Hey everyone, The last holes in the drywall have been patched, the popcorn kernels have been scraped off the floor and Oli K and I have handed back our keys to the gallery. I promised that I would be disappearing from social media for a bit: your daily dose of badger-theremin photos will be coming via someone else for now. I’ve been thinking some Big Thoughts this week that I’d like to share before I shut up. I also don’t want my sudden hermitage to hurt a couple of great shows I’m in soon, so check it: I am the lead accordion player in Fang, Vancouver’s most famous accordion shout-rock band. We play July 4th at Chapel Arts. It’s with David Newberry and Sarah Jane Scouten. They’re awesome, and trust me: I am hungry to play music for you. Please join us. Proud Animal will be playing next on July 26th. It will be a little rent party to make up for the cat-sized vet hole in my savings. Tentative name for the show: “Barbara Adler’s Cat Hates Art.” Man, does he ever. I think I’ve reached my ethical limit of tagging people on FB to thank them, so I’m just going to repeat that I am ridiculously grateful to everyone who helped make Extravagant Signals magic. We had wonderful volunteers, media help, family support, and artists who were gracious enough to perform for cheap or free. Pretty much everyone who I asked to help said ‘Yeah!’ and that’s an amazing feeling: seriously, how rich is that? Speaking of rich: we didn’t get rich doing this, but I still feel a great deal of success. My two worries about this series were that the shows would suck and we’d lose our shirts on the rental and other expenses. The shows definitely did not suck, and there’s even a lot to be proud of. We paid some artists in cash and some in drinks. They all seemed happy to have performed. A couple of shows happened for the first time ever (Shapes in Sound and Cheap to Be Friendly), and people want them to happen again. Our audiences showed every sign of enjoying themselves and a few more people know about Oli K’s art. I have Paul Silveria’s mad-libs remake of ‘Oh Susannah’ running on a glorious loop in my head: “I came from Horseshoe Bay with a badger theremin on my face.” I got to know some great art supporters (like VANDOCUMENT!). And goddamn it, we partied in an art gallery. Beautiful. On the second issue – the “not losing our shirts” issue. Well…We haven’t done all the numbers, but I think it’s going to end up that we came in just under breaking even. So, I wouldn’t say we totally lost our shirts. But, there’s a chance that our shirts are temporarily misplaced, and we may have some stressful moments soon, where we think: “Shit, I really need that shirt. Where the hell did I put it?” That’s fine – this stuff always seems to even out in the end. But it did get me thinking about some Issues. My friend, Jess Hill was our feature at the Now & Then Variety Show, and she said: “This was great. Now do it three more times, and people will actually come.” I hate that this is true. I got a lot of ‘virtual’ support for Extravagant Signals. Many people told me that they loved the idea, and even that it was important. Most of us know the story about space in Vancouver: it’s expensive and there are lots of organizational barriers. Based on feedback, I know I’m not the only person who wants the option of seeing my favourite artists perform without a big screen TV shouting in the background. I also don’t want to wait for someone to get a grant, to see Skye Brooks play in a space where I can hear him, or Areli Moran dance in a place that non-dancers might visit. I also got messages to the tune of: “This looked great! I love this! I’m sorry I missed it! When are you doing it again?” This stuff is very flattering, but it makes me want to curl up in a fetal position, just a little bit. I’ve been making stuff in this city for around 12 years. People have been telling me that they like what I do for long enough that I think some of them actually mean it. Yet, I personally struggle to get people into the door at shows, and I play more mildly attended shows than sell-outs. I would take it personally, but I think a lot of my artist friends can relate. In fact, I think any of my friends and peers doing something small, new or quirky can relate. We get a lot of love and praise for the things we do (awesome!), sometimes feel a little famous (weird! awesome!), and still face the question: if people really like what I do, why aren’t they here? It’s confusing. I don’t consider myself a very tragic artist, but sometimes I look at the numbers and feel like I’m just an attic and a beret short of the stereotype. Here’s the thing: We don’t need everyone to like what we do. But we do need the people who like us to come out more of the time. Artists and art events are exactly like artisan sausages. If no one shows that they want these things, it becomes psychologically and financially very difficult to make them. I am very sympathetic to the need to have a balanced life: I love cooking, slow days, and staying in. I’ve lived my entire life in Vancouver and also often feel the need to go to bed early so I can get up and visit some squirrels in the forest. But I want to point out something that I haven’t always appreciated: if you make the choice to stay in because you think you won’t be missed, you’re wrong. We miss you. Likewise, the people who show up are appreciated—almost ridiculously so. I can’t overstate how much I felt supported by our regulars at Extravagant Signals, including those who volunteered their time and helped spread the word. I guess what I’m asking for is an appreciation that the little ways we support each other really count. In some cases, the little supports can be the difference between people continuing to do what they do, and having to give up. I definitely walk that line in my career, and so do many of my friends. One day, perhaps, you will feel that we need these supports less. If you ever catch me and my friends sitting on top of a giant pile of rubies, feel free to start blocking my event invites. The pile of rubies will likely be a rental, but still—you can trust your instincts. If you know the name of the person who organized the show, put up the posters and promoted it; if their name doesn’t end in “Group” or “Incorporated”; if the promoter is organizing a night that sounds like something you haven’t seen before – they probably need you to come, for real. OK. Sermons about the Importance of Supporting Art are very touchy. I definitely need to go see more things, and I definitely realize that people have big lives and give support to things they love that go way beyond art. I also recognize that putting on a week-long event in an art gallery no one’s ever heard of, between the In the House Festival and Jazz fest, in the first week of summer—it’s a hard sell. But if you’re still listening, I’d like to leave with the thought: if you love something that’s small and special, it’s likely that it loves you back and needs you around. Thank you so much to everyone who connected with me around these events. I feel pretty lucky to even have the framework to start thinking about this stuff. See you soon, xoBabs
Posted on: Sun, 23 Jun 2013 22:25:35 +0000
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