I Was Good at It. That Was the Problem.
Why I stopped producing a successful showcase
From 2016-2020, I produced a live event spotlighting 15-25 family-friendly artists over two mornings at an Off-Broadway Theater. It was a two-day festival-like program that put performers in front of their intended audience of kids and their parents, taking place early January in New York City, parallel to the largest performing arts conference (APAP). Thousands of buyers and presenters from all over the world gather to find new work for their performing arts center and/or festival.
The work began in late summer and ran straight through the holidays into January. While I had a team of wonderful co-producers, I was ultimately the one at the top. I was responsible for managing the $30k+ budget, collecting payments, signing contracts, staffing, overseeing payroll, and securing insurance. I leveraged every asset I had: local audiences from producing The Amazing Max Off-Broadway, my production team, and personal relationships.
We attracted 200-250 buyers each weekend. Artists got bookings. Audiences were engaged, and everyone involved gave glowing feedback. On paper, it was a success.
And yet, every year, once the showcase ended, I cried. I should have felt fulfilled. And part of me did. But another part of me felt unsettled, which was always followed by shame.
There were things I wasn’t ready to say out loud:
Asking artists to pay around $1500 to participate didn’t sit right with me. The $30k budget had to come from somewhere, and much of it came from them. And the showcase fee wasn’t their only expense. They were also paying performers, renting equipment, covering travel, hotels, and more. I kept wondering if there was another way to fund it.
There were also artists who never got the chance to showcase because they couldn’t afford the fees. Was this fair if we want to show a wide range of what’s out there, and only present acts that can pay the upfront costs?
Everyone who worked as staff or crew made below their normal rates or were volunteers. I fight for the entire arts ecosystem, but was it fair to pay everyone lower rates because it was a showcase?
As the showcase grew, demand exceeded capacity. We implemented a jury process to curate the program. The producers and I handled the rejections. Some responses were unprofessional. A few crossed the line.
Then I had to ask: how was this helping my business? I structured my entire APAP around the showcase. My time, my energy, my relationships. And the artists I was there to represent? I barely had space to advocate for them.
I’m proud of what was accomplished and its impact. But I’m even prouder of understanding what the tears were telling me. Just because you’re good at it doesn’t mean you have to keep doing it.
