Page 35 - APAP - Inside Arts - Conference 2020

intergenerational workplaces function and falter. For centuries, artists and administrators around the country have been working fruitfully across generational and experiential lines. Choreographer and activist Fabiola Torralba is one of those artists.
“I don’t feel as comfortable if I’m not working in intergenerational settings,” says Torralba. “It’s something that’s important to me as a dance-maker; I have a strong desire to be a part of something bigger than myself.”
Torralba’s grounding in this philosophy has drawn her to work with organizations such as Forklift Danceworks, which presents large- scale community-based dance performances that feature cast members old and young. She was raised in San Antonio, Texas, in a community of primarily working class black and brown folks, many of whom were immigrants – so when she arrived in Ann Arbor, Michigan to earn her Master of Fine Arts in dance at the University of Michigan, the culture shock was, well, shocking.
Though the challenges she
faced as a first-generation
graduate student were myriad and intersectional, Torralba quickly realized that a hallmark of the difference between her community- centered upbringing and her
new university context were the distinctly different ways that people of different backgrounds were taught to observe power. The first dance class that she taught as a graduate instructor – to a cadre of mostly white non-dance majors – brought that issue quickly to the fore.
“I was supposed to assume the authority and power that
"THE NUMBER ONE WAY TO PROMOTE EFFECTIVE COLLABORATION BETWEEN FOLKS FROM DIFFERENT GENERATIONS IS TO BUILD A COMPANY CULTURE OF RESPECT AND SHARED LEARNING THAT TRANSCENDS HIERARCHY AND EXPERIENCE." — Fabiola Torralba
are expected from a teacher
in mainstream Western white professional and academic culture,” she says. “I was taught to share power. I was taught to work with.
I was taught to be cooperative and come to decisions in a consensus style of communication.” The experience compelled Torralba to seek out career opportunities that prioritized consensus-building
and community-centering – often finding them at the intersection of arts and community organizing.
Across the country, Mike Rognlien was translating those same grounding principles into a corporate setting. Before starting his own management consultancy, Rognlien split his time between Broadway (he was a producer of the 2017 smash Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812) and the tech industry (on his LinkedIn page, his roles at Facebook include “Builder of Awesome People” and “Wearer
of Multiple Hats”). With armies in both camps, Rognlien knows better than most about the intersection
of technology and the arts – and could speak to the challenges of
the industry-wide generational knowledge gap.
“Look at the different generations and watch how they
collectively leverage something like social media,” says Rognlien. “When I was at the NYC office for Facebook and Instagram,
I remember getting the cast of Hamilton verified on social media. At the time, it was like: ‘Does this really matter? Who cares?’ But now, that little blue checkmark is so important for [artist] reach. None of that existed a few years ago. In that, younger folks have brought everyone along.”
Maure Aronson has ridden that wave. He founded Global Arts Live (formerly World Music/CRASH Arts) in 1990 and has served as its artistic and executive director ever since. When it comes to questions of technology and social media, he defers to his younger employees.
It’s this openness that defines the culture of Global Arts Live. In fact, openness is built into the physical architecture of the organization: Its 1,500-square-foot office has both shared workspaces and individual office spaces with glass walls. Doors are never closed.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my reporting on this topic, it’s that the number one way to promote effective collaboration between folks from different generations is to build a company
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