The pandemic has opened up access to the performing arts. But will it continue?

Laura Mattson lives a few blocks from Orchestra Hall. For years, she'd roll there in her wheelchair, arriving as the doors opened, eager to watch the stage crew set up.

For Mattson, who has cerebral palsy, attending a Minnesota Orchestra concert was "one thing I could do independently."

Then the pandemic trapped her in her apartment and left her longing for live music.

So when the Minnesota Orchestra, with the help of TPT, started livestreaming its performances, Mattson was grateful. The 67-year-old reflected on the symphonies she'd missed when snow thwarted her trek, the effort it took to get ready, the wear and tear on her wheelchair. Streaming simplified things.

"What it's giving people is a choice," she said. "My hope is that people who can't make it to the hall for any number of reasons will have a choice to attend digitally."

Amid COVID-19, performing arts organizations turned their attention to audiences stuck at home, streaming new works and reprising old favorites. People who had trouble traveling to or sitting in a theater before the pandemic, including seniors and those with disabilities, appreciated the front row seat.

"The world found itself disabled," said Scott Artley, accessibility program director for the Metropolitan Regional Arts Council. "That sense of isolation that everyone shared is something familiar to people with disabilities.

"Not having access to community, being barred from entering places, having to be extra thoughtful about how we interact with the world — that's something people with disabilities have to engage with all the time."

As things shift back, those folks don't want to lose the access they've gained via streaming plays and virtual dance parties, at-home, captioned film releases and art-kit deliveries. They acknowledge that such options can be costly but argue the investment is important for all kinds of audiences.

The Minnesota Orchestra has offered fewer livestreamed concerts this summer; the pause has allowed the nonprofit to plan for fall, spokesperson Gwen Pappas said. The broadcasts are labor-intensive, she noted, but the organization is committed to continue streaming some concerts.

"It feels like a door has been opened for a lot of people over the last year," Pappas said, "and we don't want to close that door."

In the coming months, as audiences return to venues, Artley expects that some disability-friendly options will disappear. But he hopes that empathy remains.

"Consideration about broadening access ought to become part of the everyday work of sharing artistic and creative experiences," he said.

'A lifesaving experience'

In a New York Times essay this past spring, writer Esmé Weijun Wang described how theater had long been "a tough experience" for her because she lived far from hotbeds like London and New York City and with an illness "that makes it difficult to remain upright."

"Before 2020, I had never before thought to explore theater beyond one or two plays," she wrote, "considering it a luxury for those more able-bodied in certain cities."

But from her bed, Weijun Wang gobbled up the sudden glut of livestreams and archival recordings.

Local theaters, too, created works at home on the internet, including the Jungle Theater's "Is Edward Snowden Single?", the Guthrie's filmed version of the holiday classic "A Christmas Carol" and Theater Mu's innovative "Today is My Birthday."

When the pandemic forced Interact Center for the Visual and Performing Arts to shut its doors, classes and collaborations moved to Zoom. Its newest play did, too.

About 60% of the nonprofit's artists with disabilities made the switch, said founder and executive director Jeanne Calvit. But overall attendance swelled and a waitlist grew. Online programs drew folks who had trouble attending in person for various reasons, including transportation. (It's often transportation, Calvit noted, that keeps people with disabilities from theaters and museums: "If you can't even get to the place, it doesn't matter if there's a ramp.")

"For some of the new people we brought on, it was a lifesaving experience to be part of our program during this pandemic," Calvit said. "My dream is that because of this, we would have a remote program for people who live too far away or because of their disability have trouble getting to us.

"I don't know how we're going to pull it off ... but there's a huge need."

From their homes, Interact artists produced a zany science fiction fantasy via Zoom. "Zoomtopia" incorporated actors' imaginations, visual artists' illustrations and writers' poetry.

Michael Engebretson dreamed up and drew the blueprint for a vibrant spaceship from which he captained his crew. Those crew members and actors are also his friends. Engebretson, who was diagnosed with autism at age 5, has been an Interact company member since 2016, when he made his debut in "What Fools These Mortals Be."

"I see autism not as a plague, but as a gift," said Engebretson, now 26. He views the world differently. Space, too.

The pandemic has been difficult, he said, because "it did not allow me to see my friends at Interact as much as I wanted to." But "Zoomtopia" let him create with them again, exploring his love for sci-fi and acting alongside playwright, storyteller and disability advocate Kevin Kling.

At first, Alison Bergblom Johnson figured it was the virtual backgrounds that were bothering her, sparking migraines that would sideline her for a day or more. Maybe, she figured, it was the ring light she used to illuminate her face. Then she realized: It was Zoom itself.

"The migraine issue is real for me," Bergblom Johnson said. "I know it's real for others."

So while Zoom has made the world more accessible for people with some kinds of disabilities, for others, it's harder. "And if it's hard, it's really hard."

No single solution

Providing access for all kinds of people — with all kinds of disabilities, visible and invisible — is complicated, Bergblom Johnson knows better than most. Before the pandemic hit, she began curating and planning an in-person event with Mn Artists and the Walker Art Center that would center performers and audience members with disabilities.

It proved to be a puzzle. What space would have enough room for dozens of mobility devices? How long would it take to bring people, two by two, up the elevator? What kind of interpreters would be needed?

Moving the evening online skirted some of those conundrums but added others, including the question of reliable internet access. In November, folks gathered online for performances, films and networking. Some grappled with topics of disability, others didn't. A spotlight on his slinky red dress, Peder Hagen crooned in character as a Pennsylvania farm wife from another era.

Performers and audience members alike appreciated the Walker's focus on folks with disabilities. "I had people calling me, saying, 'I can't believe we're being included,' " Bergblom Johnson said.

But she knows that arts organizations big and small are struggling as they emerge from the pandemic. Access can be expensive, "and everybody's thinking about money right now," she said. Small venues like Strike Theater, though, are discussing a hybrid future.

"There's never enough resources," Bergblom Johnson said. "But also, people accommodate each other and make it happen."

Songs in a senior center

Audience members arrived via a short elevator ride. For days, fliers in those elevators had hyped this performance: Skylark Opera Theatre members would be performing downstairs at Savage Senior Living at Fen Pointe.

"Mimosa?" a staff member asked Bob Finkel, 85.

"My goodness!" he replied, reaching out his hand. Other residents rested their drinks and treats on their walkers and wheelchairs. Then, a bass-baritone in the front of the room began to sing.

"Pa- pa- pa- pa- pa- pa- Papagena!"

From the back of the room, a voice replied: "Pa- pa- pa- pa- pa- pa- Papageno!"

The four singers, wearing masks, performed arias from "The Magic Flute" and "La Boheme," songs from "Chicago" and "Waitress." The audience applauded, cheered and tapped their toes.

Skylark had long been mulling performances at senior living facilities and nursing homes, said Angeline Carlson, president of Skylark's board of directors. The pandemic pushed the small, flexible opera company, which owns no venue, to do it. The nonprofit nabbed funding for the shows from the Metropolitan Regional Arts Council, the Minnesota State Arts Board and, more recently, the health insurer UCare.

This December, Skylark will stage "Amahl and the Night Visitors" at Park Square Theatre, a return to the type of show it did pre-pandemic. But it will keep bringing its singers to seniors, too, Carlson said.

"There is a whole world of people who cannot be physically at these venues," she said. "So we can go to them."

After the arias, mimosas and bows, audience members stopped the singers on their way back down the aisle. "Thank you for sharing your beautiful voices with us," one woman said.

Siena Forest, a soprano, gave resident Ellen Jacobson a long hug. It was Jacobson's 86th birthday, and the duet "Some Enchanted Evening" from "South Pacific" was a favorite of her husband, who passed away six years ago. The two of them had seen that film together at the State Theatre in downtown Minneapolis, back when it was a movie house.

"That was a special night," Jacobson said, her eyes wet. "It brought back beautiful memories."

Jenna Ross • 612-673-7168