When I was 12 in Japan, I decided I would work with Cirque du Soleil. It felt impossible. No network. No path. But years later I made it to Montreal, and since 2009, we started our company and have been working behind the scenes—helping facilitate productions between East and West. Tokyo 2020 Ceremonies. Star Wars Identities. X Games. Creating opportunities for international and Japanese clients Then COVID hit. Around that time we met Mizuki, a Japanese aerial circus artist. Like many performers, all her casting opportunities suddenly disappeared. She was doing everything she had been told would “build an audience”—YouTube, Instagram, TikTok. At the same time, all our projects had stopped too. So we started experimenting. Serge always says something that stuck with me: People are more curious about backstage than the VIP lounge. What if artists shared the process, not just the final show? Not polished promo clips—but training, thinking, rehearsing, wandering through the city. At the time, Airbnb had just launched Online Experiences, so we tested a similar idea for performing artists. We organized a simple one-hour Zoom session. Mizuki showed how she trains, demonstrated a piece she was working on, and answered questions. We sold 60 seats at $20. Here’s the surprising part: Mizuki had 95,800 Instagram followers. We didn’t use any of them. Those 60 seats came from our existing network—friends, colleagues, people who already trusted us. And the energy in that room was completely different. People didn’t just watch. They asked questions. They stayed. They wanted more. That’s when something clicked for me. For a long time, we’ve treated the show as the product. But what people really want is to be part of the creation. The community isn’t just a marketing channel. The community is the work. Today we are building Attractr because I’m still trying to understand how this should work for our field. What challenges are you facing? What actually helps you build a real relationship with your audience? If you’ve ever felt stuck between artistic integrity and financial survival, or been told you need a massive audience before anything is possible — you’re not alone. Let’s figure this out together. A full manifesto: If you work in performing arts, do not waste the next 2-3 years waiting for the old model to save you. 👇 Tell me your story in the comments.

Coming from the world of music and digital media, I absolutely love and frequently attend performing arts shows, ranging from contemporary dance and theater to modern circus. Recently, I watched an incredible local independent production. The performers gave 150% on stage, the execution was flawless, and the level of skill and passion completely blew me away. But while sitting there, I noticed two things that have been on my mind ever since as an audience member: First, the room was half-empty, and the few people who did show up were mostly other artists, family, and friends of the company. I felt that familiar echo-chamber effect again, where "artists are creating work for other artists," while the broader audience has no idea the show even exists. Second, as soon as the show ended, the applause faded, the lights came up, and people simply went home. There was no bridge, no way for that audience to stay in touch with the company, to find out what they are creating next, or to support their process outside of those 90 minutes. The performers disappeared behind the curtain, and the audience disappeared into the night. The connection was severed in an instant. In the digital world, we’re used to there always being a "next step" to connect. But in the performing arts, it feels like we invest months of work and our entire budget into that one single evening, and then we just let the audience fade away. How do you break down this wall after the curtain drops? How do you maintain a connection with the people who actually bought a ticket and came to see you, who aren't your personal friends? Share your thoughts in the comments. 👇