The theater of Dionysus, Athens, built circa 500 BCE allowed up to 17,000 citizens to join together and share an experience. The city-state subsidized attendance and expected it of its citizens.
While “only” 3,000 people could attend a performance at the Globe Theatre, it was nevertheless a bridging event, drawing a colorful cross-section of London society. Shakespeare’s plays were written for everyone—from the groundlings to the aristocracy—and reflect a world in which theatre served the full public, not just an elite audience.
It is ironic that what we now call “classical” works of art are often regarded as the domain of refined elites. Yet these works—Shakespeare’s plays, Greek tragedies, or the music of Aaron Copland—have stood the test of time because of their broad resonance, not their exclusivity. At the time of their creation, they were intended for entire communities, not a select or initiated few. In fact, theatre has historically been at its most vibrant when it speaks across divides, engaging people from all walks of life.
In the United States, the Federal Theatre Project (FTP) embodied this ideal. Though it existed for only four years (1935–1939), it staged over a thousand productions across 29 states, reaching more than 30 million Americans—roughly one in four at the time—many of whom had never seen a play before. By offering free or low-cost performances in parks, schools, and community centers, the FTP made theatre accessible on an unprecedented scale. It embraced vernacular American stories and employed more than 12,000 artists, including Orson Welles, John Houseman, Arthur Miller, and Elia Kazan. The FTP proved that public investment in the arts can yield widespread cultural participation and lasting impact.
Today, most art is used for bonding — a way for like-minded people to affirm shared values or cultural taste. settings that signal affiliation rather than encourage dialogue. Live theatre, at its best, has been a bridging activity, creating opportunity for curiosity, empathy, and shared experience among people who may not otherwise encounter one another.
Arts organizations should aspire to bridge the disparate segments of their communities—not simply bond together aficionados or donors. The line between “fine” and “mass” art often has less to do with content than with how and where the work is presented. Aaron Copland’s music, for example, can be received as either, depending on the setting — whether a concert hall or a public park.
My own theatre training and professional experience were deeply shaped by community-based summer stock, the Yellow Springs Shakespeare Festival, and later, in New York, by work with The Phoenix Theatre and Shakespeare in the Park. These formative experiences affirmed for me the belief that the arts should be public, participatory, and socially rooted. I was drawn to broadcast television for its broad reach and capacity to connect with a wide audience, which ultimately led me to become a documentary filmmaker.
Here in a town in Spain, is an example that I wish I had filmed, as it defines democracy in a special, charming way. Enjoy!
In the spirit of democracy, feel free to comment or send a message!