We recently connected with Beth Wolf and have shared our conversation below.

Beth, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. Are you happier as a creative? Do you sometimes think about what it would be like to just have a regular job? Can you talk to us about how you think through these emotions?

Through my 20s and early 30s, I worked at a series of day jobs outside my chosen field, and I mostly didn’t love it — I was working from 9-5 in various office jobs, and then making as much theatre as I could on evenings and weekends, while wishing I could put more of myself into my creative career. Ultimately, I landed in a day job that I liked; I worked with nice people, I believed in the mission of the company (a non-profit organization offering scholarships to college-bound high school seniors), and I got promoted to management after my first year at the company. It seemed like a place I could stay for a long time, while still doing theatre on the side.

Then, in 2013, my husband and I welcomed our first child. I had always assumed I’d need to continue working a day job for financial reasons. But when we looked at my non-profit salary and then we looked at the cost of childcare, it just didn’t make sense for me to keep working. Especially given that we knew we ultimately wanted a second child as well (our second was born in 2016), the idea of spending most or ultimately all of my salary on childcare for a job that wasn’t my dream job seemed ridiculous. So, I didn’t return to an office after my daughter was born. Thankfully, my partner’s job was enough to support our family, which I recognize is a huge privilege.

At first I felt crazy for giving up the job. It was the best day job I had ever had! And wouldn’t I need to go back to work at some point? And how would I contribute to our household economy if I wasn’t working?

It took some time to adjust my frame of mind. But I soon realized that, had I not left my day job, I’d have probably had to leave theatre altogether. Before kids, I had just enough hours in the day and days in the week to support two primary areas of focus: my day job and my theatre career. There was no room for a third major life commitment. Now, my two major commitments are the kids and theatre. I love it and I’m so happy this way.

The decision to leave the day job not only saved my theatre career, but also allowed it to grow. Running my own theatre company since 2012, I’ve been able to dictate quite a bit of the schedule, the size and shape of the company’s growth, and the amount of time I have to commit during different seasons of life. So, when the kids were little, I did one to two shows a year for my own company, on my own terms. Now that they are in elementary school and I have a little more time for my theatre work, I’ve been working to grow the company as well as pursue more freelance directing work.

I still occasionally wonder what it would be like to go back to a regular office, but the truth is I hope I never have to. Cards on the table, I still don’t earn enough money in my theatre work to call it a living wage (which could open up a whole other conversation about the way the Chicago theatre scene works…that’s for another day). But I do contribute to our household economy in myriad ways, from ensuring we have never had to pay for regular childcare, to managing the never-ending “life admin” of doctors’ appointments, extracurriculars, health insurance claims, birthday parties, school forms, and so much more. All while I continue to build up my theatre work, so that by the time the kids are grown and I might consider getting a day job again, I won’t need one, because I’ll just be doing theatre full time. At least, that’s the goal.

I feel so lucky to be where I am, and I’m grateful every day for the privileges of having a supportive partner, financial stability for our family, and the ability to lead a creative life all at once. It’s definitely not easy but I’m so happy not to work in a day job anymore. When people ask what I do, it feels so good to be able to say that I am a theatre artist and a mom.

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

I’m the founder and Producing Artistic Director of Midsommer Flight (midsommerflight.com), a small non-profit theatre company producing free Shakespeare in the park in various Chicago parks since 2012. I am also a freelance director, working with companies around the city (wolfatthestagedoor.com). Directing is absolutely my first love, but I enjoy the producing side of things as well.

I didn’t expect to end up here, though, when I started out as an actor. I went to Northwestern University and majored in theatre with an adjunct major in gender studies. After graduation, I considered moving back home to Southern California where, theoretically, I could be an actress. But I decided to stay in Chicago for a few years to get some theatre and improv on my resume before moving to the coast. Spoiler alert: it’s twenty years later and I’m still in Chicago.

In those first few years as an aspiring actor, I co-founded a theatre company called Promethean Theatre Ensemble with some fellow NU grads. I met the man who became my husband in an improv class at iO Theater, and we began building a life together here in Chicago. I did some shows and performed with an independent improv team, but never really gained momentum or a foothold as an actor. At the same time, I had some small directing gigs tossed my way, and during one of those small projects the light bulb went off: directing is where I live. I’m happier, more artistically fulfilled, and more comfortable in the director’s seat, where I’m able to address problems head-on, lead processes the way I believe they should be run, and facilitate success for an entire team of artists. Around this time, I also became the Artistic Director of Promethean when the founding A.D. stepped down. Taking on a new leadership role in Promethean as well as beginning to direct full productions helped me to establish my true identity as a theatre artist.

A few years later, when I wanted to do Shakespeare but some of the folks in Promethean weren’t interested, I felt it would be poor leadership to drag an ensemble to a place they didn’t want to go — but I still wanted to go there! So in 2012, I self-produced a one-off production of A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM in a Chicago park. I made up the name Midsommer Flight, got a free website, crowdfunded just enough to get the insurance and marketing postcards we needed, costumed the show out of people’s closets, and no one got paid. But the show was good and people came! After that first summer, it was clear that this was something special, so I got the company incorporated and started planning for the next summer.

I continued to lead Promethean simultaneously for another year and a half, but after having my first baby, it was pretty obvious that two theatre companies and a baby was one theatre company too many. I stepped down from Promethean and have been running Midsommer Flight ever since.

From our first year, when we did four performances in one park for a total audience of about 270 people, we have grown considerably. In our most recent season we toured to six parks all over the city, with 18 scheduled performances and reaching over 2,000 audience members. Over the years I have directed a dozen free Shakespeare plays in Chicago park spaces, collaborating with hundreds of incredible theatre artists and reaching audiences comprising everyone from die-hard Shakespeare fans to children who have never encountered Shakespeare before. As a producer, I’m also proud that under my leadership, Midsommer Flight was named a finalist for three consecutive years (2017, 2018, and 2019) for the Broadway in Chicago Emerging Theatre Award, which recognizes companies “demonstrat[ing] artistic excellence and fiscal responsibility” and “being on the verge of great growth.”

More than any one individual production or accomplishment, I’m so proud that the company has established a strong reputation for our mission of presenting high quality, accessible Shakespeare in Chicago communities. It’s so gratifying to see big crowds come to performances, to hear from audience members that folks look forward to our shows every year, and to read lovely reviews of our work year after year. We also endeavor to be a good place to work for artists. We are no longer volunteer based; all artists are hired on a stipend basis and we are working to increase those stipend amounts every year. We also follow the Chicago Theatre Standards and genuinely try to listen to artist feedback and learn from our mistakes.

As I said before, directing is my first love and I’ve been throwing myself back into the freelance directing circuit as well. Now that my kids aren’t babies or toddlers anymore, it feels a little easier to put myself out there — and it always feels like a luxury to direct a play where I can focus solely on the art and not on producing! I’ve directed several shows in recent years that I’m immensely proud of, and have received some lovely recognition, including Equity Jeff Award Nominations for Best Director for SILENT SKY (2024) and OUTSIDE MULLINGAR (2022) at Citadel Theatre, both of which were also nominated for Best Production. I also have a few upcoming projects brewing with other companies that I can’t announce yet — but I’m very excited for them. I love begin able to flex different muscles between my freelance life and my work at Midsommer Flight.

What can society do to ensure an environment that’s helpful to artists and creatives?

I hate to make it about the money but… one of the best ways society can support artists, creatives, and a thriving creative ecosytem is with financial support. The reality of living in a capitalist economy is that all people need to be paid in order to survive, and artists are people too. If an artist can’t pay rent, buy groceries, or afford healthcare, then they might not continue to pursue their art. Likewise, if an arts organization can’t pay a living wage or afford, say, the exorbitant cost of marketing to reach new audiences, then the arts organization might fold. Since the pandemic especially, many Chicago theatre companies have shut their doors, and it’s happening across the country, too.

One of my biggest frustrations as the leader of a small arts organization is the lack of robust arts funding. So many people — not only artists and audience members but the institutional funders themselves — have told me time and again how important Midsommer Flight’s work is. How the quality of our work is great, the mission of the company to get out in Chicago communities is inspiring, how the way we do what we do is admirable. And yet, that lip service to support isn’t followed up with dollars. I know that this is not a unique experience; many artistic leaders at other institutions hear the same message.

Yet, government funding is small and dwindling in my area, while many foundation funders are shifting priorities away from the arts. Even those who do fund the arts often have caps on the amount of funding they will offer. To wit: I can’t make meaningful progress toward true pay equity if each grant is capped at, say, $5,000 per year. I’d need to find twenty such grant opportunities to even begin to make a dent, not to mention pay a grant writer for each one and sink a huge amount of time into grant applications and reporting instead of on the direct work of the company.

If organizations are struggling in this way, then artists are directly harmed as well. I can’t necessarily speak to other creative industries, but in the theatre world, many companies are doing fewer shows, or shows with smaller casts, in order to save money or to be able to pay each individual a little more. That means there are fewer positions available for artists. Other companies are in financial crisis or shutting down entirely.

For the creative ecosystem to thrive, we need society as a whole — government, foundations, and even individuals with the means to do so — to support arts work not only with their feelings but with their bank accounts too. That might sound crass, or flippant, or complain-y, but it’s the unfortunate truth.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can provide some insight – you never know who might benefit from the enlightenment.

Whether an artist is making money in their creative field yet or not, it’s still a career if they view it that way. The artist gets to define it for themselves. Don’t call it a hobby unless they call it one first. Just because it’s not providing a full-time wage yet (or ever) doesn’t make it a hobby!

To be clear, there’s nothing wrong with creative pursuits as hobbies — I have several. I love to play the piano. I love to draw and paint and craft. Those are not careers because I don’t view them that way. I’m not working toward “making something” of those hobbies; I just do them for my own enjoyment.

Theatre, on the other hand, has never been “just a hobby” for me. It has always been a career. I have a degree in theatre; I have been working in the field for 20+ years. Yet, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve heard in passing conversation how nice it is that I have this “hobby” as an outlet. To be sure, the older I get and the longer I work in theatre, the less I hear this. It’s been quite awhile, in fact, since someone has done this to me. But I remember viscerally how belittling it always felt, and if I can get the word out to non-creatives about this, it just might protect other up-and-coming artists from the indignity of having their life’s work, their true calling, their genuine career be reduced to an extracurricular activity!

The dream for so many of us is simply to be able to make a living doing this work — not to be famous, not to win big awards or make a huge name for ourselves. If someone is working toward that goal, whether they have achieved it yet or not, then it’s a career and deserves the same respect you’d offer to someone in accounting or medicine or anything else.

Contact Info:

• Website: www.midsommerflight.com and www.wolfatthestagedoor.com
• Instagram: @bethnwolf and @midsommer.flight
• Facebook: https://facebook.com/midsommerflight
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/beth-wolf-3a47a111/

Image Credits

Headshot photo credit: Joe Mazza, Brave Lux Photography

Romeo and Juliet and Cymbeline: Tom McGrath, TCMcG Photography
Silent Sky: North Shore Camera Club
A Midsummer Night’s Dream: Steven Townshend