An Experiment In Focus Adjustment

 --> My high school drama teacher had a sign on his bulletin board for years,* which read:

Theatre is Life;

Film is Art;

Television is Furniture.

To the half-dozen cranberry-haired teenagers fully immersed in the optimistically-named Drama Department of our predominantly Republican, sports-focused rural-suburban learning institution, this helped solidify our self-congratulatory youthful angst and firm commitment to getting beat up weekly by the gym teachers. These days (nearly a decade after having spent nearly a decade in Theatre-with-an-re) I might amend that sign somewhat, to read:

Theatre is full of actors;

Film is fine but I like movies;

Television is comforting;

Facebook ruined society.

Also I hardly ever wear Smiths t-shirts any more.

Nevertheless, although I’ve escaped Theatre for Wiseass Striptease I remain committed to live performance as my artistic medium of choice - for the simple fact that I am still fascinated by the variations from one performance to the next, and inspired by the constantly-changing interaction between performer and spectator. ** The liminal space in which live performance exists is one of quite literally infinite possibilities: it is where theatre, dance and ritual all find roots. ***

What you don’t so much find in that impermanent transitional space is digital cameras.

I’m a firm believer in the inherent social contract between performer and spectator: We’re here for and because of each other; this experience wouldn’t exist if either of us weren’t present. And “present” doesn’t mean “taking photos of the whole thing so you can status-update about what you did tonight.” If you leave with your own emotional response to my performance and feel moved to convey your impressions to others through your own words, it becomes our experience; if you take crappy cell-phone photos of my entire act, you have crappy photos of me on your phone and not much more.

Now, amidst all of my you-damn-kids-get-off-of-my-lawnery, I will readily acknowledge several things:

1. The average audience at any given titty show isn’t there to experience the ritualistic transformative possibilities of a shared liminal space. They’re there to get drunk and see some tits.

2. At any given titty show we are there primarily to entertain, and not necessarily to change the world. If we can sneak that in too, so much the better.

3. Get a grip, grandma, the world’s gone digital and everyone has phones and Photos or it didn’t happen! and that’s just the way the world works and if you’ll excuse me I have to go text my status location to Facesquare so I can be the mayor of my life.

4. Sometimes people want to take pictures because they think you’re awesome. Also it’s nice to have videos of your acts and stuff.

So I try to find a balance between kicking tourists in the f-stop and just giving up and mugging for the sea of screens and lenses. I’ll always prefer the live experience (years ago I stopped taking a camera with me on vacations, after I realized that I was getting so anxious about missing shots that I wasn’t actually noticing where I was or what I was seeing) and I will never put up with rude, inappropriate or disrespectful photographers at any show, be they professional or casual … but for the sake of my ulcers I realize I do have to chill a little and let people experience the performance in their own way.

Thinking about all this (and, occasionally, being driven to tears of rage by it) led to a variety of ideas about how to do something productive with the frustration. This January I had the chance to begin a hopefully-ongoing project through which I will a: make art out of anger and b: amuse the fuck out of myself. Transformative qualities of live performance aside, I’m pretty okay with that; so, then, here’s part one:

1.13.13 from Nasty Canasta on Vimeo.

* Specifically, several years that started with a “1” and a “9.”

** And not at all because I have the drawing skills of a concussed bee.

*** I just recently paid off my massive student-loan debts. Just as a matter of interest.

Freelancers! Performers! Independent craftspeople!

 --> Do you find yourself spending inordinate amounts of time answering cold emails to no actual effect or personal benefit? Now you can use that time on more fruitful pursuits - like spending hours on the subway in transit to gigs, or updating your FaceTube page in a desperate attempt to get just a few more paying customers to your show - with this handy form letter!

Just choose the relevant information, copy-and-paste, and hey presto! you have a convenient and ready-to-go auto-reply to all those moronic emails from individuals with no grasp of the actual value of your services in today’s world:

•••••

Dear Sir / Madam / Thing;

Thank you for your inquiry regarding [circle one] private bookings / costuming commissions / add your own specialty.

Before I waste another second of my life replying to your email, however, please understand that [choose one:]

• six five-minute performances all crafted to fit within the musical, thematic and physical requirements of your event and space - which does not have a dressing room, stage, or sound system - happening “sometime this Saturday between 10pm and 2am, we’ll have to play it by ear when you get there” will cost you more than fifty dollars.
• it is not practical to expect a custom-designed gown, wrap and headpiece based on the attached painting of Marie Antoinette but with enough specific design alterations to require ten hours of research and sketching alone, price complete with labor and materials and “also I really want real seed pearls on the hem and I need it for a party next week” for under one hundred dollars.

If you would like to continue this discussion, wherein I clearly and concisely list over and over again my monetary and physical requirements for providing [the service for which you have contacted me] and to which you repeatedly reply “Well we’d really like to have you, I want to make this work” but offer nothing else until you finally simply do not answer my 7^th email back to you, the up-front charge is $150 or $25/hour, whichever is greater.

Please feel free to send me your credit card number to start this process; otherwise, thank you for your inquiry, and I wish you much success in your attempt to extract the maximum amount of work, time and effort from other skilled professionals for the barest minimum of money on your part! Please do know that despite our lack of health insurance, professional respect or any kind of dependable income, you cheap bastards really do make us independent artists smile. With many thanks for that I remain

Yours truly,

[Your name here]

Unrepentant Snark: Dear Civilians

--> Some musings directed towards civilians looking to book, hire, interview, solicit or otherwise interfere with stripperfolk, especially as the season of the holiday party once again closes in upon us, and based upon a decade of various communications received:

• Yes, admission to my show was $15. No, you cannot hire me to do that same act at your private party for that same $15.

• A producer is not a Rolodex; if you want her to “send a couple girls” to your party, you will pay a booking fee.

• Don’t ever ask a producer to “send a couple girls” to your party.

• Would you show up entirely alone at a stranger’s house because they ‘sounded nice in the email?’ Neither would we. This is why you pay for a handler.

• Would you show up at a stranger’s house with the blithe assumption that you’ll most certainly get paid after your performance? Neither would we. This is why you pay a deposit.

• Here’s a scenario:

“Hi there, Worker Bee, this is the Boss. We’d like you to go to a sales conference in Shanghai. It’s only two hours long, and since we’re such a benevolent and altruistic corporation we’re going to pay you a hundred dollars for that two hours. How’s that, huh? … What’s that? No, you’ll have to buy the plane tickets … No, no we won’t be compensating you for the 72 hours of travel time either. But a hundred dollars, huh? Can’t beat that.”

Geography is tricky, I know, but here’s a good rule of thumb: if we can’t take the subway home* after the gig - be it a private party or an out-of-town venue - then you’ll need to cover the travel expenses.

• Drink tickets are not currency and “the chance to hang out after the show with some really cool people” does not pay the rent.

• I’ve never understood the assumption that if someone is a good burlesque performer, they’ll also be good at “walkaround.” (Let’s face it, I don’t understand the concept of “walkaround” entertainment that isn’t actually doing something, like close-up magic or tarot readings or making balloon animals.) If someone can satisfactorily explain to me what about my stage performance as a stripping sandwich implies that I’ll be stellar at talking to guests at your party while wearing a sexy devil tail then I’ll … go to your sales conference in Shanghai.

• It’s just great that you’re part of a small and wildly unsuccessful theatre company - and it’s really neat that along with your aggressive IndieGo-go campaign and asking your aunts and cousins for non-tax-deductible donations to produce your site-specific all-female free-verse adaptation of Death Of A Salesman, you’ve decided to put together a super-fun benefit with all kinds of wacky acts and some great raffle prizes from the yoga studio downstairs and five-dollar-a-glass-suggested-donation pink wine, and as a fellow artist you just know I’d jump at the networking opportunity of performing three numbers for free on a Saturday night in a warehouse in Bushwick, because I’ll have a great time hanging out and mingling afterwards and supporting the arts. Really. That’s just swell.

• Before you hit ‘send,’ glance over that email and see if it anywhere contains the phrase “no pay but opportunity for exposure.” Now replace that with “I will skull-fuck your grandmother’s corpse in the middle of the kids’ table during your next Thanksgiving dinner,” and decide if you still want to send it.

• Yes, I am an experienced and skilled professional in my chosen field. No, you cannot “pick my brain for a couple of hours” over a cup of coffee.

• Once upon a time the public school system taught things like elocution and correspondence. We had typing classes and practiced business interviews and learned how to tuck in our shirts. And then they invented the internet and everything went completely to hell.

Here’s a sample cold email, just to prove that it can still be done correctly:

“Hello Ms Performer;

I am putting together a holiday party for my office that will take place at a Midtown restaurant on the night of Friday, December 17^th. We’re interested in booking a classic burlesque act as part of the evening’s entertainment, and I’m writing to inquire about your rates and availability. Please feel free to call or email me at your convenience, and I’ll be happy to answer any questions you might have as well. I look forward to speaking with you.

Thanks,

A. Reasonable Request”

And here’s an actual FaceTube message I (and, apparently, more than a few other performers) received some little while ago:

“i need a show this Tuesday with 3-4 girls. can you swing it? 10pm show”

I would hope that my 8^th grade Business Practices teacher is not required to explain this one.

* I’ve heard that in some parts of the world private citizens actually own their own automobiles, though I don't entirely believe this. The premise is the nonetheless the same.