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How is it possible to have a theatre company and no theatre? This situation creates a series of challenges that might cause the director of a “regular” theatre company to question his or her sanity, but for ten Tucson theatrical organizations that fit this definition - most of whom operate in and around downtown - it’s a fact of life. A fact that that keeps them up at night, leaves them exhausted, often disappointed and perplexed. Alternative Theatre Company, Arizona Onstage Productions, The Bloody Unicorn Theatre Company, Borderlands Theater, The Coyote Ramblers, Green Thursday Project, Old Pueblo Playwrights, The Rogue Theatre, Stark Naked Productions, and the Theatrical Mime Theatre all share the predicament of having no stage of their own. One way for these companies to stake out a place at least a virtual one would be on the internet, but not all enjoy such an amenity. So, for the moment, if potential theatergoers wish to see what’s in the offing from these theatre companies, they have to wait for an announcement in a newspaper or on www.TucsonStage.com. That web site is generously run by William Dell of Beowulf Alley Theatre Company and it shares with the community general theatre performance information, audition notices, and press releases. Because most of these companies are small, avant-garde or alternative, the mainstream press sometimes ignores them. Without a marquee, promotion is tough; and often, to get reviewed (which helps with visibility) takes multiple performances or a three-weekend run. And, if by chance they have a hit on their hands, there’s no possibility of extension because of the lack of a home-based performance venue. For Eugenia Woods of Stark Naked Productions, scheduling is the biggest problem. Fierce competition for the few existing stages and short notice of possible performance dates make attracting an audience and promoting pieces difficult, she says. Ry Herman of Bloody Unicorn echoes this sentiment, sharing his story about waiting months to find out when the cabaret space at the Temple of Music and Art would be his, resulting in the delay not only of his season but even auditions. Happily, the competition doesn’t translate into animosity between the various companies. Still, the problem of supply and demand is the underlying subtextso few venues, so many projects. Each artistic director has his or her own tale of woe and anxiety relating to scheduling problems, rehearsal space in which the dimensions are wrong for the final production, and the fact that, says Joe McGrath of the Rogue Theatre, “When the space is rented, it’s not really yoursyou are not installed, it’s not home. So much energy is required to move in and then out.” Kevin Johnson of Arizona Onstage Productions especially laments the lack of time to rehearse and accomplish necessary technical work when just a few days are available before a performance. For the company’s recent production of The Full Monty (with 23 cast members, 5 musicians and a tech crew of 9) on the main stage of the Temple of Music and Art, there were only three and a half days of available working hours for “load-in” (getting the set, lighting, and sound in place), which left everyone scrambling to ready the space before opening night. “The Temple of Music and Art staff is generous and kind to work with; however, we need to find those few precious weekends that are available. So we’re at the mercy of the Arizona Theatre Company’s schedule, and the fact is that when the Temple is available, most of the creative staff, including lighting and sound, is notbecause they’re remounting the last show in Phoenix or Mesa, so we end up with what we can getincluding equipment. For example, Arizona Onstage Productions learned during The Full Monty that we did not have access to some of the crucial lighting instruments we assumed we could use, including lights to bring color to the cyclorama, the curtain hanging farthest from the audience that can bring immediate color washes and moods. Therefore, as small companies trying to create amazing theatre, we work with what we’re given.” Joe McGrath and Cynthia Meier of The Rogue Theatre, on the other hand, humorously extol the “virtue of panic” that accompanies truncated load-in periods. Productions staged by “housed” companies can sometimes be “flabby, dry, over-rehearsed,” they contend. For McGrath and Meier, the real push is ensuring that their actors get run-throughs in the space, essentially trading directorial fine-tuning for continuity. Others, including Gavin Kaynor of Old Pueblo Playwrights and Ry Herman of Bloody Unicorn Theatre Company, agree about the disconnect between rehearsals and final venue, and add to this the problem of where to store sets, props, and costumes. Often at the end of a run, sets are broken down and thrown away. Then for the next show, instead of having a cache of materials upon which to build, the producers have to start again from scratch. A permanent home comes with the luxury of space for the peripheral materials that help create the magic of live theatre. Kevin Johnson asked, “What about all those city-owned empty warehousespossibly a place for communal set storage?” There are also the financial ramifications of theatrical homelessness, including how to mount a season when even finding a stage to occupy is challenging. Promotion, marketing, ticket sales, and sponsorship are all affected by the lack of a fixed address. Spreading the word can be a monumental task. Most companies rely on word of mouth, postcards sent to mailing list addresses, email announcements or an announcement on www.TucsonStage.com, hoping for a preview from a major newspaper or, if they’re fortunate and well-connected, a review. The theatrical community understands that perhaps audiences don’t really believe a company is real without its own named space. This presents the question of how to achieve legitimacy. The answer, according to Tucson theatre directors, is by evoking the quality of the worklegitimacy comes from the art form itself. Concentrating on this, each company that is producing something different, thought-provoking, beguiling, and intriguing, plus collaborating as much as possible (given the competition for the stages), contributes to a Tucson performing arts environment that is ripe for the development of emerging artists and alternative theatre. What about those few stages, then? Only a handful of venues exist, and the ones that do are in demand by every company. What is available is limited to ZUZI’s Theatre, the Temple of Music and Art main stage and cabaret space, Beowulf Alley, Leo Rich, the Berger Center. Occasionally there’s something at the U of A, perhaps the Pima Community College Proscenium or Black Box, and new on the scene, ArtFare. Among the most beloved is ZUZI’s Theatre, housed in the historic YWCA building near the U of A campus.
Although ZUZI Dance Company has a home there, they don’t own it; they also rent. And Robinson is sensitive to the matter of comparative rates, to the lack of air conditioning that precludes summer use, to the other exigencies that specifically apply to the antiquity of the building, to its idiosyncrasies and quirks. “We really try to negotiatebend over backwards for people. We want everyone to have a home and be prosperous.” The elephant in the room has been the Tucson Center for the Performing Arts building, closed down for over eaight years, sitting forlorn and unused at 6th Avenue and 14th Street near the Temple of Music and Art. Renovated by the City of Tucson at a cost of several million dollars (mostly spent on the basement, the dressing rooms, and elevators) in the late 1990s, it was the scene of many award-winning shows, especially by Borderlands Theater. Funding to essentially save the building was included in a Pima County bond issue passed by voters, and release of those funds has now been approved. The first step, according to City Council member Nina Trasoff, is to get a Certificate of Occupancy, and then upgrade the sound and light systems, to “. . . return it to what it was; a wonderful performance space.” The Council is also looking into other funding sources for further improvements. Reopening it would obviously help the itinerant theatre companies’ conundrum, if access and availability were open to all and rental fees reasonable. It is hoped that cooperation and collaboration between all the various theatrical entrepreneurs would occur. For now, watch the Downtown Tucsonan and other press outlets for news of your own favorite small, alternative, unique, avant-garde, “homeless” theatre company. Buy tickets, show up en masse, tell friends, donate money and time, and lend encouragement as they work their magic on borrowed stages. Upcoming performances for these nomadic theatre companies:The Rogue Theatre presents The Good Woman of Setzuan through April 15 at Zuzi’s Little Theater, 738 N. 5th Ave. Stark Naked Productions has performances at ArtFare, 55 N. 6th Ave., for Last Days of Judas Iscariot through April 8. Arizona Onstage Productions will feature BARK! The Musical at Beowulf Alley Theatre, 11 S. 6th Ave., July 12-29. ZUZI! Dance Company showcases Full Circle, Spring Dance Concert April 27-28 and May 4-5 at their rented space, 738 N. 5th Ave. Performances by other “homeless companies” include:Not Burnt Out, Just Unscrewed comedy improv at Vaudeville Cabaret, 110 E. Congress St., April 6 and 20. Odyssey Storytelling Series presents its first (and possibly only) X-RATED Odd-yssey Storytelling-racy stories on forbidden topics at Hotel Congress, 311 E. Congress St., on April 28.
The painting she’s touching with her soft finger suggests a series, laid out horizontally on one wide canvas: a scarlet bird in repose with the pale shape of its flight behind it, then aging leaves on curled ironwork stems, and more designs both abstract and figurative beyond and between. She cites Indonesian textiles as an influence on her most recent, fragmentary style, like a skirt with one pattern on the front and the “wonderful surprise” of a different one wrapped around the back. “These abrupt changes give me a different idea about harmony. When you see something really beautiful, your child’s sleeping face for example, these are moments but they stay with you forever. Breaking things into fragments is more truthful about how long something can last.” Miller’s voice is like a throat tickle, a broom pulling long sweeps across a rocky floor, and when she speaks of her work it always sounds like she’s confessing something. But what comes across in her speech and her work is a sweep of purpose: preserving pieces of history. “Objects have this loaded kind of referential self,” she muses of her paintings of chairs, water pitchers, and pinecones (“my latest obsession”) humming vibrantly within the panel partitions of her studio. A life-sized reindeer with real horns, a Christmas display centerpiece that Miller found in the basement of Steinfeld Warehouse and painted turquoise, silently agrees. The greater edifice around Miller may be her most lasting obsession. Miller and her husband, poet and Chax Press publisher Charles Alexander, have rented space in the Steinfeld Warehouse since 1981, minus a two-year hiatus in Minnesota to escape Tucson’s population boom and traffic. Miller sums it up this way: “I used to say we did the best we could for Tucson. We left.” But when she gestures lovingly at Steinfeld’s walls“Built around 1906 with bricks from Tucson Brick Company, brown bricks, not red, so low fire”it is clear that the Warehouse, its relics and its stories helped pull her back. She and Charles rented space at Steinfeld again immediately upon returning to Arizona. Recent efforts to evict artists and possibly level the Steinfeld Warehouse, have left those who work there dangling on a tenuous eviction date that was extended again the day after my interview with Miller, from March 31st to around June 7th. But the building was a muse for Miller well before these recent thoughts of losing it. In 1993 Miller traded a painting for a study of the building after discovering that no plans of Steinfeld Warehouse existed at the Arizona Historical Society. The study’s author, Jerry Cannon, “highlighted pressing problems, and we addressed them. We fixed things.” As a girl Miller had bought her schoolbooks from one of Harold Steinfeld’s downtown stores and basked in the heyday of the Pioneer hotel, and today she speaks familiarly of “the Drachman girls” and the school they attended, St. Joseph’s Academy. She hugs her arms across the thick corduroy furrows of her brown jacket and frets with wisps of her metal-colored hair as she asks quietly, “Why do we have to be on the brink of disaster before things get saved, or they don’t?” Despair, however, is not where Cynthia Miller the artist usually resides. “Tremendous amounts of work have come through this place,” she marvels, and the changes her work has undergone are benchmarks on that long path. “We all kind of grew up here,” she reflects. In recent years she has veered back toward the abstract painting she’d studied in school along with figurative symbols, notably birds. “As a child I used to pick up dead birds I found. These flattened cardinals. My family was horrified. Once I picked one up and it flew out of my hands.” She pauses in wonder at the memory of that reprieve. “To have something launch itself like that,” she says, and does not go on. But then she is back to the Steinfeld Warehouse, the other side of that vivid fragment. “I have a recipe, a masonry mortar mix recipe for this building. We just need ten guys with wheelbarrows to repoint the basement. We’d like to be here to save it. We’d like to be the ones to work on it like we’ve been working on it. These buildings,” she says with another flash of dimple, “they don’t have to fall down.” Cynthia Miller is currently in a two- person exhibit, Promise of the Garden, at Tohono Chul Park, with clay artist Farraday Newsome, running through May 1. |
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