University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses

Doing fringe In LA: how three performing artists stay off-beat in the entertainment industry's backyard

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Doing fringe In LA: how three performing artists stay off-beat in the entertainment industry's backyard

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Content DOING FRINGE IN LA: HOW THREE PERFORMING ARTISTS STAY OFF-BEAT IN THE ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY'S BACKYARD By Melissa Kaplan A Thesis Presented to the FACULTY OF THE USC GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree MASTER OF ARTS (SPECIALIZED JOURNALISM: THE ARTS) August 2013 Copyright 2013 Melissa Kaplan ii To Sebastian, April, Jennifer, and everyone who's got a gig tonight in Greater LA. iii Acknowledgments First to my interview subjects, for your bravery and for sharing your stories. The work you do is inspiring, especially so consistently in a challenging artistic environment. To my thesis committee – I feel lucky to work with each of you. Tim Page, a champion of cultivating and nurturing ideas. You make me excited to write, and you make me a better writer. Sasha Anawalt, who always challenges me. Your support is immeasurable. Debra De Liso: Like sunlight and water are to plants, you are to artists in LA. You sustain them, help them grow, and prevent them from becoming cacti. You've done the same for me, and I'm grateful. Special thanks to Geneva Overholser for your early support. Thank you to Los Angeles for all of your stories, artists, and lessons. iv Table of Contents Dedication ii Acknowledgments iii Abstract v Introduction 1 April Hava Shenkman Avant-Garde Performance Artist / Comedian 3 Sebastian A. Bach Singer-Songwriter / Competent Player of Rock Instruments 9 Jennifer Jonassen Dancer / Clown 16 A New Validation 20 References 21 v Abstract This article explores the lives and careers of three performers doing off-beat work in three different arts scenes in Los Angeles, the worldwide home of the entertainment industry. An avant-garde actor, singer-songwriter, and dancing clown, each having worked in the area for several years, share their experiences with commercial work, going against the grain, and the hidden reasons and rewards for doing their art in this environment. 1 Introduction An invisible sensation drives performing artists to do what they do. They are called to use a practiced ability for interpreting our collective world to transform and transcend reality. At the heart of this pull is the need to transmit an inner truth – a rewarding, yet meticulous vocation that takes energy to pull off well. Los Angeles is one of the few cities where performers can turn craft into a viable career. The 2012 Otis Report on the Creative Economy in the Los Angeles region sites LA and Orange County's creative industries at $230.7 billion; 9.1 percent of LA's creative industry goes to the visual and performing arts. In 2011, 26,200 Angelenos were employed in the visual and performing arts. These numbers are welcoming, but unfortunately don't provide insight into what type of acts these earners are putting on. These figures favor the top-tier performers in television, film, and theater, who are safer moneymakers. The fringe artist – someone with a calling to make work which deviates from everyday standards – isn't much included here How can a fringe artist thrive in LA? And if they can't, why do they stay here? The quest becomes finding a new road to validation. Even in LA, an artist can create an intimate, independent space, free from the pressure to bend to image rules set by the town's many entertainment factories. It takes a special kind of artist to dwell in the global source of fame and fortune and not succumb to the lure to use all available 2 powers to chase it. These artists have something to teach all of us, and are worth getting to know. LA harbors many co-existing, diverse scenes – actors, dancers, musicians, avant-garde artists exploring performance from myriad angles. I've chosen to interview three Angelenos who despite having very different end goals, are acting out the same story. The agenda of Los Angeles Big Entertainment looks to be ignoring them completely, but though the rewards may seem small in comparison, these artists remain empowered and joyful, sharing their gifts for years and finding their own moments of identity and salvation. 3 April Hava Shenkman Avant-Garde Performance Artist / Comedian April Hava Shenkman. Photo courtesy of April Hava Shenkman. It's 12:47 a.m. on a Sunday, and April Hava Shenkman is in front of 24 people in East Hollywood at the apex of a seven-minute performance: The William Tell Overture is rushing behind her at double its usual speed as she delivers a spoken word piece about a pig. She's wearing a powdered face with two polished red cheeks – her usual light clown make-up – and a dress that pays homage to the U.S. flag. It's election week 2012, and even if you can't quite get the point of what she's doing, there are enough clues to help you follow along. 4 Shenkman is a window into a vivid, playful subconscious terrain; her imagination guides the logic of each piece as she carefully navigates between gestures and scenes. Her stage persona, “Hava,” will speak to the audience using a proprietary language -- a mesh of English-like patterns often delivered rapid-fire with the tone of an actor playing a flapper girl. The result is surreal, though with enough familiar elements to give the audience clues with which to piece a story together. “My performances attempt to go beyond words,” she explains, “and into words understood as a universal language – not just available in one language, such as English.” In some performances, Shenkman blends the gibberish with a few comprehensive sentences, and balances her speaking parts with mute acting over music. Amidst her dozens of YouTube clips, you can find many trademarks of her work in “Trick & Treat,” where she treats Halloween like her birthday. Chopin's Waltz No. 6 in D Flat, Op. 64 twiddles gleefully in the background while Shenkman, as Hava, sets a chocolate cake on a table. Clown-faced and wearing a strapless tutu'd dress and gold paper crown, she sits down, blows out candles, takes a few bites of cake, and falls to the extreme of her desire: She gorges herself. First with forkfuls, then with a chunk in her hands about a quarter size of the original whole. The music politely fades, and with brown frosting wet on her forehead and cheeks, and eyes closed as if in a dream, Hava says her first words of the piece: “Oh, I love candy. More candy, 5 please.” The viewer that hasn't by now made the decision to laugh or turn away will need some time to process. This is where Shenkman's work succeeds; her actor's toolbox lures the curious further in, and leaves a memorable impression with those who only have the stomach for her art on a surface level. They can come back later. YouTube isn't going away. While the expansive, weird playground and poetic license with reality are both nice, they don't make it easy for her to market herself. “'Avant-garde performance artist / comedian' is a way I label myself,” she says. “It seems ambiguous and mysterious enough, to where I'm not too bound to the label. I say, what I do is visual, visceral.” She didn't start as a cake face: Her life as a performer began on much more mainstream grounds. In the physical sense, she grew up in Claremont, California, a college town 33 miles east of downtown Los Angeles, and began dancing at age 3. As a teenager, she acted in large musical theater productions, and went on to pursue comedy and serious drama in college. She studied acting at the Guildford School of Acting, University of Surrey, England, did an international theatre festival in Mostar, Bosnia, and came back to write “Apples on Strings,” her first one-woman show. That was a turning point for her. “Once I got the taste of writing my own work and performing my own material, my path changed forever.” 6 Shenkman then studied in LA with Paris-born, interdisciplinary artist Rachel Rosenthal, who took hybrid media approaches to themes of social justice, destruction of the environment, and animal rights (Shenkman's repertoire is noticeably less political). Here, her work began to take on its current surreal quality, with use of non-linear storytelling and a strong visual element. That path ran its course. “I took [that] as far as I could in the past decade,” she admits. “For a while, I was happy with no one understanding me or what I did.” Reaching her 30s, she found herself wanting to be understood, and to find work in Hollywood – but her art-performer catalog put her mostly at odds with commercial work. So she's spent the past three years turning things around. “I've been merging my surrealism with my roots as an actor and comic, and finding a more happy balance. The results are a wider, more marketable audience.” To be clear, marketable doesn't mean money here – this is complicated art for small groups of people, and even Shenkman's magic won't remake reality to turn that into a cash cow – but she's really not worried. Her primary concern is to connect with that bigger crowd; she has faith that the money will follow. And with a few strides, she has managed to become more accessible while still retaining an edge. “I've incorporated more English, more story and characters in my work,” she explains. This is more evident in her later videos – specifically her 7 web video series, “The Happy Happy Show,” where Shenkman as Hava tells stories around simple concepts, such as love, luck, and liberty, with the help of a small supporting cast. Real-life family and friends often show up as the family and friends of her character, such as her father, who routinely appears as a hobo clown. He hobbles about silently, intently listening as Hava chatters joyously in her foreign tongue. As a live performer, Shenkman presents herself in a place less alienating than before, but still offbeat. She'll showcase her talents twice, perhaps three times a month, for handfuls of people out for a night of casual entertainment. Her performances meet a gamut of reactions: laughter, surprise, bewilderment. The most common scenario as the curtain falls is a short, dead silence, followed by a soft, dutiful round of clapping. This doesn't bother her. One could argue that she seeks it out. Shenkman considers the LA audience friendly, and rewarding when they're on. She books herself at small venues and variety shows around LA, in places that welcome the fringe – but even on a bill with kindred performers, she's somehow set apart as the resident risk-taker. And when the acts are more garden variety, the contrast makes her work even more powerful. “The LA audience is very into popular culture and media,” she says, “so being avant-garde in this town can be a little shocking at times. The New York audience is more intellectual – European [audience], too. They think more about everything. LA craves such, 8 but is more taking things for face value. And reacting that way too, which is good. [It's] easier [for them] to vocalize their reactions here.” A commercial artist would undoubtedly seek more validation; this is the truth that pulls so many creatives here, eggs them on, and eviscerates so much of their potential. But Shenkman was born in Southern California, and the notion to conform doesn't register. “I feel more connected to the roots, or Hollywood history, even if indirectly,” she says. “Even with this connection, I never felt to identify with LA. I always felt separate and different from the 'Hollywood actor.' But I recognize the invisible city of LA and the magic and space to dream. There's need for my work here.” 9 Sebastian A. Bach Singer-Songwriter / Competent Player of Rock Instruments S.A. Bach at Casey’s Pub, LA, Sept 2012. Photo by Melissa Kaplan. Pro tip for the LA indie musician working to build a reputation: Get a residency. This means a venue has trusted you to bring an audience through its doors on a specific night each week, bringing in enough money to balance out the risk of booking someone untested. Singer and songwriter Sebastian A. Bach, who goes by S.A. Bach on the bill, has gigged feverishly and even earned a few short residencies east of Sunset Strip – a musical attention hog, thanks to the shadow cast by the legacy of Guns N' Roses and The Doors. Since the end of the Twentieth Century, Echo Park, Silverlake, Hollywood and Pasadena have been increasingly recognized for nurturing independent music. Bach has done well in these 10 neighborhoods with well-received gigs in 25 to 100-seater rooms. His most successful run so far: two solid months in late 2012 at Casey's bar in downtown LA, where every Thursday he was given a night to present his songs in a room with good sound and lighting, on a stage far enough away from the bar to prevent crowding from drink orders and audience jabbering in order to offer its own warm setting. Here's a picture of one show in mid-November: his set is a usual mix of songs he's performed around town for years, with different incarnations of his band. Tonight, he plays with The Middle Initials (or TMI), offering stripped-down versions of his repertoire. The arrangement is friendly to the pub: Sebastian on acoustic guitar and vocals, and his bandmates on a well-blended electric guitar with subtle effects, drums played much of the time with brushes, a stand-up bass, and a female vocalist on harmonies. Unable to settle for one style of output, Bach will also occasionally plug in. On a different Thursday night, he'll reappear in his rock incarnation Oh Yeah, The Future, coming in standard setup: two electric guitars, bass and drums. The heart of his material is the same, but the crowds outside the room can hear him now, too. Between songs, he's engaging as a frontperson, connecting with his audience using traditional, friendly talking points approached very leisurely. Someone watching could easily feel they'd have the same conversation with him sharing a plate of fries 11 at a pub table on the other side of the wall. As for appearance, he's mostly bald, save for some hair above his ears. He occasionally wears a small, grey woman's cap with buttons. He's prone to grinning; performing makes him happy. It's telling to compare him to the throngs of other balladeers in Hollywood competing for the same ears and eyeballs. He's more candid; you could argue that songwriters are supposed to be that way, but Bach doesn't hide behind a smokescreen of professional authenticity. And as far as capability, Sebastian holds his own, wins his fans, and writes good songs. He has a singing voice that is at once tuneful, polished, strong, personable, and loaded with humor. You can hear his character in everything he sings, and this is equally true of his writing style. Many of his songs present a lovelorn story landscape; others are windows into different chapters of his life, so far. He's 28, and has written about 415 songs. “I'm basically set,” he says, though it's obvious he won't stop writing. Songwriting and performing have been his focus since his pre-teens, when he and sister Allie formed sibling duo The Bachs. Years of shows stretching back from Casey's in downtown LA to venues around nearby Monrovia, CA, where he was raised, have evolved his work to a point where people who enjoy a wide range of song styles can appreciate what he's doing. During his late 2012 residency, Bach managed to have some packed nights, filling the room with about 50 people at the 12 peak of a good show, and perhaps twice as many total audience members counting those wandering in and out from the bar. Some nights, only a handful would be present, with 10 show-goers present for the experience. For an LA musician who is consistently performing in local venues, this is about right. ! Bach puts in hours each week writing, practicing, booking, and promoting his shows. He works two part-time jobs so he can focus more of his energy on music and performance. He's been playing music locally for over a decade. “I certainly have met way, way more obstacles than I could have imagined,” he says. “And I definitely can't blame LA for that exclusively by any means. But I would be kidding myself to think that it wasn't a major factor in being kept on a certain level and at a certain distance from whatever bands that have made it.” If you want to look into it, you can start by reviewing the math. Bach's residency at Casey's has been one of his biggest moneymakers, pulling him a solid $50 per gig because there's a big sign that says “Jameson's” behind the stage. The whiskey brand is sponsoring the musicians. Without this backing, the standard compensation from an LA venue – if there's any – is a percentage of the door after you've managed to bring in a certain number of people. Maybe 50 percent of sales after 15 people, with everyone paying a $10 cover. In this city, it's tricky to pull even the booker's minimum consistently. “I think [it's] mostly due to just the over-saturation of 13 talent,” Bach says, “and not just native talent. We have touring bands that people in random small towns in the Midwest or wherever would be lucky to see, every two years. For us, it's take your pick of 50 bands on a given night, in a given zip code. It's really, really different from being a band in a small town where there's three bands. Or there are 20 bands, or there are 100 bands, but there aren't 100,000 bands.” There are positives to being in a market flooded with artists; LA audiences are not starved for diversity. But this environment creates a natural, indirect competition, and an artist who wishes to reach a level of success faces a challenge if he wants to inspire a feeling of familiarity with a large number of people. Bach once dreamt of a long road: Playing many venues over a period of time, building a following organically, and drawing those big numbers by being a stand-up person in the local music scene. Having done this for over a decade, he's no longer finding faith in this strategy. “As someone who has basically been a wide-eyed optimist for the most part and always just tried to share whatever my talents, as much and often as possible, I’ve learned it's not really that kind of a town, because you can't build a reputation that way. You can only just get really tired.” ! This year, Bach is working to establish himself beyond his current perimeters. He sees identifying an aggressive focus as an important step. “The only way you can even dream of getting any kind of 14 reputation is to do one thing really, really well, and find the people who are into that thing,” he says. “That's the only thing you can do here.” While acknowledging the power of projecting your greatest strengths in your branding, he notes that he has yet to succumb to this approach. “If I had at some point decided, OK, I'm going to be S.A. Bach, singer-songwriter, and that's what I'm going to do – I'm going to have an acoustic guitar, I'm going to play solo, that's what I'm going to do – then I would have had to start playing Hotel Cafe [a popular venue in Hollywood for singer-songwriters symbolizing having acquired some level of commercial success], I would have had to make friends with all of those people, make friends with all of their managers, make friends with all the agents and all the fucking movie people, shmooze with them, move to the west side, and get somebody to put something in a movie some time and hope the movie gets made, and hope they use my song. Not that there's anything wrong with all of that stuff, but if that's what you're going for, you can't say, 'oh, that would be nice if that happened.' That has to be what you do, 24/7. And I've not done any of those things.” Bach won't completely abandon his spirit of musical community in the interest of doing better business. But he is prepared to come forward with an elevator pitch and show the LA music community that he's being serious. “I think there are a lot of good traits that I've displayed as a 15 stand-up guy on the scene, and I've definitely shown up for people,” he says. “And that's all well and good, but it hasn't actually helped in a tangible way. Which is not to say I'm not going to do that anymore, but, you realize that no matter how good you are, you still have to play the game, and you still have to figure out what that thing is that you want to do, that one thing, and you have to do that really well, and you have to make sure people know about that. Or you have to get the fuck out of LA.” ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! 16 Jennifer Jonassen Dancer / Clown Jennifer Jonassen in pink. Photo courtesy of Jennifer Jonassen. On some of its best nights, the lines at the weekly Saturday night Echo Park dance party 'Bootie LA' lead outside of its home base at the Echoplex, around the corner, and down the block. The music is about the same mix of house and upbeat DJ club meshes you'd find anywhere in a room where the intention is to move your body on the dance floor, but this club sports a stage upstairs and downstairs that both play host to the dancers of Random Acts of Irreverent Dance, or R.A.I.D. Their trademarks: gold body suits, big synchronized dance numbers, and being all-inclusive of different body types. Jennifer Jonassen runs the go-go dancers in between sets, 17 and she's infamous as a centerpiece in the group dance numbers. She identifies as a clown, though not by a definition limited to a circus tent. The world of improv and experimentation are as much a part of her performer's role as a slapstick sense of humor. Dance is also important as a tool in her clowning, especially as a free-form outlet. Though not a trained dancer, she perseveres through potential blocks as she throws herself into her work. Jonassen has also become known as a standout performer because of her weight. She's a 340-pound creative performer, which makes her a clear mark in LA; alternately, she's a breath of fresh air for those in the entertainment world who have just had it with the unreachable standard. As early as 6 years old, Jonassen was told she was too fat to dance. “There were so many things I was told I couldn't do,” she says, “so I didn't even try. My dancing started at age 38, when I was about 330 pounds, and since then I keep discovering I can do amazing things with my body: splits, aerial work, dance, and most recently, I discovered I can even do backward somersaults!” The whimsical, carefree style at which she addresses the many solo and group numbers RAID performs weekly have evolved with her journey into clowning. Before her move to LA from New York City five years ago, she was making use of her training as a serious actor, focusing on Shakesperean tragedy and drama – though in her biography, she notes that she's worked in “Off, Off-Off, and Way-The-Hell-Off Broadway” as a performer in 18 Brooklyn. ! When she started out in LA, Jonassen landed several acting auditions and won a big break to play a considerable role on TV, which would have had her play a typecast overweight character. But Jonassen, an advocate for positive change surrounding weight issues, wasn't comfortable perpetuating the fat stereotype. Despite the potential for considerable money and recognition, she turned the opportunity down. After this experience, she mostly turned her back on commercial work, pursuing a new direction. “I had always felt a deep longing when watching Cirque [du Soleil] shows,” she says, “so when I saw an open call for actors I went and it subsequently changed the path that I was on.” Looking for ways to better access the circus world within, Jonassen started taking clown classes. “One of my clown teachers pointed out that I 'had a child-like need to dance.' A few weeks later, I saw a casting call for RAID.” On Saturday nights, Jonassen conquers the stage and challenges LA's image standards in triumphantly body-tight clothing, neon wigs, big plastic sunglasses and boas that hug her neck. A figure large amidst the traditional dancer body types on stage, it's a joyous surprise to watch her break into a perfect split on the drop of a beat while in costume. One holiday-themed getup had her performing this feat as a human dreidel. Jonassen works harder than most of the dancers on the 19 floor, as the moves are still becoming second nature. “The biggest challenge I face is that I am not a trained dancer,” she says. “It takes me longer to process and figure out the steps and then remember them.” The moves don't have to be perfect – in fact, audiences here relish the imperfections. Real, relatable dancers are not the norm in a town where commercial entertainers reign. RAID serves a valuable relief function. “We have a very special relationship with our audience in LA,” Jonassen says. “They have watched us danced for years. Every time I’ve performed, someone has approached me afterward to tell me how empowering it is to watch people of all sizes and ages dancing onstage.” Here, the crowd that comes to watch and dance the RAIDers can be who they are, without worrying about high Hollywood standards. “I believe the L.A. audience in particular needs us to perform,” Jonassen explains. “It is really a respite from the snobbery and straight up prejudices of Hollywood, where at most other clubs, people will get turned away because they are not thin or glamorous enough.” When the pressure for perfection is off, the art takes effect. “The audience loves us because they can relate to us and they see us letting go and really dancing like no one is watching. They respond to our joy.” 20 A New Validation Oscar Wilde said, “Art is the most intense mode of individualism that the world has known.” Success can haunt the independent LA fringe artist when it visits their backyard and asks them to change. But there are creators who persevere; even if their work takes more than one sit-through to understand. Those who shy away from LA's commercialism, even when presented a clear chance to break into the industry, may seem unreasonably obstinate. But for some artists, as Sebastian Bach notes, this is a way of life. They aren't just doing this to be seen. “I think as an artist you have an opportunity, if not a responsibility, to have your life be your art and your art be your life, and for those things to feed off each other – completely and eternally.” ! ! ! ! ! ! 21 !"#"$"%&"'( ((((((((((((()%*"$+,"-'( ( ( ( ( "##!$%&'()!*+(!,+&-!./'(+0.(1)!2('1((/!*%'3&+!*/4!)%25(6'7! ! ! ! ! 8(2*)'.*/!"7!9*637!!:*/%*+;!<<=!<>?<7! ! ! ! ! :(//.,(+!:&/*))(/7!@*+63!A=!<>?A!*/4!@*+63!<B=!<>?A7! ! ! ! ! "C+.#!D*0*!83(/E-*/7!F(2+%*+;!<A=!<>?A7! ! ! ! ! ."$#/$01%&"'( "##$%&!'()!G*/4&-!"6')!&,!H++(0(+(/'!I*/6(!JG7"7H7I7K7!L63&C#(M=!N&)! 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Abstract (if available)

Abstract This article explores the lives and careers of three performers doing off-beat work in three different arts scenes in Los Angeles, the worldwide home of the entertainment industry. An avant-garde actor, singer-songwriter, and dancing clown, each having worked in the area for several years, share their experiences with commercial work, going against the grain, and the hidden reasons and rewards for doing their art in this environment.

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Asset Metadata

Creator Kaplan, Melissa A. (author)

Core Title Doing fringe In LA: how three performing artists stay off-beat in the entertainment industry's backyard

School Annenberg School for Communication

Degree Master of Arts

Degree Program Specialized Journalism (The Arts)

Publication Date 07/16/2013

Defense Date 07/16/2013

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag Acting,actor,actress,against the grain,April Hava Shenkman,avant-garde,bands,Circus,clown,Clowning,commercial work,Dancing,Echo Park,Entertainment,entertainment industry,Jennifer Jonassen,LA,Los Angeles,Los Feliz,Musicians,OAI-PMH Harvest,off-beat,Pasadena,performance art,performing art,performing artists,SA Bach,Sebastian A. Bach,Silver Lake,singer-songwriter

Language English

Contributor Electronically uploaded by the author (provenance)

Advisor Page, Tim (committee chair), Anawalt, Sasha (committee member), De Liso, Debra (committee member)

Creator Email melissaakaplan@gmail.com

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c3-290030

Unique identifier UC11288397

Identifier etd-KaplanMeli-1781.pdf (filename),usctheses-c3-290030 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier etd-KaplanMeli-1781.pdf

Dmrecord 290030

Document Type Thesis

Rights Kaplan, Melissa A.

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Access Conditions The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the a...

Repository Name University of Southern California Digital Library

Repository Location USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus MC 2810, 3434 South Grand Avenue, 2nd Floor, Los Angeles, California 90089-2810, USA