Last week, a colleague and I were yapping about the latest whittling at the Oregonian. Like lots of other folks, we speculated about the future of the Fourth Estate in general and the diminution of local arts coverage in particular. You see, in the latest round of paring, long-time arts writer and editor, Barry Johnson, accepted management’s buy-out offer, opting to dive into the brave new world of whatever.
The arts community (whatever that is) generally agrees that Mr. Johnson’s departure is a loss for the Oregonian and for civilization, though we’re confident that his next endeavor will be bright and shiny and smart. To divine what that next project may be we’ve been parsing his comments on Twitter, Facebook and elsewhere. We’re seeing hints of some kind of nonprofit arts journalism enterprise. We’re waiting … our breaths bated. As we learn more, we’ll keep you posted.
My colleague concluded our speculative conversation about Mr. Johnson’s plans by saying, “It’s like that Tom Wait’s song …” This is the song (really more of a poem)to which she referred:
Showing posts with label arts coverage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label arts coverage. Show all posts
Mondays aren't all bad
Although I have recently proclaimed my affinity for Fridays, I realize that’s so very predictable, and I wanted to say that there is something to be said for Mondays. First of all, it’s the day that The Oregonian’s arts and culture coverage, printed, shines most. Four great features on this particular day:
- "Portland's creative class at an economic crossroad," by D.K. Row
- "Arts groups might want to invite Shiva to take a meeting," by Barry Johnson
- "Oregon Cultural Trust awards grants," by D.K. Row
- "Festival finale charms with diverse playlist," by David Stabler
Mondays also tend to be the most friendly morning in the office, as people visit with each other a little longer than usual before delving into their email boxes to delete all of the spam that came in over the weekend. Today there seem to be two primary topics around the water faucet (we don’t have a water cooler): How are you surviving the heat, and did you see anything at JAW?
I was there in the crowd that filled the lobby of the Gerding Theater on Friday afternoon, one of 400 who came for the 4:00 reading of Marc Acito’s new play, Birds of a Feather. It was a who’s who of the theater and literary community, and I counted at least 25 of my facebook friends there -- happy to see that some of them really existed.
When they finally let us in, Chris Coleman welcomed the crowd and gave some nice kudos to the talented staff who had developed this festival from its humble beginnings. Twelve years ago, Robin and I wrote the first grants to the NEA and the Paul Allen Foundation to help get things started, and eleven years ago the first festival took the stage in the Winningstad Theater under the guidance of Jim Nicola of the New York Theater Workshop. That first year really was pretty darn exciting for a company that had focused intensely on mostly classics in the past, and subsequent years have had their ups and downs. But my, how far it has come -- to have 400 people sitting in the theater at 4:00 on a Friday afternoon. And not just any 400 people, but a great cross-section of the creative community in general, and the theater community in particular. Very nice.
The play itself proved perfectly fun for a Friday afternoon. Ripped from the headlines of the New York Times and elsewhere, “Birds of a Feather” concerns the curious nature of two gay penguins and a few other related story lines woven it – but like Central Park Zoo itself, we really came to see the penguins, right? And yes, for those of you who wondered, Marc did change the ending in real time to reflect last week’s news that one of the world’s best known gay penguin couples, having nested together for 6 years, “broke up.”
Now if you’ve read any of Marc’s novels, or heard him on NPR, then you know he’s got the one-liners down pat. There were a lot of hearty belly-laughs, and the story also nailed some of the catharsis you want in an evening of theater – the gentle affection of the opening scene, for instance. But I couldn’t help feeling that sometimes subtlety would have worked much better than the overtness on display in the middle of the play. Perhaps it’s a matter of understanding your audience a little better and not trying to appeal to the masses – I venture to guess that 95% of the audience who would pay money for a play about gay penguins already knows that homosexuality is not a violation of nature, so I was surprised at the amount of time we spent investigating this. Or perhaps it’s just that a more interesting theatrical device could be used rather than having the characters deliver the most obvious of statements out loud (like, a zookeeper who says, “nearly every animal species has been known to have gay sex!” or something roughly that plain). Perhaps what I liked most about the play was how nature forced and Marc delivered a nice ending that wasn’t so black and white – and without being tempted by the “homewrecker” storyline possibilities.
I didn’t stay for the talkback – the coast was calling me – so I don’t know if this was addressed, but my biggest concern is that for some reason when Marc Acito writes about certain sexual acts, the audience groans uncomfortably. Some of it’s poor word choice on Marc’s part; a few adjectives and nouns that were intended to shock us felt cheap instead, and had the unintended consequence of undermining the poetry that was on display elsewhere in the script. Now I like good sex talk as much as the next guy, but I’d urge for a little more careful crafting. On Sunday, for example, we heard a play involving sex with swans, and fantasies about cats, that had us rolling the aisles with guilty laughter because of the playwright’s keen awareness of human reaction to every carefully chosen word.
In opting for the coast I knew I’d be missing some gems, and since my return I have heard very good things about several of the readings, “The Japanese Play” (Translation: Concerning Strange Devices from the Distant West) in particular. Curious to hear from any readers who have any impressions to share. I did return from the cooler coastal temperatures and migrating whales in time to catch 99 Ways to Fuck A Swan, written by Kimberly Rosenstock and directed by Rose Riordan.
Inspired by the Greek myth of Leda and the Swan, and Michelangelo’s lost painting of it, Rosenstock possesses an aforementioned command of dialogue and storytelling that turns art into sex and sex into poetry, helping build a play that is classical fantasy and modern realism all at once. Pure storytelling at its best, and it didn’t hurt that the company of actors were both poignant and hilarious. I quite liked it, although I must confess that I along with many in the audience got a little drowsy toward the end. The play might have been overlong by about 15 minutes, or maybe we all had just had so much darn art in one weekend that we couldn’t really sustain it much past 10:00PM on a Sunday night.
On a final note this Monday morning, we join the rest of the arts community in mourning the loss of Merce Cunningham, who passed away overnight. I feel extremely lucky to have experienced first-hand his expressionist style of movement that was so different than all the rest, only because White Bird brought the company to town. Stephen Marc Beaudoin has covered this nicely over at Blogtown, including a nice remembrance by Walter Jaffe.
Op-Ed Up-Tick
One of the benefits of having a major arts organization almost go under is that it increases awareness about the value of the arts. In the past month or so, and as recently as this morning, four major opinion pieces have been published by The Oregonian (one, two, three, four); one in the Portland Business Journal; several letters to the editor in all of the papers; and an OPB radio program dedicated to the topic.
So here we are again, addressing the most fundamental of questions, "Why art?" I didn't like the way Emily Harris approached this question on OPB -- I found her more an annoying irritant than a thoughtful devil's advocate, the way she would not relent on questions that were not designed to enlighten but rather to divide -- questions like, exactly how much should go to major arts organizations vs. the smaller ones?, and, which arts organizations in our community are acting irresponsibly? You are all free to speculate on such matters, but it's either naive or mean to think that any informed guest on the program would or should answer such questions.
But. I don't mean to say that the question "Why art?" is irrelevant, and I do agree that we all need to get better at addressing the importance of art in our daily lives and in our community. But I also know that many hard hearts will never be convinced that art is a fundamental value, or that it's essential for the public sector to provide a foundation of support, so I really don't think we should spend all of our energy on an exercise of such futility.
Instead, I have been thinking that it would be great to just collect people's stories -- the personal stories always work better than the quantifiable statistics anyway -- and keep them available online someplace for us all to reference and point people toward any time we're looking to remind ourselves of the articulate things that people have already said in answering this question. Almost like the Multnomah County "When I Was 15" stories project ... but for the arts. An online repository of thoughtful essays and arguments. What do you think?
So here we are again, addressing the most fundamental of questions, "Why art?" I didn't like the way Emily Harris approached this question on OPB -- I found her more an annoying irritant than a thoughtful devil's advocate, the way she would not relent on questions that were not designed to enlighten but rather to divide -- questions like, exactly how much should go to major arts organizations vs. the smaller ones?, and, which arts organizations in our community are acting irresponsibly? You are all free to speculate on such matters, but it's either naive or mean to think that any informed guest on the program would or should answer such questions.
But. I don't mean to say that the question "Why art?" is irrelevant, and I do agree that we all need to get better at addressing the importance of art in our daily lives and in our community. But I also know that many hard hearts will never be convinced that art is a fundamental value, or that it's essential for the public sector to provide a foundation of support, so I really don't think we should spend all of our energy on an exercise of such futility.
Instead, I have been thinking that it would be great to just collect people's stories -- the personal stories always work better than the quantifiable statistics anyway -- and keep them available online someplace for us all to reference and point people toward any time we're looking to remind ourselves of the articulate things that people have already said in answering this question. Almost like the Multnomah County "When I Was 15" stories project ... but for the arts. An online repository of thoughtful essays and arguments. What do you think?
When I was Fifteen.
Fifteen is an exciting time for most kids. Yet it’s also the average age of youth involved in the juvenile justice system. Positive, caring adults can help get them back on track.
People from our community are sharing their stories about how an adult made a difference when they were kids. These real life stories show how even a small act of encouragement can make a big difference in a kid's life.
Art Alexakis's story, for starters.
A Poor Man's Arts Advocacy Conference
As loyal readers know, Culture Jock is in Seattle this week, attending the Americans for the Arts conference. He's already posted a few reports. Meanwhile, I’m stuck in Portland, missing out on the inspiring keynote speeches, enlightening work sessions, and a myriad of opportunities to meet colleagues from around the country.
As an alternative, I’ve decided to create a virtual arts advocacy conference—a poor man’s convention, so to speak. Over the next few days, I’ll be live-blogging about my experience, sharing my observations and findings.
Day 1:
When I checked into my accommodations last night, I told the desk clerk, “I’ll need a wake-up call.”
She responded, “Your lifestyle choices are going to cut a decade from your life expectancy.” I’ve already found that the residents of this city are both friendly and outspoken.
After a good night’s sleep, the inn’s resident dog—advertised as one of the hotel’s “unique amenities”--woke me by placing a heavy paw next to my pillow and woofing, a signal that a walk was needed. Whenever I’m visiting another city for business or pleasure, I seek out chances to get a genuine sense of the place. Get me away from the hotel lobby, the souvenir shops, the steakhouses and the strip clubs, and let me walk the neighborhood streets where I can meet town folks. If I can tour a new city accompanied by a butt-sniffing dog, all the better.
Upon returning from the morning stroll, I opted for a room service breakfast. Knowing that my head would be filled with ideas and conversations over the next few days, I decided to skip the breakfast buffet, where I’d have to either pretend to be engrossed in a complimentary copy of USA Today, or engage in idle chitchat over scrambled eggs and mini sausages from the steam table. A simple bowl of granola and a cup of coffee while reading the Oregonian set me up for the day nicely. I was delighted to read that my host city’s arts supporters had donated over $800,000 to save its charming ballet company. Now that’s a great way to start an arts advocacy conference!
I rode the convenient hotel shuttle to the conference center across the river that bisects this city. The shuttle must have picked up conferees from other hotels because it was already full when I boarded. I perched carefully on the edge of my seat after asking a visiting tourist (I presume he was a tourist since he wasn’t wearing a name tag) if he would please move his open bag of Doritos from the empty seat. He glared at me with eyes that were, quite honestly, dancing with a little too much crazy energy. But he did afford me 8-10 inches of space. I opted not to read the guidebook I’d brought along, wanting to stay alert in case my seatmate pulled a knife.
Before stopping at the registration table to secure my conference credentials, I bought a steaming mug of coffee at a local café called Starbucks. I’d been told that this is a literary town, but was still surprised to find a coffee outlet named after a character from Moby Dick!
Already this morning I’ve bumped into several colleagues who work in the arts field. We greet each other as if it was only yesterday afternoon that we said goodbye. Our first conference session was designed to break the ice and get us warmed up for a day of sharing and learning. Here’s a video I shot with my cell phone:
Now I'm off to a work session titled: "Arts Support: Why Can't We Be Like France?" I’ll be sure to post more as the conference progresses.
As an alternative, I’ve decided to create a virtual arts advocacy conference—a poor man’s convention, so to speak. Over the next few days, I’ll be live-blogging about my experience, sharing my observations and findings.
Day 1:
When I checked into my accommodations last night, I told the desk clerk, “I’ll need a wake-up call.”
She responded, “Your lifestyle choices are going to cut a decade from your life expectancy.” I’ve already found that the residents of this city are both friendly and outspoken.
After a good night’s sleep, the inn’s resident dog—advertised as one of the hotel’s “unique amenities”--woke me by placing a heavy paw next to my pillow and woofing, a signal that a walk was needed. Whenever I’m visiting another city for business or pleasure, I seek out chances to get a genuine sense of the place. Get me away from the hotel lobby, the souvenir shops, the steakhouses and the strip clubs, and let me walk the neighborhood streets where I can meet town folks. If I can tour a new city accompanied by a butt-sniffing dog, all the better.
Upon returning from the morning stroll, I opted for a room service breakfast. Knowing that my head would be filled with ideas and conversations over the next few days, I decided to skip the breakfast buffet, where I’d have to either pretend to be engrossed in a complimentary copy of USA Today, or engage in idle chitchat over scrambled eggs and mini sausages from the steam table. A simple bowl of granola and a cup of coffee while reading the Oregonian set me up for the day nicely. I was delighted to read that my host city’s arts supporters had donated over $800,000 to save its charming ballet company. Now that’s a great way to start an arts advocacy conference!
I rode the convenient hotel shuttle to the conference center across the river that bisects this city. The shuttle must have picked up conferees from other hotels because it was already full when I boarded. I perched carefully on the edge of my seat after asking a visiting tourist (I presume he was a tourist since he wasn’t wearing a name tag) if he would please move his open bag of Doritos from the empty seat. He glared at me with eyes that were, quite honestly, dancing with a little too much crazy energy. But he did afford me 8-10 inches of space. I opted not to read the guidebook I’d brought along, wanting to stay alert in case my seatmate pulled a knife.
Before stopping at the registration table to secure my conference credentials, I bought a steaming mug of coffee at a local café called Starbucks. I’d been told that this is a literary town, but was still surprised to find a coffee outlet named after a character from Moby Dick!
Already this morning I’ve bumped into several colleagues who work in the arts field. We greet each other as if it was only yesterday afternoon that we said goodbye. Our first conference session was designed to break the ice and get us warmed up for a day of sharing and learning. Here’s a video I shot with my cell phone:
Now I'm off to a work session titled: "Arts Support: Why Can't We Be Like France?" I’ll be sure to post more as the conference progresses.
Good news
Congratulations to OBT, who today announced that their critical fundraising goal has not only been met, but significantly exceeded. Even though I'm in Seattle (I know, I keep saying that, I'm just trying to help our readers track who's where), it's been fun running into Portlanders and others in the know saying to each other all afternoon, "Did you hear? They did it!" I think it's going to resonate with a lot of folks from other parts of the country who are eager to hear about anything that's working in this impossible economy. As Barry Johnson points out in a subsequent post, there's still plenty of bad news to bring us down from the good news.
Speaking of Mr. Johnson, I'd like to acknowledge his extended coverage of this story, and applaud him for being both fair and supportive. This easily could have become a trial of the mistakes that OBT has made in the past, but it didn't and that wouldn't have been helpful.
Seattle had some arts news of its own today: Kate Whoriskey has been tapped to replace Bartlett Sher as the Executive Director of Intiman Theater. In his convention comments a few moments ago, former NEA Chair Bill Ivey noted how great it was that an arts story made front page of Seattle's newspapers -- that doesn't happen often. Here's hoping/wishing that the editors at The Oregonian would give the ballet's success prominent coverage in tomorrow's paper, as they did when the Ballet announced that they were in crisis.
Speaking of Mr. Johnson, I'd like to acknowledge his extended coverage of this story, and applaud him for being both fair and supportive. This easily could have become a trial of the mistakes that OBT has made in the past, but it didn't and that wouldn't have been helpful.
Seattle had some arts news of its own today: Kate Whoriskey has been tapped to replace Bartlett Sher as the Executive Director of Intiman Theater. In his convention comments a few moments ago, former NEA Chair Bill Ivey noted how great it was that an arts story made front page of Seattle's newspapers -- that doesn't happen often. Here's hoping/wishing that the editors at The Oregonian would give the ballet's success prominent coverage in tomorrow's paper, as they did when the Ballet announced that they were in crisis.
Hump Day Thoughts
Don't you hate it when technology fails you? I arrived at work this morning to find my computer stuck midway through some kind of automated Microsoft Office update. (We're told to leave our computers on at night so Microsoft can access them for such things). Encountering some kind of error, it left my computer in a suspended state where I could neither complete the installation nor access any of my Microsoft programs (including Word and Excel, which I rely upon daily, but especially Outlook and all of my emails, contacts, and calendar information now held hostage).
Handy Andy, our trusty IT assistant, tells me that portions of the hard drive are ruined, and set me up with some workarounds including a temporary laptop with a facsimile of my Outlook (with data that was thankfully is stored on a network not my hard drive). But can I just say how frustrating it is to take twice as long to do things on a machine that is not set up to my preferred specifications? It reminded me the extent to which customization is important in our daily lives.
With Mighty Toy Canon enjoying a much deserved holiday and me dealing with these maddening computer issues, I only have time today to point Culture Shock readers to pertinent conversations taking place elsewhere, especially Barry Johnson's continued top-notch coverage of the ballet situation, including the earliest of conversations about what happens after the ballet raises this first critical hurdle of $750,000, plus fresh new fundraising ideas provided by PCS publicity manager Tricia Pancio. (And thank you, Tricia, for recognizing the Red Dress Party's fantastic front of house divas and talented fundraisers in their own right, the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence!)
Speaking of the ballet, I've heard from several folks today who are frustrated that the $50 tickets are sold out and only $75 and $150 tickets remain -- in the back of the second balcony at that. Well, those and the multi-thousand dollar box seats. Now part of me says, first come first served when it comes to saving the ballet, and if you didn't get your $50 tickets and that's all you could afford then you're just going to have to miss out. But I'll be interested to see if the ballet actually manages to sell those last 900 tickets if they're as costly and distant as I hear they are.
Mr. Johnson was also first to share that Giving USA has published their annual tally of philanthropic giving, which shows that 2008 experienced a 5.7% decrease in giving when adjusted for inflation. The other thing worth noting here is that once again the arts lost a little more market share of all charitable giving (a trend since the 1980s) -- and what are we going to do about that?!? I have high hopes that a PR campaign to secure a dedicated funding mechanism for arts and culture in the Portland region in the next 2-5 years will also spark increased giving to arts organizations locally as an "unintended consequence" of the heightened awareness and visibility.
Meanwhile, you may have noticed (but probably not) that I have decided to discontinue my Last Call Friday installments because it's bad form to encourage in any way this behavior of procrastination. Instead I will endeavor to better encourage (and be encouraged by) folks to attend really great performances and exhibits earlier in their run. Plus, some weeks, I'm sorry, but there's nothing worth mentioning that's closing. In fact sometimes I have to restrain myself from writing an "hasta la vista" column.
Lastly, I am honored to have been invited to be a contributing author to the Americans for the Arts blog ("ARTSBLOG"), specifically when it comes to telling you all about what's going on at the AFTA national conference being held in Seattle next week. This year's conference theme is "arts in sustainable communities," and I'll certainly be cross-posting several of my reports here on Culture Shock as well, but hop ofter to AFTA from time to time, too, to see what other conference participants are saying. There's some other really interesting content posted there on a regular basis.
And the Drammy Goes To...
Circumstances, either real or imagined, have prevented me from attending the Drammy Awards for the past five years. What a pleasure, then, to arrive at the Crystal Ballroom on a balmy Monday evening to find hundreds of festively-dressed artists, administrators, and enthusiastic theater groupies celebrating no fewer than 110 stage productions of the past theater season. The unofficial theme -- from comments on stage to the tagline in PCS's ad in the program -- was "a year of kick-ass theater."
My blogging collaborator Mighty Toy Cannon successfully lobbied for (or predicted?) several of the winners, including Sarah Gagahan for costumes in James and the Giant Peach, Sharonlee McLean for best actress in The Receptionist, and Chris Rousseau for sets in How To Disappear Completely and Never Be Found. In fact, How To Disappear shone in all of the technical categories, winning for sound and lighting to boot. Sadly, no awards were given for nudity.
A complete list of winners can be found here, with required follow-up reading here in the form of Alison Hallet's pertinent commentary. (Had I known you couldn't liveblog, Alison, I might have been tempted to do so myself, but in the end I must say it was nice to just sit back and "enjoy.") Within Alison's post there are some good critiques, both small and sweeping. Two comments in particular seem to be part of an age-old debate in the local theater community, so I will regurgitate them here:
1. Risky Theater vs. Safe Theater. This year's awards for outstanding productions went to Les Miserables and Into the Woods. I know it's not as simple as the straightforward dichotomy that some others have suggested (popular theater gets rewarded at the box office, and edgy theater gets rewarded by the critics), but really, what are we rewarding here? I recognize that the Drammy Committee does not need to share their criteria with all of us, but I'm curious what they're grading on. These awards would seem to indicate only an appreciation for execution, and no matter how good the execution was, I would recommend taking other important factors into account, such as, oh, showing me something I haven't seen before. I'm not saying that tried and true musicals should be removed from consideration, nor that these productions don't deserve the accolade. I'm just surprised they were the only two citations in a year of what we all seem to agree was a "year of kick-ass theater." Which begs the question, then: what made it so kick-ass?
2. Established artists vs. New talent. Or worse, shipped-in talent. This debate has been raging since the early days of Portland Center Stage -- ie, the 1990s -- when producer Dennis Bigelow, and Pat Patton after him, and then Liz Huddle, routinely shipped in talent from other communities. You could make a case that such a practice was warranted then because so few Equity (union) actors lived in Portland. Now the theory seems to be that there are so many extraordinary professional (and semi-professional) actors in Portland that we don't need any more, and we certainly don't need to ship in more talent to produce our plays, thankyouverymuch. The trouble with this theory -- for me -- is that it doesn't take the audience's experience into account. When I go to the theater, I want to see the best damn actor you could find for that role. I don't care if he's established or emerging. I don't care if he's a professionally-trained actor or a lawyer who plays in a garage band at night. I don't care if she's from Portland or Peoria or New York City. What I don't want is to live in a city that performs 110 plays in repertory with a company of 50 "resident" actors who sometimes do and sometimes do not fit the bill. (We've had a version of this discussion here.)
I feel strongly that actors like Lisa Renee Pitts and Storm Large, who gave us undeniably some of the most extraordinary theatrical moments of the year, are uniquely qualified and deserve to be recognized accordingly. That's no disrespect to the actors who live and work here -- and I believe that many of them can and do perform in other cities to critical acclaim elsewhere. Should they not be eligible for critical awards in those other places? Or if the sentiment is more blatantly xenophobic, that local talent is somehow entitled to every role and award that's available, and our very survival is threatened by the invasion of newcomers and imports who are stealing these things away, well, obviously I don't buy that. In fact I believe that the local arts community has gotten much stronger over the past ten years as a direct result of greater exposure to, and sustained influx of, bar-raising talent.
Being less of a comment whore than my aforementioned blogging collaborator, I heartily encourage Culture Shock readers to comment on these and other critiques of the Drammy Awards on Blog Town if not here. (Although you are welcome to do both!) And if any of you can consider Alison's plea for a better local theater blog... I concur! (Thanks for the related compliment, by the way.) I'd really love to know what's going on more of the time in the local theater community, both behind the scenes and on stage, and god knows we can't all make it to 110 productions a year.
My blogging collaborator Mighty Toy Cannon successfully lobbied for (or predicted?) several of the winners, including Sarah Gagahan for costumes in James and the Giant Peach, Sharonlee McLean for best actress in The Receptionist, and Chris Rousseau for sets in How To Disappear Completely and Never Be Found. In fact, How To Disappear shone in all of the technical categories, winning for sound and lighting to boot. Sadly, no awards were given for nudity.
A complete list of winners can be found here, with required follow-up reading here in the form of Alison Hallet's pertinent commentary. (Had I known you couldn't liveblog, Alison, I might have been tempted to do so myself, but in the end I must say it was nice to just sit back and "enjoy.") Within Alison's post there are some good critiques, both small and sweeping. Two comments in particular seem to be part of an age-old debate in the local theater community, so I will regurgitate them here:
1. Risky Theater vs. Safe Theater. This year's awards for outstanding productions went to Les Miserables and Into the Woods. I know it's not as simple as the straightforward dichotomy that some others have suggested (popular theater gets rewarded at the box office, and edgy theater gets rewarded by the critics), but really, what are we rewarding here? I recognize that the Drammy Committee does not need to share their criteria with all of us, but I'm curious what they're grading on. These awards would seem to indicate only an appreciation for execution, and no matter how good the execution was, I would recommend taking other important factors into account, such as, oh, showing me something I haven't seen before. I'm not saying that tried and true musicals should be removed from consideration, nor that these productions don't deserve the accolade. I'm just surprised they were the only two citations in a year of what we all seem to agree was a "year of kick-ass theater." Which begs the question, then: what made it so kick-ass?
2. Established artists vs. New talent. Or worse, shipped-in talent. This debate has been raging since the early days of Portland Center Stage -- ie, the 1990s -- when producer Dennis Bigelow, and Pat Patton after him, and then Liz Huddle, routinely shipped in talent from other communities. You could make a case that such a practice was warranted then because so few Equity (union) actors lived in Portland. Now the theory seems to be that there are so many extraordinary professional (and semi-professional) actors in Portland that we don't need any more, and we certainly don't need to ship in more talent to produce our plays, thankyouverymuch. The trouble with this theory -- for me -- is that it doesn't take the audience's experience into account. When I go to the theater, I want to see the best damn actor you could find for that role. I don't care if he's established or emerging. I don't care if he's a professionally-trained actor or a lawyer who plays in a garage band at night. I don't care if she's from Portland or Peoria or New York City. What I don't want is to live in a city that performs 110 plays in repertory with a company of 50 "resident" actors who sometimes do and sometimes do not fit the bill. (We've had a version of this discussion here.)
I feel strongly that actors like Lisa Renee Pitts and Storm Large, who gave us undeniably some of the most extraordinary theatrical moments of the year, are uniquely qualified and deserve to be recognized accordingly. That's no disrespect to the actors who live and work here -- and I believe that many of them can and do perform in other cities to critical acclaim elsewhere. Should they not be eligible for critical awards in those other places? Or if the sentiment is more blatantly xenophobic, that local talent is somehow entitled to every role and award that's available, and our very survival is threatened by the invasion of newcomers and imports who are stealing these things away, well, obviously I don't buy that. In fact I believe that the local arts community has gotten much stronger over the past ten years as a direct result of greater exposure to, and sustained influx of, bar-raising talent.
Being less of a comment whore than my aforementioned blogging collaborator, I heartily encourage Culture Shock readers to comment on these and other critiques of the Drammy Awards on Blog Town if not here. (Although you are welcome to do both!) And if any of you can consider Alison's plea for a better local theater blog... I concur! (Thanks for the related compliment, by the way.) I'd really love to know what's going on more of the time in the local theater community, both behind the scenes and on stage, and god knows we can't all make it to 110 productions a year.
It's not quite the lifetime achievement award, but...
As we head into the home stretch of the theater season and prepare to celebrate numerous theatrical accomplishments at the Drammy Awards on Monday night, I would be remiss if I didn’t take a moment to sing the praises of Portland Center Stage.
I truly believe that any proper theater season ought to have its hits and misses, so I will be frank: I didn’t much care for the season opener, Guys and Dolls, and felt like the entire community coasted through other earlier installments of R. Buckminster Fuller and Christmas Carol. Solid productions all, but nothing really blew up my skirt until Apollo came along -– which sort of knocked me around and rustled me up a bit. There were parts of the production that I truly loathed, but I also was intrigued with some of what I saw, and ultimately I appreciate that the production demanded that I take notice of it, and of modern theater in general.
With momentum, the theater spun out How to Disappear… (which I quite enjoyed despite some shortcomings in the script) and The Importance of Being Earnest, which I missed seeing but heard often how solid it was. Frost/Nixon was certainly worthy of all the critical accolades it received.
But then the crazy kicked in. Unlike some of the veiled public comments to earlier posts, I for one love me some Storm Large so I was tickled to see that Daniel Stern recently wrote to Chris Coleman saying that Crazy Enough was “one of the great nights in the theater that I have ever had.” I’ll be sure to see it again once or twice again during its extended run. And Grey Gardens is, to me, both thoroughly entertaining and hauntingly intriguing. The reviews have been mixed-to-positive, but I think I agree with Marty Hughley most when he calls the season finale “the most fully realized and well-executed musical to grace the Gerding stage.” From top to bottom, headdress to heels, this really is a fantastic production.
So my hat is off to PCS, which has had its share of challenges along the way this year. I confess that I track PCS more closely than any other organization in Portland since I worked for the theater through most of the '90s (did you know that that’s what all Culture Shock authors have in common??) and I pause for a moment to recognize that lots of really talented people had to be let go this year. That means that the rest of the staff had to work extra hard and make other sacrifices to keep things moving forward both on the stage and behind the scenes with fewer resources and less manpower. But I trust that continued excellence, matched with ongoing prudence, is going to help PCS (and by extension the rest of the arts community) recover very soon. Hell, they will probably be even stronger organizations in the long run given all that they have learned and accomplished this year.
Yes, let’s save the ballet, and let’s also recognize that many organizations, including PCS, are doing a lot of things really well right now -- and they need your support too. We’ll accept guest columns recognizing the extraordinary accomplishments of other arts organizations, and there’s still lots of room to comment on Mighty Toy Cannon’s post about your theatrical highlights of the past year.
I truly believe that any proper theater season ought to have its hits and misses, so I will be frank: I didn’t much care for the season opener, Guys and Dolls, and felt like the entire community coasted through other earlier installments of R. Buckminster Fuller and Christmas Carol. Solid productions all, but nothing really blew up my skirt until Apollo came along -– which sort of knocked me around and rustled me up a bit. There were parts of the production that I truly loathed, but I also was intrigued with some of what I saw, and ultimately I appreciate that the production demanded that I take notice of it, and of modern theater in general.
With momentum, the theater spun out How to Disappear… (which I quite enjoyed despite some shortcomings in the script) and The Importance of Being Earnest, which I missed seeing but heard often how solid it was. Frost/Nixon was certainly worthy of all the critical accolades it received.
But then the crazy kicked in. Unlike some of the veiled public comments to earlier posts, I for one love me some Storm Large so I was tickled to see that Daniel Stern recently wrote to Chris Coleman saying that Crazy Enough was “one of the great nights in the theater that I have ever had.” I’ll be sure to see it again once or twice again during its extended run. And Grey Gardens is, to me, both thoroughly entertaining and hauntingly intriguing. The reviews have been mixed-to-positive, but I think I agree with Marty Hughley most when he calls the season finale “the most fully realized and well-executed musical to grace the Gerding stage.” From top to bottom, headdress to heels, this really is a fantastic production.
Jerry Likes My Corn from Portland Center Stage on Vimeo.
So my hat is off to PCS, which has had its share of challenges along the way this year. I confess that I track PCS more closely than any other organization in Portland since I worked for the theater through most of the '90s (did you know that that’s what all Culture Shock authors have in common??) and I pause for a moment to recognize that lots of really talented people had to be let go this year. That means that the rest of the staff had to work extra hard and make other sacrifices to keep things moving forward both on the stage and behind the scenes with fewer resources and less manpower. But I trust that continued excellence, matched with ongoing prudence, is going to help PCS (and by extension the rest of the arts community) recover very soon. Hell, they will probably be even stronger organizations in the long run given all that they have learned and accomplished this year.
Yes, let’s save the ballet, and let’s also recognize that many organizations, including PCS, are doing a lot of things really well right now -- and they need your support too. We’ll accept guest columns recognizing the extraordinary accomplishments of other arts organizations, and there’s still lots of room to comment on Mighty Toy Cannon’s post about your theatrical highlights of the past year.
Thinking Globablly, Acting Locally
Photo (c) Time Magazine
Lest you think our ballet's struggle is something unique to Portland, Time Magazine this week gives us a glimpse of how arts organizations across the country are struggling mightily. Have a look-see.
And, in response to some of the comments left here on Culture Shock about how you can help the Ballet with its current situation, may I direct you to Bob Hick's very fine four-point plan. I can't help but feel like this is all some kind of reverse metaphor for an episode of Grey's Anatomy in which, shortly after a patient comes into the ER, we realize that there may or may not be anything the doctors can to to help. Seriously: he is badly broken, with life-threatening injuries to almost every part of his body, and, for added drama, we learn that the patient has some deep moral flaw that gives some of the doctors pause about whether they should even bother operating with full vigor and resolve. But the code of conduct for this situation, like our own impulse, is always the same: let's get the heart beating first, and we'll figure out what to do with the patient if and when he recovers from the immediate trauma.
Clear!
Bikes and Ballet
Tonight I was going to blog about the new Zoobomb sculpture that is scheduled to be
But speaking of The Mercury's good coverage. Is it just me, or are the arts like the center of the media universe lately? Juicy little cross-over stories of late have helped, like the Arts Mayor Scandal and the great Coliseum debate. But also, in general, interest in the arts seems on an uptick, and dozens of fantastic arts-centric blogs are certainly contributing to the phenomenon. But I'm not just talking not just about the authors of these stories, it's also about the readers.
Oh, the readers. Have you seen the batshit crazy going on in the comments section of Barry Johnson's OBT story?!? Wow. People are really into this. Even Lars Larson is monitoring the situation, lord help us all. And even though half or more of the public's online comments are regrettable, I think they are actually helping motivate folks who might have otherwise stayed detached, stirring them to stand with the ballet and fight for all things symbolic of art and artistic excellence in our community.
The rising sentiment on the street and in the blogosphere seems to be that if we can just save the ballet now, we/they can fix it to be a better business in the fall. And I'm beginning to think there's enough willpower brewing to pull it all off.
Meanwhile...
Barry Johnson has posted his story that the Oregon Ballet Theatre is on the brink:
http://blog.oregonlive.com/portlandarts/2009/05/oregon_ballet_theatre_on_the_b.html
Oregon Ballet Theatre has become the first of Portland's major arts groups pushed to the wall by the global recession. Unless the company raises $750,000 by June 30 to cover expenses and pay creditors, it may have to close its doors. "It is not clear that we will survive," said Jon Ulsh, the company's executive director
http://blog.oregonlive.com/portlandarts/2009/05/oregon_ballet_theatre_on_the_b.html
Oregon Arts Summit: Mighty Toy Cannon Report #1
Culture Jock took the bold step of live blogging during the Oregon Arts Summit at Nike's Tiger Woods Center today. While he was being all tweety and Web 2.0, I was madly scribbling notes on an old-fashioned pad of paper. I took a lot of notes, so it may take me awhile to absorb what I learned about "The Art of Collaboration" -- the theme of the day.
While you're waiting for my thoughtful commentary and analysis, I'll warm up by sharing my shallowest and most irrelevant observation:
While you're waiting for my thoughtful commentary and analysis, I'll warm up by sharing my shallowest and most irrelevant observation:
Nike's Tiger Woods Center has someone on its catering staff who looks a lot like Phil Knight. During one of the breaks between sessions (they were called "movement breaks," which I suppose could mean either stretching or running to the bathroom), I was chatting with a colleague when out of the corner of my eye I thought I spotted Phil Knight! Except that he was carrying a tray loaded with dirty coffee cups.
A short time later, I met White Bird's new general manager, Phil Busse, for the first time. He asked, "Did you see that catering guy who looks like Phil Knight?" so I knew I wasn't crazy. We agreed that pretending to be a catering guy would be a cool thing to do if you owned a mega-billion dollar multinational corporation.
I'll write more about Phil Knight later. Just to warn you, it's going to be an argument for convincing Mr. Knight to invest $100 million to turn Memorial Coliseum into a sports and recreation complex with a Nike museum.
Weekend Divertissements
This started out to be an abbreviated post--a space-filler and a diversion from Culture Shock's recent immersion in serious matters of arts advocacy and cultural policy. It was going to be a post about Jerry Lewis. Then my mind wandered.
As previously announced, the Mighty Toy Cannon household has given up its regular subscription to the New York Times. Fortunately, the Grey Lady has adopted a sure-fire business strategy based on one simple principle: If the customer is no longer buying your product, give it away for free!
(Perhaps the auto industry should consider a similar approach: Instead of selling vehicles, GM could park cars all over town and let people use them anytime they want. The industry could "monetize" this business model by selling banner ads that run on a little screen mounted on the dashboard.)
Thanks to the publisher's generosity, not only did I enjoy the Times over coffee on Saturday morning, but I was able to read an article that did not appear in the pulp and fiber version until Sunday. Let's examine the NY Times approach more closely: (1) Give away your content; and (2) Give away the free version before it gets to the people who are paying for it.
What I like about the NY Times online is that it's easy to navigate (unlike OregonLive) and isn't slathered with banner and pop-up ads. So there's a third critical element in the business model: (3) Minimize online ads as much as possible. Recipe for financial ruin? Or a cunning strategy beyond our ken?
The media industry is madly trying to figure out how to survive and adapt to changing times. (This morning's news included a report that the Philadelphia Inquirer has filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection). In a recent Time Magazine cover story, “How to Save Your Newspaper,” Walter Isaacson (a former managing editor of Time magazine) argues that the advertising-supported model of online journalism is flawed; not only is it failing financially, but it makes publications beholden to advertisers. He hopes new approaches to paying for online content will ensure that news organizations get paid for the journalism they create, perhaps through micropayment mechanisms. Jon Stewart recently interviewed Isaacson on the Daily Show. (I had originally embedded a video of that interview on this post, but it had a ton of HTML code that made me nervous so you'll have to follow the link instead).
The NY Times media critic, David Carr, makes essentially the same case in an article, “Let’s Invent an iTunes for News,” though without delving very deeply into how that might happen. (Side note: If you're a fan of grim, unflinching memoirs by former junkies, Carr's "Night of the Gun" is a fascinating confessional and journalistic exercise).
My inner-optimist thinks (hopes) that we'll emerge from the global economic meltdown stronger and smarter, including finding new ways to communicate and share information. That may require us to figure out how to pay for journalism and other online content. Would you be willing to pay to read online articles (or even blog posts) by making "micropayments" for each story? What about the monthly or annual subscription model?
I don't want to have to make an economic decision each time I open a link to an article (even if each choice was a matter of pennies). Nor do I want to sign up for multiple subscriptions to get the variety of content to which I've grown accustomed. On the other hand, I might be willing to pay a small surcharge on top of my monthly internet charges if the proceeds were distributed equitably to content creators. The algorithms for calculating what's fair would be complicated and subject to debate, but I presume the technology for tracking usage is not an issue. (As Isaacson points out, the original concept of the hyperlink was that it would work as a tool for tracking content usage and to allocate micropayments).
Realizing that I've waded into complex policy territory that I barely understand, let's get back to Jerry Lewis, who just received one of those honorary Academy Awards. This post was prompted by a story by NY Times film critic, Manohla Dargi ("Hey Laaaady!"), in which she calls the movie, CinderFella “an astonishment” and describes the “knockout musical number” in which Lewis (as Fella) dances down a long staircase.
Though Dargis provides a lively and detailed description of the scene, I wasn't satisfied until I could see it with my own eyes. Thanks to the miracle of the internets, I jumped over to YouTube and found the scene. Since Culture Shock, unlike the NY Times, doesn’t have a legal department to advise us on intellectual property and copyright rules, I can post it here for your enjoyment and edification:
Lewis’s frantic, goofy solo reminded me of Steve Martin doing a happy dance on Saturday Night Live. I couldn’t find a copy of that scene (SNL is diligent about scrubbing the internet of copyrighted material), so I wandered around and was soon watching videos of Christopher Walken dancing , and then an excerpt of Eddie Izzard doing a Christopher Walken imitation, then back to Jerry Lewis (in his alter ego/Buddy Love persona), then to Andy Kaufman (in his alter ego mode) ... and then ... and then my Saturday morning was over and it was time for a fresh cup of coffee.
As previously announced, the Mighty Toy Cannon household has given up its regular subscription to the New York Times. Fortunately, the Grey Lady has adopted a sure-fire business strategy based on one simple principle: If the customer is no longer buying your product, give it away for free!
(Perhaps the auto industry should consider a similar approach: Instead of selling vehicles, GM could park cars all over town and let people use them anytime they want. The industry could "monetize" this business model by selling banner ads that run on a little screen mounted on the dashboard.)
Thanks to the publisher's generosity, not only did I enjoy the Times over coffee on Saturday morning, but I was able to read an article that did not appear in the pulp and fiber version until Sunday. Let's examine the NY Times approach more closely: (1) Give away your content; and (2) Give away the free version before it gets to the people who are paying for it.
What I like about the NY Times online is that it's easy to navigate (unlike OregonLive) and isn't slathered with banner and pop-up ads. So there's a third critical element in the business model: (3) Minimize online ads as much as possible. Recipe for financial ruin? Or a cunning strategy beyond our ken?
The media industry is madly trying to figure out how to survive and adapt to changing times. (This morning's news included a report that the Philadelphia Inquirer has filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection). In a recent Time Magazine cover story, “How to Save Your Newspaper,” Walter Isaacson (a former managing editor of Time magazine) argues that the advertising-supported model of online journalism is flawed; not only is it failing financially, but it makes publications beholden to advertisers. He hopes new approaches to paying for online content will ensure that news organizations get paid for the journalism they create, perhaps through micropayment mechanisms. Jon Stewart recently interviewed Isaacson on the Daily Show. (I had originally embedded a video of that interview on this post, but it had a ton of HTML code that made me nervous so you'll have to follow the link instead).
The NY Times media critic, David Carr, makes essentially the same case in an article, “Let’s Invent an iTunes for News,” though without delving very deeply into how that might happen. (Side note: If you're a fan of grim, unflinching memoirs by former junkies, Carr's "Night of the Gun" is a fascinating confessional and journalistic exercise).
My inner-optimist thinks (hopes) that we'll emerge from the global economic meltdown stronger and smarter, including finding new ways to communicate and share information. That may require us to figure out how to pay for journalism and other online content. Would you be willing to pay to read online articles (or even blog posts) by making "micropayments" for each story? What about the monthly or annual subscription model?
I don't want to have to make an economic decision each time I open a link to an article (even if each choice was a matter of pennies). Nor do I want to sign up for multiple subscriptions to get the variety of content to which I've grown accustomed. On the other hand, I might be willing to pay a small surcharge on top of my monthly internet charges if the proceeds were distributed equitably to content creators. The algorithms for calculating what's fair would be complicated and subject to debate, but I presume the technology for tracking usage is not an issue. (As Isaacson points out, the original concept of the hyperlink was that it would work as a tool for tracking content usage and to allocate micropayments).
Realizing that I've waded into complex policy territory that I barely understand, let's get back to Jerry Lewis, who just received one of those honorary Academy Awards. This post was prompted by a story by NY Times film critic, Manohla Dargi ("Hey Laaaady!"), in which she calls the movie, CinderFella “an astonishment” and describes the “knockout musical number” in which Lewis (as Fella) dances down a long staircase.
By the time he makes his way to the understandably stunned-looking princess (Anna Maria Alberghetti), Fella has captivated the entire ballroom. He awkwardly takes the princess’s hand, and the two begin to move harmoniously around the white polished floor. They separate, then join together, hitting the floor in synchronous, jazzy motion until Fella suddenly motions for her to stand still. And then, as the horns keep blasting and blaring, he begins jumping around her, drawing circles with his hands while his legs turn into airborne right angles. It’s a ridiculous expression of pure kinetic energy and — as is often the case with this performer — a blast of untamed, untamable libido that threatens to destroy the carefully controlled gathering like a bomb.
Though Dargis provides a lively and detailed description of the scene, I wasn't satisfied until I could see it with my own eyes. Thanks to the miracle of the internets, I jumped over to YouTube and found the scene. Since Culture Shock, unlike the NY Times, doesn’t have a legal department to advise us on intellectual property and copyright rules, I can post it here for your enjoyment and edification:
Lewis’s frantic, goofy solo reminded me of Steve Martin doing a happy dance on Saturday Night Live. I couldn’t find a copy of that scene (SNL is diligent about scrubbing the internet of copyrighted material), so I wandered around and was soon watching videos of Christopher Walken dancing , and then an excerpt of Eddie Izzard doing a Christopher Walken imitation, then back to Jerry Lewis (in his alter ego/Buddy Love persona), then to Andy Kaufman (in his alter ego mode) ... and then ... and then my Saturday morning was over and it was time for a fresh cup of coffee.
Art Scatter Scattered
We trust that most readers of Culture Shock also mosey over to Art Scatter to partake in that site's cultural cerebrations. If not, go read this announcement, then come back here. The rest of us will contemplate a monkey on a bicycle while awaiting your return:
Okay, so now you know that Scatter co-founder and consummate cultural critic, Barry Johnson, has a new column gracing the pulp and fiber edition of the Oregonian’s “How We Live” section on Mondays. But wait, there's more! His new column, Portland Arts Watch, is paired with a companion blog of the same moniker at OregonLive. The online version has more, and it's free. (Sorry Oregonian ... why buy the cow and all that).
The word "Watch” in the title implies vigilance, so we're picturing Mr. Johnson with a sailor's cap atop his head and a telescope tucked in his belt. He stands facing aft on the larboard side of the quarterdeck, the green glow of a radar screen his only illumination. As he peers into the foggy night, he hears only creaking lines, the thrumming of the engines far below, and the slap of a signal flag in the sharp breeze. Soon, he espies faint shadows looming in the distance.
Okay, so now you know that Scatter co-founder and consummate cultural critic, Barry Johnson, has a new column gracing the pulp and fiber edition of the Oregonian’s “How We Live” section on Mondays. But wait, there's more! His new column, Portland Arts Watch, is paired with a companion blog of the same moniker at OregonLive. The online version has more, and it's free. (Sorry Oregonian ... why buy the cow and all that).
The word "Watch” in the title implies vigilance, so we're picturing Mr. Johnson with a sailor's cap atop his head and a telescope tucked in his belt. He stands facing aft on the larboard side of the quarterdeck, the green glow of a radar screen his only illumination. As he peers into the foggy night, he hears only creaking lines, the thrumming of the engines far below, and the slap of a signal flag in the sharp breeze. Soon, he espies faint shadows looming in the distance.A fleet of ghost ships? Deadly icebergs? Or is it simply an illusion conjured by the unfortunate admixture of faint light, scurvy and strong rum?
“Huzzah!” he shouts in sudden alarm. “Arts approaching portside! … Cultural anthropology to starboard! … Dead ahead, heaving close with fearsome speed, a great whale of an economic collapse is preparing to swamp our cultural institutions. All hands on deck! Prepare to provide commentary!”
We thank Mr. Johnson for keeping a weather eye out for fascinating subjects, and expect to be reading his eclectic, thought-provoking musings with eagerness. Let’s hope that he gets his wish for lively conversation. Oh yes, he'll also continue posting his "more speculative (and off-topic, off-color or just plain off) posts" at Art Scatter.
Mr. Johnson has attended plenty of shows by Portland artists over the years, so how about reciprocating by visiting and contributing to Portland Arts Watch (PAW)? We're sure the bean counters at the Oregonian will be counting clicks. After all, this is part of the paper's strategy for adapting to the 21st century while fighting for survival. We've commented on the death rattle of the newspaper business before. Last week, we read alarming reports that the Hearst Corporation is threatening to shutter the Seattle Post-Intelligencer unless someone buys the 145-year old paper within the next two months. We should be thankful that the O has juiced up its arts coverage, rather than pruning it more. Perhaps they will arrive at a model that integrates new and old media while maintaining journalistic standards and making business sense.
While plugging PAW, did we mention that one of Mr. Johnson's first entries touted our own review of "The Motel Life" as part of his "Browse-Worthy Posts?" He called it, "our very favorite book review of 2009 (so far)." We are honored, and humbly accept the modifier.
Five Hundred Meeeelion Dollars
I've been scratching my head at the news coming out of KATU, KGW, and The Oregonian this week that OMSI is planning a $500 million expansion. So I was pleased to receive some clarifying correspondence from OMSI president Nancy Stueber, which explained the situation a little further.
The backstory, of course, is that OMSI's struggling right now, with weakening attendance and fewer contributions. Like most responsible organizations are doing, they have reforecast their budget and are planning to simply do less in the months ahead. As no fewer than 10 arts administrators have told me in the past month, there's no fat to trim in most of these budgets. Most cuts will adversely affect programs and people's lives. In cutting their budget by 10%, OMSI has made the difficult decision to layoff 20 employees representing every management level of the organization.
Several days before these cuts were made, The Oregonian ran a story about future eastside development and an OMSI's long range expansion that has been discussed internally for years. The timing, as Stueber points out, was surprising and unfortunate, given that OMSI had just made the decision to layoff staff and reduce some programs. So when the layoff news broke, it was hard to reconcile the two stories.
The way the story has played out (especially in subsequent versions on the TV news, whose reporters can be incredibly lazy in my opinion), it was made to sound that OMSI wants to spend $500 million to expand -- which is disingenuous and sensationalist. Stueber explains how the press pinned this figure: "If 1 million square feet of land was fully developed over the next decade, at an average dollar/square foot rate, it would be worth an estimated $500 million in today's dollars. Any OMSI expansion would be a much smaller footprint and cost, and we would seek investors and development partners." There are no concrete plans for any such expansion, but if it were to proceed, it wouldn't be for years assuming the economy improves (and I for one like to think that yes, someday, the economy will improve.)
Hey press: back off!
As crazy as things are right now, I worry that some of our arts and culture organizations aren't going to make it through. As I see several of my favorite restaurants and small businesses failing around me, I wonder if it's fair to even wish that every organization could survive. In any event, this economy will be the ultimate test, separating those who have solid leadership and finances in place from those who do not. Flexibility in planning (and adjustments, as OMSI has made) will also be key. And while each organization must be as prudent as possible to weather the current financial crisis, they mustn't stop thinking about the future and the world that awaits us on the other end of this mess. I salute those organizations who can make the painful cuts that are necessary now, while still crafting a bold vision for the future so that when that future arrives they can seize the opportunity.
In the meantime, can you imagine how unbearably depressing all of this would be if we hadn't just elected Obama?!?
Blazers and Beethoven
In case you're like me and you forget to read the "How We Live" section of The Oregonian most days (except on Mondays, when there is often content of great interest)... there is actually a pretty fun and informative read in today's newspaper wherein humor novelist Marc Acito and sports writer Ryan White swap beats. Acito's interpretation of his first-ever Trail Blazer game is priceless, and White has some really interesting observations from his first opera.
I'm liking this switcharoo thing, and The Oregonian's innovative take on cultural exchange! I'd be interested in hearing how the idea came about, and will refrain from any jokes about Ryan White being a better critic than some others I have read recently (in other, less intelligent newspapers, of course).
I'm liking this switcharoo thing, and The Oregonian's innovative take on cultural exchange! I'd be interested in hearing how the idea came about, and will refrain from any jokes about Ryan White being a better critic than some others I have read recently (in other, less intelligent newspapers, of course).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
