Lauren: All of the members of The Private Theatre do a variety of different jobs within the company as well as outside of it. What do you say if someone asks you what the title of your job is?
Vieve: Good question. For TÉA Creative [the theatre company Vieve started] my title is Founder and Director of Mission. I found that the title of Executive Director, which many people use, felt limiting. When I saw somewhere “Founder and Director of Mission,” I thought it was artistic and encompassed tasks that branch out beyond what an Executive Director typically does. I’m someone who carries out the vision and mission of the company.
Within The Private Theatre my title is Managing Member. It’s the title most of the company members have, and I love it because you can do whatever you want with it. We have talked as a company about this title/role a lot, and we have wondered if we should get more nuanced and have more specific job titles. But it has become clear that Managing Member means you can do it all and that the tasks can be shared in a more equitable way.
L: How did you find your path within the world of theatre?
V: It was sort of a circuitous path. When I first got to New York I worked in HIV prevention education using theatre with a company called S.T.A.R Theatre. I just loved the two things together -- getting to engage the performing arts in conversation with something that really mattered.
Eventually I was ready to do something else, so I joined the Peace Corps. As a Peace Corps volunteer I used theatre to do HIV prevention education in Tanna, Vanuatu, an island in the South Pacific. After three years of service, I came home and went to grad school. I got a Masters in Public Policy and then, because...why not...I got another Masters in Conflict Analysis and Resolution. Both of those felt really profound and powerful on the content side, but I was like, “Great, I know a lot about the theory and philosophy of these things, but I’m not interested in going to Washington as a policy wonk and I’m not really that ready to go to a conflict zone and try to transform conflict.” I wanted to engage in peacemaking, and I wanted to use performing arts to do so. I think the arts speak to people in a language that is more direct and accessible and resonant. My Conflict Analysis and Resolution Masters made me realize I really believe in the trajectory of transforming conflict and peacemaking, and the next step was to figure out how I could do that within the performing arts. That’s what sparked TÉA and what attracted me to the Private Theatre.
With TÉA, I did a piece about veterans coming home from wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. John Gould Rubin [Current Artistic Director of The Private Theatre] saw it, and we started talking. He and I began to ask each other, “What can we do together to further this type of work? To advance the peacemaking, to advance the theatre, and to advance the artistry of it?” That led to my joining the Private Theatre.
L: What came first for you, the want to create social progress or your love for the performing arts?
V: They were kind of simultaneous. In high school I was in all of the shows, but I majored in American Studies in college. I never wanted to be a theatre major though I enjoyed acting. I was too interested in the world. Growing up, my mom and dad were very much seekers of truth and inner transcendence, so that was already a part of what mattered to me. I guess it was in my cultural DNA.
In college, I played Alex in On the Verge by Eric Overmeyer. It was the first time I truly grasped the power that theatre can have. In On the Verge, I was swept away by the words, by the cello, and by how much I cared about these three women... there were so many things about the play that were meaningful. I thought: so this is what theatre can do! And I decided to move to New York City.
A friend of mine was in S.T.A.R. One day, he and I were talking and he said, “I think, knowing the kind of person you are, that you would love the work I'm doing with this theatre company.” I went to see his show, and I said, “Of course. That’s what I want to do.”
L: Did you have any mentors in your career?
V: Cydelle Berlin, the woman who started S.T.A.R, was definitely a mentor. She was really on the vanguard. She started in the 80s when AIDS was at the height of an epidemic, she got her PHD in Human Sexuality, and she knew that performing arts was the way to reach the younger generations. Also, her tenacity and drive and ability to literally go out and tell people, “You have to give us money because we are doing something so incredibly important and life saving.” She was such a master.
She also fostered transformative connections and relationships within the company. We were all young, and we were growing and exploring in such a safe space. We were given a place to wonder about race, homophobia, sexuality, gender, sexually transmitted infections and so much more.
When I got back from the Peace Corps and once I had started TÉA, I went back to S.T.A.R and told Cydelle I wanted to work with them on a piece about Muslim and Non-Muslims post 9/11. She supported me and said she had some people I needed to meet. Chukwuma [Current Private Theatre Managing Member] was one of them. He and I have known and worked alongside one another for 11 years.
L: Have you received push back from doing work like this? From the community or from potential funders?
V: One thing I haven’t mentioned yet is the methodology I use at TÉA called Insight Artistry. It now also informs the creative process of the Private Theatre. Insight Artistry is based on Insight method and philosophy. We’ve taken our bearings from the method and created an approach to both creating art and to being an artist. This way, artists don’t have to become philosophers, but it is a precise way to pay attention to people in their own terms. The biggest challenge about Insight Artistry is articulating that for funders.
For Rocco, Chelsea - the last piece the Private Theatre did - it was difficult to get funding because it was hard for funders to imagine what the play was about and therefore why it was significant. We were trying to create a show that would put audiences in touch with the inner conscious process of becoming polarized. We wanted them to personally experience the dramatic possibility of transforming their own polarized habits of mind. In our socially and politically polarized world, I would argue this is a very important thing to do. Still, it’s not as immediately obvious as tackling a specific issue like HIV prevention education. Now, I’ve created a number of issue-based productions - Muslim/Non-Muslim relations post 9/11, the sturggles veterans have coming home from war in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the problem of violence and police/community relations. The advantage of issue based theatre is that there’s an imaginable “there” to it that issue-based funders can support. But what I’ve discovered in my journey is that I am really not interested in issue-based theatre per se. I’m interested in figuring out how theatre can illuminate and help to transform the habits of mind and heart that generate social problems and issues in the first place.
L: What’s the advantage - or the disadvantage - of doing issue-based theatre?
V: Two things happen when we do issue-based shows. First, - and this is an advantage - when we have an issue, it’s easier to secure funding. Second, however, when we do issue based theatre, all of a sudden the issue becomes our identity. When we created and performed, Under the Veil: being the Muslim and Non-Muslim post 9/11, people began asking us questions such as, “What do you think about the head scarf ban in France?” While I may have a personal opinion on the topic, it wasn’t like TÉA was out there to make a statement about what we thought about the headscarf ban. In reality, we were exploring the topics around the issues because we cared deeply about the people and the impact of the decisions people make in polarizing situations. Our funders understood that. But when we moved to Rocco, Chelsea, it was more difficult to explain the moves we were making. When asked by funders what the show was about, we would say we were doing a piece about consciousness. We were exploring human interiority through theatrical performance. As I said earlier, funders had trouble imagining what this would look like. "That’s the point!" I would say, "It’s important to be able to imagine this!" So the onus is on me and other Insight Artists to work to explain and demonstrate what we are doing. I’m happy to say there are a growing number of us who are working diligently to do so.
L: Do you ever find yourself comparing yourself to other artists? How do you deal with that?
V: I do always say to Jamie [Vieve’s Partner] that I can’t believe how jealous I get sometimes of artists who are able to work solo. A very good friend of ours is a painter who goes into his studio and paints for about 6 hours everyday. He’s always saying he has a new piece that he’s finished. However, when you do devised theatre in collaboration, and when you’re committed to paying people, it takes a long time. Rocco, Chelsea took six years. The project TÉA is doing now on the dynamics of race in America and colonization is into year two, and we’re certainly not ready yet.
How do I move on from comparing myself? I move on by saying that for me, I want to be a multi-hyphenate collaborative artist. If you are a multi-hyphenate and collaboration is important to you - if this is what feeds your soul - then you have to say, “Yes, sometimes I wish it did move a bit faster, but this is something I really want to do.”
L: What do you want in the future?
V: I want to be able to understand, articulate and communicate to others what Insight Artistry is, how it’s used and how it’s useful. I just feel there’s so much it could do.
Also, I’d like to see this country support our artists more fully. It’s time. We need change and peace and I believe art is a powerful and effective tool in the pursuit of these. Let’s give the artists some money and see what they can do. I do believe artists can galvanize us to make the change we want to see in the world.