We are lucky to have a President, a Congress, and in Vermont, a Governor and a State Legislature who generally agree that the arts matter. But one legacy of the "Culture Wars" is that many ill-informed media pundits continue to assert that the arts are a luxury. Now, with the economy in the shape it's in, I keep hearing that it is time for all "nonessential government expenditures" to be cut, including the arts.
Let's take a long look at why this would be a huge mistake.
On a macro level:
1) The arts are a huge part of our gross national product. Film, television, video games and music production are collectively considered one of the biggest sectors of our economy--certainly our biggest export. Imagine the artistic output that goes into a film like "Avatar." Now imagine that plot occurring on a planet that looked like the moon and not like the Amazon rainforest. Do you think Avatar would be the second best all-time ticket seller in the history of film? Not a chance.
Now ask yourself a simple question--where did all those artists and musicians and dancers and actors come from? Where were they trained? How did they learn to draw, to compose, to play, to develop plot lines, to use their imaginations to create whole universes outside our comprehension? If we turn off the spigot that fosters and encourages those artists during their childhood years, we will truly create a bleak future for ourselves.
2) The arts generate tourism. As far as I can tell, hardly anyone visited Bilbao, Spain until the Frank Gehry-designed Guggenheim opened in October of 1997. The same could be said of North Adams, Massachusetts. A depressed milltown opens up MassMOCA (Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art), and voila!--a tourism mecca is born. Mayor Rudy Giuliani of New York tried to cut all public funding for the arts in retaliation for a work put on display at the Brooklyn Museum that he found offensive. He changed his mind when he learned that the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the combined arts groups that comprise Lincoln Center alone generate more tax revenue for the city of New York than the combined professional sports teams operating out of Yankee and Shea stadiums, the Meadowlands, and Madison Square Garden.
On a micro level:
1) Artistic decisions--or aesthetic decisions if you prefer--govern our individual behaviors every day. From deciding what to wear, and what make, model, and color car to drive; to what makes us choose our favorite restaurants and stores, or our favorite neighborhoods when it's time to buy a house and raise our families, how something looks or sounds or complements our personal aesthetic is almost always what causes you to decide to buy or not buy. Who makes all this stuff? And why did you buy the blue sweater and not the green sweater? If life is all about function rather than form, then we would have all evolved to wear the same clothes, drive the same cars, and enjoy the same activities. But form matters, which means design matters, which means the arts matter.
2) The arts exist, in part, to improve the human condition. For many, this is achieved through an exploration of the emotional or psychological connections that art conveys to the viewer. But for others, this is achieved in very concrete terms--in communities that renovate a community performance space (Vergennes, Derby Line, White River Junction and others) which fosters other business to locate nearby; entices good teachers to apply for jobs at the local school; and to provide a sense of place--of community well-being.
Ask yourself, why do you live and work where you do? I remember once asking a friend in DC what it was like to live in Crystal City (a complex of apartment buildings adjacent to National Airport with all its amenities like shopping and dining built underground). As a DC bedroom community it was ideal. Convenient, easy access to everywhere by Metro, and completely weatherproof. The problem, she said, was that it had no soul. It was a man-made moonscape across the river from one of the country's most vibrant cities. If she could have afforded to, she would have moved to DC in a heartbeat.
Most people will agree that responding to Haiti's needs is an essential government expense. So is fixing our own infrastructure and our own economy. Our government needs to figure out how to fund job-creation, learn how to effectively deal with al-Qaeda, the Taliban and other extreme terrorist organizations without killing (and radicalizing) civilians. It needs to reorganize the delivery of affordable health care, and take care of its citizens who have the least capacity for caring for themselves. All of these are essential to restoring our government and our country to its position as a world leader.
Doing so, however, will take a lot of creative thought; a lot of anticipating the problems and rehearsing ways to get around them. It's going to take some creative vision to share what our world will look like after this exhausting and scary period is over. We're not going to do it by just listening to the economists and the militarists and the jihadists. We're going to have to listen the artists as well. They are the most creative problem-solvers and community builders among us.
So...essential? Absolutely! The arts matter now more than ever.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
When Singing is all you Have
Imagine Vermont; population 620,000 living, for the most part, in relative peace and security.
Now imagine a major earthquake leveling every building in Chittenden County, damaging most others across the state, killing about 13,500 outright, and destroying all highways, ports, and airports. Imagine the suffering in the intense winter cold without fresh water, heat, food, or medicine. Imagine watching your loved ones slowly dying of flu, dysentery, and untreated wounds; or suffocated under tones of crushed concrete.
Except for the cold, this is the situation in Haiti, relatively speaking. It is a catastrophe that is almost unimaginable to those of us reading the news in the comfort of our living rooms.
To Jim and Ann McGarrell, the proportions of this disaster are not unimaginable. The loss of your child (artist Flo McGarrell) is all too real, and all too tragic to bear--the result of a terrible series of coincidences in a country that has known more than its share of despair and tragedy. Our hearts go out to you, your immediate family and close circle of friends.
There are dozens of stories circulating on NPR, on YouTube, and word of mouth about individual stories of heroism, of stoicism, and of survival.
The ones that have struck me the most are the stories of people gathering, usually at nighttime, in parking lots, fields, and even in roads; sharing what little food and water they have, and...
...singing.
Sometimes they sing hymns, sometimes patriotic tunes like their national anthem, and sometimes simple folk-tunes handed down through the generations.
I am reminded of Jacques D'amboise, the well-known principal dancer for the New York City Ballet, who gave eloquent testimony to Sen. Jim Jeffords Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions Committee. He told of an imaginary tribe of iron-age hominids, sleeping outside and seeing, for the first time, the Perseid Meteor Shower. The songs and dances they created to celebrate, or perhaps ward off this extra-terrestrial display of the gods, was something he started to re-enact in the senate committee room on Capitol Hill. "Ooh!" (step, step, step) "Ahh!" (step, step, step).
Singing, especially communal singing, creates community. It bridges relationships among people. It helps them to share their joys and their woes; to celebrate their successes and acknowledge their fears. It helps heal a wounded body. It certainly heals a wounded soul.
Clearly Haiti, and many other countries besides, need much more than singing in order to survive. But singing is what they are doing now. For many, it's all they have.
Now imagine a major earthquake leveling every building in Chittenden County, damaging most others across the state, killing about 13,500 outright, and destroying all highways, ports, and airports. Imagine the suffering in the intense winter cold without fresh water, heat, food, or medicine. Imagine watching your loved ones slowly dying of flu, dysentery, and untreated wounds; or suffocated under tones of crushed concrete.
Except for the cold, this is the situation in Haiti, relatively speaking. It is a catastrophe that is almost unimaginable to those of us reading the news in the comfort of our living rooms.
To Jim and Ann McGarrell, the proportions of this disaster are not unimaginable. The loss of your child (artist Flo McGarrell) is all too real, and all too tragic to bear--the result of a terrible series of coincidences in a country that has known more than its share of despair and tragedy. Our hearts go out to you, your immediate family and close circle of friends.
There are dozens of stories circulating on NPR, on YouTube, and word of mouth about individual stories of heroism, of stoicism, and of survival.
The ones that have struck me the most are the stories of people gathering, usually at nighttime, in parking lots, fields, and even in roads; sharing what little food and water they have, and...
...singing.
Sometimes they sing hymns, sometimes patriotic tunes like their national anthem, and sometimes simple folk-tunes handed down through the generations.
I am reminded of Jacques D'amboise, the well-known principal dancer for the New York City Ballet, who gave eloquent testimony to Sen. Jim Jeffords Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions Committee. He told of an imaginary tribe of iron-age hominids, sleeping outside and seeing, for the first time, the Perseid Meteor Shower. The songs and dances they created to celebrate, or perhaps ward off this extra-terrestrial display of the gods, was something he started to re-enact in the senate committee room on Capitol Hill. "Ooh!" (step, step, step) "Ahh!" (step, step, step).
Singing, especially communal singing, creates community. It bridges relationships among people. It helps them to share their joys and their woes; to celebrate their successes and acknowledge their fears. It helps heal a wounded body. It certainly heals a wounded soul.
Clearly Haiti, and many other countries besides, need much more than singing in order to survive. But singing is what they are doing now. For many, it's all they have.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Embracing Gray: a Tribute
Several days ago I woke up and the Vermont landscape--so famous for its many shades of green, blue, and, depending on the season, red, yellow, and gold--was all gray.
It wasn't just one shade--it was many shades of gray. Snowflakes falling from leaden skies were just short of pure white. Nearby roofs and pavement were just short of pure black. Nearby trees were a dark gray, and distant trees and buildings were a light gray. It was a day designed to teach one to appreciate how much "color" there is between black and white.
The day matched my mood. It wasn't so much that Christmas was over, the year and decade were coming to a close, and that the days were their shortest and the nights their longest that put me in a gray mood.
It was learning that two Vermont legislators, Ira Trombley and Rick Hube had passed away unexpectedly last week. I didn't know either too well--at least not well enough to call them friends. But I did know Rick well enough to seek him out in the legislative cafeteria and pass the time chatting with him about the arts, education, the creative economy, and even things like wind-farm and cell-tower design.
Rick Hube was a Republican; one that all the editorials and tributes written about him said was unafraid to cross the aisle and vote for issues that he felt strongly about, despite their being not part of the Republican agenda. My own interactions with him led me to understand a lot about his humor, his healthy skepticism of any kind of rigid, doctrinaire approach to an issue, and his overall patience with his fellow man. He was a legislator that certainly charted his own path, a behavior that, for those of us who follow local politics, is not all that unusual for many a Vermont politician.
Outside Vermont, it is common to refer to Republicans and Democrats as polar opposites; to refer to states as being either "red" (Republican) or "blue" (Democrat); for one party to be "pro" an issue (pick one!) and the other to be "con." We have allowed our society--or more accurately, allowed our media--to paint people's positions on issues as falling extremely to one side or the other.
I am from Vermont, therefore I am a liberal democrat--according to my extended family who live in "red" states. They also truly believe Howard Dean to be the reincarnation of Lyndon Johnson and can't understand why I laugh so hard at both suggestions. In truth, like many in the Vermont State House, I think of myself as moderate.
Sure, like me, Rick had some hot button issues about which he had strong opinions, but in general, he was a reasonable person who listened well, asked good questions, and voted his conscience. His world was anything but black and white; and he was certainly comfortable with shades of gray.
As I consider the coming legislative session, the challenges facing us not only in Vermont but across the country and even across the globe, I have think that sooner rather than later our society needs to learn from people like Rick Hube how to embrace the many colors of gray.
Rick was patient and understanding (at least in his interactions with me). In a world dominated by extremism and fundamentalism, in which our economies and our environment have been placed so precariously at risk, we must all practice patience and understanding if we are to avoid catastrophe. Only then will we be able to push past shades of gray and emerge into a world in which the full spectrum of colors is once again available to be appreciated.
As I said, I didn't know Rick Hube all that well. But in his memory I will continue to embrace--nay, celebrate--the color gray in all its shades for as long as it seems to be the only color palette we have to work with.
Happy New Year!
It wasn't just one shade--it was many shades of gray. Snowflakes falling from leaden skies were just short of pure white. Nearby roofs and pavement were just short of pure black. Nearby trees were a dark gray, and distant trees and buildings were a light gray. It was a day designed to teach one to appreciate how much "color" there is between black and white.
The day matched my mood. It wasn't so much that Christmas was over, the year and decade were coming to a close, and that the days were their shortest and the nights their longest that put me in a gray mood.
It was learning that two Vermont legislators, Ira Trombley and Rick Hube had passed away unexpectedly last week. I didn't know either too well--at least not well enough to call them friends. But I did know Rick well enough to seek him out in the legislative cafeteria and pass the time chatting with him about the arts, education, the creative economy, and even things like wind-farm and cell-tower design.
Rick Hube was a Republican; one that all the editorials and tributes written about him said was unafraid to cross the aisle and vote for issues that he felt strongly about, despite their being not part of the Republican agenda. My own interactions with him led me to understand a lot about his humor, his healthy skepticism of any kind of rigid, doctrinaire approach to an issue, and his overall patience with his fellow man. He was a legislator that certainly charted his own path, a behavior that, for those of us who follow local politics, is not all that unusual for many a Vermont politician.
Outside Vermont, it is common to refer to Republicans and Democrats as polar opposites; to refer to states as being either "red" (Republican) or "blue" (Democrat); for one party to be "pro" an issue (pick one!) and the other to be "con." We have allowed our society--or more accurately, allowed our media--to paint people's positions on issues as falling extremely to one side or the other.
I am from Vermont, therefore I am a liberal democrat--according to my extended family who live in "red" states. They also truly believe Howard Dean to be the reincarnation of Lyndon Johnson and can't understand why I laugh so hard at both suggestions. In truth, like many in the Vermont State House, I think of myself as moderate.
Sure, like me, Rick had some hot button issues about which he had strong opinions, but in general, he was a reasonable person who listened well, asked good questions, and voted his conscience. His world was anything but black and white; and he was certainly comfortable with shades of gray.
As I consider the coming legislative session, the challenges facing us not only in Vermont but across the country and even across the globe, I have think that sooner rather than later our society needs to learn from people like Rick Hube how to embrace the many colors of gray.
Rick was patient and understanding (at least in his interactions with me). In a world dominated by extremism and fundamentalism, in which our economies and our environment have been placed so precariously at risk, we must all practice patience and understanding if we are to avoid catastrophe. Only then will we be able to push past shades of gray and emerge into a world in which the full spectrum of colors is once again available to be appreciated.
As I said, I didn't know Rick Hube all that well. But in his memory I will continue to embrace--nay, celebrate--the color gray in all its shades for as long as it seems to be the only color palette we have to work with.
Happy New Year!
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
What comes from Nothing?
Our extended family gathered over the Thanksgiving holidays and like others, ours represents a broad political spectrum. Conversations among us all are spirited, and at times tempers flare. But deep down we all know that the things we share transcend the occasional fissures that appear in our relationships.
A couple of my in-laws have committed themselves to improving the lives of civilians in war-torn countries. Each has a post-graduate degree in a field related to human services, and both have extensive experiences ranging from the Peace Corps to other US AID-funded projects. They have served in South and Central America, Thailand, Bosnia, Uzbekistan, and--more recently--Iraq and Afghanistan.
In general, they argue in favor of non-military solutions to problems that affect the interests of the United States--in stark contrast to several of my other in-laws who feel otherwise.
But when I asked them what the U.S. should do in Afghanistan, their immediate response was "finish the job." This was not what I expected, so I asked why.
"Imagine a region the size of California and Oregon with a population of less than 30 million. Now imagine what this region would look like after nearly 40 years of continuous war. Imagine that there are only two crops that grow in enough abundance to establish an agricultural toe-hold of which the largest provides the raw materials for a drug that the rest of the world would love to see eradicated.
"Imagine that for the past eight years this region had born the brunt of constant military strikes from the world's most powerful country that has left the habitable landscape almost completely barren of any civic infrastructure.
"Now imagine that this powerful country picks up its marbles and goes home. What does it leave behind? 28 million people with no functioning government, no civil authority, no infrastructure, no raw materials to build houses or schools or to feed the populace, no culture, no advocates in the international arena, and no hope.
"With no hope, there is nothing. And what comes from nothing? Chaos. Chaos scares human beings. We crave order and rules of behavior.
"So into this chaotic mess will step the very insurgent forces that, since 9/11, we have been trying to face down: the Taliban, al-Qaeda, and who-knows-how-many-other organized criminal elements. These insurgent forces will become the de facto civil authority in our absence. To us, that is a far worse outcome than the U.S. staying the course in Afghanistan."
This left me to wonder anew about the purpose of art in our lives; of song, of dance, and of storytelling. While bells on bob-tails ring in this country, drones seek out "targets of opportunity" in Afghanistan and the media reports on the gruesome results.
Are we building schools? Are we building hospitals? Food markets? What about community centers where people can gather to learn, to sing, and to share joy? Would the U.S. military and the UN ever consider seeking out different "targets of opportunity" like Oprah or Bob Geldof or Bono to to help it create positive change in a country in need?
If the answer to any of these questions is yes, then where is the media? Tiger Woods fills our newspapers and weekly rags. But where are the stories about successful encounters with Afghanis whose lives have been changed for the better by our presence?
It has been said often that a civilization is remembered not for its conquests but by its art and culture.
What if we created a national policy that dictated that out of every $100 spent on waging war in a place, $5 must be spent on waging peace?
What if, of the $1 trillion spent on wars in Iraq and Afghanistan during the last eight years, we had spent $50 billion on schools and theaters, market places and safe housing; on teaching people how to appreciate each others' differences, not be scared of them; on helping the region learn to explore each others' cultures without being offended by them?
What if we started doing that today in Afghanistan? What if we also did the same in this country?
What if achieving peace on earth and goodwill towards all was just that simple?
A couple of my in-laws have committed themselves to improving the lives of civilians in war-torn countries. Each has a post-graduate degree in a field related to human services, and both have extensive experiences ranging from the Peace Corps to other US AID-funded projects. They have served in South and Central America, Thailand, Bosnia, Uzbekistan, and--more recently--Iraq and Afghanistan.
In general, they argue in favor of non-military solutions to problems that affect the interests of the United States--in stark contrast to several of my other in-laws who feel otherwise.
But when I asked them what the U.S. should do in Afghanistan, their immediate response was "finish the job." This was not what I expected, so I asked why.
"Imagine a region the size of California and Oregon with a population of less than 30 million. Now imagine what this region would look like after nearly 40 years of continuous war. Imagine that there are only two crops that grow in enough abundance to establish an agricultural toe-hold of which the largest provides the raw materials for a drug that the rest of the world would love to see eradicated.
"Imagine that for the past eight years this region had born the brunt of constant military strikes from the world's most powerful country that has left the habitable landscape almost completely barren of any civic infrastructure.
"Now imagine that this powerful country picks up its marbles and goes home. What does it leave behind? 28 million people with no functioning government, no civil authority, no infrastructure, no raw materials to build houses or schools or to feed the populace, no culture, no advocates in the international arena, and no hope.
"With no hope, there is nothing. And what comes from nothing? Chaos. Chaos scares human beings. We crave order and rules of behavior.
"So into this chaotic mess will step the very insurgent forces that, since 9/11, we have been trying to face down: the Taliban, al-Qaeda, and who-knows-how-many-other organized criminal elements. These insurgent forces will become the de facto civil authority in our absence. To us, that is a far worse outcome than the U.S. staying the course in Afghanistan."
This left me to wonder anew about the purpose of art in our lives; of song, of dance, and of storytelling. While bells on bob-tails ring in this country, drones seek out "targets of opportunity" in Afghanistan and the media reports on the gruesome results.
Are we building schools? Are we building hospitals? Food markets? What about community centers where people can gather to learn, to sing, and to share joy? Would the U.S. military and the UN ever consider seeking out different "targets of opportunity" like Oprah or Bob Geldof or Bono to to help it create positive change in a country in need?
If the answer to any of these questions is yes, then where is the media? Tiger Woods fills our newspapers and weekly rags. But where are the stories about successful encounters with Afghanis whose lives have been changed for the better by our presence?
It has been said often that a civilization is remembered not for its conquests but by its art and culture.
What if we created a national policy that dictated that out of every $100 spent on waging war in a place, $5 must be spent on waging peace?
What if, of the $1 trillion spent on wars in Iraq and Afghanistan during the last eight years, we had spent $50 billion on schools and theaters, market places and safe housing; on teaching people how to appreciate each others' differences, not be scared of them; on helping the region learn to explore each others' cultures without being offended by them?
What if we started doing that today in Afghanistan? What if we also did the same in this country?
What if achieving peace on earth and goodwill towards all was just that simple?
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Tribute: Bess Lomax Hawes
We should all be so lucky to live to the ripe age of 88; luckier still to live a rich, full, and varied life; and luckiest of all to have a loving family, countless friends and associates who admire and respect us and our work, and yet still retain our compassion for other people and our zest for life.
Bess Lomax Hawes, who passed away a few days ago, was such a person.
For starters, she is arguably the single most important reason there is a comprehensive network of folk and traditional artists and organizations in the U.S. As founding director of the National Endowment for the Arts' Folk Arts Program, it was largely due to her vision that every state has a folk arts program, that the Smithsonian Institution holds its annual Folklife Festival on the National Mall, and why we recognize folk and traditional artists with the National Heritage Fellowships. This last program is so prestigious, and Bess's role in its creation so pivotal, that the awards themselves were named for her.
But all this barely scratches the surface of who she was as a person.
Growing up as the daughter of John Lomax (whose early recordings of largely self-taught blues and folk musicians throughout Appalachia and the deep South remains one of our greatest cultural treasures), and sister of Alan Lomax (who who continued and expanded his father's work) it was no fluke that Bess was drawn to folk and traditional artistic expressions.
An early member of Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie's band, she is probably known best among folk musicians as co-author of the song made famous by the Kingston Trio, "Charlie and the M.T.A."
I worked quite closely with Bess during my time at the National Endowment for the Arts. She was pushing 70, had a flock of acolytes circulating in and out of her office on the 7th floor of the Old Post Office Building. She never raised her voice. She never said a mean word about anyone. And her smile, which was always a half-breath away, could light up a room.
There was something very "Aunt Bee"-like about her; a warm, trusting soul who with a recognizable voice and a ready laugh, packaged in a matronly figure with gray hair pulled back in a bun. I always expected, hearing her talk in staff meetings, that if Bess couldn't convince people around her to view things from her perspective, that all she had to do was make a call and Sheriff Andy Taylor and Deputy Barney Fife would gently show you the error of your ways.
It never happened. Bess always knew the best way to approach people; to get projects off the ground; to share credit; and most of all, respect the many artists whose work, without her efforts, might otherwise have remained largely undiscovered or unappreciated.
It's been about 10 years since I last saw her. She attended the Nancy Hanks Lecture at the Kennedy Center as part of National Arts Advocacy Day, and although it had been years since we'd been in touch, her face lit up in that warm smile of hers when I stopped by her seat to say hello.
Bess lived a long, full, rich, and rewarding life. Like I said, we should all be so lucky.
Bess Lomax Hawes, who passed away a few days ago, was such a person.
For starters, she is arguably the single most important reason there is a comprehensive network of folk and traditional artists and organizations in the U.S. As founding director of the National Endowment for the Arts' Folk Arts Program, it was largely due to her vision that every state has a folk arts program, that the Smithsonian Institution holds its annual Folklife Festival on the National Mall, and why we recognize folk and traditional artists with the National Heritage Fellowships. This last program is so prestigious, and Bess's role in its creation so pivotal, that the awards themselves were named for her.
But all this barely scratches the surface of who she was as a person.
Growing up as the daughter of John Lomax (whose early recordings of largely self-taught blues and folk musicians throughout Appalachia and the deep South remains one of our greatest cultural treasures), and sister of Alan Lomax (who who continued and expanded his father's work) it was no fluke that Bess was drawn to folk and traditional artistic expressions.
An early member of Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie's band, she is probably known best among folk musicians as co-author of the song made famous by the Kingston Trio, "Charlie and the M.T.A."
I worked quite closely with Bess during my time at the National Endowment for the Arts. She was pushing 70, had a flock of acolytes circulating in and out of her office on the 7th floor of the Old Post Office Building. She never raised her voice. She never said a mean word about anyone. And her smile, which was always a half-breath away, could light up a room.
There was something very "Aunt Bee"-like about her; a warm, trusting soul who with a recognizable voice and a ready laugh, packaged in a matronly figure with gray hair pulled back in a bun. I always expected, hearing her talk in staff meetings, that if Bess couldn't convince people around her to view things from her perspective, that all she had to do was make a call and Sheriff Andy Taylor and Deputy Barney Fife would gently show you the error of your ways.
It never happened. Bess always knew the best way to approach people; to get projects off the ground; to share credit; and most of all, respect the many artists whose work, without her efforts, might otherwise have remained largely undiscovered or unappreciated.
It's been about 10 years since I last saw her. She attended the Nancy Hanks Lecture at the Kennedy Center as part of National Arts Advocacy Day, and although it had been years since we'd been in touch, her face lit up in that warm smile of hers when I stopped by her seat to say hello.
Bess lived a long, full, rich, and rewarding life. Like I said, we should all be so lucky.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Share the Knowledge
Our attention is turning relentlessly towards the holidays. I keep wishing it were last April and that I still had a good eight or nine months to complete all the things I set out for myself this year, but no. It's coming on late November. Thanksgiving is around the corner. And I am as far behind as ever.
In truth, the things I am behind in are personal rather than work-related. I still haven't gotten to re-roofing my porch, or losing 15 pounds, or fixing the floor under the freezer in the basement. I haven't ordered next year's firewood or put the winter tires on our cars.
But at work, looking back over the year, I can honestly say there have been some amazing accomplishments.
Though it seems but a distant memory now, it was only a few months since we finished our last commitment to Art Fits Vermont (the Puzzle Project) which, like its predecessor Palettes of Vermont, engaged thousands of Vermonters, and several dozen New Yorkers and Quebecois on a creative, shared, exploration of the cultural ties that bind us. It was only 10 months ago that we selected the 10 artists whose creative output, combined with Lyman Orton's generosity, gave us the 103 works known collectively as "The Art of Action." Similarly, we have enjoyed keeping track of the "Art of Vermont" as it coils its way around the state showing Vermonters in all parts of the state a significant portion of the State's accumulated art collection. (All of these projects are easy to find by noodling around on the Arts Council's website).
But to be honest, one of the most heart-warming things we are doing is going to launch in about two weeks. As of today we have nearly 90 works of art and craft donated to "doing our pART"--the Council's auction to benefit the Vermont Food Bank.
It has been so great to meet so many artists as they bring their works in to the Council; to talk to them about their experiences and to hear how nice it is for them to be able to share their work to support a good cause.
Listening to their stories, it seems like an appropriate time of year for us all to share some of our stories. Please consider this posting to be an invitation to anyone reading this (especially if you are in Vermont) to share some of the great things you are doing/or have done over the course of this past year. It can be an organizational or personal story; it can be about something you have participated in directly, or something you know is happening in your community. Or it could be a really cool idea that simply should be shared.
Scroll down, leave a comment, and depending on the response, I'll revisit some of your highlights in a future post.
In the meantime, Happy Thanksgiving!
In truth, the things I am behind in are personal rather than work-related. I still haven't gotten to re-roofing my porch, or losing 15 pounds, or fixing the floor under the freezer in the basement. I haven't ordered next year's firewood or put the winter tires on our cars.
But at work, looking back over the year, I can honestly say there have been some amazing accomplishments.
Though it seems but a distant memory now, it was only a few months since we finished our last commitment to Art Fits Vermont (the Puzzle Project) which, like its predecessor Palettes of Vermont, engaged thousands of Vermonters, and several dozen New Yorkers and Quebecois on a creative, shared, exploration of the cultural ties that bind us. It was only 10 months ago that we selected the 10 artists whose creative output, combined with Lyman Orton's generosity, gave us the 103 works known collectively as "The Art of Action." Similarly, we have enjoyed keeping track of the "Art of Vermont" as it coils its way around the state showing Vermonters in all parts of the state a significant portion of the State's accumulated art collection. (All of these projects are easy to find by noodling around on the Arts Council's website).
But to be honest, one of the most heart-warming things we are doing is going to launch in about two weeks. As of today we have nearly 90 works of art and craft donated to "doing our pART"--the Council's auction to benefit the Vermont Food Bank.
It has been so great to meet so many artists as they bring their works in to the Council; to talk to them about their experiences and to hear how nice it is for them to be able to share their work to support a good cause.
Listening to their stories, it seems like an appropriate time of year for us all to share some of our stories. Please consider this posting to be an invitation to anyone reading this (especially if you are in Vermont) to share some of the great things you are doing/or have done over the course of this past year. It can be an organizational or personal story; it can be about something you have participated in directly, or something you know is happening in your community. Or it could be a really cool idea that simply should be shared.
Scroll down, leave a comment, and depending on the response, I'll revisit some of your highlights in a future post.
In the meantime, Happy Thanksgiving!
Monday, November 2, 2009
Eight Places to Visit in St. Johnsbury
The Arts Council held its fall retreat in St. Johnsbury recently, and if our experience there is any indication, people living in or planning to visit the Northeast Kingdom have a lot to look forward to in the coming years.
I've mentioned a few times in this blog about the efforts all over the Kingdom to collaborate on marketing and promotional efforts. Trying to develop a single-themed message about such a huge and diverse area of Vermont presents many challenges. There is the sustainable, value-added agricultural movement whose focal point appears to be Hardwick. There is the Nulhegan Basin (surrounding Island Pond) whose primary industries are wildlife recreation and (value-added) wood products. There are the two major ski resorts--Jay Peak and Burke Mountain-- and some world-class mountain biking to be had at Kingdom Trails. There are three colleges: Johnson State College (I know, technically in Lamoille County), Sterling College in Craftsbury and Lyndon State College that provide excellent post-secondary education experiences across a broad spectrum of disciplines that build on and feed the cultural and recreational sectors. And all through the Kindgom are located hundreds of artists and artisans--all of whom create a variety of works that can be found by visiting their studios, farmer's markets, or fairs and festivals.
The Northeast Kingdom Travel and Tourism Association serves as a collection point for all kinds of information about "things to do" in the Kingdom, from outdoor recreation, to agritourism, to cultural and heritage tourism. From North Troy and Jay to St. Johnsbury; and from Canaan to Hardwick the Northeast Kingdom is diverse, quirky, independent-minded, and--as our experience in St. Johnsbury proved--generous to an extreme.
Our meeting was held in the "new" Catamount Arts Center--the former Masonic Lodge next door to Catamount's old location. (sidebar: the old Catamount site has been bought and being converted to a studio recording house by Neko Case. Check her out!) Catamount Arts now boasts two cinemas, showing independent and foreign films daily--and even the latest digital performances from the stage of the Metropolitan Opera (the next one is Puccini's Turandot, airing November 7th). They also have a cabaret room in the basement (where we held our board meetings) which, along with a few other smaller utility rooms, serve as classrooms for people of all ages. They have a gallery just behind their ticket office which, during our meeting, was showing the Art of Vermont, an exhibition featuring works that are part of the State's significant art collection. Best of all, however was the incredible spirit flowing throughout the building--no doubt caused by the excitement generated by the performance and outreach programs put together by Jody Fried and his staff . Metaphorically speaking, Catamount Arts is one of the Northeast Kingdom's significant sources of renewable energy.
Within a stone's throw of Catamount are new fewer than seven other community/cultural institutions--almost all of which, over the years, have received significant facility or program support from the Council. The Fairbanks Museum and Planetarium (Charlie Browne, Director) is a "must stop" for anyone visiting St. J , as is the St. Johnsbury Athenaeum, the public library donated by the Fairbanks family which contains one of the great examples of Hudson River School Art, The Domes of Yosemite, by Albert Bierstadt, in its very accessible gallery.
The day after our Board meeting ended, I returned to the Athenaeum to attend a concert by Helena Baillie who performed the three Bach Partitas for violin as a benefit to raise money for the Athenaeum's new Steinway grand piano. It was a tour de force and I can only hope that Minnesota Public Radio, who recorded the event, will allow its Vermont affiliate to air the program. The Athenaeum's director, Irwin Gelber, is doing for the Athenaeum what Jody Fried is doing for Catamount. The energy and excitement in both places are palpable.
Across from the Athenaeum is the Caledonia Courthouse which has wonderful public art by photographer Michael Sacca and tapestries by Elizabeth Billings--installed about 10 years ago with Art in State Buildings funding when the Courthouse was significantly renovated.
Practically next door to the Courthouse is the South Congregational Church--a venue used by many arts groups looking for world class acoustics and significant seating capcity. Like the Catamount Center, The Fairbanks, Athenaeum, and Congregational Church have all received significant funding from the Council's Cultural Facilities Program over the years--as well as frequent program support.
And while we're still "on the hill" it hardly bears mentioning that the St. Johnsbury Academy is one of the preeminent secondary educational and cultural institutions in the New England. It boasts significant programs and instruction in the visual and performing arts--comparable in quantity and quality to such storied New England boarding school as Exeter, Andover and Milton Academies--and its guest artists' performances are almost always open to the public.
Just down the hill from Catamount Arts on Railroad Street is the new visitor's center (home of the NEK Chamber of Commerce in the old Railroad Depot)--again, a facility that has benefited from the Council's Cultural Facility program, and in the middle of the next block heading east on Rte 2 is the Northeast Kingdom Artisan's Guild, a gallery and store chock full of high quality arts and crafts. Those are the seven (eight, including Catamount) I know about--there probably are more.
I realize that this is sounding a lot like a travel writer's diary, but before I leave you to discover your own favorite part of St. Johnsbury, I have to mention the hardware store across from Catamount Arts where you can purchase just about anything you could possibly need for your home; the outstanding Elements Restaurant which had no problem accommodating the Council's board, staff and guests for dinner; and--perhaps the biggest surprise of all--the incredibly well-appointed Comfort Inn where several of us stayed.
St. Johnsbury--you really should see it for yourself. It's a great way to start your visit to Vermont's Northeast Kingdom.
I've mentioned a few times in this blog about the efforts all over the Kingdom to collaborate on marketing and promotional efforts. Trying to develop a single-themed message about such a huge and diverse area of Vermont presents many challenges. There is the sustainable, value-added agricultural movement whose focal point appears to be Hardwick. There is the Nulhegan Basin (surrounding Island Pond) whose primary industries are wildlife recreation and (value-added) wood products. There are the two major ski resorts--Jay Peak and Burke Mountain-- and some world-class mountain biking to be had at Kingdom Trails. There are three colleges: Johnson State College (I know, technically in Lamoille County), Sterling College in Craftsbury and Lyndon State College that provide excellent post-secondary education experiences across a broad spectrum of disciplines that build on and feed the cultural and recreational sectors. And all through the Kindgom are located hundreds of artists and artisans--all of whom create a variety of works that can be found by visiting their studios, farmer's markets, or fairs and festivals.
The Northeast Kingdom Travel and Tourism Association serves as a collection point for all kinds of information about "things to do" in the Kingdom, from outdoor recreation, to agritourism, to cultural and heritage tourism. From North Troy and Jay to St. Johnsbury; and from Canaan to Hardwick the Northeast Kingdom is diverse, quirky, independent-minded, and--as our experience in St. Johnsbury proved--generous to an extreme.
Our meeting was held in the "new" Catamount Arts Center--the former Masonic Lodge next door to Catamount's old location. (sidebar: the old Catamount site has been bought and being converted to a studio recording house by Neko Case. Check her out!) Catamount Arts now boasts two cinemas, showing independent and foreign films daily--and even the latest digital performances from the stage of the Metropolitan Opera (the next one is Puccini's Turandot, airing November 7th). They also have a cabaret room in the basement (where we held our board meetings) which, along with a few other smaller utility rooms, serve as classrooms for people of all ages. They have a gallery just behind their ticket office which, during our meeting, was showing the Art of Vermont, an exhibition featuring works that are part of the State's significant art collection. Best of all, however was the incredible spirit flowing throughout the building--no doubt caused by the excitement generated by the performance and outreach programs put together by Jody Fried and his staff . Metaphorically speaking, Catamount Arts is one of the Northeast Kingdom's significant sources of renewable energy.
Within a stone's throw of Catamount are new fewer than seven other community/cultural institutions--almost all of which, over the years, have received significant facility or program support from the Council. The Fairbanks Museum and Planetarium (Charlie Browne, Director) is a "must stop" for anyone visiting St. J , as is the St. Johnsbury Athenaeum, the public library donated by the Fairbanks family which contains one of the great examples of Hudson River School Art, The Domes of Yosemite, by Albert Bierstadt, in its very accessible gallery.
The day after our Board meeting ended, I returned to the Athenaeum to attend a concert by Helena Baillie who performed the three Bach Partitas for violin as a benefit to raise money for the Athenaeum's new Steinway grand piano. It was a tour de force and I can only hope that Minnesota Public Radio, who recorded the event, will allow its Vermont affiliate to air the program. The Athenaeum's director, Irwin Gelber, is doing for the Athenaeum what Jody Fried is doing for Catamount. The energy and excitement in both places are palpable.
Across from the Athenaeum is the Caledonia Courthouse which has wonderful public art by photographer Michael Sacca and tapestries by Elizabeth Billings--installed about 10 years ago with Art in State Buildings funding when the Courthouse was significantly renovated.
Practically next door to the Courthouse is the South Congregational Church--a venue used by many arts groups looking for world class acoustics and significant seating capcity. Like the Catamount Center, The Fairbanks, Athenaeum, and Congregational Church have all received significant funding from the Council's Cultural Facilities Program over the years--as well as frequent program support.
And while we're still "on the hill" it hardly bears mentioning that the St. Johnsbury Academy is one of the preeminent secondary educational and cultural institutions in the New England. It boasts significant programs and instruction in the visual and performing arts--comparable in quantity and quality to such storied New England boarding school as Exeter, Andover and Milton Academies--and its guest artists' performances are almost always open to the public.
Just down the hill from Catamount Arts on Railroad Street is the new visitor's center (home of the NEK Chamber of Commerce in the old Railroad Depot)--again, a facility that has benefited from the Council's Cultural Facility program, and in the middle of the next block heading east on Rte 2 is the Northeast Kingdom Artisan's Guild, a gallery and store chock full of high quality arts and crafts. Those are the seven (eight, including Catamount) I know about--there probably are more.
I realize that this is sounding a lot like a travel writer's diary, but before I leave you to discover your own favorite part of St. Johnsbury, I have to mention the hardware store across from Catamount Arts where you can purchase just about anything you could possibly need for your home; the outstanding Elements Restaurant which had no problem accommodating the Council's board, staff and guests for dinner; and--perhaps the biggest surprise of all--the incredibly well-appointed Comfort Inn where several of us stayed.
St. Johnsbury--you really should see it for yourself. It's a great way to start your visit to Vermont's Northeast Kingdom.
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