We recently connected with Lily Abha Cratsley and have shared our conversation below.

Lily Abha, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today. The first dollar you earn is always exciting – it’s like the start of a new chapter and so we’d love to hear about the first time you sold or generated revenue from your creative work?

My first paid performance gig was as a member of Occidental Children’s Theater, a troupe that performs in Eagle Rock and tours around L.A. every summer. Six actors perform four international folktales outside in an acrobatic style for families. The show is original every year, and the cast is very involved in the development process with artistic director Jamie Angell. We got to read tons of folktales and experiment together to try to physically represent magical moments with just our bodies and voices. It was grueling work at times, working out six days a week or performing under the blazing sun, but I found the experience incredibly fulfilling.

My favorite days were those when we got to perform touring shows at local summer camps. There, we got to give many children their first ever theatrical experience, and it was such a joy to watch them receive that. They had very little conception of “proper” audience etiquette, and I say that in the best way possible. The energy was always electric, and their reactions completely authentic. We also ran a summer camp as part of the job, where we got to teach performance skills and acrobatic tricks we use in the show to kids. I had worked in theater education once before, but it was really great to revisit that space nearing the end of my own college training in theater. I often felt quite emotional remembering the teachers who had nourished me at the same age as those campers.

I’ll always be so grateful for my castmates and that first summer with Children’s Theater, because it marked a major turning point for me. Growing up as a thespian, you’re always warned by non-artists that a career in the arts is unlikely or unsustainable. There is this narrative we feed young kids that theater is just a hobby and can only be a career for a select few lucky individuals. But joining that cast, I was introduced to the world of L.A. working artists. I proved to myself that I could pursue my passion and actually make some money doing it. Sure, we weren’t celebrities and many of us had second or third jobs, but we were really content just making a bunch of kids smile every day through our silly show. And honestly, sometimes those smiles did feel like payment enough for the intense work. But getting those biweekly checks ensured that I could focus on my craft more intently, and that results in better art and a stronger positive impact on the communities we serve through it.

Lily Abha, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

In my creative work, I am really interested in looking at seeming contradictions. This is very much informed by my identity. I am half-Indian, but I am also half-white. When you look back, that suggests half of my ancestors brutally colonized the other half. Being built by paradoxes like this, I have always been drawn to stories where expectations are reversed, or harmony is somehow found in circumstances that can only be described as dissonant. Standing here at the start of my career, I have channeled most of that creative energy into looking at the specific contradiction I just alluded to – Desi-American identity. The platform I have most often explored that dichotomy has been live theater.

I grew up in the theater as an actress and singer who never found representations of myself on the page or stage. I loved performing dearly—the very sensation of it was magnetic for me—but I had always felt there was a greater potential I could unlock on stage if given the right stories to tell. So, I eventually decided to start writing those characters I so wanted to play. As a playwright, I have focused primarily on uplifting the experiences of Desi women. My first play, ABCD, features a daughter, mother, and a Nani reuniting and unpacking their intergenerational trauma. It just had its first staged production at the Greenway Court Theatre with resident company KriyaShakti Performing Arts this November! We were met with sold-out crowds and positive reviews and were even granted a December extension at the end of the initial run. My second play, The Fairy Who Cried Gems, draws on verbatim theater techniques to build a magical string of fairy tales about my generation of South Asian-American young women. I performed its first workshop at Keck Theater last May.

I plan to continue developing these two pieces on my newer journey as a playwright and start flexing my writing muscles in other genres. But make no mistake, I also intend to maintain my roots as a performer and help others develop their new work.

In your view, what can society to do to best support artists, creatives and a thriving creative ecosystem?

End capitalism… No, but actually, I am so tired of cash being funneled into hollow, safe projects. Like — Is there an artistic benefit to making that movie into a musical? Do you actually have a new perspective to add in reviving that show again? We often see buckets of money flowing into projects like these that investors feel confident will sell tickets and make them a lot of money. But I am very worried this is leading to live theater’s demise.

I believe that we need to start investing not only our attention, but our fiscal power–our capital–into emerging voices and new stories. There are tons of artists ready to change the world with unheard narratives… Bright artists who are struggling to find any funding or support for their work because capitalism doesn’t favor “risky investments.” I don’t know about you, but I don’t go to the theater to be comfortable and entertained. I want to go to a new show and be full of wonder and surprise and be challenged to view situations in ways I never had considered before. I want to have an experience that I can’t replicate somewhere else–that will only exist with that audience and those performers on that day. And there are a ton of folks with that special sauce, but few who are willing to put it on their menu.

Because of this funding struggle, lots of emerging artists are volunteering their precious time and energy or actually losing money just to tell the stories they know need to be heard. We’re just out here trying to survive and change the world, y’all! It’s more than just “support the arts.” Support the small projects with big hearts. I promise you they will grow to be something more powerful than any of us could have imagined.

Any resources you can share with us that might be helpful to other creatives?

This isn’t a resource exactly, but just how important networking is…

I didn’t meet another Indian woman working professionally in the theater until I was 21. I had spent the start of my career concerned there just wasn’t a place for us yet. But through her—this was Reena Dutt—my network gradually grew. She brought in tons of incredibly talented Desi women to work on my play, ABCD, and I started to feel less alone.

However, I still struggled to expand those friendships and promote my work. We’re often taught as Indian women to be humble and unassuming, but this is an industry that often requires you to brag a little bit. So that was a skill I had to learn and develop, especially while promoting the first staging of ABCD. I started going to events specifically highlighting Desi creatives like the Indian Film Festival or South Asian Happy Hour, and I put myself out there – literally passing out business cards we had printed with our ABCD Instagram handle (@abcdtheplay, shameless plug).

And then those people actually showed up to the show! And that was a really powerful experience for me. There was this obvious resource there all along – my own community – that I had failed to tap into and fully engage with because I didn’t know where to find them or, when I did find them, how to invite them to things. And, in that way, I suppose my own courage was an untapped resource as well. I dug deep and had to believe that sharing my work was interesting to others. And I am so grateful for the way my community embraced me back once I finally extended those arms.

This generosity has really encouraged me to give it back to other Desi creatives, as well. I want to do what Reena and these new friends did for me, for others. I try to always send relevant casting calls or requests for proposals to friends and connect people working on similar stuff. I’m of the opinion that if I go up, I better take everyone up with me. We have got to be for the culture, as they say, and networking is an essential piece of that I wish I had tapped into sooner.

Contact Info:

• Website: lilyabha.com
• Instagram: @labhac, @abcdtheplay

Image Credits
Noah Pavlov Marc Campos Rickshaw Film Foundation courtesy of Lily Abha Cratsley Nick Graves courtesy of Lily Abha Cratsley Melissa Lee