If you build it, they will come, Jerome Frautschi. In three-piece suits and sequins. In patchwork corduroys and denim jackets. With salon-styled hair and sticky dreads, they will come.
And they will look awkwardly at each other from across the lobby like the boy/girl divide at a middle-school dance.
In his mind, Frautschi likely wanted the stands of his \field of dreams"" to be filled with a wide variety of art spectators from all walks of life. Hence the decision to build the Overture Center on the eclectic strip of State Street, close enough to the Capitol to establish itself with the city's governing elite and hikeable enough for any UW student craving art aside from the spray paint picture guy or the piccolo-playing man.
But while it is wonderful Frautschi cared enough about the culture of the city to bestow upon it a $205 million gift for each and every citizen to enjoy, he may have neglected to think about the unavoidable clash of cultures that occurs when art spectators from each and every walk of life converge.
It makes for one awkward evening when Dakota Sky's nose ring gets snagged on one of the sequins on Kitty Trustfund's evening gown when they bump into each other during intermission.
Clashing Overture-going attire is just a harbinger of a larger problem, however. There appear to be conflicting notions on the part of Madison's culturally and generationally-gapped citizens as to what purpose the Overture Center is meant to serve. Is its mission to draw more attention to downtown Madison, i.e., State Street, or is it meant to stand on its own, almost in defiance of the seemingly tacky strip?
Frautschi's vision certainly presupposed the former, and most of the Madison bourgeoisie would agree with him. Even Bill Butler of Cesar Pelli and Associates acknowledges that from the beginning, the intention was to create ""a seamless connection to State Street"" by trying ""to make it a building for everybody."" But the city's elite are hoping to undermine that intention. They want to turn the Overture Center into their own exclusive, geriatric playground where everyone harbors the same animosity toward the campus-end of State Street and adheres to an unwritten dress code.
In the opening days of the Overture Center, Madison's well-to-dos deified everything in the building, right down to the towel racks in the restrooms and the creepy, Kafka-esque art exhibit upstairs. Nancy, a woman who wished to remain anonymous because ""my husband is a very important man in this city,"" summed it up best: ""They're going to make us sophisticated in spite of ourselves,"" she said, peering admonishingly over at a denim-clad couple at the information desk while waving a hand in the direction of State Street.
Something needs to be done about this divide before a melee breaks out and Kitty Trustfund is left picking sequins out of her teeth with daddy's credit card. State Street bourgeois: acknowledge the fact that the Overture Center is a pretty swanky joint and exercise a modicum of decorum. Madison elite: acknowledge the fact that what makes this city so great, in fact, what makes you look so great, is the heterogeneity of the town's population. Act accordingly and maybe Dakota will lend you her hemp sweater when you get cold during ""The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.""
