Posts Tagged ‘Hurricane Sandy’

You’re Not the Boss of Me!

Wednesday, February 20th, 2013

By Brian Taylor Goldstein, Esq.

Dear Law & Disorder,

 

Our ensemble has recently had friction with its management over weather-related travel concerns. We had concerts scheduled during both Hurricane Sandy and this most recent blizzard in the Northeast, and as both approached, discussed postponing them with our management company. In both instances, they stated that since plane, train, and public transportation travel had been halted, we would need to rent a van and drive to the engagements. They said that due to the nature of our contracts, we would have to make every effort to get there no matter what. We had serious safety concerns about doing this, due to the predicted severity of the storms. In the end, it turned out in both instances that the presenters chose to reschedule the concerts for hopefully sunnier springtime dates, so we did not need to travel after all.

 

I know that our contracts with presenters include an “Act of God” clause, and my question is, who is empowered to make the decision about whether invoking this clause is the right thing to do? The presenter, our management company, or us? What if all three parties do not agree? Can we refuse to travel if we feel conditions are unsafe? Also, our ensemble is a non-profit organization, with the musicians hired as independent contractors. I am concerned that should we ever go ahead and travel to an engagement during bad weather conditions against our better judgment, and should an accident occur, that the individual musicians would have grounds to sue our non-profit for essentially telling them they must go. Would our management company be held responsible at all since they would not allow us to postpone? Help!

 

An “Act of God” clause is purely a creature of contract. It’s the terms of the contract (not God!) that defines what constitutes an “Act of God” and who gets to make the decision as to whether or not to invoke the clause. If the contract merely says something like: “This engagement may be canceled in the event of an Act of God”, it’s fairly meaningless. While I am familiar with lots of artists, managers, and presenters who prefer short and simple contracts, the problem with “short and simple” is that, in cases such as yours, it can also mean “vague and useless.” A good Act of God clause will define what constitutes an Act of God and who can make the determination, as well as address such issues as whether or not deposits need to get returned or engagements re-booked.

In your situation, to determine whether the nature of your contract, in fact, required you to make every effort to get there “no matter what,” I’d need to review your specific contract. However, I can’t image an engagement contract that actually required you to risk personal safely to get to the engagement—especially if planes, trains, and public transportation had all been halted. Even if you had, indeed, signed such a contract, there are always alternatives to risking personal safety merely to comply with a contract—including a legal defense called “impossibility of performance.”

Regardless of what a contract says or doesn’t say, the ultimate decision to cancel or postpone an engagement, whatever the reason, is always yours. Whether you’re canceling or postponing because you feel you cannot travel safely or canceling because you want to pursue a more enticing offer, those decisions are yours to make, not your manager’s.

Similar to Act of God clauses, manager/artist relationships are also defined and determined by contracts. However, unlike Act of God clauses, most state laws impose two legal obligations on all agents and managers which can never be waived or altered by contracts: (1) All managers owe a fiduciary duty to their artists (ie: they must put the artist’s interest above their own) and (2) All managers must follow the instructions and directives of their artists. (There are other obligations, too, but these are the most important.)

Like an attorney, a manager is there to provide advice, counsel, and direction, but not to give orders or commands. Unless a manager is also a producer, the manager works for the artist, not the other way around. Final decisions are always yours to make. Of course, the consequences—including being sued by presenter for breach of contract—are solely yours to bear, as well.

Granted, the manager/artist relationship should always be one of mutual respect, otherwise it doesn’t work for either of you. If a manager feels you are not taking their advice and counsel, and, as a result, you are adversely affecting your career, then the manager may rightly choose to no longer work with you. Likewise, if there comes a point when you believe your manager is putting his or her interest above your own, its time to move on.

As for your liability question, let’s save that for another post. For now, suffice it to say, under our less-than-intuitive legal system, anyone can sue anyone else for just about anything—especially if an artist is injured because you required them to drive in poor weather conditions. Get insurance! Stay tuned.

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For additional information and resources on this and other legal and business issues for the performing arts, visit ggartslaw.com

To ask your own question, write to lawanddisorder@musicalamerica.org.

All questions on any topic related to legal and business issues will be welcome. However, please post only general questions or hypotheticals. GG Arts Law reserves the right to alter, edit or, amend questions to focus on specific issues or to avoid names, circumstances, or any information that could be used to identify or embarrass a specific individual or organization. All questions will be posted anonymously.

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THE OFFICIAL DISCLAIMER:

THIS IS NOT LEGAL ADVICE!

The purpose of this blog is to provide general advice and guidance, not legal advice. Please consult with an attorney familiar with your specific circumstances, facts, challenges, medications, psychiatric disorders, past-lives, karmic debt, and anything else that may impact your situation before drawing any conclusions, deciding upon a course of action, sending a nasty email, filing a lawsuit, or doing anything rash!

A Dance Labyrinth by Kyle Abraham

Sunday, November 11th, 2012

By Rachel Straus

The world premiere of Kyle Abraham’s Pavement, seen at the Harlem Stage Gatehouse on November 3, evokes a vision of urban youth careening through a dark world. Abraham begins Pavement by marking a spot with his downcast arm.  Then he lassoes his body, drawing a circle with his outstretched limbs. He moves loose, full force and in searching manner, as if looking for a clear compass. When a white dancer enters, he stops Abraham, lies him face down on the floor, and brings his hands to the base of his spine. Abraham’s arrest is done without emotion. This lack of drama makes the event feel doubly devastating.

Pavement’s racially provocative introduction occurs to the accompaniment of Fred McDowell’s rasp-voiced blues song “What’s the Matter Now.” Its lyrics suggest impending violence, but the brutality in Pavement never occurs on stage. It transpires through sound bites from John Singleton’s 1991 crime drama Boyz n the Hood in which young men lose their lives to gang violence.

The recent violence of Hurricane Sandy robbed Pavement of its intended set design. Yet the square stage’s red outline and the presence of a basketball hoop, whose backboard occasionally projected visions of a housing project, gave the 70-minute work a clear sense of place. Abraham’s casting—four black male dancers (Abraham included), two white male dancers, and one black female performer (the powerful mover Rena Butler)—augured a dance about race. Yet Pavement is far from being a modern-day West Side Story. A tale of black against white never comes to the fore. Like T.S. Eliot’s modernist poem The Wasteland, Abraham creates scenes that don’t necessarily fit together or have clear beginnings and endings. They are snippets of everyday life (Abraham asking for a dollar) and dream evocations, in which his remarkable dancers’ limbs weave in and out of each other to the accompaniment of a red strobe light.

Pavement’s stream of conscious structure is also created through a collage of 12 pieces of music. The recorded selections include a J.C. Bach and Mozart aria (performed by the French tenor Philippe Jaroussky), two ballads by Sam Cooke, and an excerpt from Benjamin Britten’s opera Peter Grimes (about homosexual oppression). Almost all of the musical selections, listed in the playbill by the composers’ names only, carry metaphorical weight. Unfortunately, it requires research to understand the connections Abraham is making between the music and his messages regarding the slipperiness of love, gender and race.

In the program notes, Abraham excerpts a quote from W.E.B Du Bois’ 1903 Souls of Black Folk. Du Bois developed the theory of a black person’s double consciousness. He called it the veil. When Abraham’s dancers do the high five, the gangsta walk, and behave too cool for school, they appear to be acting out today’s veil. When they launch into pure dancing sections, they move beyond coded acts of identity. They become unveiled.

Pavement ends with a pile up of bodies. The dancers, however, don’t look dead; they appear to be sleeping, lulled by the sound of Donny Hathaway singing “Some Day We’ll All Be Free.” Here again Abraham transforms a violent image into one that is doubled or fractured in meaning. This shirking of didacticism makes Pavement more porous than concrete. Here is a dance work that becomes a labyrinth, one that is as puzzling as it is fascinating.