those of composer John Adams. Examples of supplementing everyday Lincoln Center offerings are Kunqu Opera, Vietnamese water puppets, The Secret History of the Mongols , Robert Wilson’s Fables of La Fontaine from the Comedie Francaise, and Middle Eastern religious epic theater from Iran—the Ta’ziyeh.
Complementary classicism is one continuing festival theme. Another is selecting work based on the sheer difficulty of presenting it or on whether it would otherwise be seen in New York City. But for Lincoln Center, The Angel Project would not have found its own angel, and Peter Greenaway’s opera Writing to Vermeer would never have been presented in the cultural capital of the world. Bringing productions from Chile’s Compania Teatro Cinema, Mexico’s Teatro de Ciertos Habitantes, and Spain’s Centro Dramatico Nacional offered New York audiences a sense of the inventiveness and exuberance of contemporary Latin American and Spanish theater. Only the Lincoln Center Festival would have made this happen.
The art of being a first-class festival presenter resides in posing and satisfactorily answering a series of questions, season after season. What combination of programs will attract an audience? Can they be packaged, priced, scheduled, and promoted in an attractive way? Are they planned far enough in advance to increase the probability that donations can be raised to defray costs for particular productions? Will the ideal venue be identified and available to mount the production? Is the content of this work, the way it is being mounted and performed, and by whom, worthy of Lincoln Center’s imprimatur? Do the planned presentations complement and supplement the year-round artistic diet offered to Lincoln Center’s far-flung audience? Have we adequately included performing art emanating from Russia, Eastern Europe, and the continents of Asia, Africa, and South America?
If there is an audience for these artists and their work, how fervently do we believe in both? If successful, can a given production burnish established careers or boost those of newcomers, moving them along the spectrum from “promising” to “proven”? Is it likely that once performed at Lincoln Center, the piece of work will have “legs”? How probable is it that audiences around the country and the world will have a chance to encounter it?
Finally, have we adequately prepared to greet and support our visiting artists in every conceivable way, from housing them, to feeding them, to transporting them, and to offering assistance of many other kinds?
The track record of Redden and his staff in responding to these formidable questions buoyantly and creatively has been superb. 3 Redden has held himself to a world-class standard of curatorial distinction for over three decades. His artistic taste and judgment are remarkable.
That Lincoln Center has been the beneficiary of Nigel’s talent and of Jane Moss’s expertise is really a tribute to my predecessor, once removed, Nat Leventhal. He selected them. He chose very well.
B UILT INTO THE DNA of Lincoln Center is visual art. The Alexander Calder and its stately presence at the entryway in Hearst Plaza to The New York Public Library for the Performing Arts. The Henry Moore Sculpture in the Paul Milstein Pool and Terrace. The Jasper Johns “Numbers” in the lobby of the David H. Koch Theater. David Smith’sone-ton steel sculpture, entitled Zig IV , safely ensconced in Avery Fisher Hall. Louise Nevelson’s Nightsphere-Light at The Juilliard School.
These are among the permanent pieces, many site specific, given as generous gifts to Lincoln Center in its early years.
Adding to this legacy is the Vera List Art Project, established by a gift from Albert and Vera List in 1962. Its goal is to have contemporary limited edition artworks commissioned and sold to the public to support Lincoln Center and its programs. The artists attracted to this project included, in its formative years, Roy Lichtenstein,
Mary Ellis
John Gould
Danielle Ellison
Kellee Slater
Mercedes Lackey
Lindsay Buroker
Isabel Allende
Kate Williams
Ardy Sixkiller Clarke
Alison Weir