Hi, fellow weird performance artist people.
I see you. You're over there, making performance/theater/dance/visual art/post-drama/post-dance/pedestrian/protest/anti-art/Spangbergianist/Viennese actionist work--I see you. Maybe, if you're like me, you've assigned a name to your work (in my case, dance) and that means you get asked about So You Think You Can Dance all the time. Maybe for you it's Banksy, or maybe it's Death of a Salesman, or maybe it's Phillip Glass. (If it's any of those, you beat me in the 'what is your art like' game.)
Anyway, I want to say hi. I've been thinking about the work I do as a designer, and I want it to include you guys. I want you to know that when I say "I design for dancers", it includes a whole group of people who would never call themselves dancers. It includes people who make work that looks different every single time. It includes people who deeply investigate the same thing, year after year. It includes Judith Brin Ingber
and Body Cartography
and Sally Rousse
It's easy to assign a word like 'dance' and then pay more attention to the word than to the people doing it. Which is probably why we're so averse to labels. (Plus, labels are hegemony incarnate.)
It's hard to know when marketing is good and when it is evil. (Trick question! It's ALWAYS EVIL. God, who let you into the cool performance art club, anyway?) Nobody has been as conflicted and self-tortured about our online face as Mad King Thomas has. Our personal heroes eschew the entire internet... but um, we kind of like it. We like blogging, but not very often. We want rainbows on the homepage, but the amount of rainbow varies widely. It gets tense.
But even as imperfect as our site is, people get excited when they go to our website and see what we do and who we are. Months pass between performances, so we can't just tell folks to wait for the next show. I've been uncomfortable at too many parties where I failed to explain what it is I do. And I'm guessing you have too.
I don't want that to happen any more! What you do is awesome, and I want the world to know about it. I want to help you show the world that you are fucking awesome. I want Culturebot
to be able to link to something a little more informative than your twitter account (no offense or anything; you give great tweet.) And wouldn't we all be a little worse off if Culturebot didn't have a website?
So be conflicted if that's your thing. But consider not being conflicted, this one time. Let people see what it is you call 'performance' and let them enjoy it! Your work is better than 350 Mind-blowing Facts about Jennifer Lawrence's New Haircut (you will seriously weep over #124, seriously. I just can't.) and people share the shit out of that. I want to send people to your professional looking website, and I want you to stop freaking out about your website so you can go back to researching how many eggs you can carry at one time.
I know it's an investment and maybe it seems silly, but we can make it work. Give me a call, by which I mean: fill out this boring-ass form
and let me know what you're thinking. It can be all open-ended and stuff. I want to talk!