A Theater on the Most Famous Street in DC

In our twenty-first century cultural paradigm, nomenclature and semantics are often the battlegrounds upon which wars of political correctness and labeling are waged. In Washington, DC, the history of linguistic institutional identification contains arguments regarding the appropriate labels for governmental, economic, and cultural organizations, which, more often than not, have been used to place them above other comparable or superior institutions around the nation. For example, the National Theater is titled as such, which thereby suggests the role of this theater as the premier and most important one in the United States; however, many would disagree and cry out that New York Broadway theaters, or old historical theaters scattered along the coasts, should share some of this fame. How can one specific venue represent the vast and widespread cultural values inherent in American theater?

The history of the National Theater is quite illustrious in its unique position as one of the most important cultural institutions in Washington, DC. It opened (and still resides) on Pennsylvania Ave, which at the time was the only road with consistent street lighting. The location is in close proximity to the White House, which has led to a quite strong relationship between the Theater and the Presidency. In 2005, the Theater celebrated 150 years of almost continual presentation, and thereby is marked as the oldest cultural institution in Washington. While the building itself has suffered many fires, renovations, and refurbishments, it remains in the same location where it opened in 1835.

In its early history, the Theater rooted itself with a strong influence of British, French, and West European theatre traditions, conventions, and aesthetics. However, soon American vernacular theatre began to rise in popularity, and the National Theater was quick to display works that would not only appeal to the Washington populace but would also sell tickets. As current General Manager Harry Teter explained to our group of W&M interns, the Theater is economically fueled by donor gifts and ticket sales, making it a completely commercial venue. One may question why there is a lack of government subsidizing, such as at the Kennedy Center, NEA, or Library of Congress, and the list of answers is long and varied; however, one of the main reasons is that the Theater wants to have complete control over its workings, decisions, and calendar of shows. One must point out, though, that the program is fairly homogenous and fairly embedded in the conventions of contemporary popular theater, so works from Broadway, works with celebrity actors, or highly-regarded pieces win out over those which are a bit more avant-garde.

What is interesting to point out in discussing the history of theater in America is that America, as a country and cultural hub, has had a great amount of influence on the craft. Perhaps one of the most important contributions the United States have made to any artistic field has been the musical, which until the twentieth century had barely been touched upon. Certainly opera was engrained in European society, but the advent of the musical brought about a whole new area of theater that was unexplored, virgin, and exciting. So, if one looks at the twentieth-century history of theater, one begins to realize the huge role that America has played in shaping theater conventions by completely revolutionizing the field. It is because of this that the National Theater has been an excellent venue to showcase classic and vernacular American arts, because most of the musicals that are produced come out of New York City. Whereas places like the Kennedy Center and other institutions can rely on a varied calendar of programs that is reflective of world tendencies and reflections on the arts, the National Theater is in an almost unique position in that it presents basically a collection of American theater works.

Our class had the wonderful opportunity to visit the Theater, speak with the engaging and interesting General Manager Harry Teter, and attend the show “Doubt.” This piece is a straight play that received an incredible critical response while playing on Broadway. It encompasses issues of religion, sexual indecency, the patriarchy and its relationship to women, education, race, class, and overall the human condition. Mixing humor with issues of extreme gravity, the play is effective in electrifying the viewer and keeping them interested throughout the whole show.

On a simply material and slightly superficial note, the color scheme and interior design of the Theater is quite egregious—pink (or rather, corrupted salmon) and mint green provide a color landscape that looks very worn out, tired, and tacky. The lighting is dark and spotty, and the seats are not as plush as I would have expected. However, as soon as the play began, I realized it is not so much about the presentation anymore as much as it is about the artistic presentation at the National Theater. Sure, an interior such as found at the Nederlander Theater or the Schubert in New York City would be nothing short of grand and inspiring, but when a theatre can provide an excellent calendar of programs and shows, I can forgive their short-sighted interior design. I look forward to heading back to the National Theater, especially since they’re putting on “Avenue Q” and the wildly popular and raucous “Spamalot!” I’m sure it will be a fantastic time, just like we had seeing “Doubt.”

The NEA-- An Almost Silent Fight

Here is a reflection I wrote on a visit to the National Endowment of the Arts. We went as a class last Friday, and these are a few words in regards to the scope of the institution and our visit there.

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Perhaps for the first time since coming to Washington, I really understood the usage of the word “national” after visiting the National Endowment for the Arts. Mind you, I have yet to step foot in many of our nation’s hallowed institutions, which tout the title “national” as not only a placeholder but a status symbol as well; however, the breadth, grandeur and actuality of this word really became applicable and realized at the NEA. Its mission is fairly simple, compared to many other places around our nation’s capital—to fund worthwhile artistic ventures that seek to promote, enrich, and diversify cultural energy, experience and life in and beyond the United States of America. Excellence is seen as a cross between colloquial appeal and widespread relevance, which thereby denotes attentiveness to American and global folk culture and helps bring a varied group of voices to new ears.

Much of the same rhetoric was used in creating the NEA as was instated for the Kennedy Center. To quote the National Foundation on the Arts and the Humanities Act of 1965, “While no government can call a great artist or scholar into existence, it is necessary and appropriate for the Federal Government to help create and sustain not only a climate encouraging freedom of thought, imagination, and inquiry, but also the material conditions facilitating the release of this creative talent.” One must take into account the climate of the time in which this Act was passed—Kennedy had recently been assassinated, America was facing ever-increasing responsibility on the global stage, and the development that would in turn label the US as a global superpower was much underway. Still under the shadow of WWII, yet distancing itself a little from the incredible work ethic and industrial genesis of the 1950s, America began to realize the extent of its clout.

In my mind, the creation of the NEA was not seen by the police-makers and government officials in DC as a chance to enhance the diversified folk sub-cultures in America, but rather to act as a symbol of the nation’s dedication to institutions of higher culture and refined nature. It was a chance to gain credibility globally, because while the Work Projects Administration served the purpose in the 1930s of raising local morale, creating jobs and sparking the economy, the NEA and Kennedy Center would prove to competing nations that the United States was equally, if not more, well-rounded and cultured. During a speech at Amherst College on October 26, 1963, President John F. Kennedy said, “I look forward to an America which will steadily raise the standards of artistic accomplishment and which will steadily enlarge cultural opportunities for all our citizens.” While this is certainly a great step forward for national recognition of the role of the arts in society, one must ask: what arts are being celebrated? The quotation above is taken from the dedication of a new library and tribute to Robert Frost, who was seen as a great All-American poet. Respected artists included poets William Carlos Williams, photographer Ansel Adams, experimental artist Jackson Pollock, painter Norman Rockwell, authors Nathaniel Hawthorne, Mark Twain, and Emily Dickinson, sculptor Alexander Calder, and painters Georgia O’Keeffe and N.C. Wyeth. These artists, from a wide variety of fields and artistic mediums, all were instrumental in revolutionizing their areas of expertise by creating either new pathways or redefining cultural standards of excellence. But, all of these innovative and significant people were celebrity artists. One did not hear Kennedy touting the importance of the Native American tribal dancers and musicians, Alaskan Inuit artists, Appalachian balladeers, or Bayou folk jazz; rather, it seems to me that the creation of the NEA was rooted in upholding artistic icons and transmitting them globally.

This history of the NEA provides a quite intriguing look into the role of the institution post-genesis. In its early years, divisions of fund redirection were created for differing types of artistic pursuits: theater, music, dance, education, visual arts, and literature. Interestingly enough, theater received a hefty percentage of the Endowment’s funds. In 1967, $1,007,500 was set aside for theatrical grants. This year is also important because it denotes the time when the Endowment funded the incredibly controversial theatrical production of “The Great White Hope” at the Arena Stage in Washington, DC. This play, featuring new-comers James Earl Jones and Jane Alexander as the lead actors, is a look at the nature of racism in America through the lens of boxing. Jones’ character, based on boxer Jack Johnson, deals with the immense racism from all areas—white boxers refuse to compete with him, the general public rebuff his ability and credibility, and an interracial relationship with Alexander’s character show him the depths of racism in America. While the play was a success and ended up winning three Tony Awards and the 1969 Pulitzer Prize, the Arena Stage production brought much controversy and hostility.

Not all grants given by the NEA during its earlier years funded contentious productions and strived to push national conceptions of race, religion, sexuality, gender, power, and class. Struggling ballet companies, writing workshops, child enrichment programs, and architectural initiatives all received grants from the Endowment to help fund their outreach and execution of their ideals. And through the early years, the annual budget for the Endowment continued to grow. Under Nixon’s appointment, Nancy Hanks, NEA director from 1969-1977, pushed for more funding, and by the end of her tenure the budget had grown from the $7.8 million of 1969 to $94 million. During Hank’s tenure at the organization, many respected artists became involved in the grant selection process, including luminaries such as Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., Toni Morrison, Harold Prince, Roy Lichtenstein, and Robert Shaw. The NEA had become a reputable institution to which many artists were devoted. There seemed to be a reciprocal relationship—a metaphorical intellectual marriage between artist and organization, which generated credibility for the NEA. Then, in 1978, the Folk Arts Program was made separate from the Special Projects section of the NEA’s funding. While there had always been recognition of the importance of American folk arts, this was the sea change in support from the organization. Bess Lomax Hawes, relative of esteemed folk archivists Alan and John Lomax, helped form the Folk Arts program and direction, through establishing an evaluative method. She examined the art through criteria such as infrastructure, production, recognition, and relevance. In 1982, the National Heritage Fellowships in Folk Arts were distributed to fifteen folk artists.

In the 1990s, a massive struggle between the NEA and federal government ensued after two controversial pieces sparked national enmity. In 1996, after a few years of pressures from Congress, the NEA’s budget was reduced by 39 percent, thereby forcing the staff to be cut by 47 percent and many grant allocations eradicated. A growing conservative outlook on the Arts in America had been seeping into congressional and public mindset since the beginning of the decade. Therefore, to eliminate artistic controversy, Congress decided to severely punish the NEA for pursuing its goals set out by its founding directors and program heads. But one must ask, why wasn’t this done in 1967, when “The Great White Hope” produced an outcry of public resentment? Although the Endowment was in its genesis stage, and the government couldn’t afford to go back on the words of Kennedy, Johnson, and other influential public figures calling for the creation of such an organization, why weren’t there greater censorship? Nowadays, censorship is attempted through budget cuts and legal restrictions. By cutting the NEA’s funding to under $100 million (from $170 million), Congress sought to do more than a slap on the wrist—the message was clear: support the arts, but only if they don’t piss people off.

This rhetoric is echoed throughout Washington, from the National Gallery of Art to the Smithsonian Museums and to basically any cultural establishment that receives federal funding. Conservative exhibitions, collections, and presentations flourish, mainly due to the fear of losing federal financial backing. So often we, as members of the fairly artistically and art historically uneducated public, look up to these monuments of artistic relevance and conversation to help guide us in our search to understand, appreciate, and define art. This is not to negate the significance and influence of the masters—the celebrity artists—whose role has been to shape and change a widespread conception of art, its direction and its purpose, but to question the total lack of questioning amongst the audience. Few people ask for controversial subjects and artists from these Washington institutions because they’ve become used to conservative manifestation of art display. Unfortunately, in a country where funding for the arts is at a frightening low, it’s really not a surprise that the government is reluctant to seriously support the arts. Up against unduly scant funding and a traditionalist, oft-static, and feisty Congress, the NEA has had to play its role very carefully post-1996. By increasing dedication to folk arts and communities and continuing to support exquisite artistic performances and ventures, the NEA has simply been doing what it has always done—endows the arts that deserve the recognition and funding. Perhaps they’ve become a bit more formal and conservative in their language and presentation (there’s little to no discussion of the 1996 government conflict on the website), but they’ve been able to build back up some government support. However, they’ve also had to rely on the help and influence of fellow artists, who in a way have become mentors to younger NEA followers. Gone are the days of Lomax Hawes, Nancy Hanks, and Kennedy’s optimism, and in are corporate sponsorships, private donors, and saturated marketing spheres. The NEA has had to reinvent itself in the past decade, and regrettably, there still persists the threat that the organization could still be eradicated.