are “essentially long-form improv guided by a teaching artist,” Jorgensen explained in an email. “We created acting, writing, visual art, and movement challenges throughout the pandemic,” added Montes. They kept the kids busy.

As Book-It slowly brings back in-person programming, they wanted to preserve the accessibility that the pandemic produced, so they turned the physical kits into digital ones. Jorgensen admitted in a confidential tone that their programs, in the past, were “inaccessible.” She then went on to explain how, historically, the main barriers for Book-It’s educational programs were distance and cost. For students further out from cities, the costs of bringing Book-It into their classroom were significantly higher than for districts within cities. Actors traveling out into suburbs creates a heavier cost that ends up being piled onto the school budget, that doesn’t have much to spare. It turns out that this option has been really popular, and many school districts are expected to continue using digital offerings for the sake of convenience and preserving opportunity.

However, Book-It is still hard at work making in-person experiences happen. For example, in-class performances are being offered now. “The whole idea is to bring students back on site,” explained Jorgensen, in a form where one actor visits a group of students in person. “There are a lot of social skills that students are missing,” she added, explaining more about why Book-It is determined to resume in-person programming.

She also added that Book-It wants to vividly present to students that jobs in the arts are a reality.  To relay the same message to older students, Book-It is also offering a program called Story-Makers, in which older-aged students write, rehearse, and perform a play in the one hour they have with Book-It. Among their many goals, the organization wants to share and perform stories that students will relate to.

Oftentimes in life, we must think about the past in order to infer how we got to where we are today, and how we can make the best decisions for the future. Jorgensen reflected on how arts education has changed over the course of her 25-year career: “One of the deepest changes over the last 25 years, going on 30, is that there is a broader sense of student-focused material and the need to have student voices truly included.” One way that Jorgensen sees arts educators responding to this need is by more consistently including social-emotional learning in theatre art education. 

While this is one important change in theatre arts programs, there has also been a lack of progression in different areas of the industry. “The field is moving along really slowly,” she added. “People aren’t able to stay in the field for that long because it often doesn’t pay well.” Jorgenson described how theatre and arts education lack new, excited, and driven college graduates that are passionate to enter the field. Many of those graduates are driven away because of the low salary. She mentioned, however, that not all theatres are behind. A handful, including many in Seattle and, Jorgensen specifically mentioned, New Victory Theater in New York City, are “leaders in arts education and opportunities for students.”  These organizations are spearheading renewed efforts to make “sure to compensate for art, which is really awesome.”

The pandemic has taken a great toll on students. Part of moving forward is reminding students that they are important and needed. Today’s youth need to be inspired in a way that makes them driven and passionate about what they truly love to do. These activities that have been categorized as “unnecessary” during the early stages of the pandemic are now coming back, stronger than ever before.

How can we show young people that their passions are really necessary and make a difference in the world?  Montes sees one solution in Book-It’s educational programming: “I’ve been working at Book-It for about eight or nine years now, and I feel that there has always been this desire to make sure that students feel seen, heard, important, part of the conversation, part of the story—that we bring stories that they see themselves in. Right now, it’s important for us as we are trying to connect with [kids] in real life.”

The pandemic has put Book-It in situations of having to adapt and improvise. But it did not stump them. They carried out their programs throughout the pandemic and are moving forward into the new year with in-person performances in January. Jorgensen and Montes, like other educators around the world, are dedicated to their work of providing opportunities to children, giving them memorable experiences, and skills to carry them through their lives and future careers. Theatres like Book-It are here to provide our youth with opportunities; they are here to support, and educate the community.

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Learn more about Book-It’s arts education programs and how to get involved.

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Malak Kassem is a 16-year-old high school senior from New York City.  She joined Teentix Newsroom as a writer in September of 2021.  She was a writer for three years and editor for one year at NYC Lab School’s paper, The Lab Report. She also has had multiple projects and roles with other organizations, such as 826NYC and Youth Journalism International. She loves to read and write, and plans to major in journalism when she goes to college next year. She loves to travel, cook, and visit museums.

This article was written on special assignment for Encore Spotlight through the TeenTix Press Corps, a program that promotes critical thinking, communication and information literacy through criticism and journalism practice for teens. TeenTix is a youth empowerment and arts access nonprofit.

Seattle Rep is launching an annual Native Artist-in-Residence program and Arianne True is the first awarded the residency. “I love that Seattle Rep is really focusing on having it be relational. I think that’s really important and really exciting to me,” True said.

Nabra Nelson, the director of arts engagement at Seattle Rep, is excited about the relational aspect of the program, too. Nelson kicked off this project in September 2021 amidst a flurry of new Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion (EDI) initiatives at Seattle Rep, and she is running it with the express intention of building relationships.

Nelson was very intentional about the way she created the program—she centered support and relationships first and did it all with a keen eye on our national history and the greater context of the work. “We’re really trying to work on relationships with our local Indigenous communities,” Nelson explained, “and really examine our history of exclusion, and colonialism, and respond to that in some way and learn through our response in many ways.”

These are much more than just words: she eagerly anticipates changes in the program and has concrete plans for how to encourage and respond to feedback from the artists, both those who apply for and those who are awarded the residency.

In the application for the residency, it was made clear that the program is going to evolve with input from the artists and that Seattle Rep is open to continually changing the program. Nelson shared, “There’s even a question in the application of ‘Do you have any feedback about this application?’ And there are already things that I’ve learned even before I had my first meeting with Arianne, that we’re going to be shifting a little bit in the application process. So it’s constant learning, but you’re never going to learn if you don’t try.”

Not only is the Native Artist-in-Residence program relationship centered and open to change, it is also adaptable to as many different circumstances as its Awardees desire. All artists are offered a budget, and then, in Nelson’s words, “they can use that $10,000 however they want to, and we provide artistic support, and we provide our PONCHO space, if they want to use that for a showcase. And the only requirement of the program is that they do some type of showcase at the end of the season.”

The showcase is just as structurally free as the rest of the program. It can be public or private: widely advertised to any communities the artist intends to reach or take the form of an invite-only event for selected individuals. The genre and medium of the artist’s work are similarly unconstrained (non-theatre art creators are encouraged to apply as well, all regardless of formal experience), and the program is set up to be as open, accessible, and ultimately as inclusive as possible.

As Nelson said, “It’s really all about the artists, their vision, and their professional development. It’s super open ended.”

For Nelson and Seattle Rep, it was imperative that the program be as unrestricted as possible because of the historical context of interactions between institutions and Native peoples. As shared in Nelson’s words, “We acknowledge that there’s a history of tokenization and exploitation of Native folks by White folks and White institutions for the benefit of the institution, and we wanted to make sure to avoid that as much as possible.” Nelson is so conscious of this historical (and, in many ways, contemporary) exploitation that she notes that it “may not be fully possible to fully avoid as a PWI (Predominantly White Institution).”

I don’t have to have any kind of theme. I don’t have to use any kind of words or images in my artistic work for it to be Native. It just has to be made by me.

Arianne True

True agrees that it is crucial to combat this pattern. “There has been, historically [lots of] external gatekeeping around Native work and Native art,” True pointed out. Non-Native people in positions of power, judging Native art, have long controlled the dominant narrative around what kinds of art get funded and published. In many cases, True said, art from Native creators has been deemed—by White institutions—as ‘not Native enough,’ which is a huge part of the continual marginalization and exploitation of Native identities. True stated that it is very “important [to] push back against that” by showing that “I don’t have to have any kind of theme. I don’t have to use any kind of words or images in my artistic work for it to be Native. It just has to be made by me.”

The work that Arianne True is doing as Seattle Rep’s first Native Artist-in-Residence is an exploration of experimental poetry that will eventually be published as a compilation, “Exhibits,” but first will manifest in the PONCHO space as a showcase that is “basically trying to recreate a museum in as much textual fidelity as possible,” True explained. “My dream is for the reader to feel like they’re walking around the museum, but it’s made of text.” And this museum is carefully attuned to the viewer’s experience. “I want them to feel how the museum is talking back to them.” Not just through the individual exhibits but also through curatorial notes that remind you to “pay attention to how you’re looking” at pieces such that “you have a lot of choice in how you read them,” True said.

True started out in slam poetry and through this developed a deep understanding of the connection between writer and audience, keying into when “a poem is really landing and you’re vibing with the audience, you can feel, sometimes, how you have them,” True shared, and how you can “draw and focus and measure attention.”

Now, through “Exhibits,” True has taken on an ambitious project: through a distinctive form of structurally experimental poetry, every reader can have a very distinct experience of interacting with the art. “As a reader, you get to choose what makes sense to you and how you read [the poems],” True explained. “There are notes that talk to you, from the voice of the curator, that encourage you to stay aware of what choices you’re making around the reading, and how you’re moving through the space and remembering that your reading is an active thing. It’s not this passive thing you’re doing.”

Arianne True wants to invite the greater public to this “highly performative installation art within a totally textual space,” but True also appreciates the open-ended aspects of the showcase and the residency as a whole. “It’s really cool that the Rep is very specific,” True said, about the fact that “this is your event, you choose what it is.”

The thing that I most hope other organizations will get excited about and want to try more is focusing on relationships instead of transactionalism.

Arianne True

True also appreciates the relationally-focused aspect of the residency as a whole and said, “The thing that I most hope other organizations will get excited about and want to try more is focusing on relationships instead of transactionalism. And having more unrestricted funding, but with support for the artist.” This program, True pointed out, “has a lot of support built in [and] it’s so human. Artists aren’t like these divine inspired beings. We’re just like regular people who are making stuff. I feel like sometimes people forget that if they’re not close to a lot of artists; we’re really just extremely normal people. When we’re not making art, we’re doing all the other things: I still go grocery shopping. I still mess things up. And I still don’t know how to do things when it’s my first time doing them.”

Seattle Rep has created an open, inclusive, responsive space to build relationships with the Indigenous community and uplift Native artists, and as True said, “They’ve been really kind, you can tell that the relationship piece is important to them.”

This piece is especially vital to Jeffrey Herrmann, Seattle Rep’s managing director, because it is much simpler to say words than to actually do the work and establish relationships. “It’s too easy to stamp words about how we support this community, those land acknowledgments are very, very easy to read off before your show and feel like you’ve actually done something. And I understand that, gotta start somewhere, and maybe those words are a place for organizations to start that journey.” But more importantly, he argued, you have to ask, “Okay, well, what real action can we take, so that it’s not just words, but it’s actual action.”

That is exactly what Nelson is working to do. She wants this program to actively uplift and support the Native artists that come through the new residency. She wants to integrate community and work to make spaces more inclusive and open. In her words, the program is meant to help Seattle Rep “really work towards building relationships and listening to the community” and then, hopefully, respond “properly to the community.”

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Rosemary Sissel is a sophomore at Northwestern University and an alum of the wonderfully empowering TeenTix Press Corps, which she wants everyone reading this to tell all the young people they know about! (And to all the youngins themselves who see this: TeenTix is freaking fantastic — you get paid to go to shows and tell others how epic they are!!) When Rosemary is not doing Very Serious Academic Things or extolling the epicness of various art things, you can find her reading a book in a tree (or strongly hinting that she’s cool enough to read books in trees).

This article was written on special assignment for Encore Spotlight through the TeenTix Press Corps, a program that promotes critical thinking, communication and information literacy through criticism and journalism practice for teens. TeenTix is a youth empowerment and arts access nonprofit. 

It’s not every day you see a musical in which a large portion of the creative team isn’t old enough to legally drink. This summer, Village Theatre is producing three.

“There’s not a lot of opportunities for young students to have artistic control over a production. What we strive for here are professional-feeling productions that are driven by youth. A big part of that is trusting that these students have the capabilities, vision and skills to be able to put together a show—what we do is provide resources, space, time and guidance.”

This is Joel Arpin, the KIDSTAGE production manager at Village Theatre Issaquah. He oversees every element of their productions from auditions and intern recruitment to facility management. Recently, I had the pleasure of speaking with him as well as young artists Lacey Jack and Rachel Faria to discuss Village’s Summer Independent Program, a unique project in which youth artists are given the resources to autonomously produce a show of their choosing.

“Village is one of the first theatres to trust kids,” said Jack, a KIDSTAGE veteran and incoming college freshman currently portraying Hope in this season’s production of Urinetown. “Most will hold your hand and as soon as you begin to take a step in the wrong direction, you’re done. Are there negatives to that? Absolutely. However, I don’t mind the mistakes because you’re either going to make them now or in 10 years when you’re finally on your own.”

Unlike most youth arts programs, the Summer Independent Program has been completely youth-driven from its inception. “Students came to us asking for the responsibility of being able to create a show on their own, so we turned the theatre over to them for the summer,” said Arpin. “We offer five shows a year in each KIDSTAGE location, but this is the only one that’s completely student-driven.”

“Students come forward in August/September to submit a proposal that contains three shows they would like to produce as well as why they think they’d be good choices based on ticket sales, messaging, etc.,” Arpin explained. KIDSTAGE’s slogan is “skills for theatre…skills for life,” so Village tries to create as many learning opportunities within the process as possible. “Students used to pitch an entire team, but we later decided to make interviewing designer applications a part of the process so students can build their interview skills—it’s very rare as a young adult that you’re the person learning how to interview.”

However, having such independence can be overwhelming. Faria, an incoming college senior and director of this season’s production of Spitfire Grill, claimed, “I sometimes felt a little bit lost and didn’t know exactly what to do next.”

In order to provide support, Village sets up mentors to help guide these young artists. “You can chat with your mentor when you have questions or need more guidance on how to approach a situation,” specified Arpin.

Faria continued, “It was nice to have advice, but we were never told ‘no’ outside of things due to budget or safety. It’s something you just can’t find everywhere else, to be able to do something at this scale in a way that feels so independent. It’s a huge learning experience for everyone involved.”

This also creates a unique opportunity for the actors, as this is the one program Village Theatre provides in which the focus is on the designers and director. Arpin stated, “We call it summer independent because the designers and director are independently learning and growing, but it’s also a chance for the student actors to no longer have direct professional support.”

“I was so used to working with adults,” Jack commented. “But it’s very exciting for me as an actor to work with these fresh minds because you can relate on more levels.”

Village also helps prepare young artists for the world of professional theatre by running rehearsals with equity rules. Jack emphasized, “Performing is so much more than the physical act onstage—it’s about learning how to deal with friends and how to talk to people as well as how to sing, act and dance. Village wants you to be a good performer, but they also want you to be a great human being.”

Inevitably, the COVID-19 pandemic heavily impacted the program. According to Faria, “A lot of [the artists] weren’t able to be in the same room until tech rehearsals.”

However, this unique situation had its benefits as well. “Typically, the Summer Independent productions are performed in houses with under 200 seats, so instead, we moved to our main theatres (500-seat houses where our mainstage productions typically perform), allowing us to sell 200 tickets, social distance, and be under 50% capacity,” Arpin shared. “This also allowed our students to work in a larger space with more access to equipment.”

Faria added, “We got access to all of these professional facilities including a fly system and construction space that you wouldn’t really expect for a production put on by a bunch of 20-year-olds.” The extraordinary opportunity to access such advanced technical equipment allowed for the designers to fully embrace their creative visions and learn how to operate professional equipment, demonstrating Village Theatre’s effort to do as much as they can to support these young artists.

The tasks of creating three completely youth-led productions and being one of the first live theatres to reopen are daunting individually, but the students learned to overcome both challenges and contribute to Washington’s cultural landscape as we begin to transition back to in-person theatre. As Arpin said, “The students this summer walked into a situation in which they didn’t know what it would look like and I am so proud and impressed by what they have put together.”

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The Summer Independent production of The Spitfire Grill ran from July 9-18. Jasper in Deadland is running now through July 25 in Everett. Urinetown will run July 30–August 8 in Issaquah.

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Kyle Gerstel is a 14-year-old theatre geek who couldn’t be happier to have found TeenTix in 2020. He recently directed his school’s first musical in over a decade as well as the online production Hamleton: A Quaranteen’d Musical. When not writing articles for the TeenTix Newsroom, you can find him acting in Youth Theatre Northwest productions, writing comedy songs, or obsessing over Bo Burnham.

This article was written on special assignment for Encore Spotlight through the TeenTix Press Corps, a program that promotes critical thinking, communication and information literacy through criticism and journalism practice for teens. TeenTix is a youth empowerment and arts access nonprofit. 

Every year through May and June, the Seattle International Film Festival (SIFF) runs for 25 days, showcasing hundreds of predominantly independent and foreign films. Last spring, the festival was canceled entirely, making 2020 the first year without SIFF since its foundation in 1976. This year, much to the joy of audiences and organizers alike, it’s back, baby! However, thanks to going all-virtual, SIFF may look a little different this year.

For SIFF’s artistic director, Beth Barrett, creating a film festival amid a pandemic is easier said than done. Barrett has been SIFF’s artistic director for five of the 18 years she’s worked with SIFF. In those 18 years, and even in the 45 years SIFF has been running, no one has ever had a pandemic to contend with, and that’s presented unique challenges. For starters, how do you even begin creating a virtual film festival that still feels like an in-person film festival? “That’s an amazing question, and one we’re still trying to figure out,” Barrett said.

It’s Barrett’s responsibility to curate film submissions from distributors, as well as films from filmmakers that the SIFF organizers know. She also oversees a team of about 17 programmers who all focus on films from various regions or genres. Usually, the festival runs for 25 days. This year, it’s only running for 11. To reflect the shortened days, the amount of films is also being halved.

“If you still have 400 films and only 10 days to watch them, that becomes more problematic,” Barrett said. “With shrinking the program from about 250 features to a little over 90, we had to shrink all of the program, but proportionally. We couldn’t, you know, drop out all films from South America, or all films from XYZ genre. We just contracted everything by half to two-thirds.” For Barrett, this has been an interesting challenge. “You really have to distill what really is the best film.”

Many of the changes SIFF has had to make this year have been positive. When the entire festival is virtual, nothing has to be scheduled, and there’s no complicated coordinating with movie theatres. “Doing that scheduling is really, really challenging, and not having to do it has been fantastic,” said Barrett. “Also, it increases the availability to choose what you want to see when you want to see it. Some of the discussions I’ve had with distributors have been very different. Now we’re discussing geo blocking or streaming views instead of seats.”

Without the limitations of being confined to a physical space, I was curious if the virtual platform increased audience turnout. “We’re hoping so,” Barrett said. “We’ve heard from people that have never been able to see the films that we curate for lots of reasons, some of them pure accessibility reasons, that are appreciating being able to participate in that programming on a virtual level.”

One of the biggest things Barrett and other SIFF organizers have been thinking about is how to keep the accessibility that comes with going virtual once SIFF is back in person. Barrett hopes to keep some of the virtual aspects once SIFF is able to return to how it used to be. “Not just for the accessibility issues around it, but also there are so many films that deserve an audience, and there’s a limited number of physical cinemas that people can go to.”

SIFF plans to reopen their physical theatres post-COVID, but also intends to keep aspects of their virtual platform, something Barrett hopes will increase audience turnout. “Say something can only play for a weekend in one of our cinemas. We can run it for another three weeks on a virtual platform and really increase the viewing opportunities, and also be able to introduce smaller films that might not have ever had a theatrical experience.”

Aside from the challenges of coordinating a virtual film festival, cultivating and choosing the types of films that people would want to watch from home has been difficult. A year into a pandemic, there’s definitely a genre that people gravitate towards. “[We’re] trying to both capture the best films, but also capture, perhaps, some lighter films,” Barrett said. “More comedies, more intimate dramas rather than big special-effects-heavy films. One of the things we’ve always done really well is match our films to our audiences.”

Many of the films in this year’s festival are ones SIFF has had an eye on for years, while others were released during the pandemic. I was curious if there were any noticeable differences in these films. “There’s a whole group of very lucky people that had just finished shooting last March and were able to use the intervening year to edit, so there’s definitely some of those,” said Barrett.

For the films shot during the pandemic, many feel different to watch. The lack of crowd scenes, for one, stands out. Many films produced during COVID tend to be either intimate dramas, or very CGI-heavy. “A lot of the films that were made in the last year are a lot more intimate. They’re a lot more deliberate in the way that they tell the story. They have to plan exactly what’s going on, and plan everything so it’s exactly six feet apart. Films have to be deeply planned out very far in advance, so there’s not that kind of looseness that can kind of emerge when you’re shooting digital.”

Barrett maintains that SIFF’s goal is what it’s always been—to get those films out there, and that’s what they’re still doing, despite everything. “One of the things SIFF has always been is that kind of discovery festival for the films that you never knew you wanted to see, or might never see again. We’re nicely poised to continue to be that discovery; you’re just going to do the discovering from your couch instead of from the cinema.”

“But that’s the nature of art, isn’t it?” Barrett said, in response to my comment about the ingenuity of SIFF’s organizers and filmmakers alike. She leaves with parting words of wisdom. “Art and artists, that’s what they’re here on earth to do—to adapt, and to continue to create.”

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The 46th annual Seattle International Film Festival runs from April 8–18, 2021. Festival passes and individual film tickets can be purchased here.

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Valentine Wulf is a writer for TeenTix who is not good at writing biographies.

This article was written on special assignment for Encore Spotlight through the TeenTix Press Corps, a program that promotes critical thinking, communication and information literacy through criticism and journalism practice for teens. TeenTix is a youth empowerment and arts access nonprofit. 

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No matter the profession, becoming a parent is a significant life moment—one that inevitably requires more time, money, and creative problem solving than expected. The state of Washington is taking a major step this year by providing up to 12 weeks of paid family and medical leave annually. It’s a significant milestone, but one that butts itself up against a hard reality: this new policy is restricted to full-time employees, a category that many working artists do not fall under.

I had the opportunity to speak with a variety of artists—a stage manager, an actor, a scenic designer, a playwright, and a pair of ballet dancers—about their own experiences as parent-artists, and how they’ve made things work at all phases of their children’s lives. Whether they’re on stage or behind the scenes, raising newborns or tweens, these artists are working to make their own lives a little more parent-artist friendly.

Freelance stage manager Pamela Campi Spee is the chief representative of the newly formed Seattle chapter of the Parent Artist Advocacy League (PAAL). She’s raising her three-year-old daughter with her husband, an actor. Spee first gravitated toward PAAL after speaking with other parent-artists in her community about the challenges of the industry—juggling changing rehearsal schedules and a lack of affordable childcare chief among them.

“It seemed like such a great idea to have more people out there who are focused on doing this work, to advocate for parent-artists and help them get what they need from a theatre or a contract,” Spee said. PAAL is based in New York, but their reach is national. “I really wanted to make sure that the voices of the Seattle parent-artists were heard—and that the needs that we have in Seattle are being worked on.”

Spee has only been the chief representative of Seattle since October 2019, but she has big plans for the future of Seattle theatre, starting with childcare at auditions. PAAL has successfully partnered with theatres and childcare providers in other cities in order to make this dream a reality. And as Seattle’s spring audition season approaches, it’s the number one thing on Spee’s mind.

“The other big thing I’m working on is just really understanding the needs of parents as far as the rehearsal and performance process is concerned,” Spee said. “I know there are some theatres that have become more open about having their artists bring their children to work with them as needed. And it makes those conversations just a little bit easier to have. ‘Hey, my childcare fell through so I’m going to bring them to rehearsal.’ Or, ‘I have to leave rehearsal for half an hour to go pick my child up from school because their ride fell through.’ You know, just basic needs like that.”

It’s a role she takes very personally, reflecting back on her own place in the parent-artist community. Spee knows that if she’s not happy and fulfilled on a human level, through her work as a stage manager, she won’t be able to be the best parent she can be. She adds that many artists she’s worked with opt to remain in the industry after becoming parents, despite the juggling necessary.

“It can only enrich the art that we’re seeing because you’re getting that wider scope of human experience,” Spee said. “You know, as your children are growing up, you’re seeing what’s going on in the world through that lens as well. There are also all the wonderful playwrights who are writing about the parent experience. And for those stories to be told truthfully, to have parents involved in that, is so important. Even as an audience member, these actors that you’ve watched grow through these roles get to continue to grow instead of disappearing or taking a break from acting. It’s going to be so wonderful for audiences to see those people being built up and fostered in that way.”

When Pacific Northwest Ballet dancer Lindsi Dec found out she was going to have her second baby, the timing worked out perfectly with a nine-month contract that her husband, retired PNB dancer Karel Cruz, had with the University of Oklahoma. Her boss, PNB Artistic Director Peter Boal, was supportive of Dec taking that time away from the company, encouraging her to spend time with her young family and return to Seattle the following season, giving her time to get back into ballet shape. When we spoke, Dec and Cruz were parents of one child, a four-year-old son. But I reminded them that by the time this article published, they’d have a newborn as well.

“Oh Lord,” Dec exclaimed, clearly excited about the new addition and caught off guard by the timing. We were five weeks from her due date.

Dec and Cruz had been talking about becoming parents for some time, starting around 2014, the season they were both promoted to principal dancer. But Dec felt like she still needed to dance and wasn’t ready to take a break, however brief.

“And then we had the opportunity to do Don Quixote by Alexei Ratmansky,” Dec said. “And Karel and I were partnered together. It’s kind of a full story for us because when we were back in the corps [de ballet] when we were 19 or 20, we would go to the back of the studios and we would practice doing pas de deux so that we could get better. And Don Q was the first pas de deux that we started, you know, us both being Hispanic, of course. And then a billion years later to have the opportunity to dance together on stage at McCaw Hall and do Don Q as the principal couple—I just remember thinking ‘Oh gosh, nothing will ever get better than this. I am ready to start a family.’”

Two months later, Dec was pregnant. She says that there’s never any pressure to come back to work right away and that some dancers take three months of parental leave while others take longer. Dec returned to PNB five months after having her first child.

“It was really hard for me to come back,” Dec said. “Just physically it was hard—and, of course, emotionally. But my muscles and tendons and joints and ligaments were very, very weak after I had my son. And they were just—it was always very supportive, which I really appreciate.”

But even with that support, it did take some creative problem solving for them to both return to PNB full-time. Cruz’s mother, who lives in Cuba, came to live with the couple for two years to help raise their son while Dec and Cruz were at work. But it’s all worth it for them.

“This is the best present life can give you,” Cruz said. “Having a child is the best thing in the world. When you come home from work and they run into your arms, and you see their smile. They’re basically the reason for us to be here.”

And Dec agrees. One of her favorite things to do is to bring their son to the ballet.

“He just falls in love with it,” Dec said. “And for us to be able to share that with him—something that we love so much. And now we see him so musical. To be able to share all that magic when you’re so little, to provide kind of a behind the scenes view, it’s really special.”

When Dedra Woods decided to become a parent, she wasn’t doing very much acting yet. Woods raises her nine-year-old son with her husband.

“I’ve always wanted to be a parent,” Woods said. “And it felt like the right time, so we just dove into it. And it’s interesting because I do have friends now who are pursuing their careers as artists and saying ‘Oh I don’t know. We’re thinking about having children. We’re just trying to figure it out.’ Because the schedule is so grueling, and it’s not very family friendly. It’s definitely not a decision to be taken lightly, but I feel like if it’s something you want to do, you just gotta make it work. Because there’s never going to be a perfect scenario or perfect situation. You also have to teach your children to be adaptable.”

For Woods, making it work means having a support system around her who can step up and be there. We spoke over her son’s winter break, right in the middle of the rehearsal process of The Revolutionists at ArtsWest Playhouse and Gallery. Her son was on his way to a play date at a close friend’s house. Woods also has family members who occasionally come into town, particularly when she’s in technical rehearsals.

“I’ve never come into contact with a theatre that wasn’t supportive of my time and my commitment to my family,” Woods said. “I feel like Seattle Children’s Theatre was a great example of this—and probably the theatre I’ve worked with that’s been the most supportive when I bring my son with me to the theatre when I have a show and he’s out of school. I had to leave town for an emergency and I knew the theatre was very supportive right from the get go. I had an understudy and I was able to attend to my family’s needs without worrying if I was going to lose my job, or if there was some penalty that was going to happen because I have to take care of my family.”

Most of the plays Woods performs in are too mature for her son to watch, but she has a vivid memory of the first time he was able to see her in a play: A Civil War Christmas at Taproot Theatre.

“He saw me and the look on his face was just—he said, ‘Mommy, you’re so good!’” Woods said. “And he’ll say things to me like ‘Mom, I’m so glad you’re an actor’ and tell me that he loves what I do. But then on the flip side, he doesn’t like my schedule. He said ‘Mom, you’re only off one day’ or ‘How come you can never do things with me and Daddy? You’re always away.’ And that hurts. That’s probably one of the most difficult challenges, feeling like ‘Am I missing out on everything?’ But I’m also helping to build and raise a human who will be resilient and see his mom as someone who is passionate about her work, which I think is very important.”

Scenic designer Matthew Smucker doesn’t remember there being much of a debate when he and his late wife Andrea Allen decided to have children. They wanted to establish their careers before having children, making a deliberate choice to wait until Smucker had finished graduate school at the University of Washington.

“There were enough challenges that we ultimately relied on science,” Smucker said. “It wasn’t just happenstance. And we were both theatre artists—as is my current partner—so there was always the sense of ‘How do we combine these things together in an effective way?’ There were certainly some of our friends who had kids, but many of our peers in the theatre community chose to forego that aspect, which I still have complete respect for. But we knew that this was a deliberate choice and that we would have to make it work.”

Smucker’s twins are now 12 years old and he values the flexibility he has as a designer. Most of the time, he doesn’t have to be in rehearsals. And he’s not performing in the show six nights a week.

“As a parent, even with older kids, it still feels like some of the design work happens in the margins,” Smucker said. “You know, like between nine and midnight at night as opposed to fully during the day, particularly because I’m a full-time associate professor at Cornish College of the Arts. And so there’s that balance as well. When you carve out a pocket here, you have to figure out where to make it up someplace else. It’s a juggling game.”

When Smucker’s children were born, he very intentionally carved out time when he was not working—his equivalent of freelance parental leave. And once he did return to scenic design, he relied on the twins’ grandparents coming in from out of town, especially during technical rehearsals leading up to opening night.

“Even with the kids being a little older, it’s still a need,” Smucker said. “This next two-week period, I’ll be going into technical rehearsals at Village Theatre for She Loves Me and my wife Carol Roscoe is starting rehearsals as a director for Book-It for Turn of the Screw. And there’s enough challenges between those two things—enough of that after school period or that evening period—that somebody has to be there. So, Carol’s mom is coming into town for a couple of weeks to help with that.”

Smucker says his children feel very at home in the theatre, and that he remembers pulling props from the Seattle Rep warehouse with them when they were three or four years old.

“The theatres I work with regularly in Seattle are all very much aware of my status as a parent,” Smucker said. “And they’re often interested and excited to see my kids when they happen to come in with me to work. The fact that my kids might be in the theatre watching part of a rehearsal or run through, or sitting in during tech for certain periods of time, has not been a problem. I haven’t felt like I have to keep those aspects of my life separate.”

For playwright Holly Arsenault, becoming a parent and coming into her own as an artist happened at the same time.

“When I was first deciding to become a parent, I didn’t know I was a playwright yet,” Arsenault said. “I was applying to grad school for dramaturgy and praying that secretly I would get pregnant and not have to go to graduate school. I think it’s because I knew somewhere deep down that dramaturgy wasn’t really it, but I was too afraid to write plays.”

Arsenault’s son, who she raises with her husband, is now eight years old. And she knew that if she wanted to teach him to be brave, she would have to be brave herself. Arsenault wrote her first full-length play when her son was an infant, in addition to working full time.

“I went back to work at my day job when he was four months old, but I was writing when he was really tiny,” Arsenault said. “He didn’t sleep at all and so I did a lot of writing in the literal middle of the night, which was a little crazy but actually helped me. I think actually being sleep deprived helped me suspend my judgment on what I was writing and just write. Sometimes I would write something at four in the morning and think ‘Oh my god this is incredible.’ And then I would wake up in the morning and be like ‘What the hell? This makes no sense.’ It was like I was writing in an altered state.”

Because Arsenault began her playwriting career with so little writing time, she values the time she does have in front of her computer, whether her time is compressed by parenthood or her full-time job.

“A lot of my writing is walking around and thinking about it, not sitting in front of a computer,” Arsenault said. “And then when I finally sit down to write, I can get a lot done in 45 minutes because I’ve sort of conditioned myself that way. Even though there are times when I feel like I’ve missed out on 10 or 15 years when I should’ve been writing, I feel a bit lucky that I forged my writing style on the fire of being a brand-new parent. I didn’t have to deal with completely changing my system because I never knew any other way.”

Arsenault describes her plays as “pretty adult,” but says her son is starting to become interested in theatre.

“Now he’s starting to ask me about my plays,” Arsenault said, “and he’ll say ‘What’s it about?’ And then I’ll try to explain the play to him in a way that’s not too scary. He definitely identifies me as a playwright when people ask what I do. He doesn’t say ‘My mom works at the School of Drama at UW,’ although he does know that I work here. But he says that I’m a playwright, so that feels nice.”

Arsenault says that while there are a lot of logistics involved with raising a child as a theatre artist, what she most wants prospective and current parent-artists to walk away with is this: the theatre is poorer without your voices.

“I think that a lot of what our culture, especially our artist culture, tells us is that the qualities that make a good artist and the qualities that make a good parent are really opposite one another,” Arsenault said. “I want parent-artists to stop thinking that that’s true—and to realize that there is so much potential in the journey of parenting that can make your art better. Those are stories that deserve to be told, that belong on stage.”

I couldn’t agree more.

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For more information about the Seattle chapter of the Parent Artist Advocacy League, visit paaltheatre.com/seattle.

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Danielle Mohlman is a Seattle-based playwright and arts journalist. She’s a frequent contributor to Encore, where she’s written about everything from the intersection of sports and theatre to the landscape of sensory-friendly performances. Danielle’s work can also be found in American Theatre, The Dramatist and on the Quirk Books blog. dan

If you’re a young artist looking to jump-start your career, where should you start? Outside of traditional music schools and private lessons, teen artists hoping to break into the music industry face a plethora of youth-specific obstacles. Venues often have age restrictions, bookers tend to not take young musicians seriously, and many teens simply lack the resources to navigate the industry on their own.

One Seattle-area program, Seattle Theatre Group’s More Music @ The Moore, is disrupting this issue by providing up-and-coming teen artists and bands with the opportunity to learn from experienced teaching artists, gain insight into the music industry, and collaborate with their peers of all different musical styles. This intensive artist development program culminates in a performance this week at The Moore Theatre. [Editor’s note: This event has been canceled due to restrictions on public gatherings in light of COVID-19. However, there will be a livestream of the event. More details are at the end of the article.]

Perhaps one of the most unique aspects of More Music @ The Moore is its teaching artists. Representing an expansive range of genres, styles and backgrounds, each mentor brings a different perspective that informs their teaching style. And the participants love them for it. Ethan Bovey, 2020 participant and member of hard rock band Splitting Silence, describes his experience with the mentors as “exceptionally positive.” Bovey describes being amazed at having access to such a wide variety of talented mentors who provided impactful and practical advice on songwriting, performance, and building a successful career in the music industry.

Another aspect of More Music @ The Moore that separates it from other artistic mentorship programs is its emphasis on the technical aspects of the music industry. Building a fruitful music career can be especially difficult for young people—there are innumerable barriers exclusive to young musicians that limit the options of youth trying to break into the industry. Especially without experience in the administrative side of the music industry; things like booking shows and negotiating contracts, which are often difficult for adults, can seem impossible to teens.

This problem is only exacerbated by the fact that teen artists have to juggle their career and continuing development as an artist with school and other commitments. While it might be much easier with an agent, most up-and-coming artists, especially young ones, simply don’t have the resources to hire one. More Music @ The Moore not only recognizes this problem, but actively combats it by advising participants on how to navigate the music industry as a young person, which enables them to jump-start their professional careers. 

The adults involved get a lot out of the process, too. Mentors describe the teaching process as reciprocal—while the mentees learn about technical and stylistic aspects of being in the music industry, mentors can keep up with emerging trends and stay in touch with the evolving tastes and techniques of the younger generation. Seeing so many young and talented artists working diligently at their craft invigorates the mentors as well. Being surrounded by such a great variety of “young people who are really looking to become much better at what they do” is also a source of inspiration, according to mentor and Brazilian jazz pianist Jovino Santos Neto. In addition, mentoring provides a way for teaching artists to give back to the artistic community in Seattle and pass their knowledge on to a new generation of young artists.

More Music @ The Moore is now in its 19th year, and those almost two decades of youth engagement have produced an abundance of amazing moments. One that particularly sticks out to STG’s associate director of community programming Sarah Strasbaugh, happened in 2013, when bassist and singer-songwriter Meshell Ndegeocello was the program’s music director. One of that year’s participants, 007th, an acapella group, chose to perform a song by Ndegeocello in the finale, without mics. In order to capture the best acoustics, the performers sang from the very back of the top balcony. Strasbaugh recalled, “The audience just stopped—everyone was just taken away by how beautiful their voices were, how beautiful the sound was.”

Experiences like this, seeing such talented young artists in their prime, and “seeing young artists’ faces light up when they’re on the stage for the first time,” is why Strasbaugh enjoys her work with More Music @ The Moore so much.

More Music @ The Moore isn’t STG’s only young artist development program. Their Songwriters Lab, targeted more explicitly towards teen singer-songwriters and lyricists, truly makes STG one of the premier resources for youth musicians in that region. Also, under the guidance of an incredibly diverse and experienced mentorship team, teenage musicians of all genres and experience levels converge to learn about song composition and lyric writing. This program, like More Music @ The Moore, allows participants the ability to immerse themselves in a creative community and work with other youth artists to produce new work that’s performed at an informal show in front of family and friends. It also emphasizes practical skills for navigating the music industry, providing another exceptional opportunity for young musicians.

Another aspect of STG’s programming that makes it so unique is the tuition. Seattle Theatre Group’s programming is really rather affordable—only $375 for the week-long Songwriters Lab program, with need-based scholarships available. Starting in the music industry is already expensive for teens—instruments can cost thousands of dollars, and private music lessons can easily run more than $70 per hour, expenses that are hard to finance on a teenager’s allowance or with an after-school job. By providing such high-quality artist development programs at a price that most teens and their families can afford (and providing scholarships if they can’t), STG is taking a bold step to disrupt the economic inequities faced by so many teens. 

After learning from their peers and mentors, participants finish the intensive with a performance. Sure to be far from a typical teenage talent show, this year’s nine participating groups were scheduled to perform at The Moore Theatre on March 13. However, due to Governor Jay Inslee’s issue to cancel or postpone all public gatherings through March 31, STG has canceled the performance. Instead, STG will be offering a livestream of the March 13 matinee starting at 11 a.m. for free to the public. The impressive line-up of teen artists from this unique program is sure to demonstrate not only the talent, but the hard work of these up-and-coming youth artists.

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Seattle Theatre Group is offering a livestream of the March 13 11 a.m. performance for free to the public Through their partner, Melodic Caring Project, you can view the livestream starting March 13 through March 20 here.

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Lily Williamson is a first-year student at the University of Washington, where she is the managing editor of the undergraduate history journal. This will be her second year as a member of the TeenTix’s Teen Editorial Staff and arts leadership board, the New Guard. Lily is passionate about arts accessibility and art that highlights intersectionality, and she hopes to use her position as a teen editor to foster greater youth involvement in the Seattle art world.

This article was written on special assignment for Encore Spotlight through the TeenTix Press Corps, a program that promotes critical thinking, communication and information literacy through criticism and journalism practice for teens. TeenTix is a youth empowerment and arts access nonprofit.