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From the Empathy Gym – March 2020
March 2020 / No Comment

From the Empathy Gym – March 2020

A Line in the Sand

All around us, the situation seems dire. The fundamental ties that bind us humans together—family, community, shared beliefs, spiritual connection—are being systematically eroded by runaway greed, political polarization and worst of all, digital addiction. Wherever we look, we see someone frozen to their cellphone, eyes turned away from a simple “hello” on the street, hate rants on social media, and in every nook of our community, spine-numbing loneliness.

We cry out as we slide into the abyss of alienation, “Please someone, show us the way out!” We need different leadership, a different court, a different legislature, and yet we feel powerless to affect these giant changes. They are too big for us, too out of control, over our heads.

All around us, the situation seems dire. The fundamental ties that bind us humans together—family, community, shared beliefs, spiritual connection—are being systematically eroded by runaway greed, political polarization and worst of all, digital addiction. Wherever we look, we see someone frozen to their cellphone, eyes turned away from a simple “hello” on the street, hate rants on social media, and in every nook of our community, spine-numbing loneliness. We cry out as we slide into the abyss of alienation, “Please someone, show us the way out!” We need different leadership, a different court, a different legislature, and yet we feel powerless to affect these giant changes. They are too big for us, too out of control, over our heads.

At times like these, we turn to the arts for comfort and nurture. But we are being told that our performing arts are dying. And how indeed can our local dance, music and theatre arts compete with ever-present, streaming, 24/7 entertainment; something for everyone, every appetite; every style delivered to our device at the flick of our thumb, every song, every movie, every TV series and mini-series at our complete command. Many of us read Howard Fishman’s recent article “Why we still need live performance,” in which he wonders if “all things streaming, a deluge of digital content” are leading to “the twilight of the performing arts,” and “that the endangerment of live performance is as paradigm-shifting as climate change.”

Such is the woeful chorus. And the statistics back up the rhetoric. Theatre attendance in the US dropped last year by 8.7%, subscribers to opera fell by 12%, dance companies played to 7% smaller audiences, symphonies are laying off musicians amid dwindling attendance. The NEA report that several years ago summarized these declines also mentions cheerfully that more people are enjoying entertainment online and at home. At San Francisco Playhouse, it is sometimes hard to believe these figures, since our audience, subscribers and income from tickets sales have been increasing steadily since we began. Last year, we served 20% more patrons than the year before while ticket prices remained steady. And our box office and administrative staff work hard to keep up with the demand, our production staff continuously finding more efficient ways to put up 9 productions a year.

Unlike virtually every major performing arts companies, we are serving more people, not less. We are swimming against the current. For almost all of February 2020, San Francisco Playhouse has had two critically acclaimed productions running; Tiny Beautiful Things, Cheryl Strayed’s exercise in radical empathy, and Born in East Berlin, which as Lily Janiak, the SF Chronicle critic puts it, shows how imagination is an act of compassion, how asking, “What must it have been like for you?” humanizes those whom we would make other or lesser.” Thanks to you and other patrons you send, both shows are playing to full houses and the empathy gym is at full throttle, all pistons firing, empowering greater compassion in our community. And thanks to all of your contributions, we have the resources to invest in reaching more people with our mission; to lift spirits, deepen self-awareness and nurture compassionate community.

And yet, I think we are more than that. I am a great fan of the ancient Greeks, not just Greek theatre, but history and culture, and one of my favorite stories is of the Spartans heroic stand at Thermopylae. Facing wave upon wave of the mightiest army ever seen, a few hundred of the warriors held fast in the narrow pass between mountain peaks. Behind them lay civilization, before them, the agents of civilization’s imminent destruction. Fellow believers in theatre, we are like them, we are the line in the sand separating our vibrantly alive community from the destructive force of the digital invasion. Unchecked, the digital hordes will surely destroy us. Without our fanatical defense of live performing arts, we will become the prisoners of our devices, our grip on actual connection, severed by the dehumanizing blather of digital information. Without your steadfast dedication to “live” performing arts, our vulnerability to the joy and pain of each other could be crushed under the thundering hooves of progress.

We are the line in the sand.

Please write me at [email protected] to share any thoughts you may have.

– Bill English, Artistic Director

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