Following a link provided by the Department of Theatre and Dance of the University of Texas to 'Ideas, Practices, Bright Spots' at www.howlround.com, a journal of the theatre commons:
Don’t Call it Sweet
Recently,
I told a well-respected artistic leader in the theater community about
the MFA graduate program I am currently enrolled in—Drama and Theatre for Youth and Communities at The University of Texas at Austin (UT). He responded in a dismissive tone, “that is sweet.” A few weeks later, I sat in the lobby after The Transition of Doodle Pequeño—a
play for all ages produced by UT’s Department of Theatre and Dance—and
listened in as fellow theater students praised, “that show was so cute!” I don’t think that a play with themes of gender identity and bullying is cute, I think it is critical. I don’t think theater with and for young people is sweet, I think it is essential.
Two months later, these moments are
still rattling around in my head. Why are we compelled to use such
words when describing theater with and for youth? What is the lasting
impact of these descriptions on our perception of Theater for Young
Audiences (TYA), theater education and applied theater?
Let’s start here. What is theater
with and for youth? It is theater education—programming and curriculum
that introduces, teaches and trains young people in the art and craft
of theater. It is applied theater, where theater is used as a form of
communication and storytelling in non-theatrical spaces from classrooms
to prisons. It is Theater for Young Audiences—a genre of theater
created specifically for young people.
What is implied when theater with and for youth is consistently (and dismissively) referred to as 'sweet' or 'cute'?
It
insinuates that we do not think theater with and for youth is “real”
theater, that TYA is less rigorous and a less important form in
comparison to “professional” theater. Theater for youth is rarely
considered artistically equal with theater for adults. Maybe this has
its roots in the lower pay of an Actor’s Equity contract for TYA
productions. Or maybe it is because adults do not view young people as
individuals who need or desire challenging or innovative art. Or maybe
both. In the Victorian era, childhood became defined as a time of
innocence when young people were purposely sheltered from the reality of
adulthood. These sentiments are still very present in how we view
childhood and youth. What results is an assumption and attitude that
someone under the age of eighteen does not really know what she wants,
likes or needs. This posturing translates to a belief that theater for
youth must teach a lesson or focus on a theme crucial to child or
adolescent development. And, for whatever reason, that constraint
suggests artists cannot create “real” theater like they can for adults.
Aren’t themes in adult plays actually lessons from a playwright? Isn’t
that what art provides, a chance to share an opinion or perspective?
Why do we trust that adults want plays with shades of gray, and assume
that TYA needs to have a binary, a clear right and wrong? Why aren’t we
challenging youth with theater created with and for them? Why are we
not taking on the task of engaging youth in conversations about
aesthetics and art? This dialogue has value to all artists, educators
and the present and future theater community in which we belong. Every
touch between a young person and theater demonstrates an opportunity
to engage a future theater artist, audience member, advocate and
supporter.
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