When Art Creates the Container We Need

I’ve been longing to shake the post-caregiving, mid-grief social awkwardness that’s had me in its increasingly embarrassing grip, so I came up with what sounded like a fun plan and followed through: I threw a cocktail party and dragged some adventurous friends to experimental theater.

Two hours of dramatically themed appetizers and drinks at my house, then my friends and I descended on the Center for Contemporary Arts to see the Exodus Ensemble’s reimagining of Hamlet. Within minutes, we were following actors through different rooms: Bobby’s eyes wide, Jay laughing in surprise, Heather’s playful curiosity shifting to full engagement.

Halfway through the show, something shifted for me. The ensemble had created a container so strong, so inviting, that my stiffness melted. I stopped monitoring everything and everyone and just experienced what they were creating.

This is what Exodus Ensemble does. They transform galleries, homes, even moving trains (OUTLAW EXPRESS, staged on an actual train) into spaces where audiences of 12-25 people don’t just watch; they participate, feel, and transform.

When I learned how the company was formed, their power made sense. Director April Cleveland didn’t just gather talented actors when she founded the company in 2020. She used the crisis of a global pandemic to build something revolutionary.

My current favorite example of how she, and they, did this: each performer got three hours to share the artistic work they most loved with the group. Not their own work, the art that moved them, shaped them, called to them. Then the ensemble spent time in genuine inquiry, working to understand not just the work but what it meant to their colleague. Finally (and this is where I really leaned in), they created unique pieces that embodied what each artist valued most.

Can you imagine? Your professional peers spend an entire day seeing, understanding, and then embodying your workplace values. Then you do the same for them. How much more confident would you be to share concerns, ideas, innovations with your colleagues if your professional relationship had that depth of understanding and shared values?

This foundation-building didn’t stop there. The ensemble lived and rehearsed together in a converted house during lockdown, turning isolation into intensive collaboration. They developed a radical accessibility model: performances by donation only, artist compensation prioritized over expansion. Every choice reinforced their core principle: art exists to transform both performer and audience.

Their approach to classic texts proves this. Take their Hamlet, not a museum piece but a living, breathing exploration that uses every inch of their venue. Or BATHSHEBA, CYRANO, IVANOV, each reimagined through contemporary psychological frameworks while maintaining the emotional core that made these stories survive centuries.

What April Cleveland and these dazzlingly talented actors built into Exodus Ensemble’s DNA was radical acts of witnessing and being witnessed. When you watch them perform, you’re not seeing actors who learned lines together. You’re seeing artists who’ve practiced embodying each other’s deepest values, who’ve spent years creating containers strong enough for authentic transformation.

This is why their intimate, immersive productions work. They’re not trying to entertain you. They’re inviting you into a practice they’ve already mastered, the practice of truly seeing and being seen.

This is the kind of leadership that transforms industries. Not just in theater, but anywhere humans need to show up fully. Someone brave enough to say: before we do the work, we’re going to practice seeing. We’re going to build a container strong enough for whatever needs to emerge.

That night at Hamlet, I experienced what the Exodus Ensemble has been building since 2020, a space where transformation isn’t just possible, it’s inevitable.

This column ran in the Santa Fe New Mexican on November 18, 2025, under Business Different.