Breathing In

An essay by Dean of Theater Scott Edmiston on the new significance of "breathing" and what the collective pause during the pandemic has meant for theater artists.

There is a strange, sad synchronicity between two events that have severely impacted our lives in 2020. One, of course, is a pandemic caused by a virus that attacks the lungs and immobilizes breathing functions. The other is the murder of George Floyd, whose dying words, “I can’t breathe,” continue to haunt our national consciousness.

We are, as a nation, without breath. 

Over the past year, our knowledge and creative use of technology have advanced immeasurably, astonishingly, but digital communication doesn’t allow us to nurture and cultivate our spiritual selves. This is a universal phenomenon, of course, not something unique to our school. The word inspiration is derived from the Spanish inspiración, meaning “breathing in to put spirit into the human body and impart reason to a human soul.” 

Making art and attending the arts—dance, music, and theater—is a spiritual act. The closing of 40 Broadway theaters has been devastating. Perhaps even more devastating has been the cancellation of hundreds of thousands of professional, community, and educational theater performances nationwide. The arts give us regional identities and unite our communities. Most of our theater faculty and many of our students work in Boston’s 100 theater companies. Twenty-one million people attended arts events in the Boston area in 2018—four times the number who attended sporting events. Has anything filled this empty space? 

I miss having the opportunity to breathe the same air as the actors and my fellow audience members; to feel our hearts beat together; to experience the chill down my spine that comes when I hear a great musical theater song; to build connections and understanding across social, racial, and gender differences; and to be reminded of our shared values as a community and as human beings—what makes us laugh or moves us to tears. Those of us who are theater makers yearn for the daily discoveries and replenishing camaraderie of the rehearsal room. These elements of our work have grown more precious to me.

In this period of absence of live performance, I encourage you to find ways to take care of your mind and body, yes but also your spirit—our greatest source of truth as performing artists.

I have come to think of this time as a pause. A pause can be beautiful and transformative. When actors take a pause on stage, it doesn’t mean nothing is going on; it means they are receiving what has happened; they are thoughtfully preparing for a response, for their next action, for the next moment. It is a time of breathing in, expectation, and heightened awareness. It is a time for choices filled with thrilling possibility. 

Being a performing artist requires inspiration and radical generosity. During this dramatic pause, we must meaningfully prepare for the next stage of our artistic lives and a more racially just future. We must discover new techniques, learn and unlearn concepts, examine our personal and institutional values, and experiment with performance methods that will help us transform the world that awaits. 

Artists are strong and resilient people. Our spirits are eager to be awakened again.

"Breathing In" first appeared in the winter 2020 issue of STAGES, Boston Conservatory's institutional magazine.