Beyond the Stage: Investing in the Art We Love
Beyond the Stage: Investing in the Art We Love
I used to think about the performance space from two vantage points. The perspective of the performing artist and the perspective of the spectator. When I was considering burlesque as an art form I wanted to practice, much of my focus was on my experience as the person onstage and how I could shape the experience of those seated and wanting to experience good art.
It's a binary that didn't hold up once I entered this new world with a whole assortment of characters and key figures who bring everything, including what happens onstage, into reality. When we think about supporting local burlesque, we often think about buying tickets, tipping performers, and showing up for shows. And while all of those things matter, there's an entire world of people, businesses, and resources that make those performances possible.
Burlesque, as I discovered, is so much more than what happens onstage. It's one player in a full cast that makes up our nightlife, hospitality, and local arts economy. Behind every show are producers, hosts, stage managers, kittens, sound and lighting technicians, security teams, bartenders, door staff, cleaners, venue managers, vendors, and countless others handling everything from ticketing to making sure the lights actually come on when they're supposed to. Every contribution matters, whether it's visible to the audience or not.
Blame my engineering background, but I have a healthy obsession with infrastructure. The components of a scene. The foundation that holds everything up and the way energy (read: money, resources, attention, investment, etc.) circulates through a system. I bring that same curiosity to my art and now to my understanding of the ecosystem that feeds an art form I've come to love and continue engaging with.
Not only have I discovered a much larger ensemble beyond performer and audience, I've come to recognize how critical that entire ensemble is to the sustainability of burlesque and anything we call art. My favorite conclusion from my nerdy musings: not everyone who loves burlesque needs to become a performer or remain a spectator. There are so many ways to participate in and contribute to the art form, including opportunities to build valuable skills and earn a living.
I believe the long-term sustainability of our local arts communities depends on investing in this entire ecosystem. That means building stronger relationships with venues, hospitality businesses, and local vendors. It means creating opportunities for education, mentorship, and professional development. It also means recognizing these contributions as skilled labor worthy of compensation and building the capacity to create more opportunities and better pay.
Classes, workshops, craft nights, and other creative gatherings are part of that investment, too. They make room for curiosity, connection, skill-building, and collaboration. Sometimes the first step toward becoming part of a creative community is simply having somewhere to begin.
As I begin my residency at Devotion Studios, I'm excited to contribute to more of those opportunities through Burlesque 101 and Community Craft Night. These are small gestures, but meaningful ones to me. Opportunities to invite people into the world of burlesque, share creative space, and build relationships with people who might otherwise never find themselves participating in it. I'm also glad to be in conversation with other artists and people shaping our local creative community who recognize the need for deeper investment in every facet of live events, including the people whose work makes them possible.
My curiosity now is how we might invite even more people in. Not just to see shows and tip, but to bring their skills, develop new ones, and discover opportunities to contribute to an art form they love. Someone may never step foot onstage but could become a talented costumer, production lead, or social media manager. I see so many artists trying to do it all, often because the resources to pay for additional support simply aren't there. We're watching burnout in real time, and I think it's worth asking whether the ways we've traditionally produced and paid for shows are capable of supporting the creative communities we want to build.
I don't pretend to have all the answers, but I'm interested in what becomes possible when we invest in developing skilled creative teams, build stronger partnerships with venues and sponsors, and create experiences that bring more value to everyone involved. More opportunities, more resources, and more people getting paid for their work.
These questions are also informing The Golden Hour, an artistic initiative I'm developing with an interest in what we can create when we rethink how live art is produced, supported, and experienced. It's one place where I intend to explore some of these ideas in practice.
Because we truly love our local art, I believe we have an opportunity to invest in more than the next show. We can help build the people, partnerships, and infrastructure that make its future possible and sustainable.
