By Julius Rea, with ShawnJ West & Charles Lewis III
On April 22, 2024, Substrate Arts co-founder Julius Rea sat down with local arts writer Charles Lewis III and theatre-maker ShawnJ West for a private roundtable about theatre criticism at The Hidden Café in Berkeley, CA.
West is one of the co-founders and hosts of Creatively Shaded, a podcast focusing on Black Bay Area theatre culture. Lewis is a multi-hyphenate theatre-maker who primarily writes for 48 Hills as a theatre and arts critic.
During the Marin Theatre Company production of Bees & Honey, a San Francisco Chronicle review of the production launched a new discussion about the importance of cultural awareness in arts journalism and criticism. This roundtable explored the connection between arts producer and critic, the importance of feedback in all aspects of theatre production, and the balance between criticism and kindness.
Julius Rea: In arts journalism, especially in critical reviews, why is cultural competency important? It seems like a very basic question to me. But I would like to hear it from your mouths first.
ShawnJ West: It’s kind of two-fold. I would say that competency is challenging if you’re not part of the culture, so I think it’s more important to have a cultural awareness—if you are not part of that particular culture. So for example, with Bees & Honey, the reviewer is not part of that culture. So they should have an awareness, as a reviewer, to at least have the lens to say: I am an observer. I am here to observe with an eye of critique—in the sense that I should be able to look at this production and this landscape and, even though I’m not part of this, I should be able to pull something from it to give an informed analysis.
I mean, like a perfect example: I went to see Larry: The Musical. I am not Filipino, but it was a beautiful musical that I was not culturally a part [of]. I was culturally aware, in the sense that this wasn’t written for me and mine, but I can appreciate it. I can partake in the experience and give a critique: I love this; I found this interesting; I wonder why they did that.
…if they don’t have the cultural awareness to check that perspective and privilege at the door so they can fully experience that piece as that piece—the challenge is up to the production company also to create that space.
And I think that’s what’s missing with some of the reviewers when they review pieces that they are not part of the community—the critical thinking aspect.
Rea: Is even cultural competency the right words because we say “cultural competency,” I think more than we say “cultural awareness.”
West: I think they’re kind of folded in because awareness will lead to competency. And so there are some people who are competent, but they are sometimes unaware of other things … I don’t want us to get caught up in linguistics, right?
And what I mean is that I just want you to walk into a space and be open, aware of your impact, and aware of the space you’re taking up—when you may not be part of that community.
Charles Lewis III: When I think of something like cultural competency, to me, it all goes back to just the fundamentals of criticism. I remember back when I was in college, and I was studying to be a filmmaker, and I was looking at the options for film classes. I thought it would just be … “learn how to be a director” and all that stuff. And I was surprised that there was actually a formalized class on film criticism.
And that was something of an epiphany to me because you need to know the format and the form you’re critiquing going in, and cultural competency is pretty much something along the same lines. Even if you don’t speak the language, even if you don’t have a background being immersed in a particular culture, what you should know—even if or especially if you’re not part of that culture—is that you should definitely be aware of your outsider nature, but still able to objectively review it artistically.
Let me put it this way: Being people of color, we’re quite used to, you know, critics who will dismiss our work because we’re marginalized people, because we’re people of color. Because they instantly go into our work looking like: “Okay, it’s these people putting on a show. It’s an all-them version of Hamlet, what value is that to me?”
And I would say for you, you are conscious of that and then you feel a certain weight lifted if you walk into a space that is familiar, right? “Oh, these are people.” There’s an exhale.
Rea: With what you just said, I think about African American Shakespeare Company which consistently does all Black versions of Shakespearean plays. And then there are places like Marin Theatre or even [American Conservatory Theatre] doing A Strange Loop currently, where it’s like this is very culturally specific or, in these cases, like all Black and Brown shows.
But I feel culturally at home at a place like Lorraine Hansberry, the company I work at, or African American Shakes or places like Lower Bottom Playaz, places where I’m already in community and at home.
West: I think, hopefully, this somewhat answers your question: It’s different for people of color. We automatically, no matter where we are, adjust accordingly. Whereas the white experience doesn’t have to do that. Everything has been structured for them, and that indoctrination they don’t have to adjust.
When a white reviewer goes into a white space presenting a Black or Brown production—if they don’t have the cultural awareness to check that perspective and privilege at the door so they can fully experience that piece as that piece—the challenge is up to the production company also to create that space.
[For example, with Bees & Honey,] you could see it’s an all-white audience, right? So, what did Marin Theatre do to prepare their all-white audience? Because they know that they have all-white audiences.
In their communication, do they say something like: “Welcome to Bees & Honey, a story that tells of a Colombian couple”… [they must] give details.
So, at least then now that subscriber, that patron knows: “Oh, this is a play about this cultural experience.” So then the question is: Am I interested in preparing myself or do I go in blind?
I think the part where white reviewers don’t have to really do that, if they’re not prepped for that, right? Whereas you said, when you walk into a space, you automatically do that because you’re a person of color. We’re always assessing every space we walk into. Is this safe? White folks don’t do that—very rarely, I would say.
And I would say for you, you are conscious of that and then you feel a certain weight lifted if you walk into a space that is familiar, right? “Oh, these are people.” There’s an exhale.
Rea: The collective sigh…
West: Exactly! Whereas you don’t have to worry about that walking into Lorraine Hansberry, African American Shakespeare, or any of those spaces.
So, I think their cultural awareness would be great if—when [white patrons] walked into the Marin Theatre or they’re watching Bees & Honey—they go: “I need to remove all presumptions, assumptions and biases.”
Rea: As far as that can go.
Lewis: Yeah, I’m at that point in my life where, you know, I’m just aware of white supremacy and its ubiquity, to where I honestly believe that, as marginalized people, we are fucking owed a spot in a traditionally white art space because it is the very fucking least they can do.
Especially with, in recent years, lots of companies closing, lots of venues closing, and this not-yet-over pandemic that keeps on going, folks have had to do co-productions. And that [economic burden] has been devastating on our little independent community. But one thing I do like of it is that, if nothing else, it’s starting to force a lot of companies to open space to more diverse companies.
I just saw Theatre Rhinoceros’ show the other week and their shows have gotten, for lack of a better term, a lot more colorful the last four years—to say the least. Even them, they’re an all-LGBTQ company and they put on those productions, but they have been lily-white for the longest damn time—as has New Conservatory Theatre Company.
ShawnJ and I both work with NCTC long enough as actors to know how, traditionally, that has gone. But, yeah, it’s the thing where everybody has the goal of having their boat sail the top of the tide and let everybody else drown. No, you’re supposed to help everybody else rise with you.
Rea: Was there a definitive time that you were producing work—either directing work or writing—where the marketing team or the press or the viewer just really did not understand or could not clearly relate to the work that you were actually creating in real time?
West: Welcome to the Black experience in theatre. That is all the time.
(all laugh)
But, yeah, it’s the thing where everybody has the goal of having their boat sail the top of the tide and let everybody else drown. No, you’re supposed to help everybody else rise with you.
West: I can talk about the theater experience. I would say I have worked at NCTC quite a bit as a director—only twice as an actor, because it took me forever to get cast in a show.
I like telling Black stories. Like I love telling Black stories; it is like a home for me. And so when I direct a Black story, part of my commitment is that my design team should be Black, or at least people of color. Because there’s an affinity, there’s just naturalness there, and then my cast feels safe—especially in an all-white space, right? This is, again, white spaces producing black stories. Thus, we require having a design team that looks like us.
So at one point during that discussion, they’re like: “Oh, we normally just hire who we want.”
And I said: “Yeah, that doesn’t work for me.” I need a Black lighting designer, Black costumer. Because I’ve had actors, Black women, who say: “Oh, the costumer just threw this on me because they didn’t know how to measure my hips.”
What do you mean? They’re a costumer!
So part of my commitment is to do harm control so that my actors are not harmed. I had a Black person doing hair, doing costuming, and that was new for [the production team], right? And so I go into spaces saying: “Just so you know, this is the Black show and this is what I need.”
[Another example:] the marketing for DOT, right? So, the initial promo material had a Black woman. And I was like: “So, you may not be aware of how this is coming across. But this is sort of just advertising that “This is your Black show.” So, it’d be great if you can maybe change that so that it is just simply ambiguous or something like that, but right now it’s screaming: “This is our Black show!”
And they took the feedback, and they changed it, and I think they became a little bit more aware of how their marketing goes. And I was very vocal—that’s who I am, but they’re aware of the things that I’m going to have my eye on a lot more than they will.
Rea: I know that [Charles is] a playwright and a writer too. What qualities would you like to or hope to have in a reviewer who reviews your work?
Lewis: As far as who I want to review my work, I want the net to be cast as wide as possible. Like I said, I’m personally past that point where I’m going to beg for the approval of white establishment in any other way because, at this point, I feel that we are owed.
At the same time, as a published critic, what I love is when independent companies, especially companies of color, reach out to me directly and ask: “Please review this show because you are probably the only Black reviewer who will. You’re the only one in the Bay Area that we know of. You’re the only one who goes to see all these shows. We have to have you, please come and see the show.”
The role of the critic is to hold a standard for the arts.
Yeah, that kind of thing always gets to me. You know, I do feel obligated to see as many POC shows as I can, as many marginalized shows as I can. Because, even if I don’t like the show, what I’ve learned is that it assures the people putting on the show that … at least someone like them or close enough like them was able to have their say about [the production].
When they’re trying to go for funding or just trying to sell, you know, this whole thing about being an artist to their family wondering why they can’t get a real job … You know, when they ask: “Okay, so what does a person of color in this position, if there are any, what do they think of it?” They point to my work, and I’ve become flattered that they hold me in that regard.
As a writer myself and a playwright, I guess that’s what I want: the ability to note there’s at least one person out there who semi-reflects me, even if they don’t like my work.
West: I appreciate you saying you want as many eyes on it as possible … I’m going to give kudos to a reviewer over in Alameda, a white guy. Saw Soldier’s Play, right, which is a Black play and a heavy Black play. And what a reviewer also needs is to be a good writer. What I have seen too many times is that reviewers can’t write, and this reviewer—and appreciate [Charles also] being one of those good writers—you’re able to write nuance, you’re able to write what the intent [is] and that’s why I really read reviews as a director and even as an actor.
I read a review to go: “Okay, is what I set out to do readable? Did they catch it?” That’s why you reviewed it: to see if we either rose to what we were setting out to do, or failed.
And this particular reviewer, he saw the show, wrote his review—so well written … So he was informed, he was skilled, and he was able to not insert himself into the story.
He was going: “I observed this.” He didn’t go: “Oh, I felt this.”
Which is what I appreciate, because I’m not about your feeling. I want to know what your observation was as a critique, sitting in the space, and I think that is a big part missing [from critical reviewing]—cultural awareness aside; cultural competency aside—it’s the ability to write a friggin’ paragraph that makes sense!
Rea: I mean, it’s weird that we’ve gotten through however many minutes of this interview and now’s the first time we’re like: “Oh yeah, and also they should be good writers. Oh, also they should know what they’re talking about.”
Because that is something with critical reviews—and not just from the Bay Area, but from all over … If a reviewer maybe isn’t the strongest actual writer, whether it be grammar or syntax or anything … sometimes we’ll see a review where it’s really just a synopsis of the show, and then one or two paragraphs about what was great about the show or what was off about the show. But it doesn’t encapsulate all of the aspects of the production. But also, it’s interesting that it’s still very rare that critics—of any type of art—have a deep, deep, deep experience of how to produce that type of work.
…that’s my greatest joy: to just see people inside of a space, to have them see themselves on stage, to have themselves to be entertained and moved, to have their thoughts challenged and grow and evolve.
Lewis: The role of the critic is to hold a standard for the arts.
I love the internet and it has freed up everyone’s voice, especially the voices of marginalized people who otherwise would not have a voice. I mean, I still have my personal website and my blog, which is what got me noticed as a critic first. But the thing is, with so many traditional media places cutting back on staff and everything—more and more, you have to go to these unrefined voices on the internet. And anyone who’s ever read an internet comment section can know what a goddamn dumpster fire that can be.
That standard isn’t being uniformly raised, so you get really bad writers.
And using that, I’ll jump into something else in regards to marketing. Magic Theater could be considered a traditional white theater. And a couple of years ago, I interviewed Sean San José, when he became the new artistic director, because he was a longtime member of Campo Santo. He essentially said he wanted to take everything he had from Campo Santo and put it into his position as the new artistic director of Magic Theatre.
And here we are a few years later, and I’m interviewing the playwright of Dirty White Teslas [Make Me Sad, Ashley Smiley], and I asked her: How do you reach out to the audience you’re portraying in the play?
And she just flat out told me: I made it clear we’re going to make a concerted effort to go out to places like the Fillmore and Hunter’s Point and everything and try to get them to come see this show. And she was telling me she was lucky because by then, it’d been two or three years that Sean San José was there with Campo Santo. So it was a hell of a lot easier than it would have been without him because, you know, that is the work they do and there was a concerted effort to bring these communities and voices in.
And I was glad to be there opening night. There was so many young folks and young Black folks coming to see this show about young Black folks in San Francisco. Magic Theatre is a great example of a traditionally white space giving the appropriate amount of time to people of color and the people of color just running with it and taking it in the right direction.
Rea: For me, personally, as a writer and a journalist, that’s my greatest joy: to just see people inside of a space, to have them see themselves on stage, to have themselves to be entertained and moved, to have their thoughts challenged and grow and evolve.
I just think that it’s interesting for me to point out how complementary both of these missions are inside of the room and inside of the company and also outside with critical viewers and arts journalists.
West: I think it’s having that passion. We’re passionate on stage; we’re passionate behind the stage; we are passionate on the marketing. And then someone comes in who’s not passionate, who looks at a show and just says: “Oh, that’s the worst show I ever saw.”
Like I saw that someone posted on Facebook of all places; ACT had an ad for A Strange Loop, and someone commented “ One of the worst shows I’ve ever seen.”
They hadn’t even seen the ACT version, just the Broadway production. And someone from ACT responded with: “Oh, what didn’t you like about the show?”
“The acting was strong; the singing was strong. I just didn’t like A, B, C and D.”
And that’s what we ask: Open with that! As opposed to it was one of the worst shows I saw.
Like, it doesn’t help. It doesn’t inform. It just simply blankets, this blanket statement. And I think that’s a lot of what the internet has done with comments: I can just say anything, and I don’t have to explain myself. I can just put it out there.
Lewis: I remember years ago, Shotgun Players put on my all-time favorite musical which is Passing Strange, and it was directed by William Thomas Hodgson, one of the co-founders of Oakland Theater Project (formerly Ubuntu).
So, if you do know the show Passing Strange, you know that the actors need a freedom of movement around that stage. And I mentioned in my review that he just got this most constricting, most claustrophobic sort of set that had these levels and everything and the actors weren’t able to move around.
And I mentioned that in my review, because, again, I want them to learn something. I want them to do something; I want them to grow from that. And he just directed Shotgun’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and he got a completely different set designer but he got the same design of the set. And the same damn thing happened!
That is what I think of when I want to put feedback in my reviews, that hopefully artists will learn. Because I say this as an actor myself, as a director myself.
He didn’t reach out to me, but there are several times where if I’m reviewing a show by a person of color, especially if it’s a Black director … the Black directors will not hesitate to call me a sellout if I don’t like the shows.
If anything, what I want to do with my reviews is—if something did not meet my standard—I want to approach it from a point of view of you can do better…
Lorraine Hansberry Theatre did the Mahalia Jackson show. The woman who played Mahalia, Jeannine Anderson, I put in my year-end list that her performance blew me away and probably was one of the best of the year, but there were problems with the script. And the script was co-written by Daryl V. Jones, who also directed and who also had a role in it.
And, you know, there were some problems in that show where a lot of that has to be attributed to him. If for no other reason that he’s the director, then it has to be attributed to him.
And yeah, after my review of the show came in, which was a fairly favorable review, but I didn’t like the timeline of how they move through her life. [I got some feedback from the director about the critiques of the show].
But I came at this, not only as someone who loves theater, [but someone who] loves Bay Area theater, is a Black man, and grew up listening to Mahalia Jackson. You know, I am critiquing the work that you did as a writer, as a director, as an actor because you decided to put those things together and not separate them.
Rea: And this is where I have to just admit that I work at Lorraine Hansberry as the production manager on the show. But also, over the past two years, you have reviewed three shows that I’ve worked on. And from my perspective, it was really fair, and there was some times where I was reading your words, and I was having this moment where it was like: heard.
Because I think the same reason why inside of the rehearsal process we have an invited dress rehearsal, and then we’re like: “Okay, somebody outside of this process, can you please watch this to make sure what we’re doing is clear?”
It can hurt so much when you’re like working on something and then a critical review can come out and completely dismiss the work. And I think that that’s why I wanted to hear more about what it is like to balance being critical of something and also still being supportive of the community or to be supportive for the artists.
Lewis: If anything, what I want to do with my reviews is—if something did not meet my standard—I want to approach it from a point of view of you can do better, especially since I’ve been part of the Bay Area theatre scene for so long and I’m, off-hand, just gonna know at least many of the people who are in the show or have connected with the show. The impression I want to leave is that I know the folks here can do better or at least most of them can. And I don’t want to be cruel for the sake of being cruel, but at the same time, you do have to be honest about what does not work.
Criticism is an art itself and it is not above being criticized. So yeah, it’s a symbiosis. Everything is connected; everyone has a part in it.
West: And also, we talked about this on [Creatively Shaded] about how to be critical, but also supportive. And that’s hard because the thing is, I can critique your work. I don’t need to be mean, right? I can critique your work; I don’t need to be harsh. I can find a way of being constructive in my criticism, so that you learn something.
But if you’re a critic, you do research before you see the show. As an audience member, I’m just going to see the show, right? And so I can take a moment to warm up to this.
But as a critic, you’ve already read up on the director, you’ve read up on the production company, into the script. So you have some idea going in what it’s supposed to be about. So you have a stronger critical eye than I do, right? I’m going in as an audience member.
And I always say, when I’m with some folks, if the show can make me forget I’m a director, kudos! But if I’m sitting there going: “Oh, upstage left is in the dark … What’s that sound cue? You can’t understand that.” I’m like, critical, right? But then I’m gonna tell the playwright: “Here’s the deal. I see where you’re going. And then you want to look at A, B, C and D.” But the reality is: that needs to take place before it gets on stage.
And I think sometimes our shortcoming is, with a new work, we’re not as critical as we need to be. And we allow it to go on stage and then it gets brutalized. So before it even makes it on stage, we, in the playwriting festivals, we need to go: “Oh, you really should look at A, B, C and D because it’s unclear.” We need to do that there to spare the playwright the pain of a critic coming in and ripping it to shreds because they’re not part of the community.
Now, we’ll be gentle to some extent, but we’re gonna go: “Hey, girl. Yeah, that part didn’t work.”
We’re gonna call you in on it, and then we’re gonna give you some constructive ways to fix it where some critics won’t do that.
Lewis: I’ll say something to that point. I recently reviewed a dance show at Dance Mission. And it was a show based on the old story of “The Little Match Girl.” And it’s a really great show and everything. They made it about San Francisco and economic differences and all that stuff. And in the midst of this show, there is this ridiculous conspiracy theory rant about, you know, about COVID being pressed on Black people and everything just to get us out of the way. And I mentioned that in my review. It’s like, you know what, I love the show except for this one section that it should either be removed from the script or rephrased. And the director of that show directly contacted me with a cut-and-paste of the dialog saying I was wrong.
It’s still a conspiracy theory; it is still something paranoid. It is still something that makes Black people look paranoid and prone to conspiracy theories about a worldwide pandemic that has killed millions of people. You would have to rephrase it or get rid of it.
Why are we not, as an industry, encouraging a deeper comfort and understanding of what constructive criticism is and what it can do for the artists at every level?
And this is what I’m saying in a direct email… Again, I said in my review, I love the show. It was a beautiful show, wonderfully performed; all the vocal stuff was great. But this is the work of someone who was not pushed back on, who did not get critical feedback and just went on without realizing the consequences of what they were putting out there. And everybody went along with it.
Rea: Very rarely is anyone— artists, producers, writers, but anyone in general—trained in how to give and take criticism, period. Because that happens at every single level. Charles just described multiple situations when a director or marketing team or writer will come to you after a review comes out. ShawnJ just described how it happens inside of the production or, or the play development process or lack thereof sometimes
Why are we not, as an industry, encouraging a deeper comfort and understanding of what constructive criticism is and what it can do for the artists at every level?
And I’m glad that you talked about the play development process because so many parts of our philosophy—for good and for bad—is to “follow the playwright’s vision.” And I’ve been in that process where I have had to convince people to be very honest with me about my work as a playwright.
I can see people walking around on eggshells when dealing with my work, when I’m like: “No, I want you to give me the feedback. I want it.”
West: You need it!
Rea: I need it. Exactly… but I wonder if there is a world where we can envision using critical reviews of productions to kind of teach us better how to give and get critical feedback before the production process… because we know that when the reviews come out, they’re not going to change the script. They’re not going to take out that monologue about conspiracy theories in the second week of the show. That’s something that, hopefully, the playwright can do later on; I wonder which parts of this process can inform us or get us more comfortable with us opening our mouths a little bit more. And like being able to take the note. Take the note.
Lewis: Have either of you seen the movie Tár with Cate Blanchett; she plays the conductor …
You remember the scene where she’s teaching her class, and that whole thing goes to shit? Because she is coming from this old school boys club—very toxic establishment thing. And he is this young Black aspiring conductor who comes from a generation that wants to push back from that. It is a good thing that youngsters are pushing back against the toxicity of the previous generations. But I look at that scene and, as a critic, that illuminates how there should be a middle ground on how to teach that appropriate type of criticism where she can teach him how to be a better conductor and she can be better at accepting criticism.
And, yes, criticism should be used in the learning process, even reviews of shows that have already been a learning process, in the artistic process, and everything.
But that middle ground is somehow disappearing and the gap is widening. Because you’re getting these two sides who are, you know, fighting for dominance instead of cohesion.
And so again, it goes back to when I review something, I try to come at it from a point of view of: “Okay, this could have been better,” and to use that as a stepping stone in going from there.
And, yes, criticism should be used in the learning process, even reviews of shows that have already been a learning process, in the artistic process, and everything. Because if nothing else, it will at least give an aspiring artist an idea of “How will my work be perceived?”
Rea: But going back to this original question of: How are we critical and then also supportive? I’m glad that you talked about, like, openness. An openness to ideas… once again, the same way that criticism has to be trained to a certain extent, openness might also have to be trained to a certain extent.
West: I’m a little old-school… Yes, I think It’s common sense, right? We become so overly sensitive to everything that we don’t realize that you created this [piece of art] for public consumption. It’s going to be criticized; it’s going to be analyzed; it’s got to be dissected; it’s got to get all of that stuff, right?
So, you have to be aware—and I know artists are sensitive people—but when you create something, ask, first, why am I creating this? What is it I’m after, right? If I’m creating the stage play, I want it to be seen. If it’s seen, it’s going to be experienced. If it is experienced, someone’s going to have a reaction to it. And that reaction is going to be their reaction—which is valid.
Now, we would hope they would be able to articulate: “I saw this, man, I was floored!”
“Why were you floored?”
“Because A, B, C, and D.”
Rea: I wanted to shift here a little bit about the inception of Creatively Shaded. And you all approach things with like, like this conversation, with a deep amount of care and love and respect, so I would love to hear how Creatively Shaded fully got started.
West: So Creatively Shaded was the brainchild of Elizabeth Jones. So she’s sitting in her living room one day and just popped up and said: “Oh, there’s no space where Black creatives are talking about the work in the Bay Area—with a lens of support, accountability, and resources.”
So then she and Phaedra (Tillery-Boughton) came together. And, through other people they had asked, they had asked me because I had my other talk show, Underneath the Shade Tree.
That was more about relationships and getting people to share their life lessons to help other folks grow. Creatively Shaded is similar for me to that degree because we need voices, Black voices in the Bay Area talking about Bay Area theatre—Black Bay Area theatre.
And what happens with us is we want to be a bridge to unite artists, companies to—not only survive—but thrive, right? And we’re coming from three very different perspectives. Liz went to college, had trained in theater, stuff like that; I’ve just been in theater my entire life, and Phaedra just started off like directing, but she’s mostly musical theater, and the same thing with Liz. And I mostly like I’ve done both, but now I’ve got an eye on directing.
So we’re bringing that perspective to help artists be prepared when they enter this career and help hopefully guide them along the way, like how to get a good headshot, how to prepare for monologues, how to use self tape, and things you want to consider as a Black creative—how you want to show up in a room.
So I think our goal in the tent is to really be a safe, honest space for creatives to hear themselves, right? It’s sort of like: “Oh, that’s what I experienced?”
If it’s a microaggression in a rehearsal hall, if it’s racist and all that racism in a rehearsal hall, we want to be able to provide that support … the confirmation or validation of an experience that they had—because sometimes we get gaslit.
Let me go: “Oh, I guess I didn’t experience that.”
“No, baby girl, you did.”
And we’ve talked about a lot of stuff and like, even during this iteration, I’ve come back to the whole thing about I didn’t want us to call it “Black” theatre. I didn’t want us to call ourselves “Black” actors. “We are actors who are doing theater who happened to be Black.”
Then I realized: “No, boo boo. We doing Black art.”
And we need to claim it first before we’re able to open it up. [When looking at Black Theatre United], something similar we need in the Bay Area. So we want to kind of drive towards that direction of getting us all united under the umbrella of Bay Area Black theater.
You know, it’s that family thing; it’s that sort of thing that Black folks do a lot… You ain’t gotta be completely afraid. There is a spot where you can go.
So that we can now get Charles to review that show. Don’t call that person, right? You don’t want to work at that theater company—not a safe space, right? Oh, yeah, this is where you want to call for stage manager or hair or costumes right? We want to be that type of resource for folks in real life …
Rea: And then let’s try to figure out how you can be safer, how you can be better, how the next experience or the next show or the next production can be as good as it can be, given that—which is what both of you have said in like different ways—it can always be better.
… [with] anything that we’ve talked about with how we can utilize resource sharing or critical reviews in the future, what is something that you like or hope to see maybe? Whether it’s how critical Creatively Shaded might evolve in the future? Or how we can kind of encourage or coax producers or artists to interact with critical views.
West: I find it interesting that people actually email Charles after a review to say they didn’t like it, because that is the opportunity to learn from that.
“Hey, Charles, can I have a conversation with you about your review? And I noticed you said this …” Charles would probably welcome that type of conversation … And maybe it didn’t translate for them in the written word, but it’s like we need all of that. We also have to be open to it.
Lewis: The future is weird for me to talk about right now because if I don’t get a full-time job soon, I may be kicked out of the Bay Area by the start of June. So yeah, that’s weird. And if I were egotistical enough, I’d say that the Bay Area would then be losing a critical black voice…
Rea: I’d say that.
Lewis: Let me put it this way…
I love all this interconnectedness. Like Jasmine Milan Williams, who I love dearly and who I talk to on a regular basis and everything… As I’m looking to try and stay here in the Bay Area… and one of the potential places to live she connected me with was the place where [another Black and local] talented actor—just wonderful person everything, and that has nothing to do with theater, but it’s a connection made through theater.
You know, it’s that family thing; it’s that sort of thing that Black folks do a lot… You ain’t gotta be completely afraid. There is a spot where you can go.
West: Lift as you climb.
Rea: I’m just very thankful to have this conversation, because I’m looking at both of you who are, in my opinion, Bay Area theatre and Black Bay Area theatre pillars. And I look up to you both and rely on you in very different ways.
It’s also interesting that all three of us are very clear that we are three members of a large, large Black theater community. I hope for the future is more discussions like this, so that we can understand and welcome a new kind of openness … which I think that you two are, in my opinion, representatives of.
This interview was edited for length, grammar, and clarity.