KCMETROPOLIS.org
Kansas City's Online Journal of the Performing Arts

Imagine for a moment that you are a professional performing artist: an actor, dancer or musician.

Not a superstar, mind you, just a working-class artist who makes a significant portion of his or her income through their craft. Discard fantasies of stardom, riches and sordid tabloid romances. Those are the fruits of celebrity, not artistry, and while the two aren't mutually exclusive, there is a distinct difference. The greedy fame-chaser seeks celebrity; the artist intrinsically pursues his or her craft.

So for our purposes, let's say you're just an artist, plain and simple.  In that case, there are days when you wake up and look yourself in the mirror and think:

This is the life I've chosen for myself.

Some days, during a dry spell, after pulling a bartending double to make this month's rent, it's an exhausted rueful look. Other mornings, a triumphant grin stares back at you because you know you've got gigs booked months in advance. Nevertheless, the phrase remains the same, reminding you that the artist's journey is littered with both humiliating disappointments and intoxicating glory.

When people ask me what I do for a living, I usually reply that I'm a performer.  The typical response is amused curiosity -- "Wow, that's so interesting!" -- followed quickly by an intense cross examination that almost invariably starts with, "So what's your real job?" If I can convince them that I'm indeed a working artist and not just a puffed-up hobbyist, they lob a well-intended but irritatingly backhanded word of encouragement my way: "Oh, then we'll see you in Hollywood soon!" Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

Don't get me wrong: I may venture out to either coast before too long. And I'm certainly not one of those pretentious types who sniff derisively at insane, tabloid-scale global commercial success. Stardom would be great -- just remind me to become drinking buddies with the paparazzi early on. But as we've mentioned before, celebrity and artistry are not one and the same.

Many people correlate the success of performers with the level of their stardom.  So where does that leave the working artist who isn't a household name? I'm paying my bills doing what I love, and I enjoy living in Kansas City. So why should waking up every morning in Overland Park invalidate what I do when I step onstage?

Practicing law in Kansas City doesn't mean an attorney has failed at his calling or set his sights too low; why should the stigma of failure be placed on a singer who chooses to make a living here instead of on some worldwide stadium tour? It begs the artist's rebuttal: "Oh, so you're an (insert more conventional job title here)!  Well, good for you!  Go for it, follow your dreams!" Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

Life as an artist is usually generalized as whimsical, nomadic and impoverished.  It's certainly not the easiest or most practical path to financial or domestic security. Nevertheless, in an artistic landscape where grants are shrinking, theatres are closing their doors and the recording industry's major-label rubric is imploding, it's fascinating to see the artistry thriving within our own little corners of the world.

In the midst of a shrinking job market and anemic economy, the working artist continues to survive. A lean year isn't so intimidating when you've become accustomed to a lean life. Artists possess resiliency and a willingness to swallow pride and do whatever is necessary to make ends meet while still yet serving their art. Most valuable of all is their ability to adapt and cleverly use the resources available to them.

A half-century ago, theatre was synonymous with Broadway. Then when New York City became too bloated and oversaturated with aspiring thespians, the regional theatre boom occurred. During the golden era of rock 'n' roll, kids would sit around spinning records and strumming guitars, plotting how to get signed and conquer the world. Now bedroom geniuses with a decent computer, some software and recording equipment can premiere new songs instantly with one swift tweet. Music veterans such as songstress Jill Sobule (of Lilith Fair-era "I Kissed a Girl" fame) and drummer Josh Freese (Nine Inch Nails, A Perfect Circle, Devo) funded their latest albums in large part through grassroots, Web-based fan donations. Middlemen the world over have officially been put on notice.

It's no different here in our neighborhood, where there is no shortage of self-starting, self-sustaining artists who carry on the legacy of Kansas City's rich musical heritage and who are shaping the identity of our burgeoning performing arts scene:

Alacartoona, Quixotic, Barclay Martin Ensemble, Mark Southerland, Mark Lowrey, Megan Birdsall, Jeff Harshbarger, Shay Estes and whatever mad theatrical alchemy Ron Megee is dreaming up at the moment: These are just a handful of the performers who find steady work around town, supporting themselves while enriching the local scene.

Another case in point: Every month, as an excuse to get together and keep up with each other, many of us meet under the banner of Staged Readings (led by local actor Matt Rapport, professional stage manager Beth Ellen Spencer and rock mainstay Cody Wyoming)  to mount irreverent, DIY tributes to our favorite movies. It was during rehearsals for our assault on "Blazing Saddles" that I met groovy hepcat and operatic tenor Nathan Granner. He shared an idea with me about a music and culture column that would shed light on what it meant to be a working performer in Kansas City and invited me to write it.

So imagine it's a dreary morning and we're all stuck on I-35 during rush hour.  Some of us are headed to our cubicle at the firm, preparing to tackle that next big campaign. Others are off to stock shelves or answer phones or fill prescriptions.  And some are going to sing, dance and entertain in the hopes that they can conjure a smile or a few tears from everyone else, doing their part to relieve the stress of life and stir the heart, mind and spirit.

The performer is a part of the tapestry of Kansas City. With "The Steady," I've been asked to chronicle their experiences and illuminate the why of that mirror-front declaration: This is the life I've chosen -- the tumultuous but rich life of the steady-gigging, lunchpail-in-hand working artist.

"The Steady" is my voice in the community. Sometimes I'll speak through performance reviews, sometimes with interviews or artist profiles. Sometimes it'll just be me waxing on my own experiences in the industry. I'll focus primarily on fringe music genres such as new classical, jazz and cabaret, as well as clowning, alternative dance and performance art, or pretty much anything that piques my interest or that you, the reader, express a desire to have covered.

Above all, I'd like to cultivate a personal, individual connection between Kansas City audiences and the artists who have chosen to devote their lives to entertaining them. I hope you'll join me.

See you at the show.

By Vi Tran

theSTEADY and Jazz Contributor (Past writer)