Creating During COVID: One Theatre Maker’s Journey to Creating Work Online.
One Theatre Maker’s Journey to Creating Work Online: How to do it (or not do it) and why.
Every time I pick up my phone or open my computer I am inundated with invitations to watch theatre online. From archives of shows I’ve been dying to see to play readings on Zoom, there seems to be something for everyone. As an avid theatre goer I should be reveling in the onslaught of content, right? So what’s the problem? It’s just not the same.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m watching and I’m participating, but something is missing. I think making archived plays freely accessible is a great gift to the public and I understand the importance of engaging with audiences when physical theatres are shuttered for the foreseeable future. I also understand the urge of the actor to practice their craft and keep getting seen by the world. While I’m not criticizing the content, or the act of sharing it, I am critical of it being called “theatre.” Maybe it’s a matter of semantics, but to me theatre is alive, participatory, and communal so watching online content from my couch feels like a form of creative taxidermy. With beloved theatre institutions around the world on the brink of financial ruin, it seems more important than ever to make the distinction between what we can experience right now and the unique experience that theatres offer. Let’s mourn the absence of theatre, acknowledge that we’re missing it, and underscore its importance. Let’s make everyone as excited to run out to their local theatre when it reopens as they are to return to their favourite restaurant or hair salon. Let’s dispel this allusion that we can have theatre at home, so that when theatres reopen safely they can be viewed as the essential institutions that they are.
So if we can’t have theatre right now, what can we have? We can have explorations in creative connection. Now more than ever I want to see work that responds to our current times instead of work that reminds us of our current limitations. I’m interested in work that takes stock of our circumstances and finds the creative potential; work that sees the opportunities rather than the obstacles; work that mobilizes creative communities to ask questions, make observations, and come together in that space of uncertainty. Work of this kind isn’t “theatre” in my book, but it’s definitely something we need.
When March rolled around and I watched myself and my performer friends begin to lose contracts and survival jobs, I was overwhelmed by feelings of concern and helplessness. My community was hurting, and I wanted to do something about it. The power of the ensemble and the feeling of family that theatre provides has always been what I’ve treasured most. The magic of backstage moments, long rehearsal days, and sharing impossibly small dressing rooms is as much a part of the experience as performing itself. Each production creates its own temporary community, and I wanted to see if I could explore that sense of community in a virtual space. I wasn’t trying to replace it, in fact I was confident that I couldn’t, but I was curious to see what was possible. I wanted something big, with the potential for maximum engagement and a focus on building community and fostering a safe space to create. I envisioned a global collective of artists who would come together to create individual works, but would more importantly be working together towards a common goal, and so The Sonnet Response Series was born.
The idea was simple: assemble 154 participants and ask them to transform all 154 of Shakespeare’s sonnets into personal, interdisciplinary creative acts. I wanted to extend an invitation to collaborate and explore, without making a demand for a particular result. Participants were encouraged to use the sonnets as a guide to authentically and cathartically create. No response could be “wrong” and all contributions would be shared and celebrated.
In times of stress I personally find great comfort in being given an accomplishable task, and completing that task with someone to hold me accountable. If that task involves contributing to something bigger than myself, even better, because I get the satisfaction of making something possible. Since creating in this way is comforting to me, I was hopeful I could extend that comfort to others. The choice to use Shakespeare also stemmed from comfort. For myself and many classically trained actors Shakespeare brings us back to our early training and feels like an old friend. We know the rules for how to engage with him, we have personal memories and connections with his work, and he offers just enough mystery that we’re always eager to come back for more. I also wanted material that was accessible to anyone who wanted to get involved, regardless of their training, so all participants were given tools to approach the text and derive their own content from it. The resulting performances ran the gamut from traditional delivery of the text, to dance to stop motion animation, and each entry was remarkably unique and personal. The feedback I received from participants confirmed my hopes that the project could offer a positive challenge, a sense of ensemble, and an opportunity to do what they love in a supportive environment.
That being said, creating work in this time is not for everyone, and that is equally valid. The seemingly endless opportunities for creative exploration can easily begin to feel like a burden. During COVID it seems like artists have been dumped into a creative pressure-cooker where we’re all expected to generate the most prolific work of our lives. Shakespeare did it, so we should too, right? This mentality can easily become maddening instead of motivating, and I’ve seen the negative impact it can have on creatives. We had several participants who joined us and realized that creating in this time was not going to serve them. Those artists were met with understanding, support, and an open invitation to work with us in the future. As far as I’m concerned the only thing we need to do right now is take care of ourselves and others, so any illusions of having a responsibility to create should be thrown out. Everything you’re doing and experiencing right now is informing your future creative practice, so whether you’re writing six new plays or taking a ton of bubble baths, you’re exactly where you need to be. There is value in flexing our creative muscles during this time; it can be cathartic, an act of self care, and an opportunity to reframe these challenging times as a gift. If the act of creating serves you, I encourage you to do it, but with intention. Ask questions, check in with your artistic goals, try out new approaches and find new things that excite you and ignite your practice. Make work about people, with people, and look for ways to expand your artistic household. The theatre that we know and love will be waiting for us when this is all over. In the meantime, take care of yourselves and your community in whatever way feels right.
If you’re interested in viewing The Sonnet Response Series it will be available until March 2021 at vimeo.com/showcase/sonnetresponseseries. For more information of Indigo Arts Collective our work, and creative coaching, check out sheadonovan.org.
Written by Shea Donovan
Hey! I’m Shea: a performer, coach, occasional playwright/poet and Artistic Director of Indigo Arts Collective. I strive to create work at the intersection of art, scholarship and activism and develop interdisciplinary performance for theaters and alternative spaces. When I’m not creating I can be found collecting degrees, running youth education programs, galavanting around the world, and reading classical literature to my cat, Dinah Louise.