30 November 2023

A History of the National Endowment for the Arts: Chapter 7

 

A Supplement to the Regional Theater Series

[Welcome back to Rick On Theater’s “A History of the National Endowment for the Arts” after the pause to post Kirk Woodward’s “Great Directors at Work,” published on 25 November.  Chapter 7 of the NEA report, “National Endowment for the Arts: A History, 1965-2008,” covers the chairmanship (1993-97) of actress Jane Alexander (b. 1942), spanning the Arts Endowments 30th anniversary as Alexander works to repair the damage incurred during the administration of John Frohnmayer. 

[As I have all along, I recommended that visitors to ROT who are just encountering this series go back first to the beginning and read Chapters 1 through 6, published on 4, 8, 11, 14, 17, and 20 November, respectively.  The NEA’s history is presented chronologically, so it’ll make more sense if read in order.]

NATIONAL ENDOWMENT FOR THE ARTS: A HISTORY, 1965-2008
edited by Mark Bauerlein with Ellen Grantham
(National Endowment for the Arts, 2009)
 

p a r t  I 

The HISTORY of the NEA

 

chapter 7

What Is to Be Done?

In 1993 the Arts Endowment’s budget was largely intact. The scars of the previous four years were civic and political, but in financial terms the NEA had remained unaffected. In 1987, its budget had stood at $165 million [$380.4 million in 2023], and in 1992, with a Democratic majority in Congress and George H. W. Bush in the White House, the Arts Endowment’s budget was at a historic high of $176 million [$330.8 million today].

John Frohnmayer had been gone for almost a year [he resigned on 21 February 1992] when William Jefferson Clinton was inaugurated as president [20 January 1993]. From May 1992 to January 1993, Dr. Anne-Imelda Radice [previously Senior Deputy Chairman of the NEA for a year] had served as acting chairman. (Radice would go on to posts in the Department of Education and the National Endowment for the Humanities during the presidency of George W. Bush, and would eventually become director of the Institute of Museum and Library Services [sub-agency of the National Foundation on the Arts and the Humanities with the NEA, the NEH, and the Federal Council on the Arts and the Humanities (see Chapter 4, 14 November 2023)] in May 2006.) During the transition Madeleine Kunin, deputy secretary of Education, held the position of acting chairman of the Arts Endowment, while the day-to-day operations of the agency were managed by Acting Senior Deputy Chairman Ana Steele, the only NEA staffer remaining who had been employed by the agency from its inception.

On October 8, 1993, Jane Alexander was sworn in by Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor as the Arts Endowment’s sixth chairman. The first artist to occupy the position, Jane Alexander was born in Boston in 1939 and educated at Sarah Lawrence College and the University of Edinburgh. She had never been involved in party politics, although she had been active in the protest movements of the 1960s and 1970s. She was an accomplished stage and screen actress who had won a Tony Award in 1969 for her performance in The Great White Hope by Howard Sackler, a production mounted at Washington’s Arena Stage [1967-70] with Arts Endowment support [and then to Broadway, 1968-70]. Alexander had also received an Oscar nomination for the movie version of the same work, released in 1970, and an Emmy in 1981 for her performance as a concentration camp prisoner in the network television movie Playing for Time [1980]. Another Emmy would come in 2005 for her performance in Warm Springs [2005].

Alexander came to the Arts Endowment at an extremely difficult point in its history. As reported in the New York Times, Alexander testified at her Senate confirmation hearing in September 1993 that her priorities would include informing the country that the great majority of the projects financed by the Arts Endowment were non-controversial. Over the next four years she traveled to all 50 states and Puerto Rico to examine the status of the arts and to improve understanding of the role of the Arts Endowment and its work. Despite her leadership, the agency underwent massive budget cuts and compulsory changes. Through this crisis, Alexander managed to keep the agency operating, and oversaw the reorganization necessitated by the reduction of appropriations. By the time she left the Endowment in 1997, the immediate threat to the agency’s existence had passed. Its budget had been drastically reduced, its regulations had been tightened, and its operating freedom had been narrowed. However, media scrutiny was still heavy, conflicts with artists were unresolved, and Congressional disapproval remained firm.

Alexander’s Beginning

In her memoir, Command Performance (2000), Alexander recalled being handed a briefing book intended to prepare her for “questions about controversy.” Shortly after being nominated, she noted that she “was fortunate that [she] had seen none of the works in question and could respond noncommittally when asked about them.” The briefing book suggested that she declare she was “not thoroughly knowledgeable about the actions taken by the former Administration . . . nor . . . about current controversies. In the future I look forward to working with the Senate on those issues and all other issues regarding the Endowment.”

In her written statement submitted at her Senate confirmation hearing, Alexander stated: “I believe strongly that the sound and fury of the past few years over [a] handful of controversial grants must end . . . I cannot promise that under my chairmanship the arts will be free of controversy. The very essence of art, after all, is to hold the mirror up to nature . . . I can, however, assure Congress that I will follow the statutory guidelines on funding to the very best of my ability to ensure that grants are given for the highest degree of artistic merit and excellence. . . . My goal for the arts is that the best reaches the most.”

Yet, disputes over content continued to bedevil the Arts Endowment. The lawsuit filed by the NEA Four had progressed through the court system and, in fact, changed its focus as changes were made in the Arts Endowment’s legislation. The initial complaints by the artists were, one, that their applications were rejected for political reasons; and two, that the contents of their applications were released to the public— a violation of the Privacy Act. When the “standard of decency” provision was included in the NEA’s 1990 legislation, however, the plaintiffs added a First Amendment count to their case. A district court found in favor of the NEA Four in 1992, and the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals upheld the lower court ruling. In June 1993, at the recommendation of the Department of Justice, the Arts Endowment settled the complaint of Finley, Hughes, Miller, and Fleck, who had claimed their rights had been abridged when Frohnmayer rejected their grants in 1990. The NEA followed the Justice Department’s recommendations on the basis that Chairman Frohnmayer had failed to follow “legal procedures” in the case [see Chapter 6, 20 November 2023]. This was only a partial resolution, however, pertaining only to their specific applications. The artists continued their lawsuit, joined by the National Association of Artists’ Organizations, challenging the constitutionality of the “decency” provision. The months-old Clinton Administration appealed the decision to the Supreme Court, which would later rule in favor of the Arts Endowment in 1998.

Amid these disputes, however, Alexander found much cause for optimism in the agency’s programs. In her first annual chairman’s statement in the 1993 Annual Report, Alexander wrote with satisfaction about “the transformation of the old Office of International Activities as the full-fledged International Program . . . One of the new program’s first concrete achievements was creation of the United States/Canada/Mexico Creative Artists’ Residencies, the first trilateral exchange program of its kind.” She also reported on the expansion of ArtsLink, supporting exchange by U.S. artists and arts administrators with their peers in Eastern and Central Europe.

During Alexander’s tenure, the publication Dancemakers, a study warning of under-financing of “the very creators of America’s great cultural export, dance,” which Alexander described as “an endangered species,” was issued. Other noteworthy outcomes of her term included a new grant to the American Heritage Center and Art Museum at the University of Wyoming in Laramie, and two projects supported by the Challenge Grants Program [see Chapter 3, 11 November 2023]: the expansion of Black Culture on Tour in America, run by the Carter G. Woodson Foundation, to include a Mid-Atlantic and New England touring circuit; and the establishment of a filmmaking academy at the North Carolina School of the Arts. Innovative music initiatives included Chamber Music Rural Residencies, in Georgia, Iowa, and Kansas, while a Media Arts grant supported a 26-episode radio series Wade in the Water: African American Sacred Music Traditions [1994; National Public Radio (NPR) and the Smithsonian Institution].

A National Meeting

In 1994 [14-16 April], the Arts Endowment hosted in Chicago the first federally sponsored national conference on the arts, “Art-21: Art Reaches into the Twenty-first Century.” Underwritten by 18 corporations and foundations, the event brought together more than 1,000 participants to discuss national arts policy, with four topics: the artist in society, lifelong learning in the arts, the arts and technology, and expanding resources for the arts.

The conference opened with an address by Secretary of Housing and Urban Development Henry Cisneros, who spoke about expanding resources for the arts and concentrated on an issue the Arts Endowment had made central to its work for decades: outreach to distressed communities. “The arts can help fight violence, crime, and gang problems in our inner cities,” Cisneros affirmed. The Washington Post described Art-21 as a convocation that “wrestled with doing innovative programs with less funding.” Noting that the “buying power” of the agency had declined 46 percent in the previous decade, the Post noted that for “Cisneros and others . . . the only way to justify increased arts funding is to broaden the role of arts in society.” Addressing the gathering by video broadcast, President Clinton said that the mission of the NEA was “to enliven creative expression and to make the arts more accessible to Americans of all walks of life.”

Art-21 was one of the significant projects of Alexander’s chairmanship. She defined federal policy as chiefly about guidance and assistance, emphasizing that art starts at the local level. She stated, “Open up the doors to your institutions and to your workshops . . . We then begin person by person, child by child, to build a new America.”

The sentiment was ambitious. One logical place for making such a great change, especially at a time of political crisis, was in the field of education. In 1994, with the support of the Endowment, the National Standards for Education in the Arts, which detailed basic requirements for “what every young American should know and be able to do in dance, music, theater, and the visual arts,” was published. The report, which included benchmarks for each major arts field from kindergarten through high school, appeared simultaneously with other Clinton Administration reforms in education. Later it helped educators at the state level to draft content and skill standards for curricula for grades K through 12.

At the same time, the Arts Endowment Research Division released Trends in Artist Occupations: 1970 to 1990, which described the rising popularity of the arts as a career path. The report analyzed data from the U.S. Census to reveal a 127 percent increase in people identifying themselves as artists over the two decades.

In her second chairman’s statement, in 1994, Alexander quoted Walt Whitman, who had declared, “The United States themselves are essentially the greatest poem.” Among other things, she stressed the emerging use of technology to “share art and ideas” and linkages between donors, arts organizations, and communities. The federal government was already beginning to plan Millennium Projects in anticipation of 2000, and Alexander endorsed a statement by President Clinton that “our dedication to the arts today will shape our civilization tomorrow.”

Thirtieth Anniversary—and a Decisive Budget Battle

In 1995, the Arts Endowment celebrated its thirtieth anniversary. In the two previous fiscal years, Congress had trimmed the NEA’s budget from $174 million to $170 million [$321 to $313.7 million today], and then from $170 to $162 million [$313.1 to $298.4 million]. Agency staff was also reduced. These small cuts, however, reflected only the beginning of a shift in Congressional support. A major restructuring of the NEA had begun, and the most severe and debilitating cuts would come in 1996.

The budget and staff cutbacks reflected the impact of an aggressive strategy directed against the very existence of the Arts Endowment by a group of Republican legislators under the leadership of Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich [R-GA]. During the 1994 [Congressional] election campaign, many Republicans ran on a political platform called the “Contract with America” that included a call for the elimination of the Arts Endowment. The Republicans had won and were now in the majority in both the House and Senate for the first time in 40 years. As part of the new political reality, chairmanship of the House Interior Appropriations Subcommittee—with authority over funding of the Arts and Humanities Endowments—transferred from Sid Yates (D-IL) to Ralph Regula (R-OH).

In a January 8, 1995, op-ed in the Washington Post, columnist George Will exhorted Republican legislators to “Give Them the Ax,” referring to the two Endowments and the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. Will wrote, “Because government breeds more government and develops a lobbying infrastructure to defend itself, every state now has a humanities council.” While leaders in the arts regarded it as the expansion of public support for culture throughout the land, Will labeled the Arts Endowment a pork-barrel scheme. Will concluded, “If Republicans merely trim rather than terminate these three agencies, they will affirm that all three perform appropriate federal functions and will prove that the Republican ‘revolution’ is not even serious reform.”

The threat facing the Arts Endowment was no longer simply more budget cuts, but the threat of total elimination. The agency had not been authorized since 1993, leaving it vulnerable. Authorization committees gave advocates and critics an additional playing field in both chambers. In May 1995, Representatives William Goodling (R-PA) and Randy “Duke” Cunningham (R-CA) introduced legislation that would reduce appropriations for the Arts Endowment and its sister agency, the National Endowment for the Humanities for fiscal years 1996, 1997, and 1998 with complete elimination of funds by October 1998. Although the authorization bill was voted out of the House Committee on Economic and Educational Opportunities, it was never voted upon by the full House. A similar bill introduced by Representative Phil Crane (R-IL) gained 33 co-sponsors but failed to be considered by a committee.

Meanwhile in the Senate, the Committee on Labor and Human Resources, chaired by Senator Nancy Landon Kassebaum (R-KS) took up reauthorization supported by Senators James Jeffords (R-VT), Edward Kennedy (D-MA), Christopher Dodd (D-CT), and Al Simpson (R-WY). At one of four hearings, Chair Kassebaum declared, “There is support for the work of the National Endowment for the Arts” and added “Clearly we have to answer some constituent concerns that really do still question whether this is a function of federal government.” Kassebaum was among several Republican lawmakers to offer legislative proposals in the debate over the NEA. She introduced an amendment that would trim NEA money by 5 percent per year and used the opportunity to speak out against a grant to a California arts center that ran performances on sexual themes.

The NEA remained intact but with lower funding levels. The House Appropriations Committee had slashed the agency’s FY 1996 budget by 39 percent from $162 million to $99 million [$287.6 to $175.8 million]. A thorough reorganization followed, which required severe cuts in staffing. Eighty-nine employees were let go through the Reduction in Force (RIF) process, and 11 who were eligible chose to retire. In total the Arts Endowment’s staff shrunk by more than half.

Michael Faubion, later to become NEA’s director of Council Operations and deputy director of Government Affairs, recalled the difficulties of the drastic downsizing, “During this time, there were constant rumors of what would happen if the agency’s budget was cut in half, or worse. The potential for layoffs was very troublesome. A few staff members left before this could happen to them, knowing that the last to have begun work would be the first to go. Once the decision was made about who had to go and who had to stay, all of us still had to work side by side for three months—very uncomfortable.” The reductions took effect in late 1995 and early 1996. Simultaneously, the federal government was shut down for the month of January. Faubion remembers, “Those of us who still had jobs were instructed not to come into work. Then, the worst snowstorm to hit Washington in years came at the same time [Blizzard of 1996, 6-7 January, with up to 30" of snow]. When we finally returned to work, we had completely different offices and jobs, and different people to work with. It was a surreal experience.”

Surviving the Budget Cut and Congressional Reforms

The budget cut was much larger than any previously imposed, but at the same time the agency earned national honors. January 1995 saw the premiere of American Cinema, a new series on public television, supported by the Arts Endowment as part of the millennium celebration of twentieth-century American art. Chairman Alexander accepted a Tony Award on behalf of the agency, which recognized the significant work of the Arts Endowment in the expansion of American regional theater. Further, in 1995, for the first time, the NEA National Heritage Fellowships were presented at the White House with First Lady Hillary Rodham Clinton presiding.

In her Congressional testimony that year, Alexander defended the Arts Endowment. She declared, “A great nation supports and encourages the education of all its people. A great nation recognizes that the life of the spirit, of the human mind, is what endures through the passing on from generation to generation of a heritage that says: this is who we are, this is who we were, and this is who we will be in days to come. That heritage is manifested through the arts, the humanities and the sciences. That heritage is what we seek to keep alive at the Endowment for the Arts.” Later, in the NEA’s 1995 Annual Report, Alexander stated “the most poignant of all our partnerships came about in response to tragedy.” Following the 1995 bombing of the Oklahoma City federal building, the Arts Endowment led a design initiative to foster community reconstruction. A design workshop convened entitled “We Will Be Back: Oklahoma City Rebuilds.” In 1996, a Rockefeller Foundation report showed that, notwithstanding the cuts, the Arts Endowment remained the largest single financial supporter of the arts in America. Still, the chairman was forced to face the new reality that “with fewer dollars, we must become more resourceful.” And so Alexander instituted several “sweeping changes” to restructure the agency:

• Reduction of 17 discipline-based grant programs to four funding divisions: Heritage and Preservation, Education and Access, Creation and Presentation, Planning and Stabilization;

• Addition of combined arts panels—a new layer of review—over the new four funding divisions;

• Establishment of Leadership Initiatives to give the agency programmatic flexibility.

Of the grant-making changes undertaken during her tenure, none was more painful for Chairman Alexander than the Congressional mandate to eliminate all individual artist grants, with the exception of the Literature Fellowships. This change would remain an ongoing point of controversy in the artistic community for the next decade.

Over the next three years (1996-1998), Congress instituted a series of dramatic reforms affecting the agency’s operations and grantmaking policies including:

• Elimination of grants to individuals with the exceptions of the field of literature and honorific fellowships for jazz musicians and folk and traditional artists;

• Elimination of grants to organizations for the purpose of sub-granting to other organizations or artists, except for regional, state, and local arts agencies;

• Elimination of seasonal or general operating support grants to organizations;

• Authority for the NEA to solicit, accept, receive, and invest gifts or bequests of money, property, and services;

• Capping of agency funding to any one particular state at 15 percent (excluding multi-state projects);

• Reduction of the National Council on the Arts from 26 to 14 private members appointed by the President and confirmed by the Senate, and the addition of six ex-officio seats for members of Congress appointed by the House and Senate leadership;

• Increased percentage of program funds allocated to state arts agencies from 35 percent to 40 percent.

The Congressional reforms strengthened language contained in the agency’s 1990 authorization that funding priority be given to underserved populations. Congress also required that the NEA establish a separate grant category for projects that are national in scope, or that provide access to the arts in communities in underserved states.

The Arts Endowment had previously functioned as a compartmentalized grant-making body, with financing awarded through specific arts disciplines. Under the old structure, for example, symphony orchestras competed with each other for grants from the NEA’s symphony budget. Under the new reforms, a symphony orchestra would compete against a dance company or a literary magazine, whose project fell in the same division, such as Education and Access.

According to Alexander, the new structure would ensure equitable opportunities for support, but would be more rigorous. In addition, the new structure would more accurately reflect cross-fertilization among disciplines. She pointed out that “contemporary art often marries genres—poetry and song, digital art with film, design and drama,” adding that “one of the outcomes that we hope for is collaboration among arts organizations, not only for fiduciary reasons, but for aesthetic growth and experimentation.” (This new arrangement proved temporary, however, and by 2005 grants were awarded again for projects in specific disciplines.

As the severe cutbacks were implemented, the Arts Endowment continued generating fresh and exciting projects. In 1996, the American Canvas project began, with meetings in cities such as Charlotte, North Carolina; Columbus, Ohio; Los Angeles, California; Miami, Florida; Rock Hill, South Carolina; Salt Lake City, Utah; and San Antonio, Texas. American Canvas hosted discussions of arts support in these cities and improved strategies for arts integration into communities. Open Studio, a project for free Internet access to arts organizations in all 50 states, along with a mentoring program for ten sites to be used by artists on the World Wide Web, also began in 1996 in partnership with the Benton Foundation [nonprofit organization focused on using media for the public good, particularly for educational purposes].

The Battle Continues

In 1997, the NEA faced multiple efforts to abolish it. Although Congress had imposed enormous budget cuts, House Speaker Gingrich once again targeted the Arts Endowment for liquidation. In April, Gingrich told a Washington news conference that rich celebrities and entertainment executives should donate their own funds to establish a private endowment, or “tax-deductible private trust.” Hollywood personalities including actor Alec Baldwin, speaking for the Creative Coalition, an entertainment industry lobby, rebuffed the suggestion. Baldwin commented, “Arts belong at the national table.” But public intellectuals of a free-market bent, such as economics professor Tyler Cowen of George Mason University [state university in Fairfax County, Virginia], backed the proposal for a private arts endowment, which Cowen argued would “decentralize taste and promote diversity.”

On June 26, 1997, the FY 1998 appropriations bill for the Interior and related agencies was voted out of the House Appropriations Committee with $10 million [$17.5 million (from 1997 dollars)] for the NEA, just enough money to shut the agency down. Before the House floor debate on the bill occurred, a rule was passed, by a vote of 217-216 that allowed both a point of order against the unauthorized agency and for the presentation of an amendment to provide block grants to the states for arts education. The deciding vote was cast when Representative John McHugh (R-NY) switched sides. McHugh insisted that while he “always felt the government has a role in arts funding,” he was “looking for a way to do it more effectively.”

When the House took up the appropriations bill on July 11, Congressman Phil Crane (R-IL) raised the point of order against the NEA and it was automatically accepted, leaving the agency with zero funding. Congressman Vern Ehlers (R-MI) offered the block grant amendment giving $80 million [$139.8 million] to state arts agencies, as well as local school boards to subsidize arts education. The Ehlers amendment was defeated by a vote of 191 to 238, leaving zero funding for the NEA.

As the bill moved to the Senate, President Clinton came to the Arts Endowment’s defense, promising to veto the appropriations bill if it did not contain at least $99.5 million [$173.8 million] for the Arts Endowment. But the fight had just shifted to a different chamber. Champions of the NEA appeared on both sides of the aisle in the Senate, including the Chairman of the Senate Interior Appropriations Subcommittee, Slade Gorton (R-WA). Senator Gorton kept his pledge to defend the agency and restored $100 million [$174.7 million] for the NEA in the Interior bill.

More attempts were made in the Senate to abolish the NEA. One attack focused on sexual content in artistic expression led by Senator Jesse Helms (R-NC) and by a new proponent of eliminating the agency, Senator John Ashcroft (R-MO). Senator Spencer Abraham (R-MI) put forth a plan to privatize both the National Endowment for the Arts and the National Endowment for the Humanities over a five-year period declaring the Endowments were “out of touch with the public.” Other Senators registered objections to the non-democratic distribution of federal funding. Senator Tim Hutchinson (R-AR) assailed what he perceived as the centralization of federal arts grants in six cities to the exclusion of the rest of America, and Senator Kay Bailey Hutchison (R-TX) attempted to redirect more funds to the states.

Finally on October 18, the Senate passed by a vote of 93 to 3 an appropriations bill containing $100 million [$174.7 million] for the NEA and a new provision for the agency to solicit and accept private funds. When the bill moved to conference, Interior Appropriations Chairmen Senator Gorton and Representative Ralph Regula (R-OH) brokered a compromise that successfully assuaged Congressional critics. For FY 1998, the National Endowment for the Arts would receive $98 million [$169.5 million] and instructions from Congress that permanently altered the agency’s mission and operations well into the next decade.

The Alexander Legacy

The number of total grants awarded by the NEA dropped from 4,000 in 1995 to 1,100 in 1997. Yet the Arts Endowment had survived, despite strong Congressional opposition. Alexander had completed four years in the chairmanship, and she remained a strong advocate for federal funding of the arts. Soon after her swearing-in, she began touring the country, reintroducing the Arts Endowment and its mission to communities large and small. No previous chair had traveled so extensively across America. Alexander became a nationally visible spokesperson for public support of the arts—something none of her predecessors had ever attempted. In House testimony in 1997, she had declared, “We are the engine that drives other public and private investment in the arts, and we are not a drain on the economy by any standard of measurement.”

During Alexander’s chairmanship, the NEA suffered severe budget cuts as well as reductions in staff, programs, and resources. Interest groups and political leaders of diverse ideologies continued to target the Arts Endowment for elimination. According to the Washington Post, Alexander had “regained solid support from a broad swath of political moderates.” She announced that she would leave the chairmanship at the end of her four-year term in October 1997. She called the respite “a chance to breathe,” and the Post concluded that she also had “won that for the Arts Endowment.” In her final judgment she said, “It is a testament to the citizens of America who love the arts in their community that the Endowment is alive. . . . These citizens are a pure force in an impure world and our society needs more of them.”

[The next installment of “A History of the National Endowment for the Arts,” Chapters 8, “Broadening the Agency’s Reach,” and Chapter 9, “In Dark Hours,” will cover the administrations of folklorist and author Bill Ivey (b. 1944), NEA chairman from 1998 to 2001, and musician and educator Michael Hammond (1932-2002), chairman in 2002.  Please come back to ROT for the continuation of the serialization of “National Endowment for the Arts: A History, 1965-2008,” which will be posted on Sunday. 3 December.] 

25 November 2023

'Great Directors at Work'

by Kirk Woodward 

[Kirk, who, ROTters will know, is a longtime friend, has been a prolific contributor to Rick On Theater since its inception in 2009.  He’s written on many topics, mostly theatrical and musical (but not exclusively), and since one of his many talents is as a director, a number of his ROT posts have been about directors and directing.

[Kirk’s directorial articles for this blog include “Kirk Woodward’s King Lear Journal,” 4 June 2010; “Directing Twelfth Night for Children,” 16 and 19 December 2010; “Saints of the Theater,” 30 December 2011; “Reflections On Directing,” 11, 14, 17, and 20 April 2013; “Evaluating A Director,” 1 March 2017; “Thoughts On Rehearsals,” 26 December 2017; “George Abbott,” 14 October 2018; “On Directing Shakespeare,” 1 March 2019; “Directors You’d Rather Not Work With,” 25 June 2019; The Producer and the Play,” 20 July 2023; and “A Directing Experience,” 13 and 16 October 2023.

[It goes without saying—but I will anyway—that many of Kirk’s other theater posts, in particular, his performance reports, also draw on his directorial experience.  All told, Kirk’s contributions to ROT number something over a hundred.

[Kirk’s current post, “Great Directors at Work,” is a report on the book of that title by David Richard Jones.  It’s a run-down, according to Jones’s lights, of the directorial careers and techniques of four prominent stage directors: Konstantin Stanislavsky, Bertolt Brecht, Elia Kazan, and Peter Brook.  As significant as this book is—I’ve had a copy in my library for many years—Jones isn’t all that well known.  I couldn’t even find his birth year listed anywhere.

[David Richard Jones is professor emeritus of English at the University of New Mexico, where he also taught courses in the Department of Theatre and Dance.  He taught Shakespeare as well as modern and contemporary drama at UNM since 1971.  He’s also devised educational programs involving humanities lecturers and booklets for high school teachers at professional theaters in New York and New Mexico.

[Jones was the founding artistic director of the Vortex Theatre in Albuquerque (1976-78); Vortex, a purveyor of classic contemporary, and cutting-edge theater, is Albuquerque’s oldest continuously-running black box playhouse.  He was also the founding artistic director of Will Power, the Vortex Theatre’s summer Shakespeare repertory launched in 2010, and of the New Mexico Shakespeare Festival in 2014 and 2015. 

[Also a freelance theater director who’s directed over 50 productions of classics, contemporary plays, musicals, and operas in English and Spanish, including productions in Mexico and Venezuela, Jones’s directing experience includes professional, community, and educational productions of many Shakespeare plays, including three versions of Hamlet, two of As You Like It, plus King Lear, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet, Titus Andronicus, and Much Ado About Nothing.

[In addition to Great Directors at Work (University of California Press, 1986), Jones is the editor of New Mexico Plays (University of New Mexico Press, 1989), an anthology of then-recent original dramas by New Mexican playwrights.  It presents a contemporary vision of the modern New Mexican landscape in plays by native New Mexican dramatists (plus one 20-year transplant) that all take place in New Mexico and are about subjects and characters New Mexicans might know.

[When Kirk observed, “Some productions today . . . seem to be more about the director than the playwright,” he added that “Jones does not decry this situation.”  This suggests that Jones put great store in directorial “independence and power,” which can be seen, perhaps, in the descriptions of some of his Shakespearean productions.  From the pages of the Weekly Alibi, a news, arts, culture, and entertainment newspaper and website in Albuquerque:

The Vortex Theatre’s version of the play [King Lear (2008)] takes place against the backdrop of World War II.

The Vortex version of Much Ado About Nothing [2010] is set in the Roaring ’20s.  Think flappers, bon vivants, martinis, cigarettes and lawn games.  Think The Great Gatsby.

Jones’s production [of Hamlet (2016)] incorporates modern props and dress in order to “eliminate a layer of interference between the audience and the play” and this is done holistically.  Cell phones, for example, are incorporated not as an afterthought, but as an essential vehicle to pushing the plot forward, potentially rife with meaning.

[Those notices were generally mixed: some of Jones’s directorial choices worked for the reviewers and some didn’t.  That’s about par, I’d say.]

At the conclusion of a production of Antigone by the ancient Greek tragedian Sophocles (c. 497/6-406/5) about which I have written elsewhere in this blog (“A Directing Experience,” posted on Rick On Theater on 13 and 16 October), the cast gave me, as associate director, a book called Great Directors at Work, presumably not because I am one, but in order to help me become one.

In any case I have found the book to be of unusual interest. Published in 1986, its author is David Richard Jones, now professor emeritus at the University of New Mexico, who has taught both English and Theatre Arts there. (It’s published by the University of California Press.)

Jones wrote his book while the prestige of the field of directing was on an upswing that continues to this day:

I am inclined to accept the historical fact that directors have become central to modern theatre and then to consider a corollary, that modern theatre is no doubt more sophisticated and more artistic for that change.

Since he wrote that sentence, directors have become even more central to the theatrical experience, certainly in the United States. Jones revels in that fact:

Today’s personally expressive, independently creative directors testify to the historic reality of this drive for imaginative freedom, that is, to the most self-consciously artistic impulses within the ranks.

Some productions today – even of plays written long ago – seem to be more about the director than the playwright. [For what I consider an example of this, see my report on Tennessee Williams’s The Glass Menagerie as staged by Sam Gold, posted on 8 April 2017. ~Rick] Jones does not decry this situation:

At least in the United States, it seems that the director has moved a desk into the playwright’s workroom, the better to channel inspiration from the beginning.

So “directorial authority” comes down to independence and power.

If sufficiently old-fashioned (like myself), one can argue that on the contrary “the play’s the thing,” and the Dramatists Guild would agree (sometimes in court), claiming that a director’s primary function is to make sure the author’s work itself is faithfully presented. Jones demurs:

How can a director be said to create if the assignment is merely to stage someone else’s play? That is not creating to a very meaningful degree, is it?

Jones relates the idea of “power directors” and their work to other issues:

We disagree in a muddled way about whether directing is an art, about what the art consists of, about what its kinds or “isms” might be, about its vocabulary, and about much more that is equally important to a sophisticated treatment of the subject.

For example, he pleads for a more robust vocabulary to describe a director’s work – for a better definition of “director” itself, for a canon of examples of directing that can serve as models, for precision in the use of words like “style,” “image,” and “presence.” He offers suggestions for some of these, but primarily he is more concerned that we understand that directing today is “an activity that no longer depends on preexistent literature.” He feels this is for the better:

I am inclined to accept the historical fact that directors have become central to modern theatre and then to consider a corollary, that modern theatre is no doubt more sophisticated and more artistic for that change.

With the courage of his convictions, he claims that

1880-1980 is the third great age of Western drama, an era comparable or superior to the eras of Sophocles and Shakespeare in such respects as duration, number of productions, cultural reverberation, and artistic achievement.

For me, sneaking in the words “artistic achievement” in the above quotation is begging the question. However, Jones sees the history of directing as progress:

So “directorial authority” comes down to independence and power. The independence I describe is not only from script or collaboration, but just as importantly from dead traditions and bad habits, from rotten cliches, stale thoughts, and poor assumptions about what theatrical art can or cannot be.

Perhaps. To objections, Jones says that he’s talking about the present situation, and that if we don’t like it, we should change it – which of course is easier said than done. In any case, I found much of the material in this book to be a revelation, because its “main event” is a stimulating discussion of four productions by four directors: Konstantin Stanislavsky, Bertolt Brecht, Elia Kazan, and Peter Brook.

One problem with such a discussion is that theater is an ephemeral art. Some aspects of it can be captured with video recording, but by its nature such recording is selective – it can’t include every aspect of a theatrical performance.  Jones avoids this difficulty by centering his work on his four directors’ written examinations of the plays they stage (also utilizing reviews, journals, and other artifacts).

What in the book was revelatory for me, then? In the case of Konstantin Stanislavsky (1863-1938 – Jones’ spelling of his name), the production Jones chooses to write about is the famous Moscow Art Theatre’s production of The Seagull by Anton Chekhov (1860-1904) in 1898. This production established the MAT as one of the leading theaters in Russia (and subsequently in the world).

I assumed this Seagull presentation was a Stanislavsky production. In fact he directed fewer than half the rehearsals for the play. Equally surprising, he spent a month and a half in isolation working out a detailed plan for the production. What’s surprising about that?

Today, at least in the United States, Stanislavsky’s name is associated with mental acting work, in particular the technique of emotional recall promoted by Lee Strasberg (1901-1982) at the Actors Studio in Manhattan. Stanislavsky certainly focused on similar work during much of his career.

However, in his rehearsal plan for The Seagull, Stanislavsky focused almost entirely on physical actions, to a level of detail hard to believe, except that we’ve got the written notes to prove it. For example, at the beginning of Act 3 of the play:

Jumping to his feet, he runs to Miss Arkadina; speaks boldly, forcefully, confidently. Turning round to him, Miss Arkadina looks straight into his eyes. She has understood everything. A pause. She shakes her head. Trigorin deflates completely, says in a faltering, imploring voice, ‘Let’s, please’ and sits down on a chair despondently.

Almost any actors could follow these instructions and give decent renderings of their roles, without any inner life. More precisely, “inner life” would inevitably follow as a result of these “external” instructions. Over his career Stanislavsky moved between the two poles of the internal and the external.

At the end of his life he was still exploring the effect of the physical on the emotional. Many actors shy away from this kind of work because they are afraid the results will be cliched and superficial, and certainly that’s a danger if the physical work itself is cliched and superficial. However, as Stanislavsky demonstrated, it doesn’t have to be.

Here are two personal experiences along this line. I studied acting for several years at the HB Studio in New York with Elizabeth Dillon (see “Portrait of a Mentor” by Alan Geller, posted on ROT on 30 July 2020), wonderful teacher who was thoroughly conversant with Stanislavsky’s approach(es) as she had learned them from Bobby Lewis, Stella Adler, and Uta Hagen. I brought a scene into class and I was absolutely awful in it.

Giving instructions for a repeat of the scene, she said to me, “Darling, all I want you to do is . . .” and she gave me a series of physical instructions – on this line cross to the desk, on this word pick up a pencil, and so on. When we did the scene again it worked like a charm.

Somewhat similarly, a few years ago in New York I directed a two-character one act play. One of the actors took to his part immediately and was able to take detailed character notes. The other could not “get” his role at all. So, remembering Elizabeth’s advice, I gave him physical instructions for every moment of his role. He immediately played it exactly the way I felt the playwright had intended.

To see Stanislavsky working this same way is fascinating. The use of what is sometimes called a “score of physical actions” is by no means his total approach, but it is important, and seeing his thoroughness in preparing his “score” for The Seagull is inspirational (see “Ryszard CieÅ›lak,” 5 February 2020, and “Children of the Gods: Launching The Shaliko Company (1973),” 19 November 2021; also briefly, “‘The Stone in the Soup’ – Excerpts: Part 2” by Tom Crawley, 17 April 2011 – all descriptions of an actor using a score). It encourages me to prepare more diligently in my own directing work.

On, then, to Bertolt Brecht (1898-1956), well known for his plays (including Mother Courage and Her Children, first performed in 1941), his theory of the “alienation effect” (as it is often translated in English), and his thoroughgoing Marxist orientation. (For comments on Brecht’s concept and the translation of the name, see “Short Takes: Word Origins & Other Derivations: Verfremdungseffekt,” 4 July 2010.)

Jones, referring primarily to Brecht’s production of Mother Courage in Berlin in 1949, uses as his text an enormous “model book” that Brecht created for that production, called Couragemodell 1949. Brecht’s idea was to make as complete as possible an account (including the script, numerous notes, and abundant photographs) of a successful production that other directors could follow.

Whether the model book has ever been used in that way in productions beyond Brecht’s own company (the Berliner Ensemble) is not clear to me. However, it is a remarkable resource for learning about how Brecht worked, and Jones’ account of it clarifies many aspects of Brecht’s work.

In the first place, he makes it clear that whatever Brecht’s theories of theater may have been at a given time (like Stanislavsky, he was given to clarifying, expanding, or just plain changing his ideas as he felt necessary), as a director he did not promote his theories in front of his casts. He discouraged discussion in rehearsal. “Brecht would say that he wanted no discussions in rehearsal – it would have to be tried,” wrote the director Carl Weber (1925-2016), who worked with him.

What Brecht did instead of promoting ideas is fascinating: he worked in extreme detail (as did Stanislavsky on The Seagull) and he focused that detail on individual moments in the play, avoiding generalizing, and shaping each moment of the play as if nothing followed it,

freezing a motion or condition; stopping the action for a closer, longer look; isolating a detail or moment or element or shading and then expanding it into meaning, into an image.

One of Brecht’s co-workers said that Brecht achieved his results by accumulation of “a large number of details, some of them very small.” Obviously this approach takes a great deal of time to prepare a play, and Brecht knew this, writing in the model book that

The pace at rehearsals should be slow, if only to make it possible to work out details; determining the pace of the production is another matter and should come later.

Jones says that there is actually little in the model book about the pacing of the entire play, certainly no indication of whether it should be “slow” or “fast” at any point. It should be true, Brecht insisted, conforming to the reality of the moment and also reflecting (as was second nature for Brecht) its social meaning.

Meaning conveyed through specific detail was fundamental to Brecht’s theatrical art, and he insisted on it from his earliest days as a director. . . . He placed one thing after another until a final conclusion was obvious.

In other words, Brecht deeply embodied his ideas in behavior. “Without details there are no ‘concepts’ in  Brecht’s theatre, no themes, no broad intellectual perspectives or messages,” Jones writes. I and others have often referred to productions as “Brechtian” without understanding Brecht's approach, and I am grateful to Jones for clarifying this point, and a great deal more.

Because Jones’ book is so full of worthwhile information, I will not go into equal detail about the last two directors he covers in his book, Elia Kazan (1909-2003) and Peter Brook (1925-2022). However, it is worth noting that all four of the directors discussed in the book are workers of astonishing thoroughness, all highly intentional in their work.

Elia Kazan was the acknowledged leader in direction on Broadway beginning with his work with the Group Theatre in the 1930s and moving through the next two decades, until he abandoned the theater for movies.  Kazan was a director with energy and confidence:

. . . he was always his own director, always his own man. In his words, “I work on the premise that the audience will like to see what I like to make.” From the mid-1940s until the early 1960s, no American theatre director could point to a more distinguished career as justification for such artistic self-assertion.

Kazan describes his working method in three steps:

1.  “I put terrific stress on what the person wants and why he wants it. What makes it meaningful for him. I don’t start on how he goes about getting it until I get him wanting it.

2.  Introduce the actor to “the circumstances under which he behaves – what happens before, and so on.”

3.  “I will say nothing to an actor that cannot be translated directly into action.” “The life of a play is in behavior.” “I try to find the physical behavior without preconception on my part if possible, but from what the actor does to achieve his objective under the circumstances.”

One notices that, although Kazan’s tone is firm, he leaves room for what the actor brings to the role. Directors may be tempted to think that the actor can do nothing without them. Kazan did not make this mistake.

The material of my profession is the lives the actors have lived up to now.

At the same time his preparation is thorough:

Kazan has said that directing is “half conceptual, the core of it – you get into what the events mean, what you’re trying to express,” and half executive, “just work. But if you are careless with the first stage, you make something which is flaccid at its center.”

Jones uses the first production of A Streetcar Named Desire (1947) by Tennessee Williams (1911-1983) to examine how Kazan worked, and the story is thrilling. It includes tensions among actors, close and careful work with the author, and self-confidence when everyone around the play doubted its success.

Kazan was particularly known for the energy his productions displayed. The critic Eric Bentley (1916-2020), who had major reservations about Kazan’s work, wrote:

Things move fast in a Kazan show. So fast you can’t see them. If anything is wrong, you don’t notice. If a false note is struck, its sound is at once covered by others. One has no time to think. “Drama isn’t time to think” the director seems to be saying, “it’s action that sweeps you off your feet.”

However, Jones makes it clear that while Kazan was committed to the use of powerful strokes in his productions, he didn’t make a fetish of them, realizing that they had to be grounded in the script itself:

I tried to think and feel like the author so that the play would be in the scale and in the mood, in the tempo and feeling of each writer. I tried to be the author.

Jones recounts times where Kazan literally “tried to be the author,” particularly with the plays of Tennessee Williams that he directed, but he denied that his intention was anything beyond putting on stage what the author had in mind – in a memorable phrase, “turning Psychology into Behavior.” In his late novel The Under-study (1975) one of his characters puts it this way:

The great plays were not great because of cleverness. Today it’s all experiments in style. What counts and what endures is meaning, theme. What you have to touch in an audience is their fundamental concerns, what’s worrying them now and always will, even if they don’t know it, the mind’s despair, the heart’s hope.

In the beginning of this article I noted Jones’ enthusiasm about the idea of the director as the primary artist of the theater. In Kazan’s work we can see a certain weakening of the playwright’s claim to be the major source of inspiration of a production. Peter Brook (1925-2022), Jones’ fourth and last subject, is a major director whose relationship to “texts” is even more fluid.

The play that Jones uses to illustrate this point is Brook’s famous Royal Shakespeare Company production of the 1963 play by Peter Weiss (1916-1982) entitled The Persecution and Assassination of Jean-Paul Marat as Performed by the Inmates of the Asylum of Charenton Under the Direction of the Marquis de Sade, usually and mercifully referred to as Marat/Sade.

(I almost wish Jones had used Brook’s famous 1970 production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which I saw first in London and then in the United States. Brook set the play in a box-like set and used circus techniques as the physical “language” of the play. It was I suppose the greatest production I’ve ever seen; it was dazzling but it never lost sight of Shakespeare’s play.)

Brook’s Marat/Sade began its life as a workshop on the subject of madness. A workshop, Jones says, is “a form of research,” frequently inspired by “a widespread dissatisfaction . . . with realistic acting and dramaturgy.” Jones suggests that the questions posed by Brook’s and similar workshops are:

How could Western theatre rediscover an expressive style beyond realistic portrayal of behavior?

How could the actor’s whole human mechanism be liberated to achieve this new expressiveness?

How could theatre distinguish itself from the more popular and automatic dramatic media?

How could actors and directors relate to the audience?

The ultimate goal of such workshops could be said to be “a theatre of sound of movement,” which, note, is not necessarily the same as “a theater of plays.” The relationship of performance to text, the proponents of the workshop approach posited, was something to explore – as the director and workshop leader Charles Marowitz (1934-2014) wrote, “as material that could be reworked and rethought” –  and not something to take for granted.

Brook said that his rehearsals had two parts, “looking for meaning and then making it meaningful” – again, to create content and then to apply it to a play. The process is strenuous; Brook’s workshop for Marat/Sade led the great actress Glenda Jackson (1936-2023), then at the early point of her career, to say that “we were all convinced that we were going mad.”

The resulting production was dazzling, validating Brook’s approach at least for the play he was working on.  Brook’s was not the only approach; other productions around the world took different approaches, again suggesting the idea that the “text” of the play was just that, a framework to be filled with content.

One should note that Brook’s work was never experimental in the sense of being tentative or vague. Brook began as a “conventional” director, and Jones stresses that he knew all the tricks:

For Brook, the problems of variety and pace were great opportunities. He has always preferred contrasts to similarities and jangles to chords, and he has theorized that variety is a necessary or structural element in modernist theater. . . . Brook’s career offers many proofs of his contention that pace is the “one god whom we all serve – whether in musicals or in melodramas or in the classics.”

But it was his determination to recreate the theatrical experience from the bottom up – to start completely anew every time, every production – that made him an icon in theater circles. The “workshop” was a fundamental instrument in his attempts, and videos of some of them can be seen on YouTube, for example at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YCmgkfEWN6s.

Is Brook’s approach widely used today? My impression is that it is not, certainly not extensively, partly because of financial restraints. In the United States the salaries of members of Actors Equity, the actors’ union, are carefully regulated, and there is no volunteering.

At the same time a workshop by definition is not a performance, so its capability for raising money is limited, and it usually has to be financed by grants and donations, which are not necessarily easy to come by. However, Brooks’ influence is not limited to one approach, and Jones looks at his work from other angles as well.

In this review I have tried to single out some highlights of this useful and provocative book, but I have barely scratched the surface. I personally have found the book inspirational; I intend to apply many of its insights to my own work if I possibly can. I would think that any director would benefit from reading this book; so would anyone interested in learning more about the countless variables that go into a theatrical production.

[When I read “Great Directors at Work,” I had a number of responses, mostly in support or illustration of Kirk’s comments on the book and Jones’s ideas about directing.  I’ve collected some of those reader responses to append here, at the end of the posting of Kirk’s report, just to continue the conversation.

[First, however, for ROTters who’ve been following the serialization of “National Endowment for the Arts: A History, 1965-2008,” which I’ve interrupted to post Kirk’s report: I’ll be publishing the next installment, Chapter 7, “What Is to Be Done?” on Thursday, 30 November.  I hope that you’ll all come back to ROT when I pick up that thread.

[When Kirk remarks, for instance, on the rise in significance of the director after Jones's book came out (1986), I thought of the establishment of the stage directors’ union, the Society of Stage Directors and Choreographers (SSDC – now the Stage Directors and Choreographers Society, or SDC) as a manifestation of this. 

[Though SSDC was founded in 1959 and Broadway producers recognized it in 1967, it wasn’t until eight years later that the union won the important litigation establishing that its members are employees. This set the precedent on which SDC bases its authority, affording it the recognition as a significant force in the theater.   

[Coincidentally—or maybe not—at about the same time, theatrical director Geoffrey Shlaes (1951-2016) launched the American Directors Institute.  ADI, founded in 1985, was intended to inform both theatergoers and members of the theater fraternity who aren’t directors what directors do, and to facilitate networking among directors and artistic directors and give them a forum for exchanging ideas about and techniques for directing.  ADI was dissolved in 1992.  (In the interest of full disclosure, Geoff engaged me in 1986 to launch and edit its newsletter, which I entitled Directors Notes; I turned the editorship over to a successor in 1988 before I went upstate to take a teaching job at a State University college.)

[When Kirk quotes Jones on "directorial authority," and equates it with “independence and power,” I remarked that Vsevolod Meyerhold (1874-1940) wrote in Vs. Meyerhold: On the Theatre (1912; as quoted in Alma Law and Mel Gordon’s Meyerhold, Eisenstein and Biomechanics: Actor Training in Revolutionary Russia [1996]) that "the director [is] the 'author' of a theatrical production."  The innovative Russian director went on to explain: “He creates the performance text, determines its overall style and himself works out every stage action.”

[One reaction I had was to a turn of phrase Kirk used that relates to a pet peeve of mine: “begging the question.”  I note it here just to record my delight in its (correct) appearance on Rick On Theater.  My note in Kirk’s text was simply “Hooray!” because almost everyone who uses this expression—it often appears on TV on both news and commentary shows and in scripted series—misuses it.  I was delighted to see that Kirk didn’t. 

[As Marilyn vos Savant (b. 1946), the super-intelligent columnist (“Ask Marilyn” in Parade), explains that begging the question is a logical fallacy “also known as ‘circular reasoning’; it refers to the error of basing one’s conclusion on an assumption, often a form of the conclusion.” 

[Kirk was referring to the statement by Jones that the century between 1880 and 1980 was “comparable or superior to the eras of Sophocles and Shakespeare” with respect to its theater, for a list of reasons concluding with “artistic achievement.” 

[It was this last criterion that Kirk branded begging the question because for Jones to include it in his list, he had to assume that there’s a universally accepted standard of judgment by which the theater of the period would merit being labeled artistically significant.  There isn’t, so it’s just Jones’s opinion, and he uses it as evidence that the century’s theater was an “artistic achievement.”  That’s circular reasoning based on an assumption.  (The other three criteria are measurable or observable.)

[Vos Savant adds that the misuse “became so common that the term began to acquire a new meaning: ‘raises the question,’ followed by a question.”  The correct use of the phrase, the columnist points out, “is a complete statement.  No question follows.”  (On 8 April 2014, I added Savant’s column as a Comment to a blog post called “Words on Words,” 1 February 2014.)

[In regard to Kirk’s remarks on the "alienation effect," I referenced my comments on the Verfremdungseffekt and the translation of the name in "Short Takes: Word Origins & Other Derivations" (4 July 2010).  Readers can call it up themselves (Rick On Theater: Short Takes: Word Origins & Other Derivations), but I want to reiterate my objection to the common English rendering of the term.

[Kirk notes that Verfremdungseffekt, a word Brecht made up, “is often translated in English” as ‘alienation effect.’  That’s true, but it’s really a misleading expression.  Brecht never wanted to alienate the audience in the sense of making them unfriendly or hostile.  What he wanted was to let the spectators see ideas and images to which they’d become accustomed as if they were new and unfamiliar.  Brecht devised several techniques to de-familiarize what audiences were seeing so they would actively contemplate it anew, with a untainted perspective.

[The German verb verfremden doesn’t really exist, except in Brecht’s specific usage. Ver- is a prefix that sometimes means ‘to become . . . ,’ especially when affixed to an adjective.  The adjective fremd means ‘strange’ or ‘foreign,’ so, verfremden (-ung is the German gerund suffix, comparable to ‘-ing’ in English) would mean ‘to become strange’ or ‘to become unfamiliar.’  As slightly awkward as it is, I prefer “defamiliarizing effect” as a translation for Brecht’s word.

[Sticking with Bertolt Brecht for another moment, Kirk brings up the Brechtian tactic of invoking the “large number of details, some of them very small.” in his plays.  This is also the process of hyperreal theater—though the performance style is different.  In my post on "Hyperreal Theater" (16 January 2021), I compared several specifics of hyperreal style to Brechtian practices, though I didn't include this one.  Perhaps I should have.  It’s the attention to very specific detail in the characters’ behavior as well as the physical environment that creates the illusion of hyperreality.

[When he begins his report on Jones’s discussion of the work of Peter Brook, Kirk expresses the wish that Jones had chosen to analyze Brook’s celebrated circus-infused Midsummer Night’s Dream. On 6 November 1988, theater critic, producer, playwright, writer, and educator Robert Brustein (1927-2023) published an essay in the New York Times’ "Arts and Leisure" section called “Reworking the Classics: Homage or Ego Trip?"  In it, he examines “the reinterpretation or ‘deconstruction’ of celebrated classical plays,” dividing them into “the prosaic simile and the poetic metaphor.”

[In the essay, Brustein calls Brook’s Midsummer one of "two fine examples of metaphorical theater" (the other is his 1962 Beckettian production of King Lear for the Royal Shakespeare Company), his label for the work of directors "attempt[ing] to penetrate the mystery of a play in order to devise a poetic stage equivalent—. . . since the director 'authors' the production much as the author writes the text." (Note the near-quotation of Meyerhold’s assertion I quoted above.) 

[I posted Brustein’s essay on ROT on 10 March 2011, and previously wrote a commentary on the article, "Similes, Metaphors—And The Stage," posted on 18 September 2009.]



20 November 2023

A History of the National Endowment for the Arts: Chapter 6

 

A Supplement to the Regional Theater Series 

[Thank you for returning to Rick On Theater for the sixth installment of “A History of the National Endowment for the Arts,” a serialization of the NEA’s own report, “National Endowment for the Arts: A History, 1965-2008.”  Chapter 6 covers the turbulent chairmanship (1989-92) of John Frohnmayer (b. 1942).

[As I’ve recommended before, visitors to ROT who are just encountering this series should go back first to the beginning and read parts one through five, published on 4, 8, 11, 14, and 17 November, respectively.  The NEA’s report is organized chronologically, so jumping in in medias res will make comprehension difficult.

[As with Chapter 3, this segment of the series is a little longer than my self-mandated maximum.  It was too difficult to edit, so I left it at its original length.]

NATIONAL ENDOWMENT FOR THE ARTS: A HISTORY, 1965-2008
edited by Mark Bauerlein with Ellen Grantham
(National Endowment for the Arts, 2009) 

p a r t  I

The HISTORY of the NEA

 

chapter 6

Culture Wars

In September 1987, the Southeastern Center for Contemporary Art (SECCA) in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, received a grant of $75,000 [$173,000 in 2023] from the NEA to support the seventh annual Awards in the Visual Arts program, known as AVA-7. The idea for AVA began under Chairman Hanks as a model for public-private partnership programs. The NEA grant was matched by a total of $75,000 [$173,000] from the Equitable Foundation and the Rockefeller Foundation. These grants enabled the SECCA jury to meet and select ten artists, including photographer Andres Serrano, to showcase their art in a traveling exhibition. The Arts Endowment played no part in the selection process. Nearly a year later, in July 1988, the University of Pennsylvania’s Institute of Contemporary Art (ICA) received an NEA grant of $30,000 [$66,500 today] for a retrospective of works by another photographer, Robert Mapplethorpe, who soon after died in 1989. 

The AVA-7 exhibition opened at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art in May 1988. It continued through the middle of July, then traveled without incident to the Carnegie-Mellon University Art Gallery in Pittsburgh before being displayed, again without protest, at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts in Richmond from mid-December through January 1989. AVA-7 included a photograph by Serrano that showed, in a blurred focus, a crucifix as seen through a golden liquid. The title of the work was Piss Christ.

The Mapplethorpe exhibition, entitled The Perfect Moment, was an extensive retrospective of Mapplethorpe’s career, which opened at the ICA in Philadelphia in December 1988. Unlike Serrano’s image, Piss Christ, which was hazy in appearance but provocative in title, the Mapplethorpe exhibit included graphic sexual images under a mild title. The Mapplethorpe show was installed at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago from February to early April, and was then scheduled for the Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington beginning July 1, 1989. These appearances were to be followed by stops at the Wadsworth Atheneum in Hartford, the University Art Museum in Berkeley, and the Institute for Contemporary Art in Boston, to conclude at the end of August 1990.

In November 1988, national elections were held, and President Reagan was succeeded by another Republican, George H. W. Bush. The themes raised by these two exhibitions seemed a far cry from the dominant foreign and domestic policy issues of the campaign—the Cold War, the Middle East, violent crime—but they soon erupted into a controversy that would affect national politics through to the next presidential election.

Uproar

The furor over the Serrano and Mapplethorpe images began just as another heated controversy was winding down. In 1981, a massive steel sculpture by Richard Serra, Tilted Arc, was placed on the plaza [Foley Square] in front of a federal office building [Jacob K. Javits Federal Building] in [lower] Manhattan by the General Services Administration (GSA). An Arts Endowment panel had recommended Serra for the commission through its advisory role in the GSA’s “Art in Architecture” program. Although the work was intended to improve the aesthetics of its location, workers who used the space claimed that the sculpture was obstructive and discomforting. For years they complained loudly about the work. In spring 1989, it was removed in the middle of the night at the orders of a regional administrator of the GSA.

[In accordance with Serra’s wishes, Tilted Arc has never been publicly displayed since it was removed. It’s currently in storage in three sections in a Maryland warehouse and is unlikely to ever be exhibited again.]

The Tilted Arc affair principally involved people who made daily contact with the artwork, and the impact of the incident was largely confined to local citizens and people in the art world. News of the Serrano and Mapplethorpe exhibits, however, would spread far beyond the art world to become a major political story across the nation. After the AVA-7 exhibition closed, the Reverend Donald E. Wildmon, executive director of the American Family Association in Tupelo, Mississippi, saw the catalogue containing Serrano’s Piss Christ. He condemned both Serrano and his work, initiating a public campaign against the show and the agency that helped make it possible. Thousands of like-minded citizens across the country flooded Congress with protests. Wildmon called for the dismissal of the “person at the National Endowment for the Arts responsible for approving federal tax dollars.”

At the time, the Arts Endowment was in transition. Frank Hodsoll had departed, and the Bush Administration had not yet nominated a successor. The acting chairman, Hugh Southern [28 February-13 November 1989], had served as deputy chairman under Hodsoll. On April 25, 1989, Southern issued a statement intended to moderate the growing tumult. It said, “The involvement of the National Endowment for the Arts as a funder of the Southeast Center for Contemporary Art follows Endowment panelists’ advice, and that of the National Council on the Arts. The Endowment is expressly forbidden in its authorizing legislation from interfering with the artistic choices made by its grantees. The National Endowment for the Arts supports the right of grantee organizations to select, on artistic criteria, their artist-recipients and present their work, even though sometimes the work may be deemed controversial and offensive to some individuals. We at the Endowment do, nonetheless, deeply regret any offense to any individual.”

The statement did nothing to blunt the hostile reactions. Criticism of the Arts Endowment in Congress was led by Senators Jesse Helms (R-NC) and Alfonse D’Amato (R-NY), and echoed in the Washington Times. Joined by 22 other Senators—including several Democratic standard-bearers such as Bob Kerrey (D-NE), Dennis DeConcini (D-AZ), Harry Reid (D-NV), and Tom Harkin (D-IA)—they released a letter in May denouncing Serrano’s work as “trash” and demanding a review of the Arts Endowment’s award procedures.

[The Washington Times is a conservative daily newspaper published in Washington, D.C. It covers general interest topics with a strong focus on U.S. politics. It was founded in 1982 by Sun Myung Moon (1920-2012), head of the Unification Church and owned until 2010 by a media conglomerate founded by Moon. It’s currently owned by a subsidiary of the Unification Church. The Washington Times is known for its conservative political stance, supporting the policies of Republican presidents and the positions and opinions of conservative politicians.  It has published columns which reject the science of environmental and health issues and has attracted controversy by publishing conspiracy theories and racist content.]

Telephone calls and letters poured into the agency complaining about Serrano’s work. In a June broadcast, televangelist Pat Robertson [founder and chairman of  the Christian Broadcasting Network] added his voice to the chorus attacking Serrano and the Arts Endowment. Southern replied to the protesting senators with a letter on June 6,1989, to Senator D’Amato stating that he “personally found [Serrano’s photograph] offensive,” but pointed out that the selection of the art had been made by SECCA’s jury, not by the Arts Endowment itself. Southern said that the Arts Endowment and the National Council on the Arts promised a review “to ensure that Endowment processes are effective and maintain the highest artistic integrity and quality.” However correct they were, his communications did not give the angry legislators what they wanted—a guarantee that the NEA would not support projects containing works that outraged public taste.

The battle heightened as columnist Patrick Buchanan and theologian Jacob Neusner—a member of the National Council on the Arts—weighed in, each in a distinct venue and with considerable differences of style and tone. Buchanan used the Washington Times editorial page as a forum to blast offensive artworks, many of which were not funded by the Arts Endowment. He cited the commercial film, The Last Temptation of Christ, and a mural of revolutionary icons Lenin and Castro on a private building in Manhattan. Buchanan called on newly elected President George H. W. Bush to purge the Arts Endowment.

[The Last Temptation of Christ is a 1988 film of the life of Jesus based on Nikos Kazantzakis’s 1955 novel, produced by Universal Pictures and directed by Martin Scorsese.

[The “Pathfinder Mural” was a work of art located at 410 West Street in the West Village neighborhood Manhattan. It was conceived of by artist Mike Alewitz in 1988 and painted as a collaboration among 80 artists from 20 nations.  The mural was painted on the side of the Socialist Workers Party building housing the left-wing Pathfinder Press. The mural was permanently removed in 1996 to repair the wall of the building and the SWP later sold the building.]

From his position at the program of Judaic studies at Brown University, Neusner wrote a letter to Senators Helms and D’Amato, “I wish the Endowment leadership would simply say . . . we goofed and we’re sorry. Because we did goof and I for one am sorry and also, I personally am enormously chagrined.” Within days of Neusner’s letter, on May 31, 1989, Senator Slade Gorton (R-WA) called on the Arts Endowment to cut off funds to SECCA for five years.

Mapplethorpe Controversy and Congressional Reaction

At almost the same time, the Mapplethorpe exhibit began to generate controversy, beginning with the show’s cancellation by the Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, in June 1989. As a demonstration of approximately 60 people outside the Corcoran ensued, the decision caused a huge uproar in arts circles throughout the country. The Washington Project for the Arts exhibited the work in July-August 1989. The clamor over Mapplethorpe became noticeably louder just as Congress began debating H.R. 2788, the appropriations bill for the Interior Department and Related Agencies, which provided funding for the Arts Endowment. Four critical amendments were offered. Three of these were defeated: one to eliminate the Endowment’s entire appropriation for fiscal year 1990, another to cut its grants and administration appropriation by 10 percent, and another to reduce its budget by 5 percent.

A fourth amendment, offered by Representative Charles Stenholm (D-TX), called for a reduction of Arts Endowment funding by $45,000 [$90,700]—representing the $30,000 [$60,400] NEA grant that had been awarded to ICA for the Mapplethorpe show and the $15,000 [$30,200] that had gone to AVA-7 to exhibit Serrano. The Stenholm amendment carried, and the bill passed the House.

When the Senate took up the NEA’s appropriation bill, Senator Helms inserted language prohibiting the Arts Endowment from using any appropriated funds for materials deemed “obscene or indecent,” including those denigrating belief in a religion or non-religion, or debasing any person on the basis of race, creed, sex, handicap, age, or national origin. “Obscenity” was defined as works which include “sadomasochism, homoeroticism, the sexual exploitation of children, or individuals engaged in sex acts and which, when taken as a whole, do not have serious literary, artistic, political, or scientific value.” Other amendments were introduced to ban for five years all direct grants to SECCA and to the ICA at the University of Pennsylvania, and to shift $400,000 [$844,400] from the agency’s Visual Arts Program to other Endowment programs in the areas of folk arts and community arts—even though the Mapplethorpe grant came from the Museum Program, not Visual Arts.

When the final version of the bill emerged, the Senate had provided $250,000 [$527,800] to create an independent commission to review the Arts Endowment’s grantmaking operation. The amendments to take funds from the Visual Arts Program and to place a ban on SECCA and ICA grants were not included. Thus, at that point, the controversies had not resulted in reduction of the NEA’s budget. Conservatives in public life and several Republicans in Congress, however, maintained their suspicion of the Arts Endowment, and to many the names Serrano and Mapplethorpe were now tokens of moral corruption inside the agency. Into this heated and confusing climate, new Arts Endowment leadership arrived.

Frohnmayer’s Chairmanship

In July 1989, President George H. W. Bush appointed John E. Frohnmayer to head the Arts Endowment, and in November he was sworn in as the agency’s fifth chairman. The moment of Frohnmayer’s arrival could not have been less auspicious, but the new chairman displayed an attitude of optimism.

A Washington Post writer characterized the reaction to one of Frohnmayer’s public appearances in Oregon, his home state, directly after his nomination to the chairmanship, as “giddy applause.” Frohnmayer was a successful lawyer—specializing in the First Amendment—an art collector, and chairman of the Oregon State Arts Commission. He had studied for the ministry before choosing law as a profession.

In his memoir, Leaving Town Alive (published in 1993), Frohnmayer wrote that before accepting his appointment he had considered the Arts Endowment chairmanship to be “the best job in the country,” one which he “had always wanted.” In fact, he had unsuccessfully lobbied for the post at the beginning of the Reagan era. As a state arts leader in Oregon, he had experienced the benefit of NEA assistance to the state agencies, writing that Oregon had received “money to help fund full-time directors for local arts councils, and this small amount of assistance increased these councils from three to 14 over a two-year period.” In his pre-appointment interviews, he argued that the “Endowment could be extraordinarily helpful to the President [George H. W. Bush] as he sought to bring the country together.”

Frohnmayer also wrote in his memoir that he had been asked in his pre-appointment interview by White House staff what he would do if the Administration had a different point of view about a particular program from his own. He responded, “I would try my best to persuade the Administration that my point of view was right, but that I was a team player, and if I failed to persuade, I would do the Administration’s will.” As he soon realized, however, it would prove difficult to balance the competing demands of different constituencies as the culture wars came to Washington.

Frohnmayer remembered being “hopeful that Serrano and Mapplethorpe would be history by the time I got to the Endowment.” But Serrano and Mapplethorpe were history only in the sense that they had become permanent symbols. Indeed, at the time of this publication the grants and the controversy are nearly two decades old, yet the two names have been incessantly repeated by critics of the Arts Endowment, though to ever-diminishing effect. Likewise, the reputations of both artists have become inseparable from the NEA controversy.

Fighting on Two Fronts

To comply with Congressional mandates, the new chairman inserted the wording of the obscenity clause into the terms and conditions governing all NEA grants. His decision satisfied the Administration but evoked virulent attacks from a new group of dissenters: artists and arts administrators who had previously looked to the agency for support. The arts community began accusing the NEA of failing to defend freedom of expression, and soon the outcry became a complaint of censorship. The arts community also accused Chairman Frohnmayer of “selling out” to censors. Composer Leonard Bernstein refused the 1989 National Medal of Arts as a protest against the chairman’s policies, and New York theater director Joseph Papp [founder and artistic director of the New York Shakespeare Festival, later renamed the Public Theater] denounced Frohnmayer as “out-Helmsing Helms” and as “a person not to be trusted.” Papp put his denunciation into action in 1990 when he turned down two NEA grants totaling $323,000 [$651,000], one a $50,000 [$100,700] award to support the Shakespeare Festival’s annual Festival Latino. Another organization, the Bella Lewitzky Dance Foundation, won a grant that year, but when it submitted a request for payment, the company manager refused to comply with the new terms and conditions of the grant. When the Arts Endowment insisted the grantee abide, as required by law, the company filed suit.

The Arts Endowment now found itself fighting a war on two fronts. Some arts advocates labeled the new wording in the grants’ terms and conditions a “loyalty oath.” Frohnmayer later claimed that he had adopted the language as “an invitation to a lawsuit, which I hoped would lead to a finding that the language was unconstitutional.” Because of the obscenity clause, a number of artists regarded the Arts Endowment’s grant contracts as “a symbol of repression,” and many artists and arts organization directors refused to serve on panels. In 1992, no fellowship awards were granted for sculpture because the members of a Visual Arts panel had resigned in protest.

In his memoir, Frohnmayer continued, “My course was set and I wasn’t going to change it.” After the insertion of the new language into grant terms and conditions, he stated his opposition to the politicization of art, while expressing surprise when protests grew among the artists opposed to his policies. Joseph Wesley Zeigler, in his book Arts in Crisis, identified the cause of Frohnmayer’s dilemma: “His failure to understand the [Washington political] system led him to overreact to Congressional moves, while at the same time he underestimated the anger in the arts world at the NEA’s refusal to support cutting-edge works. . . . This inflamed artists while failing to assuage the conservatives.”

The difficulty in defining a consistent policy in this polarized climate was visible within a month of Chairman Frohnmayer’s confirmation. His first direct conflict with artists involved Artists Space, a nonprofit New York gallery. Artists Space was opening a show, with $10,000 [$21,100] in Arts Endowment funds, about the impact of AIDS on the arts community. The exhibit included depictions of sexual activity, as well as a catalogue replete with highly polemical statements. Examining the catalogue, Frohnmayer consulted with National Council on the Arts member Jacob Neusner, who informed him the catalogue included violent attacks on public figures—including fantasies by artist David Wojnarowicz of setting Senator Helms on fire with gasoline and throwing another conservative legislator from a high building—that had not been included in the original funding proposal submitted for the show. Chairman Frohnmayer decided to suspend financing for the exhibit, on the grounds of its political nature. A week later, however, he reversed his decision, and restored the $10,000 [$21,100] grant with the proviso that the funds would not pay for the catalogue. His decision only inflamed the situation, and Zeigler observed, “For the next two years, 1990 and 1991, Frohnmayer was caught in the middle of the crisis.”

[Artists Space’s show about the devastation of AIDS on the art community, curated by photographer Nan Goldin, was Witnesses: Against Our Vanishing (16 November 1989–6 January 1990). Wojnarowicz’s essay in the exhibit catalogue, “Postcards from America: X-Rays from Hell,” was assailed by such NEA opponents as Helms (1921-2008; Senator from North Carolina: 1973-2003), Dana Rohrabacher (b. 1947; Congressman from California: 1989-2019), and William Dannemeyer (1929-2019; Congressman from California: 1979-93).

[For more on artist David Wojnarowicz, including the Artists Space controversy, see my posts “David Wojnarowicz,” 15 March 2011; “The Return of HIDE/SEEK,” 4 January 2012; “Words with Pictures / Pictures with Words: DAVID WOJNAROWICZ (1954-92),” 16 September 2014; and “History Keeps Me Awake At Night,” 19 October 2018.  There’s also some discussion of the NEA Four in “David Wojnarowicz,” 15 March 2011; “Performance Art, Part 2,” 10 November 2013; “Culture War,” 6 February 2014; “‘Arts and the State’" by Paul Mattick, Jr., 14 November 2021; and “A Biography of Leonardo Shapiro, Part 6,” 1 May 2023.]

The “NEA Four”

The next chapter in the saga started with the performance art of Karen Finley. Zeigler explained, “In the world of ‘underground’ culture, Karen Finley was a darling: admired by the cognoscenti, and unnoticed by the wider public.” A performance in which she poured chocolate sauce on her naked body brought her to national attention when it was the subject of a column by Washington journalists Rowland Evans and Robert Novak, who offered an unattributed description of the performance, by “an Administration insider,” as “outrageous.” At a stormy meeting in May 1990 in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, that would be long remembered, the National Council on the Arts voted to defer for four months a group of 18 grants for Finley and other performance artists, that had been recommended by the Arts Endowment’s Theater panel. Of the 18 grants delayed, 14 were eventually recommended for funding by the National Council and awarded by Chairman Frohnmayer. Along with Finley, the remaining artists not recommended were John Fleck, Holly Hughes, and Tim Miller. These individuals sued the Arts Endowment and came to be known in the arts community as the “NEA Four.”

[The Rowland and Evans column, “The NEA’s Suicide Charge,” appeared as an op-ed piece in the Washington Post of 11 May 1990. After the grants to the performance artists were rejected on 29 June 1990, after having been approved by the agency’s peer review panel, the “NEA Four” sued the Endowment on 27 September in Finley v. National Endowment for the Arts on the grounds that their grants had been illegally denied for political reasons rather than artistic ones. When the government settled the suit out of court on 4 June 1993, it tacitly admitted that Frohnmayer and the Endowment had been making political determinations.]

In his memoir, Frohnmayer described these individuals as “boldly and confrontationally taking on social issues about which there was tremendous societal debate.” While Evans and Novak claimed that “White House sources” had said that Frohnmayer was “adamantly against disapproving any of the recommended applications,” Frohnmayer later protested this was untrue, and that he did not have a planned course of action. But, Frohnmayer had already written to White House aides Andrew Card and David Bates about an upcoming Finley performance, which the Arts Endowment had previously funded, that from all appearances the performance “was defensible on its artistic merit.”

The ferocious public debate over the Arts Endowment’s grants approval process and a lawsuit by several newspapers led the agency to change its policy on National Council meetings. In August 1990 the National Council on the Arts opened its grant review sessions, which had previously been closed, to the public.

Ongoing Accomplishments

Although the controversies persisted, the regular business of the Arts Endowment proceeded apace. As in every previous year, the agency reviewed thousands of applications, awarding grants to arts organizations and artists. Thirteen distinguished artists living in Hawaii, South Dakota, and Puerto Rico, among other places, received NEA National Heritage Fellowships. Composer George Russell, pianist Cecil Taylor, and bandleader Gerald Wilson were honored as NEA Jazz Masters.

The Arts Endowment continued to offer crucial support to significant projects. Visual Arts grants funded artist residencies at state universities in Colorado, Illinois, New Jersey, New Mexico, Utah, Virginia, and Washington. The Art in Public Places program, which helped local governments and organizations place art in public spaces, supported commissions at Duke University Medical Center, Las Vegas City Hall, and the Wyoming Game and Fish Department, and for highway overpasses in San Diego.

Preservation remained a central focus of the Arts Endowment funding to museums. The conservation grants in 1990 numbered 73 and totaled $1,169,800 [$2.4 million] in program funds. The Currier Gallery of Art in Manchester, New Hampshire, for example, received money to conserve furniture and woodwork designed by Frank Lloyd Wright in his Zimmerman House. The Toledo Museum of Art won a grant to conserve a collection of Islamic ceramics, while Oberlin College received funds to support work on Gustave Courbet’s Castle of Chillon, and the Detroit Institute of Arts received a grant to conserve three monumental stained glass windows by John La Farge.

These were not unusual awards. Each represented the thousands of worthy projects evaluated and supported by the agency at the same time that media attention and political pressure focused only on a tiny group of controversial works of art.

Research Studies

Amid the din, the Arts Endowment continued to carry out some remarkable research projects with significant impact on different arts fields. One of the most important was the publication Survey of Public Participation in the Arts: 1982-1992 (SPPA). The SPPA was the third in a series of national population surveys designed by the NEA research staff to collect data on the U.S. population’s engagement in the arts. Data on the consumption side of the arts was thin. Until 1982, little reliable information could be found regarding how many and how often American adults visited museums, attended theater, listened to opera, read poetry, and in various other ways participated in the arts. The Arts Endowment’s Research Division set out to increase the knowledge base by designing a questionnaire and commissioning the U.S. Bureau of the Census to compile a sample of respondents and conduct the survey. More than 17,000 people were interviewed in 1982, making it the largest single survey of U.S. arts participation ever. In 1985, another statistical survey was conducted, providing the first opportunity to draw comparisons and explore trends in arts participation among the American public.

The 1992 SPPA followed the same basic procedures, but used more clearly articulated definitions and more sophisticated data collection. With a ten-year gap between it and the first survey, and with the respondent pool broken down by age, income, race, education level, and gender, the 1992 report signaled important trends in arts participation and supplied arts organizations with invaluable information on audiences. Among the findings:

• From 1982 to 1992, the attendance rate at art museums and galleries rose almost five percentage points.

• Audiences for opera, classical music, and jazz on radio increased by 49 percent, 60 percent, and 71 percent, respectively.

• Literary reading rates (fiction, poetry, drama) fell by three percentage points.

The 1992 SPPA generated a front-page article in the New York Times on February 12, 1996. Written by Judith Miller and titled “Aging Audiences Point to Grim Arts Future,” the article was the first of several to profile a troubling trend, the “graying of the arts” phenomenon documented in the SPPA results; that is, younger age groups were not participating in the fine arts at the rate their parents did when they were young. Future surveys would be conducted in 1997 and 2002, confirming the “graying” pattern while building a uniquely broad and consistent database on arts participation for researchers, educators, journalists, and policymakers, as well as arts organizations.

The data from the first surveys in 1982 and 1985 also provided material for another significant report, Arts in America 1990. This was the second in a series of reports requested by Congress on the status and condition of the arts in the United States. Arts in America 1990 gave the agency the opportunity to reflect upon changes in the arts during the 25 years of the agency’s existence. The report recounted dozens of projects and artworks funded by the Arts Endowment, but perhaps most impressive, given the political climate, were the trends in arts production and participation. The United States had experienced a remarkable growth in the number of arts organizations and artists, amount of public and private support, and size of audience:

• In 1965, there were five state arts agencies with combined appropriations of $2.7 million [$25.3 million]. By 1990, there were arts agencies in all 56 states and jurisdictions with total appropriations of $285 million $574.2 million].

• In 1990, local arts councils numbered around 3,000, with 600 having full-time staff.

• Private sector giving for the arts, humanities, and culture grew from $44 million [$413.1 million] in 1965 to $7.5 billion [$15.8 billion] in 1989.

• Performing arts attendance from 1965 to 1988 rose from nine to 24 million for symphony orchestra concerts, three to 18 million for opera, and one to 15 million for nonprofit professional theater.

The Arts Endowment’s impact on generating non-federal support for the arts was demonstrated by other statistics, cited in Arts in America 1990:

• In 1989, the NEA’s $119 million [$251.2 million] in organizational grants generated $1.4 billion [$3 billion] in non-federal funds.

• By 1990, the NEA’s Challenge Grants totaling $237 million had been matched by more than $2 billion [$4.2 billion] in new non-federal funds.

• In 1990, all four Pulitzer Prize recipients in poetry, fiction, drama, and music had been recognized earlier in their careers with NEA fellowships.

Arts in America 1990 contained testimonials from arts leaders about the benefits of an Arts Endowment grant, not only providing money, but something far more valuable in the long term—recognition. Joan Myers Brown, founding artistic and executive director of the Philadelphia Dance Company, Philadanco, explained it well: “The impact the National Endowment for the Arts has made on predominantly African-American dance organizations since its inception can be exemplified by the history of the success of organizations such as Dayton Contemporary Dance Company of Ohio, Dallas Black Dance Theatre in Texas, Cleo Parker Robinson Dance Company in Denver, Colorado, and Philadanco in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Being able to move into the main or national funding stream because of the approval of the Endowment opened doors to local agencies, foundations, and community-based funding in our areas. This ability to compete for grants, often given only to the more established cultural institutions, allowed what were often considered ‘grassroots’ or ‘community-based’ to secure a stronger footing in the field.”

The Arts Endowment also reported in Arts in America 1990 on the economics of working as an artist in the United States. A 1989 Columbia University study of 4,000 artists found that three-fourths of them earned no more than $12,000 [$25,300] annually from their art. Rising medical costs hit hard during the 1990s, affecting artists not only because they tend to be self-employed but also because of the physical hazards to which many in the arts are exposed. Another NEA research study, which was later published in 1993 as Dancemakers, found that the average annual income choreographers earned from their artistic work in 1989 was $6,000 [$12,700], while their professional expenses totaled $13,000 [$27,400]. Including money earned in other pursuits, a dancer’s average income reached only $22,000 [$46,400]. Dancemakers was, recalls Andrea Snyder, executive director of Dance/USA and former NEA Dance Program assistant director, “the first study of its kind to reveal the true economic life of today’s choreographers. It quickly became one of the most important references for the dance field as it made the case for increasing resources and services to artists making dances.”

Arts in America 1990 concluded on a triumphant note: “Over the past 25 years, the National Endowment for the Arts has been most effective at helping to create a diverse network for public support of the arts and increasing the number and quality of arts institutions.” The figures provided a strong argument for federal support for the arts, demonstrating the public’s responsiveness to public funding and the enduring impact of grant awards.

The Independent Commission

In the middle of 1990, an Independent Commission mandated by Congress to study the National Endowment for the Arts began its work. Comprised of 12 members, plus a staff of eight, the commission was co-chaired by John Brademas, the former Indiana Democratic Congressman and co-sponsor of the 1965 legislation creating the Endowments, and Leonard Garment, who, as an assistant to Richard Nixon, had played a leading role in increasing the Arts Endowment’s budget under Nancy Hanks. Soon after the Independent Commission held its first meeting, the “NEA Four” sued the Arts Endowment, alleging that their grant applications had been denied illegally.

The mandate of the Independent Commission was twofold. First, it was charged with reviewing the Arts Endowment’s grantmaking procedures, including the panel system. Second, the commission was to consider whether standards for publicly funded art should be different from those for privately funded art. These issues reflected the primary criticisms leveled at the Arts Endowment; namely, that its grantmaking process was afflicted by cronyism, and that it had funded works too far from the mainstream of public taste.

The commissioners identified the fundamental cause of the Arts Endowment’s crises as a deep change in the national sensibility. They wrote, “Today, twenty-five years after its creation, the system no longer works as it once did, for reasons that the NEA’s founders could not have foreseen. On certain social and cultural issues, the nation has become more polarized. As with other federal agencies, these developments affect the NEA and the environment in which it operates. . . . The Independent Commission believes it is time to restate what the founders of the NEA took for granted: The National Endowment for the Arts is a public agency established to serve purposes the public expresses through its elected representatives.”

The Independent Commission went on to state, “While the artists and the arts institutions receiving NEA funds are indispensable to the achievement of the purposes of the agency, the NEA must not operate solely in the interest of its direct beneficiaries. As with every federal agency, the Endowment must do its part in pursuing worthy social objectives but the agency cannot let such goals take precedence over its primary task of strengthening the role of the arts in American life.”

In its most substantial comments, the introduction included the following: “Publicly funded art . . . should serve the purposes which Congress has determined for the Endowment. It should be chosen through a process that is accountable and free of conflicts of interest. . . . Insuring the freedom of expression necessary to nourish the arts while bearing in mind limits of public understanding and tolerance requires unusual wisdom, prudence, and most of all, common sense.”

Reconciling freedom of expression and public acceptance, however, is a delicate process, especially when voices from both sides become extreme and antagonistic. Few public agencies had to contend with clashing cultural forces as intensely and sensationally as the Arts Endowment did in these days. The commission’s call for NEA leadership to exercise wisdom and prudence was not an easy task with so many in the government, the press, and the art world making conflicting demands.

Regarding grant panels, the Independent Commission pointed out a similar difficulty, noting that “making decisions about awarding grants to the arts is not an objective activity, subject to quantitative measures or improved by formulaic prescriptions. Professional expertise, aesthetic discernment, and an awareness that federal funds are being expended—all these qualities are essential to the successful grant making by the NEA.”

Assessing the NEA’s Record

In examining the record of the Arts Endowment, the commission took testimony from arts professionals, NEA employees, and prominent figures in the arts and public life. Individuals testifying included Theodore Bikel, then-president of Actors’ Equity [the professional theater actors’ and stage managers’ union] and former member of the National Council on the Arts; Samuel Lipman, pianist, publisher of the conservative New Criterion monthly, and also a former council member; theater director, teacher, and critic Robert Brustein; free speech litigator Floyd Abrams; and constitutional expert Theodore B. Olson, who later served as U.S. Solicitor General under President George W. Bush from 2001 to 2004.

Drawing from the same data that went into Arts in America 1990, the Independent Commission determined that the NEA had “helped transform the cultural landscape of the United States.” When the Arts Endowment was founded, the number of symphony orchestras in the nation totaled no more than 110, but in 1990 the number had risen to 230. Opera companies had increased from 27 to 120, while state folk art programs had exploded from one to 46. Dance companies jumped from 37 to 250, and art museums from 375 to 700. The number of artists in the United States had tripled. The commission report summarized the work of the Arts Endowment by affirming that “a relatively small investment of federal funds has yielded a substantial financial return and made a significant contribution to the quality of American life.”

The commission also determined that “although there are deficiencies in the operation of the Endowment and some mistakes are inevitable, these problems can be ameliorated, if not eliminated, by a combination of Congressional guidance and oversight, significant reforms in grant-making procedures and prudent administration of the Endowment. These goals can be achieved while at the same time assuring both freedom of expression and accountability for expenditure of public funds.”

Commission Recommendations

The Independent Commission developed a series of recommendations concerning publicly funded and privately funded art, grantmaking and panel procedures, the role and responsibilities of the National Council on the Arts, private-public partnerships, and obscenity.

The commission found that the standard for selecting publicly funded art “must go beyond” that for privately funded art. With regard to “aesthetic or artistic qualities,” both should be judged only on the basis of excellence. Government support, however, must bring with it criteria beyond artistic worth; publicly funded art must not ignore the conditions traditionally governing the uses of public money, and must serve “the purposes which Congress has defined for the National Endowment for the Arts.” These must include meeting professional standards of authenticity, encouraging artists to achieve wider distribution of their works, and reflecting the cultures of minority, inner-city, rural, and tribal communities.

The commission recommended that the preamble of the legislation authorizing the establishment of the Arts Endowment “be amended to make clear that the arts belong to all the people of the United States.” Next, the Independent Commission recommended reforming the grants application process. The commission called for the strengthening of the authority of the chairperson; for the National Council on the Arts to be more active in the grants process; for the elimination of “real or perceived conflicts of interest”; for the evaluation of grant applications to be “fair, accountable, and thorough”; for advisory panels to be broader and more representative in terms of aesthetic and philosophical views; and for it to be made “clear that the National Endowment for the Arts belongs not solely to those who receive its grants but to all the people of the United States.”

On the issue of obscenity, the commission affirmed that “freedom of expression is essential to the arts,” but also that “obscenity is not protected speech,” and that the Arts Endowment “is prohibited from funding the production of works which are obscene or otherwise illegal.” It also declared, however, that the Arts Endowment is an “inappropriate tribunal for the legal determination of obscenity, for purposes of either civil or criminal liability.” It also recommended that Chairman Frohnmayer rescind the requirement that grantees certify that the works they proposed would not be obscene.

The commission concluded with an affirmation: “Maintaining the principle of an open society requires all of us, at times, to put up with much we do not like but the bargain has proved in the long run a good one.” The report was a major factor in the ongoing status of the Arts Endowment. While it was prompted by the immediate controversies, the commission took the occasion as a moment to reflect the different pressures and viewpoints in American life and culture. Its recommendations marked a serious attempt to renegotiate the competing demands from artists, arts institutions, journalists, politicians, and the public that had affected the Arts Endowment from the start.

Discord Continues

Unfortunately, the Independent Commission report did not dispel the atmosphere of conflict that had become attached to the Arts Endowment. While worthy grants continued to be awarded, uncertainty characterized its policymaking. In November 1990, the Endowment approved, “without opposition and almost without discussion,” in the words of the Washington Post, grants to two of the NEA Four, Karen Finley and Holly Hughes, only two months after the group had filed their suit against the Endowment. In December 1990, Chairman Frohnmayer announced that he would approve a fellowship to New York visual artist Mel Chin, one he had previously turned down.

By then, the presidential primary campaigns had begun. For the first time in its history, the NEA became an issue in a national election. Republican contender Patrick Buchanan, who as a newspaper columnist had castigated the NEA, was running on a “culture war” platform that combined virulent attacks on the Arts Endowment with the threat to close it down (and “fumigate the building,” he added in a New York Times article). The negative public perception of Frohnmayer as an ineffective leader increased with these assaults, and the agency’s situation worsened. With few supporters, Frohnmayer submitted his resignation to the President on February 21, 1992, becoming the only NEA chairman to resign under political pressure. Soon after, Buchanan unveiled a campaign advertisement claiming that the sitting Administration had “invested our tax dollars in pornographic and blasphemous art too shocking to show.” Administration spokesmen denounced the ad as “demagoguery,” but a great amount of damage had been done to the image of the National Endowment for the Arts. The agency had lost support in Congress, the White House, the media, and from the public.

[With this chapter, the NEA reaches its quarter-century mark at the same time it weathers its stormiest controversies.  The political Culture Wars of the 1980s came close to scuttling the Arts Endowment and the commitment to support and nurture artistic creativity in the United States. 

[In the next installment of “A History of the National Endowment for the Arts,” Chapter 7, “What Is to Be Done?” which records the administration of actress Jane Alexander as NEA Chairman (1993-97) as she endeavors to keep the NEA afloat and mend the damage suffered under her predecessor.

[Note that there will be an interruption of the NEA history series so I can publish a new post from my friend Kirk Woodward.  He’s completed a report on a 1986 book, Great Directors at Work by David Richard Jones, which will run on ROT on Saturday, 25 November. 

[I’ll return to the history of the NEA on Thursday, 30 November, and I invite readers to come back for the continuation of Mark Bauerlein and Ellen Grantham’s report.  At 25 years covered, we’ve only covered a little less than half the Arts Endowment’s existence.]