To spot the Mason Gross School of the Arts, just look for the bold red sign over the glassy entrance at 33 Livingston Avenue-the modern windows and sharp metal canopy above the doors make it pop right in the heart of the plaza.
Go ahead, take a moment. You’re standing at the front lines of Rutgers’ creative forces, where the air has a faint but determined whiff of fresh paint, stage makeup, and maybe just a dash of coffee-fueled artistic ambition. This is the Mason Gross School of the Arts-often called MGSA for those in the know-a place that churns out theater kids, filmmakers, dancers, musicians, and artists who have something to say and aren’t afraid to say it with style, sincerity, or maybe a cleverly choreographed interpretive dance.
Named after Mason W. Gross, the sixteenth president of Rutgers, this school first opened its doors in 1976, creating a home for every kind of expressive soul. But let me hand you a little secret-Rutgers was already making art history long before that. It started as a hot experimental mess in the 1960s, right around the time of the Fluxus movement. Rutgers actually invented the first fine arts graduate program in the country that refused to stick to one discipline. Picture the spirit of open jazz-an explosion of ideas, a gathering of painters, sculptors, wild thinkers, and probably more than a few chaotic professors. Honestly, a faculty meeting back then might’ve looked more like a surrealist art show.
From there, everything just got… well, a whole lot bigger. Mason Gross branched out, scooping up every fine arts department across Rutgers by 1981 and merging them under one ambitious roof. The result? Pretty much the academic version of “Avengers, assemble!” with departments for art, design, dance, music, filmmaking, and theater, all in spirited competition and collaboration.
And if you think just anyone can sashay in here… think again. MGSA is famous for its tiny acceptance rates. Only about 9% of drama hopefuls get handed a ticket, and overall, maybe one in five make the cut. It’s like trying to squeeze a tuba case through a doggie door.
Now, look just past the glass, and imagine the tucked-away chaos and magic: rehearsal studios echoing with “To be, or not to be,” dance floors alive with the staccato tap of shoes and the occasional controlled, graceful fall, editing rooms where film students are busy assembling the next indie hit-and at any hour, someone’s probably muttering about deadlines. Over 500 performances flood these halls and plazas every year, covering everything from jazz quartets knocking out Miles Davis standards to modern art installations that could range from deeply inspiring… to just plain weird.
The outdoor Bettenbender Plaza, just behind you, is sacred ground for spontaneous performance-once dedicated with the help of actor Avery Brooks. Step onto the plaza at the wrong time and you might find yourself in the middle of a play or an impromptu dance number. Up the block, the busy Civic Square houses even more Mason Gross activity, wedged right between Rutgers and New Brunswick’s theater district. The nearby State Theatre echoes with the ghosts of silent film, now home to the kind of performances that make local critics swoon or scratch their heads.
Every detail here rewards curiosity, and Mason Gross loves to play with boundaries. The acting program, grounded in the Meisner technique and even offering the chance to study at Shakespeare’s Globe in London, has a touch of stardust. The film program, despite being new as far as history goes, landed itself on national ranking lists, and has rubbed elbows with filmmakers like Robert Eggers. Documentary film labs, printmaking collaboratives, dance research centers-this is the sort of place where art and science actually do get coffee together on a regular basis.
And let’s not forget the music: from doctoral programs in theory to choirs that make concert halls ring, the school hums with sound. The Laurie Music Library is stacked with thousands of scores and recordings-enough to keep even the most devoted music lover busy until their lease is up.
So while this glass and brick building might look neat and composed, don’t be fooled. There’s a steady current of creative electricity running through these walls. People come here to take big risks, dare a little, and sometimes-in front of a crowd or all alone-find something utterly new in themselves. That, my friend, is the magic that keeps Mason Gross endlessly alive.
