If you’re on social media at all (and let’s face it, if you’re reading this, you’re on social media), you’ll have been made aware of the cool $25 000 RBC has scraped together (presumably they ran a bake sale) for “emerging artists,” and we were all invited to vote for which Canadian art organization we wanted to be given the money.
Something in that last sentence seems strange, and it’s not my syntax. We have 1) RBC’s Emerging Artist Project with 2) $25 000 to allocate to “emerging artists,” so we must vote for 3) a major (national/international) organization to receive the money so they in turn can 4) decide what constitutes an “emerging artist,” and 5) which of these are worthy of money, 6) exactly how much money they’re worthy of, and 7) which activities are acceptable for them to be spending money on.
There are some several steps too many in this scheme, and not, as far as I can tell, for any good reason. And the First Principles implicit in the logic belie much more sinister attitudes about artists, power, and hierarchy in Canada. Why on earth Canadian Stage, TIFF, the National Ballet, the Writers’ Trust of Canada, the Walk of Fame, and the Canada Art Foundation are necessary middlemen for a Project supposedly not designed for them is rather intensely mysterious. Still more weird is RBC’s mandate for the Project – “Bridging the gap between emerging and established” (emphasis de mois). What is this gap, and between which two precipices does it supposedly exist?
In the opening minutes of Akram Khan’s solo show DESH (now on Canadian Stage), Khan stands down stage of Tim Yip’s sparsely lit set, dwarfed by the Bluma Appel’s cavernous embrace, picks up a sledgehammer & whacks with extreme prejudice a small metallic mound built into the stage’s floor. At the mound’s apex is some sort of plant which will undergo all kinds of contortions over the show’s 83-minutes of magic, the sledgehammer being the least of its worries. With each strike, a dull, hollow boom blankets the theatre, just ever-so-perfectly too loud for the audience’s comfort. For a show billed as a “dance” piece, it’s a brave opening, since we’ve come (at least some of us) for the feats of kathak-cum-Bauschian physical pyrotechnics Khan’s famous for, & he presents us with a moment that – but for the sonic black hole of the hammer’s thud – is eerily still, utterly quiet.
The impetus for this post comes from Michael Wheeler (Artistic Director of the politically minded Praxis Theatre Company), whose new project is called SpiderWebShow, described as “A theatrical space where Canada, the Internet and performance minds intersect” (the absent Oxford comma is, I assure you, thoroughly sic). Both Mr. Wheeler & Praxis are rare creatures of at least the Torontonian theatre scene that I know, in that they are interested not just in the creation of performances, but in seriously pursuing the “Why” of theatre in Canada. Practitioners too often leave these questions to academics – Holger Syme, for example – & adopt a sort of “See No Evil” attitude which ultimately manifests in the work. Not to say the work is bad, per se; merely that a lot of times it seems disconnected from a public discourse about theatrical teleology. Even in the way plays are marketed (& reviewed) they adopt the qualities of commercial products, of things which are bought & sold but not necessarily important, vital, or immediate.