the week that was or adventures in community theater and museum life

It is very easy after a week like this to just indulge in a mindless day of Netflix… or the productive mindlessness that already occupied this morning with laundry and tidying up and … well I still have to vacuum.  But there were a lot of great details to the week I don’t want to let fade into the fuzziness of days gone past.

I started with a visit back to the theater that will always be my home.  I had a few friends in the cast, as well as a few friends in the audience.  In all honesty, How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying is not one of my favorites.  I wouldn’t even say it is a musical I particularly like.  Nor do I dislike it.  It kind of hangs there in the in between of… I don’t care if I never see it again and okay, I’ll forsake my strong opinion of female dignity and pay money for a misogynist dated play.  That’s a bit strong… but really, when the female lead is motivated entirely by landing a husband… Peggy Olson she is not.

In spite of that, I did enjoy the musical numbers.  My only criticism, which I note because of its segue into other thoughts… were the scene changes.  Much too long.  Much too tedious… and so I found myself, as I started to shift uncomfortably in my seat halfway through act two, redesigning the set.  So basically, my criticism is about me and not really the actual play.  Because, maybe, really, I want to design a set for that stage again.

And so began a series of thoughts to which end I don’t know the coming weeks will lead me.  I found myself having dinner with some friends through which the discussion was the same story with different characters of community theater politics.  It doesn’t change, whether one is in Barre or Waltham or Worcester or JP.  Indeed, it doesn’t change whether one is in theater or museums or a town committee… and yet… actually… I realized that argument is the destructive notion.  I am very lucky to be in a museum that is working diligently to change the dialogue.  To shift perspectives.  To move forward.  The lessons I am learning about managing an organization, about working with artists and juggling the reality of numbers is re-setting my own prejudice that there will always be a groove into which theaters inevitably entrench themselves.   

I’m still digesting what all this means.  I do rather like the rule I’ve set myself of doing one play a year and leaving myself time for writing and family and… well, let’s face it, enough clarity of thought to have a decent perspective.  But I have time now without commuting.  I have also changed… and feel strengthened by my determination to appreciate and foster creativity… which in turn has mellowed my own artistic ego a bit.

Of course the big part of this week was the Higgins opening at the Museum.  I really can’t find the best way to articulate what this meant to me.  Excitement, as one gets in the anticipation of a party… but without my typically favorite having to worry about the details of preparation.  I had relatively little obligation except presence… and even that was a choice. 

But how could I not make that choice?  I would like to hope I would have gone even if it were not my place of work.  Higgins and all those suits of armor are touchstones of my memories, in addition to all the memories of their original owners and subsequent collectors and museum visitors.  The memories of overknight banquets, marathon days of school tours, Great Hall sitting while I wrote stories in my brain with every turn of the galleries I took.  But there is also a value in seeing all those suits and pieces in different light, against a background of portraits and colors.  The recognition, again, of the fact that change is possible.  And good.

Besides, the party was fun.  I saw many old friends.  Some of whom I had not seen since leaving Higgins 14 years ago.  The Museum was alive and full of music and conversations, when my association with the Renaissance Court is an empty, echo filled hall.  The energy was fun… and will hopefully linger in the building when I go back to work tomorrow.

It was there yesterday, when I did my volunteer shift at the entrance of the exhibit.  There was a sort of déjà vu not just from my days as a Higgins guide, but also Beauport.  That mode of friendly welcome… which, even though you utter the same speech over and over, is kind of fun.  Definitely in the people watching… what with the costumes that showed enthusiasm for knights or Batman or wizards, as well as the very satisfying diversity of the audience.  Different ages, races, classes… museum people, tourists, Higgins devotees, WAM loyalists… all wanting to see… and all having a different reaction.  

I have thought many times in the last three months how unique this experience is.  Certainly, it won’t go in the history books as a turning point in society.  I know some hope it will be a reference point in the change of museum history… but we have to admit that isn’t going to get any headlines on cable news.  But maybe, that’s what I find so amazing… and indeed, how it is changing me.  That it isn’t the large things we do or the volume of one’s voice in an argument of abstract ideas.  It is participating in our local community.   My choice of participation is obviously arts, whether it be a museum or writers or community theater.  There is something so real about that… about seeing a person create or find the beauty in someone else’s creation.  It’s a way of connecting to other human beings when Fox and screaming pundits and snarky out of context internet commentary seek so obnoxiously to tell us why we shouldn’t find that sympathy.  I prefer the connection… and relish the fact my experience past and present has given me the ability to see life through those lenses.