Major tornado damage at the Railroad Square art park means the creative colony is undergoing tremendous changes -- with many more to come. Now the longtime leader of the Mickee Faust Club theater troupe has some thoughts about what should be on the table as Railroad Square’s owners, and the local cultural community, consider what comes next.
The Mickee Faust Club has had a home in Railroad Square for 27 years. The Clubhouse was ramshackle at best, even before the tornadoes. But it was the scene of concerts and cabarets. It had captions and ramps to the stage so that people with disabilities could participate. And when the tornadoes tore off the roof and soaked the sets and costumes, dozens of people showed up to clean the place. Everyone took home a garbage bag of sodden costumes to launder. Terry Galloway worries that egalitarian approach to theater could go away if the clubhouse, and Railroad Square, can’t pull through the current crisis.
“See, this is what worries me about art and the way people regard art: you’re supposed to have money," she says. "You’re supposed to have money to dress up for it and get there and pay through the nose to sit there and watch it, and I just think that’s wrong.”
Mickee Faust doesn’t have money, and its performers are all volunteers. It DOES have Galloway, who is an internationally-known writer, performer, and director. She’s also the author of “Mean Little Deaf Queer: A Memoir” and the reason Faust has welcomed marginalized people since it began here in 1986. Galloway is deaf and queer. She believes that talks about the future of Railroad Square should include the people for whom art means inclusion and accessibility.
“We need that kind of energy," says Galloway. "We need an art incubator, a performing arts incubator, and if universities -- look. The kids who go to the universities are pretty damn privileged themselves. They’re going to a university!”
But many more artists, writers and thespians don’t.
Ever since the tornadoes, Galloway has poured herself into meetings with everyone who could possibly help get Faust back onstage. But not everyone shares her vision for Railroad Square.
“I’m fighting for the fun and the communal commingling," she says. "I’m not fighting for the big arts idea that it’s something we must worship and see from afar.”
The owners of Railroad Square are floating selling off some or all of the park. The joint city-county Blueprint commission has already rejected the idea of buying it. The city is an unlikely buyer. More student housing is a possibility. And the destruction of the square has again raised the prospect of a performing arts center—but ideas are vague and suggest something completely different from the square’s current makeup.
“I’m thinking it’s something we ourselves can create together," Galloway says. "And that’s what I’m fighting for -- a place where we, the people who live here, can come together and create [long pause] so many things that are just wonderful.”
Galloway says if Faust has to find another home, a vacant space in a mall or something, her goal will still be that it’s free. So everyone can have a voice.
