On Shared Experience

I'm curious about the audience. Who are they? Why do they come to the theatre? Are they really who I assume they are? Do I really want the audience I think I want? I say I crave an audience experience that looks like my daily commute on public transportation, but does that include the drunk guy I accidentally sat down next to last night that hit on me? Or do I mean the working class families? Or what?

I think what I mean is that when I get on a subway in New York City, I feel a commonality-- like the train is the great leveller. And I look around in the morning and we're all sharing the experience of commuting and exhaustion. And I look around on a late Friday night and we're all sharing the energy of chatter and a night out or some common goal of SEEING SOMETHING that uplifts. And I look around most of the time and everyone's reading. And when the subway crunk performers get on and jump rope with their little brothers' bodies, we're all sharing an energy of amazement. And we're trapped in a metal box. Underground. Traveling in short bursts. And often, I look around in a darkened theatre and I see people that I don't feel a commonality with at all. Why is that?

This may go back to TJ's experiment of leaving the lights on so we can see each other...