The Woodsman at New World Stages (Photo by Howard Sherman)

During the curtain calls, I watched, as I so often do, while ushers made a valiant effort to stop theatregoers from taking pictures. So imagine my surprise when, barely minutes later, with the cast off to their dressing rooms, the house staff made no attempts to stop patrons from photographing the play’s final tableau, which was unshielded by a curtain and still under moody stage lighting.

I approached a woman who appeared to have a house management function and asked whether it was okay that everyone was taking pictures. “Oh, yes. It’s fine,” she replied.

So I waited my turn as people took selfies of themselves in front of the stage, with The Woodsman (the title character of the show in question and an analogue for The Wizard of Oz’s Tin Man) hanging suspended under the lights, waiting for Dorothy Gale to discover him. But that’s another story.

I found this approach to audience photos quite smart. So much time is spent (and digital ink spilled) addressing how the field can suppress the audience’s urge to commemorate their theatrical experience, that to find the opportunity freely given was extremely refreshing. I wonder how much extra exposure The Woodsman, playing in a small Off-Broadway house, is receiving thanks to this policy. How many patrons walk away from their final moments in the theatre having been welcomed and encouraged, with a truly personal souvenir to show and share, rather than chastised?

To be clear: I want to see phones turned off and cameras put away (often the same thing) throughout performances, to keep from disrupting the actors and other audience members. But I can’t help but wonder whether people might be more compliant with the de rigeur ‘turn off your phone’ messages if they included the invitation to turn them on again and use them after the curtain calls have ended.

Shows with curtains that wish to shield their stages can do so, of course, but why are patrons also prevented from taking pictures of the venues themselves? There are so many beautiful theatres that would turn up regularly on Instagram, Snapchat and Facebook if openly allowed – surely some, shot with varying degrees of stealth, already do. I would love the opportunity to photograph theatre interiors both here in New York as well as when I travel; West End theatres are distinctly different from most Broadway houses and I’d like to be able to have and electronically exhibit my impressions of them, up to and including fire curtains, which we don’t see stateside.

Some Broadway shows have created photo spots outside their theatres, and I’ve encountered one or two in lobbies, but those are obviously manufactured opportunities. We may not care for the selfie society (feel free to check my Facebook page; you’ll find very few images of me), but it’s a part of how people share their experiences nowadays. Why should theatre work so very hard to control what is let out of the walls of our theatres when our audiences are so eager to communicate on our behalf.

I appreciate the concern that unauthorised photos and videos may reveal so much of the show that knock-off versions can be replicated by unscrupulous or amateur producers. But don’t most shows already disseminate enough media to facilitate that already? Indeed, the biggest hits produce lavish souvenir programmes and even hardcover books, filled with pictures and even representations of original design sketches. I’m not convinced that this remains valid as a reason for prohibiting all photos within theatre houses or of show curtains or final stage settings.

One of the many concerns about the continued vitality of theatre is its ability to compete in media markets where exposure is simply too expensive for shows to make a significant impression, if they can afford to make one at all. Since word of mouth remains an essential sales tool, let’s think about how we can facilitate that by, within reason, allowing cameras to come out. After all, that one simple gesture would empower the audience to be advocates and not just attendees, actively promoting shows simply because they want to.

By the way: that photo of The Woodsman at the top of this column. I took it with my mobile phone. Not bad, eh?

This essay originally appeared in The Stage.

While the arts are often notoriously slow adopters of new technology, the rapid rise of social media would seem to dictate that commercial theatre jump on the bandwagon and hold on tight.

But social media may be best suited for use by subsidised companies, rather than the shows that populate the West End and Broadway.

Certainly, every show has the basics in place, a Facebook page, a Twitter feed and so on, in addition to the now de rigeur website. But producers and their marketing teams seem to view most social media as an extension of advertising or PR, feeding out casting announcements, special ticket offers and ‘exclusive’ photos and video all directed at driving sales.

The problem is that for most productions, especially early in their runs, there aren’t necessarily enough people who have followed or liked the show to read what’s on offer, and the content is often repurposed for other uses, diluting the impact that ‘exclusivity’ might still carry.

Shows appear drawn to the media portion of this new manner of communications, when it is the social aspect that is most innovative and compelling. Social platforms offer rapid and direct communications with individuals, but the fact is that people engage most with those who actually engage with, or entertain, them. It may take place on an overwhelming scale when it comes to major celebrities, but in the theatre, it’s quite easy for fans to strike up conversations with stars, writers, designers, directors and even critics – something virtually unimaginable a decade ago. So, if shows don’t actually engage with their audiences beyond tarted-up press announcements, they’re dropping the ball.

Of course, the challenge is how creative on an ongoing basis any one show can be, since they’re a relatively fixed offering (people, on the other hand, can have remarkably varied day-to-day lives) and how much  they’re willing to invest to be socially rather than sales-oriented, focusing on the long game rather than immediate gain. Except for a very small portion of the audience,  attendance at a commercial show is a one-off event, not an ongoing commitment, seemingly at odds with the basis of social media. The building of relationships afforded by social media can create a stronger bond for an ongoing company producing an array of works over months or years.

In 2009, when social media was still working its way into public consciousness, the Broadway production of Next to Normal garnered great attention and achieved a remarkable million followers through two initiatives. It offered one night “live-tweeting” the plot of the entire show for anyone who cared to follow. Shorn of songs and even most dialogue, they were serialising an outline in real time, but it was a distinctive effort that marked the show as creative and tantalised people with the framework of a show they might then choose to see in real life.

Next to Normal also ran a campaign in which Twitter followers were encouraged to make suggestions for a new song for the show, creating a connection directly with the authors, who did indeed write a song based on suggestions. While it wasn’t added to the finished work, fans could hear it online. It’s a shame that, since the account still has 946,000 following (though it is closed), it hasn’t tweeted since April of last year, leaving a huge untapped base of potential ticket buyers for other productions.

Despite the efforts and success of Next to Normal, social media still seems an afterthought for most Broadway shows. In a survey of Broadway theatres in early May, prompts to interact with the show through social media activity (primarily Facebook, Twitter and Instagram) were on display at 15 theatres – yet a nearly equal number (14) had no such reminders in their front of theatre or box office lobby displays (a number of theatres had no tenants at the time). A few showed real initiative in advocating social media use (a photo backdrop outside the Lunt-Fontanne for Motown; a ‘photo stop’ in the upper lobby of the Gershwin for Wicked).

Unfortunately, others simply displayed social platform logos without the specific names used by the shows in those arenas, so one would have to seek them out; it’s akin to posting ‘we have a website’ instead of giving a URL.

If productions don’t feel that social media gives them sufficient bang for their buck, perhaps they shouldn’t establish a presence only to give it short shrift. On the other hand, as some shows are demonstrating, with a little thought, a show can build its profile at a proportionately low cost, amplifying the power of the ever essential word of mouth, so long as they’re willing to commit to subtly promoting their presence by offering intriguing content and damping down the urge to shout “BUY NOW”.