What do Arts Organizations Deserve?

Every so often writers for illustrious publications like the Wall Street Journal or the National Post weigh in on the state of the arts in North America. Sometimes these articles even come from people within the industry, like Michael Kaiser, current President of the Kennedy Center in Washington DC who writes (sometimes controversially) for Huffington Post. My favourite kinds of articles begin on the premise that arts organizations are failing and ask whether they deserve their fate based on the quality and quantity of work they have done in their history, however long or short.

These articles are my favourite because they imply that arts organizations have any kind of entitlement. The undercurrent to many of the articles is the same undercurrent following many people throughout their lives – if you are diligent and work hard and produce good results the world will eventually reward you for that. And yet, there are two major flaws with this way of thinking.

The first is that arts organizations are not living, breathing entities – they are organizations built by people and (though many are loath to admit) independent from its creators. We have an especially hard time with this in Canada where the founders of many companies are heavily involved for years before their founders leave and the company hands the reins over to a new leader (either artistically or administratively) which is often a risky hurdle organizationally.

We saw this first hand in what I like to call the Factory Debacle, where many of the people speaking out often implied that the theatre somehow owed something to the founding Artistic Director who left so abruptly. I agree that the board owed it to the AD to treat him with respect and with courtesy, especially under the Employment Standards Act, but they had no obligation to keep him employed simply by virtue of the fact that he was a founder.

Which leads me to the second flawed assumption. I know it’s a difficult one to accept because it goes directly against all we’ve been taught as industrious, North-American-Dream-following citizens, but sometimes the world does not always repay you for all your hard work. It’s an incredibly cynical and pessimistic view, I know, but the world works in ebbs and flows and sometimes the timing just isn’t right and no matter how much time and effort you put in it just won’t happen. Sometimes life really works for you (I like to call those people Baby Boomers) and sometimes it’s tougher (hey there, Millennials), and it just goes to prove that once we leave childhood there is no direct correlation between the amount of work put in and the amount of reward reaped.

This is my major beef with the articles that crop up talking about the state of symphony orchestras or the closing of the Vancouver Playhouse or the possible dark end for the recording industry as we know it. There are so many more factors in play than ‘is the work good’ and ‘does the company have value’ that to only talk about these issues in those terms seems limiting and short-sighted.

Do some companies deserve to fail, as the latest article posits? No, because companies don’t deserve anything. They are incorporated companies, they are workplaces, they are factories of sorts that create product (whether good or bad) – they are not beings capable of entitlement. If one goes under another will crop up in its place, and the cycle of life will continue on. And maybe that’s a good thing.

Aw crap…

Well, this is just getting a bit ridiculous, don’t you think?

Here is this adorable blog, my own little corner of the internet, ready and waiting to receive my thoughts and opinions, and it’s sat neglected since last fall. I’m sorry bloggy! Let me dust you off and start again.

As you may be able to tell, sometimes I have trouble with deadlines. Especially when they are movable and set by me. I’m sure I’m not the only person who has this particular talent – super-procrastination and second-guessing when a hard deadline can’t be found. And yet here I sit, feeling delinquent and sheepish, hoping to finally make good on my desire to become that elusive thing – a regular blogger.

So in honour of actually doing some writing, here some tips on how to stay motivated when you (or I) feel like putting it off until tomorrow.

• Mark it down. If you’re someone who lives and dies by their ical, then putting tasks into your calendar might help. You can set alerts and reminders to make sure you’re staying on track.
• Break it up. Sometimes at work when I get overwhelmed when taking on a project. When this happens I usually break up the project into smaller bits to make it more manageable. At times I’ll even break the tasks down further into a series of mini-tasks that will combine into a larger component of the project. This might sound like unnecessary minutae, but as someone who often misses the trees for the forest (ie. I’m a big-picture person who sometimes has trouble getting down to the tiniest details) it’s really helpful.
• Tell someone. A great way to make sure something gets done is to make yourself accountable. Sometimes just making the plan yourself isn’t enough. So when I’m embarking on a project I know will challenge me and make me want to give up I tell someone and ask them to check in with me periodically. It’ll make you feel like you’ve got someone in your corner (because you do!) and will light the tiniest of fires under your bum to make you act.
• Put your money where your mouth is. This is a biggie, and something I just did with this blog. Spending money on a project can be a great way to make sure you stick with it, especially if you’re a value-hunter like me. I don’t want the $30 I just put into this blog to go down the drain, so I’m going to use that as motivation to write more. And it’s an annual cost, so it’s got a built-in evaluation mechanism to force me to reflect and decide if it was worth it.

There you have it. They might not be groundbreaking ideas, but they’re great go-tos when starting a project you know you want to follow through on.

How Do You Solve a Problem Like Lena?

By now, if you are a young woman in North America, you’ve probably heard of Lena Dunham. You might not know why you know that name, but it has been circling around you and your friends for the last few months.

“Who is this girl,” you might ask, “and why the hell should I care about her?”

I’ve been asking myself the same thing, so I did a little googling.

Turns out Dunham was born and raised in New York City by two visual artist parents. She went to an independent school with a focus on the arts and then to Oberlin College. At the young age of 26 she has already written, directed, and acted in a number of short films and been featured in some films and tv shows that weren’t hatched from her own brain. Earlier this year she premiered a show on HBO called Girls that centres on four young women fresh out of college and trying not to fuck up while finding their feet in New York City. From what I can tell, most of the backlash to her success has come on the heels of her tv show and the news that she has just signed a $3.5million (yes, MILLION) contract with Random House to write a self-help book.

This is probably the point at which I should fess up and tell you I haven’t actually seen any of Lena Dunham’s work. I haven’t (yet) watched a single episode of Girls, I haven’t seen her award-winning short film Tiny Furniture (despite having ready access to it on Netflix), and I don’t plan on buying her forthcoming book. For me, the true entertainment value of Lena Dunham is nothing the woman herself is doing, but rather watching people yell themselves hoarse either lambasting or staunchly defending her success.

I first became intrigued by the Lena Effect(™) while keeping up with a blog I follow, 20 Nothings. The blogger did an entire series on her impressions of Girls, battling with each episode between her desire to support this young, talented woman and not connecting with the subject matter in any way. She ultimately gave up on the show, citing a difference in perspective as the culprit preventing her from enjoying it, but not before she laid bare every painful and uncomfortable scene the first season offered.

Then the articles and word of mouth started.

There was a two-week period when I couldn’t go to any social engagement without someone bringing up this show and how wonderful it was. Friends who knew me well were surprised when I said I hadn’t seen any episodes – partially because it seems like something I’d like, and also because one episode ends with a dance scene to a Robyn song, an artist I’m known to be particularly zealous about. But still I had to confess that no, I hadn’t scene any part of Lena Dunham’s work (well, except for the Robyn scene).

In one day two articles found their way to me. One, a brief but snarky snippet informing the huddled internet masses of Ms. Dunham’s book deal, the other a puffed up defense of Dunham and her success, entitled “Why Should a Successful Young Woman Have to Apologize for it?”. Judging from these articles and, more importantly, their comments, people have a lot of feelings on this issue.

And then I realized: Lena Dunham is the new It Girl. It’s hard to see because she’s not a bombshell, or an ingenue, or even an actress, really. She is a writer, director, creator and yes, an actor. She blogs and tweets and has turned a lot of heads with the things she’s come up with to date. For whatever reason the powers that be have tapped her as someone to pay attention to, and because of that she has also become a topic of discussion and analysis. Even I, who has had very little exposure to Dunham and her work, feel the need to weigh in, and it is this that I find most fascinating about this woman – not her writing or direction or performances, but the fervour with which people feel the need to comment on all of it. These days it seems like you’re nobody ’till somebody scrutinizes you.

So how do you solve a problem like Lena Dunham? My guess is, you don’t – you just sit back with some popcorn and watch it all happen.

Why Can’t We All Just Get Along?

About a week ago an article was posted where the lead developer for Borderlands 2, John Hemingway, mentioned that a new character (a female with the tentative name of Mechromancer) has a ‘girlfriend mode’ designed for people who typically aren’t very good at first person shooters but who still want to play one. The character has a skill tree that has been dubbed ‘Best Friends Forever’.

“I want to make, for the lack of a better term, the girlfriend skill tree. This is, I love Borderlands and I want to share it with someone, but they suck at first-person shooters. Can we make a skill tree that actually allows them to understand the game and to play the game? That’s what our attempt with the Best Friends Forever skill tree is.”

After being called out online by a number of disgruntled and offended people the site has since posted an update to the original article, stating that in no way did Hemingway mean to offend, and that the game certainly does not have a ‘girlfriend mode’. While it’s commendable of the game makers to be clear about what was meant, it’s also clear from the backlash that linking easier gameplay to such gendered and typically female language (girlfriend, best friends forever) is a surefire way to tap into the ongoing debate of sexism in gaming.

Not only are these labels exclusionary, as though a message is being sent out to all women saying ‘this is where you can play, and nowhere else’, it also implies that all women are in need of easier gameplay modes in order to a) be good at the game, and b) want to play in the first place. There are many, many female gamers out there who play any and all types of games, and yet they are still often overlooked and relegated to easy modes and girly games. When they’re not receiving dirty looks and petulant comments from their male counterparts, that is.

That a female character has been devoted to this ‘girlfriend mode’ further amplifies the sexism that pervades not only gamer culture but game creation as well. It’s a double whammy message to women that tells them they are only invited to play this one character, on this one mode, or they are not considered female. This kind of inherent sexism is so far beyond systemic. Why shouldn’t any player be able to play any character on any mode they like? In a community where female gamers don’t even want to disclose their femaleness while gaming for fear of abuse and alienation, it seems like an impossible request for a level playing field.

Debates like these are the reason why projects like that of Anita Sarkeesian are so welcome and important. Despite the incredible amounts of horrifying abuse and intimidation she has faced, Sarkeesian plans to create a series of videos addressing the widespread sexism in games and gaming culture. The backlash she has faced just goes to show how pervasive sexism is in this community.

I realize that Hemingway truly did not mean to cause such a stir. His words were his own (not those of Borderlands 2) and that they were stated off the cuff. But if you have to use the phrase ‘for lack of a better term’ maybe you should find that better term instead so these buttons remain un-pushed and the ugly sexism that pervades gaming culture might finally start to dissipate.

here I go again…

Well, here we are. Another blog. Another lone voice in what feels like this ever-growing faceless mess. How on earth will I ever be heard? Why would I even choose to join the fray, when there are already so many valid voices out there?

I ask myself that every day (I actually do) and yet here I am, perhaps quixotically, writing the first post to this, my sixth blog to date.

Impulsive muse. What does that even mean? It probably means just what you think it does. And even if it doesn’t, who am I to correct you? Isn’t everything we experience quantified by all the personal stuff we bring into the picture?

I have always had a tumultuous relationship with the fickle muse that is creativity. It often visits me at the most inopportune times – in the shower, as I’m about to slip under the veil of sleep – and so I’ve grown untrusting of it, feeling that if creativity really loved me it would stay long enough for me to grasp it and get something out, instead of teasing me with the idea of a great thought and then abandoning me just when I set out to make something of it.

The title of this blog is an effort to tether my creativity enough so that I can harness it when I need to. A reminder to myself that the spark of an idea I get is something special, not to be trifled with or put on a shelf until a better time. To think less and write more.

Will I be able to achieve that? And, beyond that, will anyone read? I think only time (and possibly my muse) will tell.