One of the best things about living in New York is the incredible access we get to live theater and performances, and I’m not just talking about Broadway — off-Broadway, off-off Broadway, underground theater in unknown basements in the Lower East Side. Can’t afford Broadway? That’s okay, because you can see live theater for as little as $10-15 if you know where to look. You name it, and New York has it. Budding actors and playwrights can get their start at these smaller theaters. Yet I’ve always wondered where one draws the line between creating actual “art” and just creating something incredibly depressing or nonsensical that should then as a result of that be viewed as “art” or “creativity.”