Art of Relevance
Art of Relevance
Art of Relevance
THE ART OF
RELEVANCE
IT IS AbOuT wHAT IS
SuRFACE OF THESE THINgS.
INSIdE pEOpLE’S HEARTS.”
- MICHELLE HENSLEy, TEN THOuSANd THINgS THEATER
www.artofrelevance.org
NINA SIMON
TABle of conTenTS
PArT 2: ouTSIde In
People Who Don’t Normally Show Up............................................... 51
Start at the Front Door .......................................................................... 53
Some Doors Are Invisible ..................................................................... 57
Dumbing it Down................................................................................... 60
Whose Room is This?............................................................................. 63
The People in the Room ........................................................................ 66
Go Outside .............................................................................................. 68
Inside-Outsiders ...................................................................................... 71
Otherizing Outsiders .............................................................................. 74
Outsider Guides ...................................................................................... 76
Outside Institutions ................................................................................ 78
Making Room .......................................................................................... 81
Let’s face it: we have a problem. It’s not that we don’t see the numbers
declining, or the funding priorities shifting, or the world passing us by.
The problem is: what do we do?
This problem is a question of relevance, and it is a question that
drives me in every way. When I became artistic director of Califor-
nia Shakespeare Theater in the Bay Area in 2000, I was really fresh. I
promised the Board of Trustees that I could never deliver excellence,
but that I could deliver passion and the attempt at authenticity. And I
did. I believed, and still do, that we tell our own stories when we tell
the stories of Shakespeare and other classic writers. It is through our
personal lenses that we read, interpret, and communicate the words. I
gave the stage to artists who had bold personal stories to communicate.
It worked. Cal Shakes mattered a lot to the people it mattered to.
Our subscription renewal rates were always about 15% higher than the
national average. People came back, and they told their friends to come.
And then at one point, I saw that despite all the success we had
earned with the constituencies we held close, despite the open doors we
held for so many people, we had almost zero relevance to communi-
ties of color. Individuals yes, but communities, no. Not on terms other
than those we had proscribed. So we tried to make a new promise to
matter more to more people. We ventured to find out if we could mean
anything to people in Oakland through an engagement process around
a new play to be written locating Hamlet’s Elsinore in the kingdom of
drugs that ravaged so many people and so much of a city in the late
1980s.
We owned our lack of credibility in these new communities. We
partnered wisely, listened more than we talked, and brought new people
close into the process of writing and performing the piece. It premiered
in 2006 at San Francisco’s Intersection for the Arts and its resident
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PREFACE
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THE ART OF RELEVANCE
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THE ART OF RELEVANCE
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INTRODUCTION
start writing this book. And I know it’s not the only story of its kind.
If you work in a place of passion and public service, you probably have
a story like Kellen’s. The teenager who found his calling in your state
park. The immigrant who first registered to vote at your library. The
prisoner who felt a little freer through your theater program. That girl
who found purpose in a poem. Heck, you yourself may be driven in
your work because of a transformative experience that opened a door
for you, long ago.
Here’s what fascinates and frustrates me about these stories: they
are not enough. If your work lives in a locked room with a tiny door,
with only a few keys out in circulation to open it, few people will know.
Few people will care. It doesn’t matter how powerful the experience is
inside the room if most people cannot or choose not to enter.
Those internment camp newspapers mattered to Kellen as a profes-
sional. They mattered to the Japanese-American family as an essential
piece of personal information. To nearly everyone else, they weren’t
relevant at all.
And “everyone else” often includes the people making decisions
about funding and societal value. To succeed, we need to expand our
value—and not just for the individuals to whom we are already relevant.
We need to matter more to more people if we want our work to shine.
To me, mattering more is a question of relevance. I’ve
spent the past five years leading the Santa Cruz Museum of
Art & History—the MAH—through a resurgence of community
involvement. When I arrived in 2011, the Board of Trustees was con-
sidering closing its doors. The MAH didn’t matter enough to enough
people, or to the right people, to succeed. Most of the community
didn’t even know it existed. Like so many of my colleagues in museums
and libraries, theaters and universities, parks and churches, we struggled
to answer the question: “Are you even relevant anymore?” with a re-
sounding “YES.” YES to funders, YES to politicians, YES to potential
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THE ART OF RELEVANCE
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INTRODUCTION
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WhAT IS relevAnce?
Relevance is a key that unlocks meaning.
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THE ART OF RELEVANCE
edges, cameras hanging over the fence. The tide was low, the sun came
out, and we walked way out along the break, water swirling around our
shins, cheering the surfers on, watching them rise and fall.
Back on the beach, the mayor proclaimed it Three Princes Day.
Members of a Polynesian motorcycle club—a fierce pack of muscle
and leather in a sea of sand and flowers—hefted the replica surfboards
and carried them down the beach, like a reverse funeral for history being
raised from the dead. At the river mouth where the princes first surfed
in 1885, Hawaiian elders led us in a song of blessing. And then we got
into the water again—hundreds of us, on replica redwood boards and
longboards and shortboards and paddleboards and no boards at all,
paddling out to form a circle in the ocean beyond the break. We raised
our arms together and splashed in joy. We paddled back, dried off, and
spent the afternoon drinking beer and dancing hula in the courtyard
outside the museum.
The Princes of Surf project changed my work. It smashed museum
attendance records, garnered oceans of press, and shattered my pre-
conceptions about who connects with history and how. Grown men
fought for standing room at lectures about the history of the boards.
Couples stopped me on the street to marvel about the princes. Kids
wore commemorative t-shirts around town. Grizzled surfers pulled me
aside to ask if we could swap out the real boards for replicas, keep the
originals, and send the replicas back to Hawaii instead.
Princes of Surf changed my life personally, too. It turned me into
a surfer. It opened up a new side of Santa Cruz to me. It made me
wonder: what is relevance?
I’d always seen relevance as a link, a piece of connective tissue
linking someone to something. If something was relevant to you, I
figured, it meant that it mattered to you.
Clearly, Princes of Surf mattered to a lot of people in Santa Cruz.
But here’s the thing: a lot of the work we did at my museum was linked
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WHAT IS RELEVANCE?
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THE ART OF RELEVANCE
in Hawaii. I remember the phone call when they asked if the museum
would support their research. I can still see those sunburnt surfers
sitting in my office, speaking in hushed tones about “Project X.” Their
discovery was so fresh, so explosive, so tenuous that they didn’t want to
name it out loud.
Their research checked out. The story was true, the boards were real,
and we worked hard to bring them home. The artifacts we displayed in
Princes of Surf—those two simple redwood slabs—are like the Shroud
of Turin of surfing in the Americas. They are proof that Hawaiians
brought surfing to Santa Cruz first.
That connection matters to Santa Cruz. It fulfilled a deep desire
for community identity and meaning. It unlocked a new door to un-
derstanding ourselves. Those boards whisper to Santa Cruz, you
are part of something greater than yourselves: across oceans, across
cultures, across time. It’s not about nostalgia. It’s about unlocking a new
connection to something deep inside.
Princes of Surf is simple. It started with a theme—surfing—connected
to our community. It started with a community—surfers—who were
invested in unlocking deeper meaning around their passion. And then,
it delivered something relevant: something new and shocking, old and
reverent, something we were hungry for in our hearts.
Relevance is only valuable if it opens a door to something valuable.
Once I understood the depth of Princes of Surf, I got embarrassed
thinking about all the other projects I thought were relevant, doorways
I had built for rooms that were hardly more than stage sets. Too often,
our work opens doors to shallow, interchangeable rooms. We adorn
the entrances with phrases like FUN! or FOR YOU!, but that doesn’t
change what’s behind the doors. We lie to ourselves, writing shiny press
releases for second-class objects and secondhand stories. The rechewed
meat of culture. We tell ourselves that as long as we link our work to
people’s interests on the surface, they’ll be rushing for our door.
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WHAT IS RELEVANCE?
And they may come in the door… but they won’t come back.
Doors to dullness are quickly forgotten. They give culture a bad name.
Relevance only leads to deep meaning if it leads to something substan-
tive. Killer content. Unspoken dreams. Memorable experiences. Muscle
and bone.
So let’s celebrate relevance. Not as an end, but a means. Because
relevance is just a start. It is a key. You’ve got to get people in the
door. But what matters most is the glorious experience they’re moving
towards, on the other side.
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