I just turned down a chance for a demo. I don't do that much, but this time was different. My sponsor wanted me and some other instructors to perform on JULY 4, at night, at the extreme end of one of our mighty five boroughs, "some time between 6pm and midnight." It would be good publicity for our classes, he said, and might attract some students from that area.
I said no, for obvious and more personal reasons. First: family - I was not about to ask people to give up precious holiday time for a 20-minute demo in Remotest Queens. Second: logistics - public transportation is a crap shoot on weekends to begin with. Add holiday schedules and one would be lucky to reach a remote destination in less than two hours. NYC closes highways for a public fireworks display (the best way to watch this is on TV, trust me), so car transport would be iffy as well, and parking without paying a fortune to a private lot would be nonexistent. Third: I have an event on Sunday, and getting back from Queens possibly as late as 3am would make that commitment very difficult to keep.
I have done some very odd things for the sake of performing in a demo. I have driven a crowd of budoka to Long Island, in increasingly bad weather, to perform on a streaming wet stage for a dwindling crowd, after waiting for 1-1/2 hours, well behind schedule. I have braved hyperactive security guards who suddenly think they can play hero and save the community college from a middle aged, pudgy person carrying a bag of sticks. We most recently performed at a park festival where they walled us off behind two layers of plastic fencing so the audience could barely see us (the guy who built the fence explained, "We don't want a lawsuit"). I have performed on linoleum floors, grass, plain dirt, concrete, carpet, asphalt, and, occasionally, wood and tatami. High school auditoriums, gyms, college stages, hotel ballrooms, basements, conference rooms, even a TV producer's office. I only have one rule - in keeping with my teacher's standard, the space has to be specially designated and not just a place where people can walk past and ignore us ("We are not circus performers," he once said, after refusing a demo where that single criteria could not be met).
My sponsor, as well as any number of budoka I have met, somehow think that performing in demos brings in students. I can almost unqualifiedly say that they do not. I am one of only two people I have ever met who started budo practice on the basis of a demo, and I had to think about it for two years before I actually signed up. And I've been doing this for a long time - if demos attracted students we'd have a legion by now.
Why do we do it? Mostly, it's a challenge. Back in the old days, when there was some possibility that budoka might have to actually use their skills in a practical way, there were many possible variables in terms of space, and the ground on which you might have had to defend yourself (or attack someone else). A modern demo also gives us an opportunity to adapt to unforeseen circumstances - of ground, light, weather, space. A demo is also a good opportunity to concentrate and learn something new. I learned the okuden level of my style because I volunteered to perform kata at a demo that the daisempai could no longer do, but he had to teach it to me first. Under many circumstances, a demo is a great opportunity to perform and learn new things. But it is not a recruiting tool.
The audience gets to learn a few things too; including that a martial art is not all punchy-kicky, but can actually be beautiful; that women can not only learn budo, they can also teach, and that aesthetics, philosophy and history can be an integral part of the learning experience. After our fenced-in demo, the organizer apologized and invited us to come back, without the fence next time. "I had no idea," she said. She knows now.
However, on July 4, the people of Queens will have to be content with the Fireworks Spectacular.
