Ask The Experts: Dawn Powell

--> "For the first time it came home to her how comfortably she had counted on reputation to make up for minor personal disappointments. A crutch, a cushion, a veil, a safety net for all missteps, that knowledge of work recognized and admired whether she was old or young. Without it she felt vulnerable and exposed, a woman in her thirties whom no one knew, an everyday woman with no protection of love or fame, with no banner to bear but that of pleading mistress begging for a crumb. Left standing unnoticed for a moment it struck her how soft and spoiled she was, never venturing on any path that was not especially paved for her, innocently astonished that the paving could wear out and torches on dark corners would not be lit.” 

—	Dawn Powell, The Locusts Have No King (1948)

Butts and Rebutts (Mostly Butts)

--> When I co-produced my first sci-fi themed burlesque show in 2005, we had difficulty finding enough extant acts to fill the bill and ended up commissioning or creating half of them; now, in 2013, "nerdlesque" is a thriving sub-genre of its own with dozens of dedicated shows around the world, and has already profoundly affected the art form of burlesque.

The Lady Aye recently published an article on BurlesqueBeat.com, “Some Thoughts On Nerd Burlesque,” which sparked lively discussion amongst burlesque professionals in general and geeklesque performers in particular. The following is a somewhat edited version of a personal email that I wrote as part of that discussion. The Lady Aye very eloquently spoke to many points I’ve been striving to articulate for some time, and so this is not so much a ‘rebuttal’ to her piece as an expansion on it, with some thoughts of my own.

•••

First off, I have to say I've known Aye for a long time, and have had many a thoughtful discussion with her over the years about 'where all this is going' and the potential for burlesque to transcend the tiny-hat-and-corset model (especially when it seemed that was the only option out there). Now that geeklesque is a huge percentage of all neo-striptease performances, it's natural - and valuable - that the discussion is shifting from 'Is that even burlesque?' to the nuances and specifics of this type of performance. After all, it's been a major discussion in the 'straight' (ie non-geeklesque) genre for ages.

So I found The Lady Aye’s article overall very supportive of geeklesque: urging geeklesque performers to strive to transcend their 'source material' says very clearly that we can be as transcendent in our performances as any other kind of burlesque act (rather than geeklesque only being throwaway pop-culture reference).

I would argue (and I’m not the first to make this point – see Sailor St. Claire’s article in Burlesque Seattle Press, for example) that all burlesque is “cosplay” in some sense, and therefore could - must - benefit from a similar self-scrutiny: how does that fan dance / stocking peel / classic strip to 'Feeling Good' contribute to the dialogue and transcend the source material (Gypsy Rose Lee, the 1940's, the male gaze, etc., etc.) here, now, in 2013? The fact that geeklesque gets singled out more in this respect is, I think, simply because we're now reaching beyond the established vocabulary of burlesque (tassel-twirling, fan dance) and adding new 'words' to that 'vocabulary’ – for the same reason, boylesque has sparked a similar discussion over recent years, too.

The fact is, geeklesque does use other people's material (characters, costume designs, games, plots) as jumping-off points for new performance. There is nothing wrong with this in and of itself - it has led to some of the most exciting, innovative, delightfully transgressive burlesque performances that I've ever seen. But just like "I put on a pretty dress and a pretty song and took off my pretty dress and I was wearing pasties" isn’t necessarily adding to the discussion, "I put on a Dr. McCoy costume and a song about Star Trek and took off my Dr. McCoy costume and I was wearing Star Trek pasties" says nothing new, either.

The only reason that the geeklesque version gets more focus in this respect (and rightly so) is that no one can really say for certain who 'invented' striptease; but we know that Dr. McCoy is Gene Roddenberry's artistic creation - and to co-opt it without any commentary seems to border on … maybe plagiarism isn't quite the right word, but something like that. I've retired numbers myself that were basically stripping-out-of-a-costume, simply because I wasn't comfortable with the idea of just using the character and doing nothing with it.

It's what marks the difference between dress-like-the-character, strip-to-the-theme-song numbers and (for example) Mary Cyn's “Data” act, B.B. Heart's Dementor, Anja Keister’s Dolores Umbridge, and lots of others. Likewise, it's what makes shows like The Pink Room, D20 Burlesque and the like actual unique experiences beyond "We like nerdy stuff!” And it’s important to acknowledge that there are performers and producers who are striving, going beyond, carefully crafting geeklesque numbers and shows that are thoughtful and provocative and funny and sexy and really hit the spot with geek- and non-geek audiences … and to keep pushing ourselves to go further in those directions with our work.

The Lady Aye’s article touches as well on the idea of wide appeal: "Would this act translate to an audience of the uninitiated? If not, then perhaps your focus is too narrow and you should think of ways to let the audience in."  This is, ultimately, the performer's choice: but for me personally as both performer and spectator, the most successful and satisfying geeklesque numbers are the ones that require minimal-to-no previous familiarity with the source material, where the specific elements are Easter Eggs for the initiated but I don't feel like a total idiot for not getting any of the act (again: Data, Dolores Umbridge - these are stories that any audience will understand, whether or not they know of Data's 8-season character arc about finding his humanity, or the nuanced depths of Dolores' sadism etc. etc. It's all in the acts.) If one is creating an act for a show based on, say, one specific episode of a particular cartoon series - and the show is being presented as such, and cultivating an audience of fans of that cartoon series - then why not add as many tiny in-depth nods and references as you like? With, of course, the understanding that in a wider context (a 'general' burlesque show, or even a 'general' geeklesque show) those specific references might pass by much of the audience. It's all about understanding what acts to bring to what shows, which is a skill we all learn pretty quickly (hopefully).

The fact that geeklesque is being discussed ‘as if it were real burlesque’ is amazing and hugely important, given the fact that 6 or 7 years ago the reaction to, say, my (long-retired) Tron number was befuddlement and 'That's not burlesque.' Whether it's our primary performance focus or not, enough of us now put enough time, effort, talent, intelligence, and thoughtful critique into our geeklesque acts/shows that it's starting to show up the lazy and un-thought-out geeklesque acts just as well-crafted and expertly-presented 'classic' burlesque has always highlighted the 'I bought a corset! I'm the next Dita!' acts. Part of being a permanent and legit genre within the art form is going to include more critique and discussion and - as long as it's in non-troll form - that's only a good thing.

And I Wish Real Life Came With Back-Up Dancers

“’Tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart.”

                                                - Hamlet, Act I, scene i

--> I am tired of fighting - with everyone, about everything, every single second of every night and day.

I am exhausted by every audience member who believes that buying a ticket entitles them to take my photo, to film my acts, gives them access to me before the show and after the show and during the show and somehow makes them part of my life.

I’m tired of everyone who has ever - or never - seen a show and thus presumes to speak with great authority about the complexities of art and business and babysitting and relationships and talent and experience and personalities and effort and risk that go into every single second of what I do.

I’m exhausted by those who don’t understand the difference between thoughtful critique and adolescent whingeing, between creating and consuming, between opinion and fact, stage and reality, the internet and life.

I am tired of everyone’s hurt feelings and offended sensibilities and ranting outrage - which somehow exists simultaneously with a blithe disregard for the feelings and sensibilities and circumstances of anyone else’s reality.

I’m tired of bad performers who assume that the sheer fact of their existence entitles them to work; of bad producers who assume that the sheer fact of their existence entitles them to endless gratitude; of every single person who simply assumes that they can do what I do.

I am exhausted by colleagues and friends of nearly a decade’s acquaintance saying one thing to my face and another thing to Facebook. I’m tired of colleagues of minutes’ acquaintance somehow having opinions on my life of a decade past.

I’m tired of constantly having to defend everything I create; of having years of focus and effort and craft dismissed as “comic relief” by performers with a different aesthetic from my own; of being too smart to be the pretty one and too weird to be the fancy one and too much of a stripper to be a “real” performer; and of ever caring about any of that as much as I do.

I’m exhausted by the very idea of a loving and supportive artistic ‘community’ that thrives on factionalism and self-righteousness and dishonest business dealings. I am tired of public outrage when perpetrated against and wide-eyed blinking innocence when perpetrating in the exact same way.

I’m tired of this city. And suitcases. And subways and stairs and closing in on forty with increasingly bad knees and no health insurance and borrowed rent money and strings of cancelled gigs every time it snows.

I am tired of glitter. I am exhausted by the very words: fabulous, showgirl, glamour. I’m tired of leopard print, of spandex, of eyelash glue. I am exhausted by the debate over Swarovskis versus acrylics - by the very fact that this is, somehow, a debate.

I’m tired of having fun. I’m tired of talking about how much fun I’m having, of Tweeting about having fun and posting fun photos of all my fun. I’m tired and just right now, I’m not having any fun.

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]

Ask The Experts: George Peck

--> “Pa and I put in a good deal of time during the afternoon and evening performances in the dressing-room, near the door leading to the main tent. That is the nearest to being in an insane asylum of any place I was ever in. The performers get ready for their several acts in bunches or families, all in one spot, and they act serious and jaw each other, and each bunch acts as though their act was all there was to the show, and if it was cut out for any reason, the show would have to lay up for the season, when in fact each one is only a cog in the great wheel, and if one cog should slip, the wheel would turn just the same. These people never smile before they go in the ring, but just act as though too much depended on them to crack a smile. When a bunch is called to go in the ring, they all look at each other as though it was the parting of the ways, and they clasp hands and go out of the dressing-room as though walking on eggs. When they get in the ring they look around to see if all eyes are upon them, and bow to people who are looking at something going on in another ring, and who don’t see them, and then they go through their performance with everybody looking somewhere else.

When the act is over the audience seems glad, and clap their hands because they are polite, and it don’t cost anything to clap hands, and the performers turn some more flip flaps, and go running out to the dressing-room, and take a peek back into the big tent as though expecting an encore, but the audience has forgotten them and is looking for the next mess of performers, and the ones who have just been in go and lie down on straw and wonder if they can hit the treasurer for an advance on their salaries, so they can go to a beer garden and forget it all.

An average audience never gets its money’s worth unless some one is hurt doing some daring act.”

- George W. Peck, Peck’s Bad Boy With The Circus (1905)

Part II: Cautious Optimism or, A Challenge for 2013

--> And so, then, here is my challenge to each and every one of you for this regenerated year:

I challenge you to create something new, something original, unique and non-derivative; to be prepared to fail spectacularly in the effort but to be prepared to do the work in order not to fail; to constantly challenge expectations – your own as well as those of the art form; to innovate, not re-create.

I challenge you to turn every single instinct towards complaint or condemnation into the motivation for creation; to be thoughtful, constructive and appropriate in criticism; to keep your mouth shut if opening it contributes nothing but ill-feeling and hurt to the discussion; to learn that others’ success and happiness does not diminish the possibility of your own.

I challenge you to honestly examine your own skill level, attitude and artistry before you seek external excuses for a lack of bookings or support; to refuse to participate in the constant carping and snark and backstage evisceration of people in their absence; to form opinions of others based on your own actual experience and not out of some fabricated factional solidarity or second-hand gossip.

I challenge you to keep your motives honest, your behavior gracious, your expectations realistic and your interactions kind; to do the work and to keep working hard; to love the art in yourself, not yourself in the art, and always to respect the art in others.