I admit that despite majoring in English and American Literature and Languages, and spending a great deal of time stumbling and mumbling through “the classics,” poetry usually succeeds in eluding my comprehension. But every now and then something triggers a bizarre “poetry recall” in my brain. Then it’s up to me to figure out the relationship between the experience and the poem and draw some kind of essential life-lesson from it.
anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn’t he danced his did.
Women and men (both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain
When I first read this e.e. cummings poem in high school I thought it little more than a lark—a tour de force—written by a clever man who eschewed all literary and poetical conventions, and whose evident purpose in life was to frustrate my academic aims, such as they were.
But recently I read a story on Bloomberg.com titled Subprime Losses, Slashed Bonuses Threaten Funding to Nonprofits and phrases from this poem started bubbling up in my head. I needed to know why.
children guessed (but only a few
as down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that no one loved him more by more
when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone’s any was all to her
According to the article, many charities, including arts organizations, depend on significant year-end contributions from corporations and their employees to close the income gap of their annual operations. For some, this year-end bounty amounts to as much as 40% of their annual contributed income. This year, the “subprime mortgage situation” (which might be more accurately referred to as The Big Swindle) is resulting in massive “write-downs” (losses) by financial juggernauts like Citigroup and Merrill Lynch.
How much, you ask? $40 billion and counting. These losses will not only affect those corporations’ charitable capacity (Merrill Lynch will most likely cut way back from its 2006 level of $40 million), but it will also mean that the year end bonuses of the management staff who got our money into this mess will be cut by five to fifteen percent. Five to fifteen percent of what, they don’t say. But I think we can assume at least eight figures…
someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then) they
said their nevers they slept their dream
stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)
Something is out of whack here, isn’t it? I am the director of a $1.5 million dollar a year not-for-profit agency in the public trust, and can barely afford cost-of living increases for staff much less a year-end bonus—and that’s in a year when we end up with a positive fund balance. That other people, managing billion-dollar portfolios into a negative balance, can expect a year end bonus at all, much less one that is smaller than last year’s by a mere 15% is nothing short of criminal.
Our expectations, our values, our SOMETHING have all gone topsy-turvy on us—sort of like the language of this poem. $40 billion vanishes with a few strokes of a pen, and charities are made to suffer the consequences...!?!
The wishful-thinking-adolescent me used to think that maybe the poet was under the influence of a controlled substance when he wrote this poem. Now I’m not so sure. In the context of cummings’s verses, this whole subprime mortgage scandal is making a whole lot more sense…
one day anyone died I guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was
all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.
Women and men (both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain.
[anyone lived in a pretty how town by e. e. cummings reprinted with permission of Liveright Publishing Corporation]
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
MARTIN LUTHER KING MEMORIAL
For the past several years a foundation has been set up to oversee the fundraising for and design and construction of a memorial to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. on the Mall in Washington DC about halfway between the Lincoln Memorial and the Jefferson Memorial.
The foundation is well on its way to its $100 million goal, and it recently announced the selection of the artist who would design, construct and oversee the installation of the centerpiece of the memorial—a 4-to 5-ton monolith made of granite on which would be carved images of the civil rights struggle that was Dr. King’s life work and which ultimately transformed America. So far, so good.
Lei Yixin, a well-respected stone carver, perhaps best known for his numerous larger-than-life statues of Chairman Mao Zedong was announced as the lead artist. And the granite that the monument would be made of? Also from China.
If you’re like me, this doesn’t sit well with your sense of the importance of place, of community, and of paying attention to things like symbolic acts. And if you’re like me, you’ll want to do something about it. Something like writing a letter to John Castaldo of the Barre Granite Association and telling him how much you support his efforts to get an American artist using American granite to create this American monument. Better yet, go to the Martin Luther King Memorial Foundation website and where it says “contact us,” and do so. Let them know your thoughts.
The point here is NOT that Lei Yixin is a bad artist. Nor is the point that Chinese granite lacks some essential qualities that can only be found in American—especially Barre—granite. I recall from 9th grade geology that igneous is basically igneous wherever it’s from.
No, the point here is symbolic, which is why it’s become such a cause celebre. Do we believe that Martin Luther King’s monument should be crafted by an artist best known for his representations of one of history’s most repressive dictators? Should five tons of stone be pulled from the ground, carved, and then shipped 10,000 miles because it’s cheaper? What about the carbon footprint of that little task?! What about the insult to all granite quarries and workers throughout the country, of which some of the most notable are literally in our own back yards?
Most important, did anyone think for a moment about what Martin Luther King might have thought of this decision? Or was it purely a “how inexpensively can we get a good looking monument made out of granite” kind of a business decision?
Last week, along with the Governor and many other notables, and as the final act of a two-year “Art in State Buildings” project, we re-dedicated the 133 State Street State Office Building—the big marble one on the west side of the State House Lawn that used to be the headquarters of the National Life Insurance Company. Several people remarked that “they don’t make buildings like this anymore.” There was a time, early in the last century, when we built buildings and erected monuments that mattered simply because of what they represented. National Life was the most important private employer in the State for decades, and their headquarters was built to show off that stature. No expense was spared in building it, and the detail of the ceiling friezes and other decorative touches are matched only by the overwhelmingly solid construction values that allowed the state to occupy the building for more than 40 years with virtually no maintenance. Our 20-year old program added significantly to the interior work spaces with significant works of art commissioned from Elizabeth Billings, Andrea Wasserman, Nick DeFrieze, Emily Mason, and Eric Aho.
Built more than 80 years ago, 133 State Street is a monument to American industry, a monument to the effort of state workers who deliver as best they can on the promise of good government, a monument to the Vermont work ethic, and the visual cornucopia that makes Montpelier a great place to visit. It was built by private industry to last. It will be maintained to serve the public for the foreseeable future.
In a hundred years, what will we say about the Martin Luther King Memorial? That we were too cheap to honor one of the towering Americans of the 20th century with a work created by another American using American materials? I for one, believe that spending a few extra hundred thousand dollars to ensure that its done right, would be a most worthwhile investment.
The foundation is well on its way to its $100 million goal, and it recently announced the selection of the artist who would design, construct and oversee the installation of the centerpiece of the memorial—a 4-to 5-ton monolith made of granite on which would be carved images of the civil rights struggle that was Dr. King’s life work and which ultimately transformed America. So far, so good.
Lei Yixin, a well-respected stone carver, perhaps best known for his numerous larger-than-life statues of Chairman Mao Zedong was announced as the lead artist. And the granite that the monument would be made of? Also from China.
If you’re like me, this doesn’t sit well with your sense of the importance of place, of community, and of paying attention to things like symbolic acts. And if you’re like me, you’ll want to do something about it. Something like writing a letter to John Castaldo of the Barre Granite Association and telling him how much you support his efforts to get an American artist using American granite to create this American monument. Better yet, go to the Martin Luther King Memorial Foundation website and where it says “contact us,” and do so. Let them know your thoughts.
The point here is NOT that Lei Yixin is a bad artist. Nor is the point that Chinese granite lacks some essential qualities that can only be found in American—especially Barre—granite. I recall from 9th grade geology that igneous is basically igneous wherever it’s from.
No, the point here is symbolic, which is why it’s become such a cause celebre. Do we believe that Martin Luther King’s monument should be crafted by an artist best known for his representations of one of history’s most repressive dictators? Should five tons of stone be pulled from the ground, carved, and then shipped 10,000 miles because it’s cheaper? What about the carbon footprint of that little task?! What about the insult to all granite quarries and workers throughout the country, of which some of the most notable are literally in our own back yards?
Most important, did anyone think for a moment about what Martin Luther King might have thought of this decision? Or was it purely a “how inexpensively can we get a good looking monument made out of granite” kind of a business decision?
Last week, along with the Governor and many other notables, and as the final act of a two-year “Art in State Buildings” project, we re-dedicated the 133 State Street State Office Building—the big marble one on the west side of the State House Lawn that used to be the headquarters of the National Life Insurance Company. Several people remarked that “they don’t make buildings like this anymore.” There was a time, early in the last century, when we built buildings and erected monuments that mattered simply because of what they represented. National Life was the most important private employer in the State for decades, and their headquarters was built to show off that stature. No expense was spared in building it, and the detail of the ceiling friezes and other decorative touches are matched only by the overwhelmingly solid construction values that allowed the state to occupy the building for more than 40 years with virtually no maintenance. Our 20-year old program added significantly to the interior work spaces with significant works of art commissioned from Elizabeth Billings, Andrea Wasserman, Nick DeFrieze, Emily Mason, and Eric Aho.
Built more than 80 years ago, 133 State Street is a monument to American industry, a monument to the effort of state workers who deliver as best they can on the promise of good government, a monument to the Vermont work ethic, and the visual cornucopia that makes Montpelier a great place to visit. It was built by private industry to last. It will be maintained to serve the public for the foreseeable future.
In a hundred years, what will we say about the Martin Luther King Memorial? That we were too cheap to honor one of the towering Americans of the 20th century with a work created by another American using American materials? I for one, believe that spending a few extra hundred thousand dollars to ensure that its done right, would be a most worthwhile investment.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
HEART AND SOUL
A few evenings ago I succeeded in traumatizing my children for the second time in less than a week. First we watched a PBS documentary about the latest theories on global warming. By the time my kids are my age, the seas will have risen 25 meters, their Grammy’s house, like the rest of Florida, will be under water, and the resulting dislocation of the hundreds of millions of souls who live less than 50 feet above sea level world-wide will have paralyzed the economic and social structures of our planet.
Then, several nights later, we watched another PBS documentary, this time on the global disappearance of honeybees. No one really knows why, but last year one-third the total population of nature’s “pollinating army” literally disappeared. This phenomenon, known as colony collapse disorder, is apparently the result of a combination of pesticides, starvation, and disease. What was traumatic was learning that, while most grains (corn, rice and wheat) are wind-pollinated, virtually all fruits and vegetables, including nuts are pollinated by honeybees. As the narrator put it, without bees we might all have to learn how to subsist on gruel.
For my kids, that last comment was the kicker. Having been cast this past summer in a local theater production of “Oliver,” subsisting on gruel was the scariest thing anyone could have said.
By way of comforting my kids, I tried to think of how best to put this information in perspective. I thought about buying the best ten acres of arable land and having fun learning with them how to defend it against all comers during what will surely be a brisk period of Armageddon. But none of us wants to leave Montpelier, and none of us likes guns. Then I thought of ignoring the problem and hoping I die before being held accountable. But where does that leave the kids? Then I thought as a family perhaps we should join some radical “earth first” movement. But that won’t work because life has taught me that radical attempts to “fix” large problems often create newer, more complex ones. Finally, I thought of a very neo-conservative solution and decided to join the American Family Association’s effort to remove all public funding from PBS since they’re the reason my kids are now so miserable. You heard me. Kill the messenger.
Okay, so none of the options was particularly attractive.
In between viewing documentaries one and two, I attended a three-day conference in Burlington sponsored by the Orton Family Foundation on community planning, and among many important sessions and conversations with caring, intelligent people, a desire was expressed to capture the essence of and motivation behind the Community Heart and Soul Planning movement. By the end of the conference a manifesto of sorts had been drafted and was circulated for signature among the 300 plus participants.
The first paragraph of the Declaration of Heart and Soul Community Planning reads as follows:
“We the undersigned believe that every community must explore and express what makes it special—its Heart & Soul elements—and with specificity describe those tangible and intangible elements that if lost would fundamentally change the character of their place (emphasis mine). Once articulated and acknowledged, community Heart & Soul serves as the “Bill of Rights and Responsibilities” for citizens as they make decisions about the future.”
The declaration goes on to lay out several guiding principles for what community Heart and Soul stands for, all of which speak to such things as core values, social capital, and a positive vision for the future.
Now it might sound suspiciously like I am advocating for the radical “earth first” fix. That may, in the end be true. But I prefer to call it what it is…embracing the Heart and Soul movement by taking a page out of the Honeybee Playbook.
Honeybees basically do one thing…and do it well. They collect pollen, return to the hive, drop off their pollen load, do a little dance to communicate where the best pickings are, and return for more pollen. They repeat this cycle many times a day, every day until they die. On the occasions that the hive is attacked (by a bear, say), they throw themselves into the fray with a vengeance until the marauder is driven away—sometimes at the cost of the hive, but usually at the cost of several large honeycombs and a few hundred bees.
The Heart and Soul movement gives us humans a way to model this bee-havior. It requires us (the worker bees) to determine, within our own communities (the hive), what we care about. We do our best to provide for our community (collect pollen); to protect it from its enemies (bears); and to make sure that all that is good (the honey) gets passed on to feed future generations who repeat this cycle. [It should be pointed out—with amusement I hope—that male bees do practically nothing except, when necessary, fertilize the queen. Any socio-political lesson to be learned from this, of course, I leave to the imagination of the reader!]
I certainly have no comforting answer for my children about the global problems facing us in the coming fifty or 100 years. But I can help them, teach them, and set an example for them about how to do what’s best for our own community from within.
I think, ultimately, that is what will be our salvation. Each of us, in our own way, will turn to what we each know to be important within our own communities whether “Community” is defined as a place, a region, or people bound by common practice. We must learn how to place a value on that which is important, nurture it, protect it from external attacks, and by doing so, allow it to survive into the future.
Bees don’t think about global politics. They don’t think about moral issues or economic interdependencies. They basically do one thing, and in doing it, set in motion a chain of events that, among other things, results in the food chain at the top of which we sit. We have to imitate their behavior and bind it to the tenets of Heart and Soul community planning with intention, determination, and integrity. We can do this. We must. One person, one community, one hive at a time.
Then, several nights later, we watched another PBS documentary, this time on the global disappearance of honeybees. No one really knows why, but last year one-third the total population of nature’s “pollinating army” literally disappeared. This phenomenon, known as colony collapse disorder, is apparently the result of a combination of pesticides, starvation, and disease. What was traumatic was learning that, while most grains (corn, rice and wheat) are wind-pollinated, virtually all fruits and vegetables, including nuts are pollinated by honeybees. As the narrator put it, without bees we might all have to learn how to subsist on gruel.
For my kids, that last comment was the kicker. Having been cast this past summer in a local theater production of “Oliver,” subsisting on gruel was the scariest thing anyone could have said.
By way of comforting my kids, I tried to think of how best to put this information in perspective. I thought about buying the best ten acres of arable land and having fun learning with them how to defend it against all comers during what will surely be a brisk period of Armageddon. But none of us wants to leave Montpelier, and none of us likes guns. Then I thought of ignoring the problem and hoping I die before being held accountable. But where does that leave the kids? Then I thought as a family perhaps we should join some radical “earth first” movement. But that won’t work because life has taught me that radical attempts to “fix” large problems often create newer, more complex ones. Finally, I thought of a very neo-conservative solution and decided to join the American Family Association’s effort to remove all public funding from PBS since they’re the reason my kids are now so miserable. You heard me. Kill the messenger.
Okay, so none of the options was particularly attractive.
In between viewing documentaries one and two, I attended a three-day conference in Burlington sponsored by the Orton Family Foundation on community planning, and among many important sessions and conversations with caring, intelligent people, a desire was expressed to capture the essence of and motivation behind the Community Heart and Soul Planning movement. By the end of the conference a manifesto of sorts had been drafted and was circulated for signature among the 300 plus participants.
The first paragraph of the Declaration of Heart and Soul Community Planning reads as follows:
“We the undersigned believe that every community must explore and express what makes it special—its Heart & Soul elements—and with specificity describe those tangible and intangible elements that if lost would fundamentally change the character of their place (emphasis mine). Once articulated and acknowledged, community Heart & Soul serves as the “Bill of Rights and Responsibilities” for citizens as they make decisions about the future.”
The declaration goes on to lay out several guiding principles for what community Heart and Soul stands for, all of which speak to such things as core values, social capital, and a positive vision for the future.
Now it might sound suspiciously like I am advocating for the radical “earth first” fix. That may, in the end be true. But I prefer to call it what it is…embracing the Heart and Soul movement by taking a page out of the Honeybee Playbook.
Honeybees basically do one thing…and do it well. They collect pollen, return to the hive, drop off their pollen load, do a little dance to communicate where the best pickings are, and return for more pollen. They repeat this cycle many times a day, every day until they die. On the occasions that the hive is attacked (by a bear, say), they throw themselves into the fray with a vengeance until the marauder is driven away—sometimes at the cost of the hive, but usually at the cost of several large honeycombs and a few hundred bees.
The Heart and Soul movement gives us humans a way to model this bee-havior. It requires us (the worker bees) to determine, within our own communities (the hive), what we care about. We do our best to provide for our community (collect pollen); to protect it from its enemies (bears); and to make sure that all that is good (the honey) gets passed on to feed future generations who repeat this cycle. [It should be pointed out—with amusement I hope—that male bees do practically nothing except, when necessary, fertilize the queen. Any socio-political lesson to be learned from this, of course, I leave to the imagination of the reader!]
I certainly have no comforting answer for my children about the global problems facing us in the coming fifty or 100 years. But I can help them, teach them, and set an example for them about how to do what’s best for our own community from within.
I think, ultimately, that is what will be our salvation. Each of us, in our own way, will turn to what we each know to be important within our own communities whether “Community” is defined as a place, a region, or people bound by common practice. We must learn how to place a value on that which is important, nurture it, protect it from external attacks, and by doing so, allow it to survive into the future.
Bees don’t think about global politics. They don’t think about moral issues or economic interdependencies. They basically do one thing, and in doing it, set in motion a chain of events that, among other things, results in the food chain at the top of which we sit. We have to imitate their behavior and bind it to the tenets of Heart and Soul community planning with intention, determination, and integrity. We can do this. We must. One person, one community, one hive at a time.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
WHEN REICH IS WRONG
In an October 1 Opinion piece published by the Los Angeles Times, former Clinton Secretary of Labor Robert B. Reich showed to the world just how quickly someone once at the center of American political life can lose touch with reality. He proposed cutting the tax deductibility of contributions to universities and arts institutions in half because…”let’s face it: These aren’t really charitable contributions. They’re often investments in the lifestyles the wealthy already enjoy and want their children to have too. They’re also investments in prestige—especially if they result in the family name being engraved on the new wing of an art museum or symphony hall.”
He particularly focuses on Harvard University’s $30 billion plus endowment and a Lincoln Center Gala supported by hedge-fund leaders who make up to $1 billion a year.
He goes on to propose the following “modest proposal. At a time when the number of needy continues to rise, when government doesn’t have the money to do what’s necessary for them and when America’s very rich are richer than ever, we should revise the tax code: Focus the charitable deduction on real charities” (ones that, according to Reich, actually serve the poor).
Wow. This thesis just cries for a reasoned response. But where do I start?
Maybe I should ask first what could possibly have caused the government to not have the money to do what’s necessary “for them” (the poor) or to have made America’s very rich “richer than ever.” But, nah, that would be too cheap a shot and WAY too political.
Maybe I should point out that three years ago Harvard completed the transition to need-blind and legacy-blind admissions and furthermore, because of its endowment, is now able to cover the entire tuition, room, and board cost of any student whose parents are unable to contribute towards those costs. How’s that for a response to Reich’s assumptions about Harvard serving only legacies of wealthy donors and not serving the needs of the poor? On second thought, that might lead him to accuse Harvard of being the exception that proves the rule--despite the fact that Harvard’s actions are not, at this point, all that exceptional.
But wait, there’s more to Harvard (and other “elite institutions of higher learning”) than money and legacies: what about the research it does that the government can’t do and the private sector won’t do without a sufficient profit-motive? Shall we “just say no” to all that?
So let’s take the argument to a local level. Should we (the public) stop supporting River Arts in Morrisville through a combination of public funds and tax-deductible contributions simply because the services it provides to everyone in its community are arts-based? How about the services of Vermont Arts Exchange, Rockingham Art and Museum Project, the Chaffee, the Chandler, NEK Arts, and countless others? Why stop there? How about pulling the plug on all public and tax-deductible support for community economic development that involves the arts: destroy the Creative Economy in Vermont right at its source?
I could run us all through a quick review of all the great programs and services currently at work in Vermont communities, including Head Start programs, health care, identified schools, corrections, recreation and scores of others, each of which is arts-based and each of which would blast Reich’s thesis to smithereens. But that would still avoid what I believe is the most important question that we should be asking of ourselves and each other:
What exactly do we want our generation’s legacy to be, as framed by the actions of our government and the uses to which charitable contributions from our wealthy citizens is put? Put another way, what do we want—as a citizenry—the direct and indirect impact of government funding to result in?
My personal opinion is that our government should be a reflection of how we want to be governed. It should manage our public safety. It should regulate industries that have a tendency to pollute our streams, our air, our airwaves, etc. It should provide for those who can’t provide for themselves. And (here’s the kicker) it should support those institutions who serve as beacons of hope, of innovation, of creativity, of knowledge and understanding—because it is they who inspire us and who lead us forward into the future. Their work is more often built on a dream or a vision, and not on a well-documented market need. Their inventions and services belong to all of us because their work tends to be in “the public good.” Thus, their work depends on direct (tax support) and indirect (tax deductible contributions) from our government.
In Robert Reich’s world-view, there appears to be no room for all the positive things for which the government can and should take some responsibility. Is he really that cynical? Or is he that out of touch with what is really happening. Mr. Reich…before you write another opinion piece, please come to Vermont. I’ll be happy to show you a lot of government-supported, arts-based activities that will surely change your world-view just a little.
He particularly focuses on Harvard University’s $30 billion plus endowment and a Lincoln Center Gala supported by hedge-fund leaders who make up to $1 billion a year.
He goes on to propose the following “modest proposal. At a time when the number of needy continues to rise, when government doesn’t have the money to do what’s necessary for them and when America’s very rich are richer than ever, we should revise the tax code: Focus the charitable deduction on real charities” (ones that, according to Reich, actually serve the poor).
Wow. This thesis just cries for a reasoned response. But where do I start?
Maybe I should ask first what could possibly have caused the government to not have the money to do what’s necessary “for them” (the poor) or to have made America’s very rich “richer than ever.” But, nah, that would be too cheap a shot and WAY too political.
Maybe I should point out that three years ago Harvard completed the transition to need-blind and legacy-blind admissions and furthermore, because of its endowment, is now able to cover the entire tuition, room, and board cost of any student whose parents are unable to contribute towards those costs. How’s that for a response to Reich’s assumptions about Harvard serving only legacies of wealthy donors and not serving the needs of the poor? On second thought, that might lead him to accuse Harvard of being the exception that proves the rule--despite the fact that Harvard’s actions are not, at this point, all that exceptional.
But wait, there’s more to Harvard (and other “elite institutions of higher learning”) than money and legacies: what about the research it does that the government can’t do and the private sector won’t do without a sufficient profit-motive? Shall we “just say no” to all that?
So let’s take the argument to a local level. Should we (the public) stop supporting River Arts in Morrisville through a combination of public funds and tax-deductible contributions simply because the services it provides to everyone in its community are arts-based? How about the services of Vermont Arts Exchange, Rockingham Art and Museum Project, the Chaffee, the Chandler, NEK Arts, and countless others? Why stop there? How about pulling the plug on all public and tax-deductible support for community economic development that involves the arts: destroy the Creative Economy in Vermont right at its source?
I could run us all through a quick review of all the great programs and services currently at work in Vermont communities, including Head Start programs, health care, identified schools, corrections, recreation and scores of others, each of which is arts-based and each of which would blast Reich’s thesis to smithereens. But that would still avoid what I believe is the most important question that we should be asking of ourselves and each other:
What exactly do we want our generation’s legacy to be, as framed by the actions of our government and the uses to which charitable contributions from our wealthy citizens is put? Put another way, what do we want—as a citizenry—the direct and indirect impact of government funding to result in?
My personal opinion is that our government should be a reflection of how we want to be governed. It should manage our public safety. It should regulate industries that have a tendency to pollute our streams, our air, our airwaves, etc. It should provide for those who can’t provide for themselves. And (here’s the kicker) it should support those institutions who serve as beacons of hope, of innovation, of creativity, of knowledge and understanding—because it is they who inspire us and who lead us forward into the future. Their work is more often built on a dream or a vision, and not on a well-documented market need. Their inventions and services belong to all of us because their work tends to be in “the public good.” Thus, their work depends on direct (tax support) and indirect (tax deductible contributions) from our government.
In Robert Reich’s world-view, there appears to be no room for all the positive things for which the government can and should take some responsibility. Is he really that cynical? Or is he that out of touch with what is really happening. Mr. Reich…before you write another opinion piece, please come to Vermont. I’ll be happy to show you a lot of government-supported, arts-based activities that will surely change your world-view just a little.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
STAND UP FOR FALL
A few years ago, Ellen McCulloch-Lovell, President of Marlboro College, told a group of arts presenters that it was likely going to be the artist community who first finds the courage to ask the difficult questions about the state of our world. As I recall, she was referring to the conflicts in the Middle East and Southern Asia. But drilling for oil in the Alaskan Wildlife Refuge—an environmental issue if there ever was one—was also big back then as was the No Child Left Behind (NCLB) education act and the National Endowment for the Arts’ (NEA) budget.
I have no problem sharing my negative opinions about NCLB and my positive opinions about the NEA because those things directly impact the arts. But until now, I have felt it inappropriate to share my opinions about global economic and political issues. What has changed?
Vermont’s foliage, that’s what.
For years my wife and I have looked forward to September; kids back at school, crisp mornings, warm afternoons, great hiking, and of course, the foliage. Almost nothing beats September in Vermont—except possibly October. For the last couple of years however, we have noticed that the colors haven’t been as vibrant as they once were.
At first, I thought it was yet another symptom of middle age—the rods (or is it the cones?) on my retina must not be as responsive as they once were, surely. Perhaps my own increasingly faulty memory has imbued past fall seasons with far more resplendent chromatic displays than they deserved.
This year, however, I finally have to come clean. I am a musician by training, but as the Executive Director of the Vermont Arts Council I am viewed by many as a spokesperson for all the arts. But the artist in me has to admit, at long last, that the colors are bad; dull, brown, and crispy.
What is going on?
Last week the Times Argus wrote an article on a leaf fungus called Anthracnose, a blight that evidently has been around for ages. This year is supposedly “good” in that Anthracnose levels are far lower this year than in recent years. Okay. I’ll accept that on its face, but if Anthracnose is the culprit, why are the leaves worse this year than ever? Could it be something else? Acid rain? Warm temperatures? All of the above?
The obvious threats to our environment and our collective reluctance to call crispy-fried foliage by its true name—a nightmare—has at last awakened the sleeping beast in me. Now it is my turn to enter into this fray because if I don’t, I will not be able to stare at myself in the mirror every colorless morning for the remainder of this pathetic fall season.
I am not a scientist. I am not even a native Vermonter. But I am somewhat observant, and I listen to my friends who are sugarmakers. I hear their stories of dying sugar maple trees. I see the evidence myself—there is one on my block that can’t be more than 30 years old (shouldn’t they live to be 150?). I’m really not trying to make a political statement here, after all dying maple trees and dusky brown leaves have been creeping up on us for at least a generation and impact all of us, regardless of whether we vote red or blue (or orange or yellow).
Are we going to have to wait until the oceans are lapping at the steps of the Metropolitan Museum or drowning the Old North Church before the masses wake up and do something? It doesn’t matter whether it was Shakespeare or some other playwright who made the phrase “sound the alarums” famous. We just have to get busy and start sounding them…
The environmental decay, of which this fall’s foliage is but a symptom, affects us all—regardless of your position on global warming. Al Gore and Bill McKibben are not the issue. Your own senses are. Trust them.
It doesn’t take a lot of courage to stand up for fall. If you’re like me, you’ll do it because you miss the colors.
I have no problem sharing my negative opinions about NCLB and my positive opinions about the NEA because those things directly impact the arts. But until now, I have felt it inappropriate to share my opinions about global economic and political issues. What has changed?
Vermont’s foliage, that’s what.
For years my wife and I have looked forward to September; kids back at school, crisp mornings, warm afternoons, great hiking, and of course, the foliage. Almost nothing beats September in Vermont—except possibly October. For the last couple of years however, we have noticed that the colors haven’t been as vibrant as they once were.
At first, I thought it was yet another symptom of middle age—the rods (or is it the cones?) on my retina must not be as responsive as they once were, surely. Perhaps my own increasingly faulty memory has imbued past fall seasons with far more resplendent chromatic displays than they deserved.
This year, however, I finally have to come clean. I am a musician by training, but as the Executive Director of the Vermont Arts Council I am viewed by many as a spokesperson for all the arts. But the artist in me has to admit, at long last, that the colors are bad; dull, brown, and crispy.
What is going on?
Last week the Times Argus wrote an article on a leaf fungus called Anthracnose, a blight that evidently has been around for ages. This year is supposedly “good” in that Anthracnose levels are far lower this year than in recent years. Okay. I’ll accept that on its face, but if Anthracnose is the culprit, why are the leaves worse this year than ever? Could it be something else? Acid rain? Warm temperatures? All of the above?
The obvious threats to our environment and our collective reluctance to call crispy-fried foliage by its true name—a nightmare—has at last awakened the sleeping beast in me. Now it is my turn to enter into this fray because if I don’t, I will not be able to stare at myself in the mirror every colorless morning for the remainder of this pathetic fall season.
I am not a scientist. I am not even a native Vermonter. But I am somewhat observant, and I listen to my friends who are sugarmakers. I hear their stories of dying sugar maple trees. I see the evidence myself—there is one on my block that can’t be more than 30 years old (shouldn’t they live to be 150?). I’m really not trying to make a political statement here, after all dying maple trees and dusky brown leaves have been creeping up on us for at least a generation and impact all of us, regardless of whether we vote red or blue (or orange or yellow).
Are we going to have to wait until the oceans are lapping at the steps of the Metropolitan Museum or drowning the Old North Church before the masses wake up and do something? It doesn’t matter whether it was Shakespeare or some other playwright who made the phrase “sound the alarums” famous. We just have to get busy and start sounding them…
The environmental decay, of which this fall’s foliage is but a symptom, affects us all—regardless of your position on global warming. Al Gore and Bill McKibben are not the issue. Your own senses are. Trust them.
It doesn’t take a lot of courage to stand up for fall. If you’re like me, you’ll do it because you miss the colors.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
WHO DECIDES WHAT
Since the beginning of our fiscal year (July 1) the Arts Council has awarded 52 competitive grants to artists, arts organizations, schools and community groups. These awards were made at the recommendation of several panels who were gathered by staff from around the state to sit and review applications and make their recommendations to the Council’s Board of Trustees. Fifty-two applicants have thus far received good news. They are, for the most part, happy. But what about the 59 applicants who were not recommended for funding? How are they feeling?
Disappointed, to say the least, and in some cases angry. But the most prevalent reaction is frustration. Most people contact us when they don’t get a grant to find out why. (It’s interesting to note how many successful applicants do the same!). Inevitably they ask how many were funded out of how many applications. The answer is almost always a smaller percentage than seems possible.
What happens in the Arts Council panel meetings? Who actually chooses which applicants get funded, and which do not? These are just two of many questions about the Council’s grant process that we field every year. Some are based on assumptions people have about art, about the Council, and about people who appear to have a special “in.” Others are based on the disappointment of not getting funded at all, or getting only partial funding.
So let’s deal with some of these questions and assumptions.
Assumption: “If you know someone at the Arts Council, you’re far more likely to get a grant.”
Fact: The most influential people in the competitive grant decision process are the “peer-panelists.” These are people who are gathered for the various panels based on their availability, their expertise, the fact that they have no conflicts of interest with people applying, and their general knowledge of the arts and of Vermont. We also pay attention—all else being equal—to geographic and gender diversity whenever possible.
The role of a panelist is to familiarize themselves with the applications, understand the review criteria, and apply Council policies (such as no conflicts of interest) where appropriate in making their recommendations. Council staff’s role is to keep the panel on task and on time, to take notes of the discussion for applicant feedback, and to make sure trustees receive panel recommendations in a timely fashion. The trustees’ role is to ask questions if anything seems out of the ordinary and to direct staff in those rare instances where a panel recommendation is not taken. In my 10 years at the Arts Council, trustees have overturned only one panel recommendation and that was because the organization in question went out of business between the time the application was reviewed and the trustees met.
So, to be clear, the Arts Council staff doesn’t make grant decisions; panelists and trustees do. Having said that, however, I admit that there is one way that knowing our staff will help your application quite a lot.
Someone who has called the Council's program staff (Michele, Sonia, or Stacy or even, God help them, me!) for advice on what program to apply for, or how much to request, or what kind of support materials to include will no doubt fare better in the review process than someone who hasn’t. Does this mean that our word is gospel? No. It means that we see a lot of panel discussions and we have a sense of what tends to be important to a panel and what tends to be not so important. Someone who asks questions is more likely to fare better than someone who doesn’t or who, worse, makes an assumption and acts accordingly. In every case, whether you don’t get funding or not, we encourage you to ask for the panel’s feedback. It’s a key part of becoming a better grant writer
Assumption: “The same people get funded every year so there’s no point in applying.”
Fact: While it is true that some arts organizations' and cultural organizations' grants tend to crop up again and again, this is not so much a reflection of the review process as it is a reflection of the consistently high caliber of these particular applicants—arts institutions whose names come readily to everyone’s lips. I’d even go a step further—it is because of their consistently high standards that they have become institutions worthy of our funding.
As for educational grants, while there are many great artists who would like to teach, there are still relatively few artists who have achieved a level of mastery in their art form AND an understanding of the issues that all Vermont public school educators deal with in the “Vermont Framework of Standards…” and “No Child Left Behind.” But if a school can demonstrate how an artist fits perfectly into their curriculum, then—yes, you probably have a better chance of receiving funding than another school that doesn't have that level of preparation.
But getting back to the accusation that underlies the assumption: that there exists a cabal of arts-funding decision makers who have their favorite group of “go-to” grantees. The truth is that even those institutions that seemingly get a grant every year don’t! Instead, even they fall victim to the biggest problem the Arts Council faces: a lack of funding.
Reality: Lack of funding is by far the most significant reason why more grants aren't funded or funded in full.
The legislative appropriation the Arts Council receives for our grant budget has stagnated for 10 years while the rest of state government has grown 30%.
How can you help change this? Become an advocate! Contact your legislators and let them know you care about the health of the arts in Vermont. Invite them to be your guest at a concert or a play in your community that has received Council funding. Or, perhaps more notably, take them to an event or visit an organization that would have benefied from receiving grant funding.
The Council will thank you and, more importantly, so will all those folks that didn’t get funding they hoped for.
Disappointed, to say the least, and in some cases angry. But the most prevalent reaction is frustration. Most people contact us when they don’t get a grant to find out why. (It’s interesting to note how many successful applicants do the same!). Inevitably they ask how many were funded out of how many applications. The answer is almost always a smaller percentage than seems possible.
What happens in the Arts Council panel meetings? Who actually chooses which applicants get funded, and which do not? These are just two of many questions about the Council’s grant process that we field every year. Some are based on assumptions people have about art, about the Council, and about people who appear to have a special “in.” Others are based on the disappointment of not getting funded at all, or getting only partial funding.
So let’s deal with some of these questions and assumptions.
Assumption: “If you know someone at the Arts Council, you’re far more likely to get a grant.”
Fact: The most influential people in the competitive grant decision process are the “peer-panelists.” These are people who are gathered for the various panels based on their availability, their expertise, the fact that they have no conflicts of interest with people applying, and their general knowledge of the arts and of Vermont. We also pay attention—all else being equal—to geographic and gender diversity whenever possible.
The role of a panelist is to familiarize themselves with the applications, understand the review criteria, and apply Council policies (such as no conflicts of interest) where appropriate in making their recommendations. Council staff’s role is to keep the panel on task and on time, to take notes of the discussion for applicant feedback, and to make sure trustees receive panel recommendations in a timely fashion. The trustees’ role is to ask questions if anything seems out of the ordinary and to direct staff in those rare instances where a panel recommendation is not taken. In my 10 years at the Arts Council, trustees have overturned only one panel recommendation and that was because the organization in question went out of business between the time the application was reviewed and the trustees met.
So, to be clear, the Arts Council staff doesn’t make grant decisions; panelists and trustees do. Having said that, however, I admit that there is one way that knowing our staff will help your application quite a lot.
Someone who has called the Council's program staff (Michele, Sonia, or Stacy or even, God help them, me!) for advice on what program to apply for, or how much to request, or what kind of support materials to include will no doubt fare better in the review process than someone who hasn’t. Does this mean that our word is gospel? No. It means that we see a lot of panel discussions and we have a sense of what tends to be important to a panel and what tends to be not so important. Someone who asks questions is more likely to fare better than someone who doesn’t or who, worse, makes an assumption and acts accordingly. In every case, whether you don’t get funding or not, we encourage you to ask for the panel’s feedback. It’s a key part of becoming a better grant writer
Assumption: “The same people get funded every year so there’s no point in applying.”
Fact: While it is true that some arts organizations' and cultural organizations' grants tend to crop up again and again, this is not so much a reflection of the review process as it is a reflection of the consistently high caliber of these particular applicants—arts institutions whose names come readily to everyone’s lips. I’d even go a step further—it is because of their consistently high standards that they have become institutions worthy of our funding.
As for educational grants, while there are many great artists who would like to teach, there are still relatively few artists who have achieved a level of mastery in their art form AND an understanding of the issues that all Vermont public school educators deal with in the “Vermont Framework of Standards…” and “No Child Left Behind.” But if a school can demonstrate how an artist fits perfectly into their curriculum, then—yes, you probably have a better chance of receiving funding than another school that doesn't have that level of preparation.
But getting back to the accusation that underlies the assumption: that there exists a cabal of arts-funding decision makers who have their favorite group of “go-to” grantees. The truth is that even those institutions that seemingly get a grant every year don’t! Instead, even they fall victim to the biggest problem the Arts Council faces: a lack of funding.
Reality: Lack of funding is by far the most significant reason why more grants aren't funded or funded in full.
The legislative appropriation the Arts Council receives for our grant budget has stagnated for 10 years while the rest of state government has grown 30%.
How can you help change this? Become an advocate! Contact your legislators and let them know you care about the health of the arts in Vermont. Invite them to be your guest at a concert or a play in your community that has received Council funding. Or, perhaps more notably, take them to an event or visit an organization that would have benefied from receiving grant funding.
The Council will thank you and, more importantly, so will all those folks that didn’t get funding they hoped for.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
SUPPORT THE NEA
In Vermont, we have a very strong and independent-minded Congressional delegation whose legacy includes being among the staunchest supporters of our tiny Federal Arts Agency. During the darkest days of the early 1990s the Vermont delegation was among the small minority that stood up to the powers trying to eliminate the NEA.
This was not true of the delegations from many other states. Although the NEA’s detractors are diminishing in numbers, there are still quite a few who, despite all our best efforts to educate and inform them, still have residual feelings of ill-will towards the agency, feelings that are even more misplaced now than they were during the worst of the culture wars from 1988 to 1996.
In the decade since it was “punished” by Congress and its appropriation cut 40%, the NEA, like the field it serves, has transformed itself. It no longer simply responds to requests for support from artists and arts organizations, most of which thrive in our major population centers. It actually reaches out and cultivates the arts in all corners of our country. In the last couple of years it has finally made good on its promise to award at least one grant to a constituent in every one of the 435 Congressional districts throughout the country—including the District of Columbia, Guam, Puerto Rico, the Marianas, the Virgin Islands, and American Samoa.
More importantly it has built on the “grassroots” legacy of former NEA Chair Bill Ivey and greatly improved its “brand identity” under the leadership of its current Chair, Dana Gioia. As a former brand manager for General Foods (word has it that he was responsible for introducing Bill Cosby to Jell-o Pudding Pops), Gioia has taken the NEA to a new level of participatory art-making and engagement. Projects like Poetry Out Loud, American Masterpieces, and The Big Read have made the arts more accessible to a much broader segment of the American populace than they ever were before. Sure there is probably not as much money going to symphonies, or opera houses as there was in 1992. But then, how could there be? The NEA’s budget is $50 million less now than it was then ($130 million if you factor in inflation)!
But the tide is turning back in the Arts’ favor. The House of Representatives wants to increase the NEA’s budget by $33 million—not because “punishment time” is over, but because the NEA and its network of regional and state partners (which includes the Vermont Arts Council) are, through the arts, making a positive difference in the lives of people throughout the country.
I have a request for everyone reading this column, and especially to those who are from out-of-state.
We need the Senate to follow suit and support the House’s recommendation. Right now the Senate has recommended a $10 million increase. That’s not a bad amount in the context of previous small increases, but it’s nowhere near $33 million. If the House version gets passed it means an increase to state arts agencies of at least $200,000. If the Senate version passes, it’ll mean an increase of about $70,000. I say the House version looks better.
In Vermont, we’re pretty confident that our two Senators understand the importance of supporting the arts in our communities and our lives. But what about the rest of the country?
If you are reading this in Vermont, please do two things. First, contact Senators Leahy and Sanders and politely remind them that you are counting on their support for the House version of the NEA appropriation, but more importantly to thank them for their leadership and support for the NEA over the years. Also, thank Congressman Welch for actually voting for the $33 million increase! Second, please contact everyone you know in other states asking them if they would consider writing a personal email to their Senators to support the House version of the NEA appropriation.
If you are not a Vermont resident and you are reading this, or it has been forwarded to you by a friend who is a Vermonter, please take a moment to contact your Senators and help them to understand just how important the arts are to your life and to your community. It doesn’t matter whether you are in northern Maine or southern California. The arts reach everyone, everywhere, all the time.
Over the years, I have witnessed many conversations on Capitol Hill in Washington, D.C. One bears repeating. A Congressman (not from Vermont) said, “I walked back to my office and checked to see how the letters were running on this issue. There were a grand total of three: two in favor, one against. I returned to the Chamber and voted in favor stating for the record that my mail was running two-to-one in favor of the bill!”
Your email WILL make a difference, especially if it’s from you and unencumbered by a lot of excess verbiage that our wonderful lobbyists in D.C. like to make sure get included in such messages. All you have to do is say "Please support the House version of the NEA appropriation, because . . ." and then tell your Senators a story about why the arts matter to you or to your community. The more personal the better.
Some need a lot of education, some simply need reminding. Either way, they deserve our personal thanks and best wishes, and our communities deserve more art.
This was not true of the delegations from many other states. Although the NEA’s detractors are diminishing in numbers, there are still quite a few who, despite all our best efforts to educate and inform them, still have residual feelings of ill-will towards the agency, feelings that are even more misplaced now than they were during the worst of the culture wars from 1988 to 1996.
In the decade since it was “punished” by Congress and its appropriation cut 40%, the NEA, like the field it serves, has transformed itself. It no longer simply responds to requests for support from artists and arts organizations, most of which thrive in our major population centers. It actually reaches out and cultivates the arts in all corners of our country. In the last couple of years it has finally made good on its promise to award at least one grant to a constituent in every one of the 435 Congressional districts throughout the country—including the District of Columbia, Guam, Puerto Rico, the Marianas, the Virgin Islands, and American Samoa.
More importantly it has built on the “grassroots” legacy of former NEA Chair Bill Ivey and greatly improved its “brand identity” under the leadership of its current Chair, Dana Gioia. As a former brand manager for General Foods (word has it that he was responsible for introducing Bill Cosby to Jell-o Pudding Pops), Gioia has taken the NEA to a new level of participatory art-making and engagement. Projects like Poetry Out Loud, American Masterpieces, and The Big Read have made the arts more accessible to a much broader segment of the American populace than they ever were before. Sure there is probably not as much money going to symphonies, or opera houses as there was in 1992. But then, how could there be? The NEA’s budget is $50 million less now than it was then ($130 million if you factor in inflation)!
But the tide is turning back in the Arts’ favor. The House of Representatives wants to increase the NEA’s budget by $33 million—not because “punishment time” is over, but because the NEA and its network of regional and state partners (which includes the Vermont Arts Council) are, through the arts, making a positive difference in the lives of people throughout the country.
I have a request for everyone reading this column, and especially to those who are from out-of-state.
We need the Senate to follow suit and support the House’s recommendation. Right now the Senate has recommended a $10 million increase. That’s not a bad amount in the context of previous small increases, but it’s nowhere near $33 million. If the House version gets passed it means an increase to state arts agencies of at least $200,000. If the Senate version passes, it’ll mean an increase of about $70,000. I say the House version looks better.
In Vermont, we’re pretty confident that our two Senators understand the importance of supporting the arts in our communities and our lives. But what about the rest of the country?
If you are reading this in Vermont, please do two things. First, contact Senators Leahy and Sanders and politely remind them that you are counting on their support for the House version of the NEA appropriation, but more importantly to thank them for their leadership and support for the NEA over the years. Also, thank Congressman Welch for actually voting for the $33 million increase! Second, please contact everyone you know in other states asking them if they would consider writing a personal email to their Senators to support the House version of the NEA appropriation.
If you are not a Vermont resident and you are reading this, or it has been forwarded to you by a friend who is a Vermonter, please take a moment to contact your Senators and help them to understand just how important the arts are to your life and to your community. It doesn’t matter whether you are in northern Maine or southern California. The arts reach everyone, everywhere, all the time.
Over the years, I have witnessed many conversations on Capitol Hill in Washington, D.C. One bears repeating. A Congressman (not from Vermont) said, “I walked back to my office and checked to see how the letters were running on this issue. There were a grand total of three: two in favor, one against. I returned to the Chamber and voted in favor stating for the record that my mail was running two-to-one in favor of the bill!”
Your email WILL make a difference, especially if it’s from you and unencumbered by a lot of excess verbiage that our wonderful lobbyists in D.C. like to make sure get included in such messages. All you have to do is say "Please support the House version of the NEA appropriation, because . . ." and then tell your Senators a story about why the arts matter to you or to your community. The more personal the better.
Some need a lot of education, some simply need reminding. Either way, they deserve our personal thanks and best wishes, and our communities deserve more art.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
