Lessons Learned: Megan Gogerty Part One
While everyone else was “firmly in the fetal position” Megan Gogerty has been taking a new play to people’s front door. What has it taught her? We called her to find out.
By Ricky and Dana Young-Howze
When reality hit us, when COVID-19 hit Iowa, and my University shut down and the town effectively shut down, our state never had an official stay at home order but everything shut down. My first response, which is I think a common one, is to just get really depressed. I got in the fetal position, I got really depressed when my industry is effectively shutting down. Depressed because all of my opportunities evaporated, depressed because I’m being denied a basic right as an extrovert in my dearest friends. But also depressed and scared because I don’t trust my leaders. And that’s a big part of it. I’m 45 years old. I was 26 when 9/11 happened, I was an adult, and I have very vivid memories of before 9/11 happened and I have very vivid memories of after 9/11. 9/11 was traumatic for the whole country. It was really awful and I never felt this abandoned during 9/11. I was not a George W. Bush fan (it may not surprise your readers at all that I DID NOT vote for that man) but I fondly remember him standing on the rubble with the bullhorn and I remember responding to his leadership. Now in retrospect (and at the time) we had serious questions (should we really be invading a second country?) but there was leadership. What I’m feeling right now, part of what’s feeding into this terror, is that nobody really cares if I live or die. And that’s not as an individual, I mean as an American Citizen. I don’t feel like my leaders care if my family really survives this and that’s a really alarming and jarring thing. Not only am I having a feeling of abandonment and abuse (we have been in an abusive relationship with our federal government for three years now) at the same time they’re trying to shut down the post office, purge voter rolls, really trying (in my view and I don’t think this is hyperbolic) to damage and demolish democracy. That’s where we are. So to see all of this come into crystallization I got very depressed and as an artist I didn’t know what to do. And I saw a lot of people had the impulse to make stuff right away and I just didn’t have that impulse. I had it at first, I had all these ideas, but I realized I didn’t have the appetite for them. My audience doesn’t need me to do a Zoom reading of a play I wrote ten years ago.
Meaning is made in Collaboration between artist and audience. We do it together. It’s not enough that I have something that I want to say or that I want to explore or that I want to experience. As an artist that’s the first draft not the last draft. Ultimately what matters is “what does my audience need”? And that’s primary. Secondary is “what do I want”?
The two most valuable things we ask of strangers is their money and their attention. And we in the theatre blithely ask for both all the time. We get real fascist about it. “Don’t you dare unwrap a candy. If your cell phone went off [you’re a] pariah.” We get really tough about it. Which is kinda obnoxious unless we’re holding up our end of the bargain which is: in exchange for your utter obedience, your money, and your strict attention, we will transform your life. We will meet your need and take you somewhere that’s not where you are. That’s a big promise.
So I found myself stuck going “what do we need right now? Who cares what I can do, what do people need?”
I thought “what do I need?” And what I need is human connection. That’s what I need. I don’t need a Zoom play, I need human connection. So I was like “how do I do that?” And then one morning I woke up and it clicked. And I wrote The Tether which is a play that is designed for an audience of one household. I go to your house, it’s performed on your lawn or sidewalk, it’s about ten minutes. And our set is this almost cartoonish looking rope. It’s a rope Popeye the Sailor would have and it’s ten feet or so long. The audience holds one end and I hold the other and we do the play this way.
Something Very Nourishing
It has been profound. It has been one of the most nourishing experiences of my theatre career. Every time I go into it...Yesterday was my first day after having been off for mainly twenty days. I was like “is this something that I want to bring into my life again? No one is forcing me to do this.” It’s kind of a pain to schedule, a lot of moving parts. Then I did it and I was like “that’s right this is actually really very nourishing and important for me to do it and for them.
That’s the Whole Ballgame
What’s amazing is I did a show for one person who lives alone and she sobbed the whole time. And then I did a show for a family that this is probably the first time that they have been outside and they just laughed the whole time, even [at] the sad parts, because they’re just so giddy to be outside and to be connected. And I’ve done it for everything in between, for every sort of response. You know how when you do a show and sometimes it requires you to get in a headspace that you may not be in? You have to take the stage with a particular energy and you may not be feeling it that way and you have to find your way into it? One of the things that I set myself for the Tether is that I can perform it from anywhere, energetically. If I’m having an up day I can perform it from an up place. If I’m having a down day I can perform it from a down place. As long as I am completely honest about where I am. Because what is really important is not the thing that I am manufacturing what’s important is the honest connection between me and the audience. If I can just be honest and connect honesty that’s the whole ballgame. And then people respond in surprisingly giant ways. They feel so nourished. It’s like such a gift for both of us. Like I drive away they’ve had this special moment it’s really meaningful.
What Makes Theatre Sacred?
They pay me. And this is really important.The money I’m making from the Tether (my suggested donation is $10 and I say “if you can’t afford that you can pay attention). My partner is out of work, he’s a technical director and the theater is closed. Everyone I know is hurting. Everyone’s job has a question mark over it. I work for a University that is slated to lose Millions of dollars. I ask for $10 and what happens is some people don’t pay and that’s okay. Some people pay more and that goes to subsidize other people. What I’ve discovered is that the act of payment is really important for everyone. Tether money is not going to pay my utilities, it’s going to pay my grocery bill maybe (emphasis on maybe). It’s not a lot of money. The act of somebody paying me even $10 measly dollars kinda makes the transaction sacred. It brings an importance to it. This is not a party trick. This is not just a gag. We’re doing something. By me coming to your house I’m proving my sincerity and commitment and by you paying me $10 you’re proving your sincerity and commitment. It’s like a commitment ceremony. And that was something that I never fully understood about what the exchange of money means. This is worth something.
Stay tuned for Part Two coming up. To learn more about Megan and her work go here. And let us know on our social media what you thought.
