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A few years ago I was in the Time Warner Center and passed a kiosk advertising the new Hudson Yards, then under construction about twenty blocks south. It featured architectural drawings and a model of the complex, a few brochures, a chilly salesperson, and a list of amenities.
Listed among the world class dining and shopping options was a flexible performance space, "just steps from your door". I was struck by how a theater was presented to potential real estate investors: a perk, a luxury item like a Michelin starred restaurant or a new Gucci store.
(No judgement here whatsoever, just surprise.)
Like everyone else in our field, I’ve been thinking a lot about what theater has been, and what it might be. As NYC continues to change— for better and for worse, as always— what role has the form played up until three months ago and what will our part be moving forward?
Are we an amenity for the wealthy? Are we an arm of the tourist industry, which may be unrecognizable for years? Are we a community of arts institutions, like the gallery scene in Chelsea (itself an offshoot of tourism)? Are we a mouthpiece for the social justice movement?
Can we only be one of those things at a time, or is this list actually a Venn diagram, in which we sit— by choice or by necessity— somewhere in the middle? Who do we serve, and how, and what, exactly, are we going to be serving up?
The encouraging news is that we have time to reflect and consider all this: we’ll be returning to a cleaner slate than any of us have ever experienced in our creative lives, and hopefully that’s an exciting prospect. It is for me.
Every day seems to bring deeper, more honest questions about who we’ve been and who we might be. For whatever it’s worth, I’m optimistic.
