Last week, I flipped the proverbial switch and brought the brand new Peterborough Folk Festival website on line. You can check out our line-up, and some of the extended programming we’re doing, as well as learn a little about the 21 years the festival’s been running.
This is my fourth year as Artistic Director and Executive Director for the festival. I first volunteered for the festival in the late nineties, when I got stuck as a parking attendant for hours without water or any clear sense of what I was supposed to be doing. Since then, I’ve coordinated Healing Arts and the Club Crawl, eventually taking on the positions I’m in now.
The festival is run by a small, dedicated, and hard-working group of volunteers, many of whom have been with the festival for years and work, month after month, year-round to bring together three great days in late August. We’ve made a lot of changes to the festival in the past 4 years, changes I’m very proud of because they’ve made the festival infinitely better, and infinitely easier to run. We’ve tightened up, planned carefully, and created a strong foundation for considered growth. But change always angers people, especially when they see it as negatively impacting themselves.
Last year, when I proposed that we cut the Club Crawl, it was not the first time I’d argued that it was a waste of effort that reflected poorly on the festival as a whole. Originally conceived as a fundraiser for the festival, the Club Crawl rarely worked as such, generally losing money despite our best efforts. In my opinion, it was a clusterfuck; paying artists a pittance to play in venues unsuited for live music, running technicians ragged as they dealt with jury-rigged gear and practically no switch-over time. Venue owners didn’t feel they were getting a good deal, either, and as a result, often dropped out or screwed us in some way at the last minute. The final straw, for me, was when one of our funders praised the festival as a whole but suggested in strong terms that the Club Crawl didn’t live up to the standards they expected as a baseline for paid, professional artists. I agreed, and either argued persuasively to the Board of Directors or just browbeat them (they may want to comment on which) into axing the Club Crawl for 2009.
I have to admit I was completely taken off guard by the anger from several local artists. What I saw as a shitty gig or tokenism they (I guess) saw as inclusion. And I’m sorry they felt that way; it reflects poorly on local audiences and venues that a $50 gig with no real soundcheck is considered okay for a skilled artist who’s been playing for years. I know it’s a lot harder to get into the festival now than it was in the past, because there are fewer slots. But I think it’s important for any publicly-funded arts organization to treat artists with respect, and part of that respect is to create opportunities that operate at a professional standard – decent pay, decent playing conditions. Another facet of that respect is to set the bar high and encourage the community to reach it. Read the rest of this entry »
I’ve seen it again and again, and despite knowing better, I’ve fallen victim to it myself more times than I care to admit. Working as a community organizer – in whatever field, paid or volunteer – vision, dreams, and ambitions almost always outstrip resources and abilities. After years martyring themselves over small victories and large losses, some burn out, some break down, and some leave in frustration and bitterness. Even worse, some stay in frustration and bitterness, angry, exhausted, and negative, pulling the organization down with them. It’s a nasty thing to do to yourself, and a bad way to treat a good dream.
I’ve always been a fan of Conan O’Brien, but never really watched his tv show; generally I’m up to other things at 11:30 or later. I watch the good bits online, because I am one of those internet people who are ruining everything. But I took note of the news about the 
