A torturous exercise: Think back to the last time you enjoyed live music, when the vibration of a driving bass caused your chest to thump. What about the last time you sat in the audience of a theater right before the curtain rose—do you remember the expression on the actor’s face as she stepped into the stage lights, completely transformed into someone else? Or the last time you visited a museum, the gallery packed with fellow patrons all trying to eye the same masterpiece, eager to see how it would speak to them? For months, COVID-19 shuttered the concert halls, the theaters, and the museums, but when inequities were revealed once again in the midst of the pandemic and a spate of racial injustices, the leaders of our city’s cultural scene were among those asking: What more could we be doing? Since mid-March, they’ve been reflecting on art’s role in a time of crisis, how to better support Black artists, and what steps to take to diversify their staff. Here, eight St. Louis arts leaders contemplate how 2020 has changed the creative landscape, as well as the challenges that lie ahead.
Photography by Matt Marcinkowski
Hana S. Sharif
Augustin Family artistic director, The Repertory Theatre of St. Louis
On deciding to postpone the world premiere of Dreaming Zenzile, based on the life of anti-apartheid activist Miriam Makeba: The thing about art, especially art that lives in a historical lens, is that history cycles and repeats itself, and there are things that you wish were not as relevant as they are. But what happens is that the impulses and the experiences of the people who have to embody the character are imbued with their own trauma and pain and hope. I imagine that the performances will have an even richer life, because of the moment, this extraordinary rising of people demanding to be seen for the fullness of their humanity and demanding justice. I think that it’s a profound moment for humanity. This moment that we’re in, in terms of social justice, is not disconnected from the moment we are in in terms of COVID-19. We are fundamentally human, and our lives and our survival are very much dependent on each other.
There’s a part of me that has to believe that the reason we are going through these extraordinary times and this great pain and loss is because on the other side is a better, more just, more equitable society. That demand for equity is not just from the protests in the streets, but I think that we’re seeing it permeate different fields as well, and the arts are not immune from that. There has never been a better time for an arts organization to be doing this type of self-evaluation. You’re not rushing to put up the next play. In this moment of stillness, it’s a wonderful time to actually take a moment and take stock of the community that you serve. What is rising up in this moment from our current patrons, our future patrons? I think if you fail to ask yourself those critical questions in this moment, then it is more than a missed opportunity. It’s almost a moral question to me.
The Rep is still hoping to produce the world premiere of Dreaming Zenzile.
Meanwhile: In looking at how to make a safe return to the stage, the theater joined the St. Louis Reopening the Arts Work Group and plans to come back in December with A Christmas Carol and an extended winter/spring 2021 season. The announcement of the new season is planned for September 1.
Tom Ridgely
Photography by Matt Marcinkowksi
Executive producer, St. Louis Shakespeare Festival
On theater’s role in connecting people: We go to the theater, we sit there, and we look up at people who we don’t know, whose experiences we don’t share, whose perspectives we might not share, who frankly don’t even exist—they’re just figments of our imagination. But if the artist is doing a good job, we find ourselves investing in them and wanting what they want and grieving what they lose and celebrating what they gain. That’s something we don’t do anywhere else. We don’t go anywhere else to practice caring about other people that aren’t the same as us or that [we] don’t already have attachments to. We need that now more than ever. Theater can be just entertainment and fun and diversion, and, boy do we need that right now. And it can tell us uncomfortable truths about ourselves, and we need that more than ever. At the festival, we’ve been trying to do all those things and to remain responsive and, above all, to not be silent.
As a leader, I think we have to start with ourselves and then guide our institutions through the same process of self-reflection. We are talking a lot about daily habits and practices: Who are we hiring? Who are we engaging? Who are we spending money with, vendors, artists, partners? Those are things we can address more in the short term. And then there are the things we know that will take more time, which is that if we really want to be the kind of organization that we claim to be, which is one that is serving and representing the fullness of our community, we have to change the makeup of our organization. There are no Black people on our staff. There is one Black person on our board. Putting numbers and timelines to those things is a longer-term project. We have committed to the act of setting those goals and those timelines.
While we were socially distanced, St. Louis Shakespeare Festival shared 65 productions on Facebook, YouTube, and Instagram. That’s:
112,620 video views
105,300 minutes watched
965 new followers
177 artists engaged
Tonina
Photography by Jessica Page
Singer/songwriter
On the challenges of creating during tumult: In the beginning of 2020, something sparked a change in me to do the things that I wanted to do: write about what I wanted to write about, play with the people who I want to play with, and nurture those relationships. I was writing more and spending time with friends who feed my spirit.
But then COVID-19 happened. It was disruptive to everyone, to artists who make the majority of their income for the year off ticket sales and touring, as well as exposure for the next tour. That really devastated me and the people who depend on me to make their money. I felt helpless. I was trying to use this as an opportunity to write and grow closer to my roommates, who are also my bandmates. We were trying to channel the depression and anxiety into our music. And then we saw the awful video of George Floyd being murdered.
I, as an artist of color, don’t really have that much to give, other than my platform. I don’t want to educate anymore. I feel like all I can do is explain our history through song and art. I’m sad. I’m trying to channel all of that and speak to the history of Black America.
Artists write about what we are experiencing, or about what someone else is experiencing, or what that dog is experiencing. Some artists do write for people’s comfort or for distraction. I write to get whatever I’m feeling out as a way of coping. I like to write so that people don’t feel alone.
I go back and forth on whether I want to do this anymore, because in moments like these, you see how valued—or not valued—you are. The arts as a whole in the United States, unless you’re Beyoncé or Rihanna, there are issues with income. Do I want to even do this anymore? Other musicians, artists, and self-employed people might feel the same way. But how would people get through COVID without music or looking at the painting hanging in their home, or whatever medium they go to for strength or comfort?
In 2018, President Barack Obama included Tonina’s “Historia de un Amor” on his annual favorite songs list. Here’s what’s next for the singer/songwriter: Together with her saxophone player and best friend, David Gomez, Tonina has finished her next album, the first for her that is majority co-written.
Ron Himes
Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
Founder and producing director, The Black Rep
On holding people accountable: This morning, one of my Facebook posts from nine years ago came up. The question I asked was “How do cultural institutions of color—Black theaters—survive during these economic times?” I thought to myself, Wow, you asked that question nine years ago?
We could try to make some adjustments in how we operate and use this time to look at philanthropy. It has not been a level playing field. Our institutions have not been supported as other major cultural institutions are supported. It has shown the importance of the community—audiences, corporations, and foundations—that do support us, but it has also highlighted for me a number of instances of corporations and companies and foundations that give a lot of money to the arts but don’t give any money to Black theaters or institutions of color. How do we address that? There’s been a lot of institutions who have made statements of support during these times. I’m wondering How do we quantify those statements of support? It’s good that during this time a statement was made about standing together. But how do we quantify that, which will ultimately make the biggest difference and have the greatest impact?
The Black Rep’s audience gave back in a big way. Here’s how they did it: When the theater had to cancel its 43rd season, Himes says that 80 to 85 percent of ticket-holders donated their tickets in support. “I sort of expected them not to, because our audience, like a lot of audiences, are senior citizens,” Himes says. “Some are on fixed incomes, but they love theater and see theater as a necessity in their lives. I knew that they would probably need that refund.” But most not only donated but also reached out to check in: “We’ve had season ticket–holders who’ve called us, not calling to ask about the season or when next season is going to start. Just: How are you guys doing? How are you holding up? That support is the fuel that keeps me going.” The annual gala, slated for November 14, is pivoting to a virtual event with performances and chances for the community to donate.
Lisa Melandri
Photography by Joel Conner
www.conner-photography.com
Executive Director, Contemporary Art Museum St. Louis
On the works of art that will be born of this crisis: If you believe, as I do, that artists are often the first voices who translate what has happened in our world into different kinds of formats that can be both insightful and incisive, then I think we are going to see a tremendous creative endeavor that will be all about this moment. And this moment is complex: There are psychological, emotional, political, economic, and social implications. It’s going to be an extraordinarily rich global work that’s going to come out of creative citizens. However, because so much of contemporary art is deeply engaged with the issues of our time, from that standpoint it won’t be terribly different.
We had an exhibition that opened in January called “SHELTER.” It was about not just the literal but also metaphorical issues of inequality and housing insecurity. It was about thinking of the space for and of Black Americans, inequities—all of these issues that we’re absolutely failing in. We closed the building on May 18 and reopened on July 9. The word “shelter” then had become rich in meaning, because now we’re thinking about sheltering in place. We also have to think about the fact that COVID has affected disproportionately so many Americans of color. The discussion that was inherent in that work, that was about inequity, has now, because of the context of what is happening in our world, changed. It opened a whole host of new interpretations, but it was just as salient and impactful.
In conjunction with “SHELTER,” CAM launched “After Shelter,” in which it asked museum guests to record their experiences with the exhibit amid COVID-19. It asked: “What does it feel like to be experiencing this artwork right now?” “How have the last four months shaped you?” “What is your hope for the future?” The museum then shared the audio with StoryCorps, a nonprofit that preserves and shares Americans’ stories in recordings.
Carrie Houk
Photography by Suzy Gorman
Executive Artistic Director, Tennessee Williams Festival St. Louis
On a potential new mission: Art must raise awareness. Take our recent radio plays. I’ve been tussling with Is this just going to be pure entertainment? I’m not comfortable with that. If we don’t come out of 2020 knowing more than we did, feeling more than we did, having our eyes opened, then it will be a time of darkness.
I have a strong diversity, equity, and inclusion committee on my board. We’ve had a lot of conversations, looking at How do we take a Tennessee Williams festival and make it about more than Williams? I love Williams because I feel that he was a voice for the other, for the disenfranchised. We can reach out to the Black community for casting and hiring. We’re making a commitment to continue that and do better. But I also think that it’s time for us to produce other playwrights, who perhaps were influenced by Williams or wrote at the same time but through a different lens. I’d like to present new playwrights. It’s more important than ever that we’re having these conversations and listening.
Tennessee Williams: Something Wild, will take place October 22–November 1—as long as it’s safe. The festival will focus on Williams’ time with The Mummers, a theater company that staged his early plays and whom Williams wrote about in his essay “Something Wild.” The festival is slated to take place at The Link Auditorium, known in another life as The Wednesday Club, the theater where The Mummers performed.
Cliff Froehlich
Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
Executive Director, Cinema St. Louis
On the financial implications of COVID-19 for many arts institutions: The funding environment is difficult right now. Here in St. Louis, the Regional Arts Commission’s funding comes through the hotel-motel tax. That has been devastated, and those of us who receive operating grants have already been informed that we could have as much as a 75 percent cut in our support. That’s huge. Same thing with the Arts and Education Council: We’ve been told that we should be expecting some cuts in our support there. There are going to be foundations and certainly individuals and corporations that would have normally been supporting various arts nonprofits who will no longer be able to do so. They’ll either cut off funding entirely or vastly reduce it. That’s going to have, I think, a serious effect on the overall health of the St. Louis artistic scene. Not everyone’s going to survive. There are going to be people who are close to the border anyway with regard to their financial liability, those who didn’t have strong operating reserves, who don’t have strong, wide bases of support, who are just not going to be able to weather this particular storm. We need more people to recognize the value of arts institutions and support them on some level, as opposed to thinking somebody else is going to take care of that for them.
Cinema St. Louis is launching a new way to enjoy movies together. Here’s how it works: Movie Club selects a film for viewers to watch on their own and then holds virtual conversations on the work led by filmmakers, critics, and scholars. Best of all: It’s free.
Gene Dobbs Bradford
Photography courtesy of Jazz St. Louis
President and CEO, Jazz St. Louis
On possible detriments to livestreaming: Livestreaming was something that we were ramping up before COVID-19 happened. One good thing about it is that it can help you to reach beyond your immediate community and find the people who your art resonates with. People would say, “Don’t you worry that people are going to just stay home?” Before, I would have said that all livestreaming is going to do is encourage people to experience it live. But I worry that after a year or so of being used to consuming music that way and soaking up the convenience of it, there will be some people who will be gun-shy because, for months and months and months, we’ve been talking about how dangerous it is to gather. I worry that in some ways we’re shooting ourselves in the foot by making it too easy to consume live music.
On how the temporary closures might have affected the arts landscape in St. Louis: I don’t think that the artists are going to stop creating, because they’re artists. It’s not about the money—they have a compulsion to create. When things do open up again, I think you’re gonna hear some extraordinary art, because people have been honing their craft. But the question is: Can they hang on? Will they be able to find some sort of work here in our community? Will this community support them enough that when things do open up, they can remain here?
Bradford says that music is meant to give voice to the human experience. Here’s what that sounds like to him:
“It’s putting on something like Van Halen’s ‘Dance the Night Away.’ The minute I hear it, I’m taken back to a time when I was in high school, riding down a country road with my windows down and the music blaring. That song is always going to represent what it means to be free of responsibility. Or maybe it’s Mahalia Jackson’s ‘Lord Don’t Move the Mountain.’ She’s begging, ‘Lord, don’t move the mountain/ Give me the strength to climb’—it inspires. Or maybe it’s listening to the mastery of Dexter Gordon’s Go and being transported because I’m thinking about the beauty of what he’s playing and trying to figure out How does somebody even come up with such magic?” Jazz St. Louis is waiting to announce performances.
