Every producer of the performing arts encounters the same problem known as bums on seats. Or who is paying for all these egos to strut and fret their hour upon the stage. Even under worst scenario conditions I thank heaven for being paid to entertain an audience. But what is an audience?
It could be you, or you, or me for that matter. It could be that agent, booker, producer, or director. It could that critic, or scholar, or fellow performer. Even worse it could be your mum!
My favourite kind of audience is completely unknown to me. It’s a full-house of paying customers waiting in anticipation for the show about to happen. As a performer people ask me, ‘Don’t you get nervous?’ As a professional I tell them, ‘Hell yes!’ That nervousness takes many forms: sometimes hyper-activity, othertimes a great drowsiness and yawning. But all performers should be left alone before they take the stage.
When you walk on, the first thing an audience does is judge you, or size you up. Now there is no way on God’s green earth you can control this. Worse, if their opinion of you or what you do is negative, you still have no control. Ca, c’est la vie, que tu as choisi. So live with it.
Audiences enter into a contract when they buy a ticket to see a performance. There is an expectation that the performer knows his stuff and by paying admission they will observe and allow him/her to do it in the hope that some form of transcendence will happen. Audiences are there for an escape from their own inner worlds. Or they have an agenda.
The basic dilemma of the performing arts falls to the distinction between entertainment and edification. Is it serious or is it fun? The publicity usually makes clear which form you will be paying for.
Personally I do both kinds depending on who hires me.
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