AtÂ HowlRound, we continue our exploration of Theatre in the Age of Climate Change with more urgency than ever. With the looming eradication of climate science data from US government websites and the appointment of Scott Pruitt as head of the Environmental Protection Agency, Trump has indicated in no uncertain terms that the health of the planet and its inhabitants are of no concern to him. As theatre artists, how do we respond? Writer and director Katie Pearl discusses how theatre, climate, and politics are inevitably linked, and asks whether artists should bring more of their artistry into citizenry. â€”Chantal Bilodeau
The task here is to look at theatre and climate change within the context of the current administration. Yep, that administration. The one that is attempting to eliminate climate consciousness from the national narrative by removing the climate page from the White House website, threatening to slash the EPA by one-third, and green-lighting the Keystone Pipeline project in the face of enormous coordinated dissent. Yep, the one that favors entertainmentâ€”heck, the one that is entertainmentâ€”but is not at all interested in artworks activating complex, nuanced conversation around current issues, and proposed to eradicate the NEA and the NEH completely from the federal budget. Yep, that administration.
Well, shall we start the way we often do? Theatre is a storytelling, community-based phenomenon that manages to survive, if not thrive, on next to nothing and is the perfect means to effectively counter the current administrationâ€™s â€œalternative factsâ€ and erasure, especially in these divisive timesâ€¦blah, blah climate blah f*cking Trump blah Pruitt EPA zzz blah NEA slashed z zzzz Betsy DeVos zz zzz education zzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzz.
Iâ€™m sorry, I fell asleep.
Itâ€™s not the argument thatâ€™s wrong. Itâ€™s just exhausting. Theatre may be the perfect vehicle to keep necessary counter-narratives alive, but has never, under any administration Iâ€™ve ever known, been well-positioned to do so. Embedded in the familiar argument about theatreâ€™s potential is the deeper argument about theatreâ€™s worth. Iâ€™m tired of endlessly justifying on grant applications, in marketing campaigns, and in fundraising letters the relevance of what we do. On a federal level, our country just doesnâ€™t believe in theatreâ€™s worth. This feels especially true now under Trump, but even under administrations more friendly to liberal creative causes, theatre is rarely considered necessary to our national well-being. For a time, the NEAâ€™s tagline was â€œBecause a great country deserves great artâ€â€”an assertion I find problematic because it makes art seem like dessert, rather than something with actual value, like grains, meat, and vegetables.
The conversation amongst the theatre community about ways to keep (or make) our theatre relevant, equitable, and inclusive is ongoing. There is rigorous debate and concrete action, including the way so many of usâ€”regional theatres, and independent artists, and companiesâ€”are putting more resources towards building relationships with the communities we work with and for. Iâ€™m also thinking of nation-wide actions like The Jubilee, The Ghostlight Project, and the wave of support for projects in Creative Placemaking, and other socially engaged work. But in light of the ongoing global climate crisis and the Trump administrationâ€™s policies, the conversation is ready to take another giant step, brought to a head, like it or not, by the sheer, audacious rebuttal of things that we artists and citizens know to be true and important.
Letâ€™s talk about climate.
At the end of eightÂ hours, the build team forÂ HOW TO BUILD A FOREST (PearlDamour + Shawn Hall)Â extracts the last bit of breath from their forest ecosystem. Photo by Paula Court.
New Allies: Theatre and Climate
Imagine this: Theatre and Climate as allies, thrown together by the Trump administration as being two things it discredits, discounts, and largely disregards. Well of course! Both have power beyond the control of a single man or administration. Interestingly enough, both have that power because theyâ€™re situated outside the administrationâ€™s market-based lexicon. Environmental issues donâ€™t sit easily within a profit-based model. Creativityâ€”like theatremakingâ€”doesnâ€™t either. When the environment is forced to bend in order to â€œproduce,â€ the effect can be similar to when theatre artists are pressured to produceâ€”and when humans are seen only in terms of their use. The soul gets squished. Language gets co-opted and compressed.
When my company Â PearlDamourÂ was researching our piece HOW TO BUILD A FOREST, we met with people in the timber industry. They spoke to us of â€œproductâ€ instead of â€œtrees.â€ On our tours, we often saw a field of trees planted around the same time in regular, mathematical rows just to be cut down for profit as soon as they matured,Â therefore, â€œproduct.â€ But calling trees product shifted both my perception of them and my relationship to them. It severed our connection as fellow living things. Words matter. What changes in our country when, as Toni Morrison notes, we go from being called â€œcitizensâ€ to being called â€œtaxpayersâ€? When the new administration took down Obama’s climate policy page on the White House site and replaced it with the America First Energy Plan, a friend posted on Facebook: â€œSince when does â€˜Energyâ€™ mean â€˜Fossil Fuelâ€™?â€
That word is being shut down, actually enervated, by being forced into a one-to-one relationship with oil.Â What does â€œEnergyâ€ really mean? So much more than solar versus petroleum. If we look at the word through a Theatre Lens, energy means: connections, interactions, and reactions. Itâ€™s powerful to remember that the only meaningful way to really understand climate and environmental systems is this way as well, via connection, interactions, and reactions.Â Energy in both the theatre and the climate is its dynamism, its process, its transformation. Energy is story.
I watch Trump as a storyteller and for the first time, I really understand storytellingâ€™s power as a market-driving medium. Trump is a professional entertainer and racketeer, a storyteller who knows his audience and knows how to play to them. Where the climate is concerned, his stories affect the entire planet. He boils complex issues down to sound bites that sway mass markets, sell tickets, cement opinions, erase experiences, and win elections. And they have the advantage of being carried by every media outlet into living rooms, kitchens, car stereos, and ear buds across the countryâ€”an advantage our plays and performance works donâ€™t have.
Can we compete? Our storytelling offers a different kind of narrative, driven by a different kind of energyâ€”one that deepens thinking, expands empathy, introduces new worlds, explores imaginative possibilities, and rebuts current conditions. We could take it as our responsibility, our mandate, to keep using our storytelling to keep the realities of our climate in front of audiences, even as Trumpâ€™s cabinet is doing everything it can to make those same audiences believe those stories donâ€™t matter.
Sure. We could do that. But the focus can no longer be on impactful storytelling. We canâ€™t stop there because those stories arenâ€™t reaching enough people. We canâ€™t stop there because our current metrics of success, including getting reviewed in major publications, keep us from heading towards different kinds of performance work that might have a different kind of impact, and affect more change. We canâ€™t stop there because as theatre artists, our power doesnâ€™t merely exist in the plays we create and the stories we tell. It also exists in our creativity itself. It also exists in the way we move through and think about the world, as people, as artists, and as citizens.
InÂ Lost in the MeadowÂ (PearlDamour + Mimi Lien),climbers get ready to hoist a giant megaphone up a 60-foot towerso the meadow can speak directly to the audience. Photo by Katie Pearl.
The Artist Citizen is also a Citizen Artist
For years, Iâ€™ve responded to current events by making theatre about it. It made sense that as a theatre artist, I would do that: â€œOh, Iâ€™ll do a performance about Hurricane Katrinaâ€¦â€ or â€œIâ€™ll write a play about the Dakota Pipeline, or building a wall, or the BP Oil Spillâ€¦â€ It was how I brought my citizenry into my artistry, and it led to some good work that many people saw and were affected by. But lately Iâ€™ve been thinking about those two words â€œartistâ€ and â€œcitizenâ€ and wondering if I havenâ€™t been giving myselfâ€”ourselvesâ€”enough credit. We spend so much time arguing about the power of theatre, and the importance of our product, that weâ€™ve neglected the fact that we as theatre artists have power too. My provocation here is: how can we bring our artistry into our citizenry, rather than the other way around? How can our creative minds, our ability to make imaginative leaps, envision futures, and empathize and connect with others serve the communities that live outside of our theatremaking?
Perhaps we need to start showing up not only as people who make plays and performances about issues, but also as people who think deeply and have smart things to say and know how to say them well. We know how to tell a good storyâ€”do we only need to tell it on a stage? What about in board rooms? In Town Halls? At the Parent Teacher Association?
Inviting versus Welcoming
Iâ€™ve spent the past four years working in small towns named Milton across the US. One thing The Milton Project has taught me is the difference between â€œinvitingâ€ and â€œwelcoming.â€ Over and over I hear, particularly from one racial community regarding another, â€œwe invited them, but they didnâ€™t come.â€ The lesson is this: inviting is very different than welcoming. Ironically, to welcome someone into a relationship with you, you often have to invite yourself to where they are. To their space. As theatre artists, a quality many of us share is a sense of adventure. We can use this quality to propel us not just towards new projects but towards new people. Towards new issues, new places. As this administration seeks to divide us both from one another and from our relationship to the natural world, we cannot wait to be invited to connect. Letâ€™s welcome ourselves into civic, policy-making conversations about the climate and otherwise. Letâ€™s welcome ourselves into conversations with political leaders, neighbors, disenfranchised communities, small town conservative communities, and business executives. And then, bam! Suddenly, our expansive, imaginative, and creative thinking is right in there, opening up possibility, creating connection, and making space.
At the Women’s March in Washington, DC, California Senator Kamela Harris described a time when she arrived at a meeting and someone said, “Oh good, you’re here, we’d like to talk about women’s issues.” Kamela responded, “Oh good. Let’s talk about immigration.Â Oh good, let’s talk about climate.Â Oh good, let’s talk about race relations, about civil rights, about education, about health care, about poverty.Â These are all womenâ€™s issues because they are all issues.”
The Womenâ€™s Marches empowered us by shifting the idea of multiplicity from being something that diffused power to intersectionalityâ€”something that increases it. I started this essay proposing the alliance between theatre and climate, but as I finish, I want to widen our gaze. Alongside theatre and climate, there is an extensive network of phenomena sharing a debased status under the Trump administration. Rather than feeling drained by the fight to assert our relevance and importance, letâ€™s feel empowered and energized by the new collaborations and cross-currents of our intersectionality! Hereâ€™s a partial list:
The dangers of climate change
The importance of theatre
The systems of racism
The realities of classism
The saturation of white privilege
The pervasiveness of xenophobia
The prevalence of misogyny
These phenomena arenâ€™t just aligned by being maligned by the Trump administration. More interestingly, in terms of storytelling, they are deeply, dramatically linked. Issues of climate cannot be extracted from economics; economics cannot be separated from race and class; issues of race and class cannot be untied from white privilege, xenophobia, and misogyny. Can you tell a story about any one of these issues without involving the rest? Sure you couldâ€”many of us have. But the final provocation is: letâ€™s not. Letâ€™s welcome this intersectionality into our stories, performance structures, collaborative models, and visions of where we make work and who we work with. Letâ€™s keep the climate foregrounded in both our artistic and our civic lives (and perhaps there will be less and less of a difference between them) by seeking out and acknowledging its connection to, and influence on every story we tell.
There is no us versus them when it comes to our climate because we arenâ€™t just in relationship to the climate, we are the climate. And if thatâ€™s the case, then every story is about climateâ€”no matter how loudly the administration argues otherwise.