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.

My philosophy for booking has always pretty much been the same, from my very earliest days as a promoter, through my MoHo days, to now.  I book great professional artists who are good to work with, and I pay them as well as I can and ensure they work in decent conditions.  My resources are limited and I’m bound by the conditions of my funders, and this means that, if I’m going to follow my own ethical code, I book fewer artists, but better gigs, than we’ve done in the past.

In addition, we receive funding from the terrific Arts Presentation Canada program, run by the Federal government, whose purpose is to increase diversity at festivals, and who stipulate that their funding should be used to book artists from out-of-province as well as emerging and culturally diverse acts.  I see this as an opportunity to introduce Peterborough artists and audiences to the sounds and ideas that are happening across the country, but it also means that there are fewer slots for local artists than in the past.

I’m extremely lucky because I book a free festival, so I don’t have to worry about a draw – every year, 7000-9000 people come regardless of who’s playing.  Personally, I prefer to support emerging acts in any case, and I really don’t like the idea of blowing half or more of my artistic budget on the last two acts of the night.  But it also means that we miss out on those tasty admissions fees that can make up a third or more of a festival’s funding.  The idea of fencing off the festival area and charging admission has been bruited about, but none of the current Board are comfortable with the idea of changing 21 years of tradition in such a fundamental way – we like the festival free and accessible.  So we do our best with the funding we receive, and I think we do a pretty damned good job.

There are so many things I wish for the Peterborough Folk Festival - good god, how I’d love to expand and do three days in the park, to rebuild that concrete stage with a proper proscenium and offices and dry storage underneath,  and re-terrace the hill.  How I’d love for us to own our own sound gear, to build some permanent platforms in the park, and to do weekly concerts throughout the Summer and a Winter series.  I want to draw in the communities of new Canadians in Peterborough and become relevant to them, and I’d like to see more participatory workshops where our audience get to learn how to do things.  I want to see fewer and fewer cars in the parking area, and more and more people arrive on foot or via transit/canoe/bicycle. I want to see an increasingly diverse crowd of people enjoying the kind of music they can’t hear anywhere else in the City.

My dreams always outstrip my abilities, and our finances.  I am constantly disappointed by what I was not able to achieve in any given year.  But by consistently setting the bar higher for ourselves, we reach a little higher every year, and do better.  It’s hard work, but I think we can’t ask any less of ourselves than we ask of our community.  And I think that, if we don’t ask for high standards from our community, we tacitly encourage unprofessional-ism and sloppy work.

Join us, August 27 – 29, 2010, as we try to reach a little higher than we have before; there will be mistakes, absolutely, and things that don’t quite make the grade.  But there’s a spirit of sweetness, or openness, and a sense of community that you won’t find elsewhere.  Moments of beauty that you can share with friends and family, great music, delicious food, and fabulous crafts.  For all the heartache I’ve occasionally felt over the PFF, the end is always worth it.

This year I intend to step down at Executive Director of the Peterborough Folk Festival; if you’re interested in the job (it’s primarily a volunteer position, involving grant writing and administrative work, but comes with a small honourarium), you can get in touch with me and we’ll talk about it.

What I consider the greater crime, however, is the culture of wear-down that perpetuates this cycle.  How many terrific, smart, passionate people get so worn down by the demands, expectations, disappointments, losses, and low-income of a career in the community and non-profit sector that we lose them after a few years, with a net loss to the community of invaluable experience, momentum, and expertise?  As people interested in the health and vibrancy of our community, it’s poor behaviour to demand that our volunteers and employees sacrifice their own to the cause.

Whenever I hear the adjective “tireless” applied to a community worker, hear jovial references to their round-the-clock presence at the office, see their time and work undervalued, I worry about the future of the organization they work for.  It’s a process of attrition, a death by a thousand cuts.  The fall may be slow, but it’s inevitable.

A community’s greatest asset is its skilled workers; protect yourself, and the important work you do, by avoiding the pitfalls.

I’ve given this a lot of thought, having been involved in the community sector a long time, and often fallen into the traps described above.  As paid staff, volunteer, and Board member, I’ve both asked too much and been asked too much.  There’s not a mistake on this list I haven’t made myself, sometimes over and again.  So, as much to remind myself as to educate anyone else, here are seven strategies for making a positive difference in both your own life, and that of the community!

1. Know why you’re joining the organization.

Yes, it looks good on a resume to say you sat on a Board of Directors or volunteer, but are you prepared to do the work?  To pay close attention to the financial spreadsheets?  To ask questions, and challenge more established people when you have doubts or concerns? To do more than to merely show up?  Sitting there mouth closed and eyes glassy does no one any good, whether you’re a ticket-taker or a member-at-large.

2. Know you have the time to devote to the organization.

You see something you feel is important, and you want to help, and before you know it you’ve committed yourself to a major role without stopping to see if there’s room in your year for another commitment.  Too many times we spread ourselves too thin to be of any use to anyone, and achieve less because we aim for more.

3. Understand and share the goals of the organization you’re joining.

An argument about what route to take from here to Toronto is resolvable, but when they want to get to Toronto and you want to get to Mumbai, there’s no way to reconcile except by force.   There can be as many goals in any given organization as there are people and ideas; read the bylaws, vision, mandate and goals of the organization and find out when those were last reviewed and how often they’re referred to by the Board.  If the group hasn’t looked at them in a few years, or they seem unfocused or unreasonable or don’t represent the current organization or your own goals, steer clear.

4. Be honest and upfront; provide and review information.

By supporting your information and experience with confidence, and being familiar with the issues at hand, you clear the way for reasonable debate and informed decision-making.  The habits of making decisions in the heat of the moment, folding to peer pressure, charismatic persuasion, or the desire to avoid responsibility or confrontation can become endemic to an organization and pretty much always result in poor leadership and bad management.

5. Be firm in defence of your own time, health, and sanity.  Be firm in the defence of other people’s time, health, and sanity.

As an employee, be sure that your understanding of your hours and your boss’/Board’s understanding of your hours is firm – most non-profits expect their staff to work more than they’re being paid for, or demand more than is possible in the time available, which is a certain recipe for burnout.  As a volunteer, particularly a Board member, make sure that what you and other volunteers are asking of each other and your employees is reasonable and conforms to existing labour laws (you’d be surprised at how many community organizations have no clue about employee rights).  Steer your organization towards a stable working environment; try to find ways to offer benefits, decent pay, and reasonable expectations to employees.

6. Choose your battles carefully; outline your strategy to the people you work with.

Organizations, like individuals, are likely to over-extend themselves.  Is it more important to run a fund-raising event or write a grant?  Which items of your programming are most essential and important and which are continued due more to tradition or habit than demonstrable impact?  Is the org accomplishing what it exists to do? Assess the work you’re doing, and try to focus on the  strategies which best support the goals of the organization.  Withdraw from commitments or programming which take more than they give back, even if it means a loss of funding.  Consult with your team, create a strategy, and maintain a dialogue so that everyone involved in the organization and served by it can access and understand the choices that are being made.

7. Monitor your own engagement.

Sure, you started out passionate, committed, and invested, but that was then.  Have your goals changed since you’ve gotten involved with the organization?  Do you find yourself less interested in this work than you were?  Do you think your time would be better spent elsewhere? Don’t feel guilty about withdrawing if you’re no longer engaged in the work; some people can sustain 25 years of interest and passion, but they’re in the minority.  Change when you need to.

So it’s not news that the big guys, be they record labels or tv stations or newspapers or media conglomerates, have lost their game and can’t seem to get it back.  Talking to an acquaintance who works on the fringes of a major record label, I hear the same worn-out melodrama – piracy is ruining everything.  I was surprised that anyone still thinks so; certainly, none of the musicians I’ve spoken to seem to be worrying about piracy – in fact, most of the smart ones are giving songs away for free.  The more I look around, the more I see the big labels and the media that serves them as impediments to success, unless the planets align and you happen to be one of the slender minority of mega-stars that they’re willing to push.

That model – a few large corporations controlling the major distribution outlets for all culture – is fairly recent.  And like any system that relies on too little diversity, it’s hugely vulnerable as the world around it shifts and develops.  Just as nature develops new and nasty diseases to attack factory farms, human technology develops to attack factory culture.  Old media have managed to keep a stranglehold on the mainstream through a number of new technologies, but perhaps (a girl can dream) their slow-moving monoliths are no match for the flexibility and adaptability of the internet.  

Conan O’Brien, as part of his exit deal, agreed to stay off tv for a few months while Fox consolidates its audience for a renewed Jay Leno Tonight Show, a move that makes sense in the old media paradigm.  They don’t want Conan mocking them from a platform like The Daily Show, or stoking the furnaces of the internet love/hate machine.  They want to slow his momentum in the only way they know how; by keeping him off of the airwaves.  But while he can’t appear on television, Conan’s not about to sit and stew; he’s got the momentum of the internet behind him, and he’s channelling it into a terrific idea -  a live tour.

I’m not excited because I want to go to these shows myself – I’ve never been a fan of big-venue shows, and I can’t seeing myself queuing with a gazillion other people for the chance to see a tiny Conan O’Brien be funny at a distance of several parking lots.  But I think it’s exciting, because it’s so smart,  so progressive.  In this brave new world, you can only really sell what can’t be easily controlled or duplicated by a third party – essentially, yourself, your physical presence, the things you’ve worked on with your own hands.

I know I’ve gone on about this before, but it excites me.  North America has spent a good couple of decades huddled in our homes in front of glowing boxes, and while I love tv and the internet, they’re never, ever going to get close enough to touch my love for live performance.  As someone who goes out and sees a lot of shows, be it theatre, dance or music, I know I’m in the minority, and I think it’s a damn shame.  I believe humans crave connection; we’re herd animals, and anyone who’s ever been to (or run) a good music venue or  festival can attest that the music is only about a quarter of the equation, the hook that gets people interacting in a space together.  I think that, as a culture over the past 30 years, we’ve forgotten how much we crave and are inspired by face-to-face interaction.

So to see a tv star with the sort of name recognition of Conan O’Brien setting himself up to be with his fans in live, physical spaces around the world, it fills me with hope.  I think we’re going to be seeing a lot of this sort of thing in the future, as bigger stars start to pull away from old-media ideas and conditions and start moving into the future – a future where those large, central cultural clearing-houses crumble and make way for smaller, regional groups that can connect with the world with fewer resources.  Watching OK Go leave EMI this week, and Conan hit the road for a live tour, it seems like a great time for those of us who long for diversity in our culture, who don’t love the monoculture of the big media outlets, and who understand the importance of the experience of live art.

It is, honestly, an exciting time to be down at the grass roots, a hopeful time to be an artist.  We don’t get a lot of that, so I’m going to celebrate.

I have issues with the concept of charity; I wonder (especially with large, international charities) where the money goes, how much gets socked away into ‘administrative costs’, how much good is actually done, and whether or not charitable aid actually ends up creating dependents instead of assisting people and nations to stand on their own feet.  And having worked for various charities and non-profits, both in paid and volunteer positions, I have questions about how ethically some of them are run – how they treat their employees, how they set goals and measure results, how responsible and smart and efficient they are.  I see a lot of burnout, and a lot of brilliant people martyring themselves to no discernible positive effect in the community, a lot of waste.  Or wearing themselves thin until they’re no longer able to work in that field, with a huge net loss of intelligence, connections and human power.

But more troubling for me is this trend towards passive charity; the buying of something to demonstrate your beliefs, in substitution for actually acting on them.

Recently, Merlin Mann linked to a book called ‘Conspicuous Compassion,’ about the phenomenon of publicly displaying our charity (you can get a .pdf of the first chapter here; I recommend that you read it).  Though it goes to some places I disagree with, overall it was with relief that I saw this discomfort expressed by someone else.

I do agree that these public displays of charitable empathy exist in lieu of actual charitable acts.  People whom I see with white ribbons and pink standing mixers and red phones are rarely people I see taking any concrete actions around spousal abuse, cancer, or AIDS.  These are not the people you see volunteering at shelters or hospitals, though you may find them at parties and marathons.  And while I understand that these events, objects or products can in some ways raise awareness, open discussion and make an issue mainstream, when the next issue, product, or ribbon comes along, the spotlight moves with it.  I wonder how much of the real work gets done, when charities spend so much of their limited time and resources organizing gala events.

I see that some good may come of a few dollars, from a purchase you were going to make anyway, going towards research.  Or at least I see the argument.  But with many cause-branded products, the donation is not automatic; you have to register your purchase separately.  And the door is wide open for fraudulent schemes if you, as consumer, aren’t doing your homework on the companies and charities you’re supporting.  And hey, do you really need a new cellphone or standing mixer?  Your $200+ would be better donated directly to the charities doing the most research, the most active good.

But I’m going to tell you, as someone who runs a non-profit and sits on the Boards of charitable organizations, lots of local (and international) groups need your time as much as your money.  We need people to spend a couple of hours doing a fairly boring task.  We need a weekly commitment to make an hour’s worth of phone calls.  We’re asking you to help technicians load gear in and out of a venue.  We need you to drop in and stuff envelopes, or monitor a gallery, or sell tickets, or update our website.  We’re not asking for the kind of time your mothers put in to volunteer work; nobody has that anymore.  But a few hours out of your month or year make a big difference; a much bigger difference than your ribbon, your t-shirt, your standing mixer, your pink jewelry.  And it could make a discernible difference right there in your community.

Do you think AIDS is terrible?  Me too.  Do you think it’s wrong that some people abuse their spouses?  Me too.  Do you think it would be great if your community had a thriving, inclusive, arts community with lots of great resources?  Me too.

But honestly?  I don’t care what you think.  I care what you do.

So what are you doing?

1.  Twilight is a huge cultural phenomenon, and to avoid seeing this movie is to ignore the obsession of an entire generation.  Also, years of jokes and parodies which you won’t get because you skipped it.

2.  These movies are a laugh riot.  I mean, unintentional, but they’re hilarious.  Much more funny than most comedies.

3.  Robert Pattinson is pretty hot.

So New Moon.

I was going to write a review and be hilarious at the expense of this movie, but you’ll probably see it, and the humour implicit in Italian vampires who don’t wear any socks and teenage werewolves who never wear shirts will be clear to you.  Instead I’m going to talk directly to the parents of the teens and pre-teens who are going to see this film.

Firstly, don’t fool yourself: this series is not about abstinence.  It’s about sex.  Lots of it.  In the near future.  The whole series is designed to get the readers wound up, essentially, into a dreamy, inexperienced sexual frenzy.  That’s how they sell merchandise.  It’s not rocket science.

There’s probably no way you can avoid having your kid see any of the movies from this series unless you’re raising a socially maladjusted freak.  By hook or by crook, even if you forbid your kid from seeing this film, they’ll find a way.  When they’re older they will probably also get into your liquor cabinet.  So don’t go through all the drama of making these films or books forbidden fruit; you’ve got bigger fish to fry.  Take them to see it.  It’s really not worth fighting about.

But when the film is done, by god, sit them down and have a conversation.

Tell your smart, strong, responsible daughters that they should never let a boy or a man (or any partner) treat them the way Bella (or any of the women) are treated in this movie.  That when they get a car of their own, they are the ones who drive it unless they are somehow unable to.  Tell them that they get to determine who they’re friends with, and when – or if – they stop associating with those friends.  And that if any one ever hurts them – physically or emotionally – they should leave that person immediately.  That they are the master of their own homes, bodies, and possessions and anyone who reaches past them to answer their phone (or who checks their email, text messages, etc.) is seriously overstepping their rights. That anyone who tries to create rules around their decisions about their bodies and sexuality has no business doing so.  That it is not romantic to be at the mercy of someone controlling, jealous, unpredictable, and irresponsible.  That no love is ever worth giving up sovereignty over yourself.

Tell your smart, strong, responsible sons that they should never – ever – treat a woman (or any partner) like Bella and the other woman in this movie are being treated.  That they should respect the personal space, bodies, and possessions of the people they love.  That they should never try to emotionally or physically hurt the people in their lives.  That breaking into someone’s room while they sleep will land them in jail, as will any of the stalker-type activities that Edward engages in.  That controlling behaviour is unacceptable, and that sexuality is something shared between partners, not the decision of solely one or the other.

Okay, now tell your son or daughter all the advice I gave for the opposite sex, too.

And then, for pete’s sake, tell them that whenever they decide to have sex is up to them (and no one else), and that you know they’ll come to a responsible decision about it, and that you hope it’s with someone who respects them and cares for them.  Tell them that you trust them, and that you hope they’ll use birth control and take steps to prevent STDs.

Please make sure they know where to find condoms, how to get the birth control pill, where to go to get tested for things.  There’s probably a great Women’s or Sexual Health clinic in your neighborhood; make sure they know where it is.

We can’t protect kids by hiding things from them.  But the best defense is a good offense, and your kid is going to be a lot better off armed with the knowledge that what they’re viewing up on that screen, no matter how dreamy Robert Pattinson is, is not an ideal of how relationships work or how people behave.

Hopefully, you’ve got your own arsenal of media that can help you counter-act the effect of New Moon, but if not, I’ve got plenty of suggestions.  Please remember that boys as well as girls benefit from seeing strong female characters.  Generally, I love strong, smart characters regardless of gender, and this list contains lots of both male and female characters who are awesome.

Candace’s List of great movies & television shows to show your teen/pre-teen:

When I was a kid, we watched everything, regardless of movie rating or our age.  I’d consider everything on this list  to be pre-teen appropriate, but you’re the parent; do some parenting, and judge for yourself.

Labyrinth: The protagonist, Sarah, is a bit whiny but in the end rejects the Goblin King’s offer to stay with him and does her own thing.  There are also lots of puppets and song + dance numbers.  Yes, I own the soundtrack.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Ignore the movie.  The first three seasons of this TV show contains loads of brooding hot guys and tough, ass-kicking teenage women.  Aside from staking vampires, most problems are solved via teamwork and intelligence.  The clothing is a bit laughable.  Sex is dealt with in a way that I think most kids would benefit from seeing.

Doctor Who: The newer BBC kids’ TV series, which started a few years ago with Christopher Eccleston and Billie Piper, includes lots and lots of strong, female characters who I find pretty inspiring.  It’s chock-full of goodness, plus the Doctor as played by David Tennant is super-cute and a bit emo, and the protagonists rely on brains over force to solve their problems.

Torchwood: A spin-off from Doctor Who, this series is designed for adult audiences and there’s a bit more violence, sex and swearing, but also plenty of strong characters who focus on intelligence and teamwork, again.  Sex is dealt with in an adult way, so less dreamy sighing and more consequences/etc. One of the few mainstream vehicles that deals with sexual orientation and its malleability.

Pride and Prejudice: The original BBC television mini-series; don’t even speak to me of the horror that is Kiera Knightly as Elizabeth Bennett.  Snappy dialogue, smart strong women, lots of different relationships explored.

Ginger Snaps: A film about girls reaching puberty, and werewolves. As I recall, it’s a bit violent, but what a great film!  Ignore the sequels.

Girl Fight: Michelle Rodriguez is great in this movie!  It deals with the conflicts you run up against as a tough woman, and what compromises you reach and what you don’t compromise on.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon: There’s some really nice adult relationships in this movie; Chow Yun Fat and Michelle Yeoh are terrific.  Their characters have all the understated romantic tragedy you could ask for, while also being totally ass-kicking.

I was a kid in the 80s, when TV (and fashion) was awful.  Characters had one dimension; plots were hackneyed and predictable.  Characters didn’t develop, and the end of an episode was like a magic reset button; nothing changed, everything went back to how it had been at the beginning of the episode.  How it had always been.

Online, I’ve noticed that people of my generation seem to be doing this to themselves: casting one facet of their personality in the role of The Interesting Thing About me so they can blog about it and (eventually, I assume it’s hoped) get a book deal or a television show of their very own.  Tech blogs, political blogs, movie blogs, mommy blogs – if you can name it, there’s someone out there blogging about it to the exclusion of all else.  It draws an audience of like-minded people, and soon you get a marvelous infinite recursion*, where the only change is that opinions get more extreme, entrenched and isolated from the rest of the world.

This kind of specialization bores me to tears, and it’s for the same reason that 80s TV did – no character development.  Nothing moves forward.  Once you’re a political blogger, you keep doing that forever, and if you stray from the subject or your opinions change or develop, you risk losing your audience.  So you shore up their opinions and yours, endlessly re-creating the self you were when you started the blog.  I started blogging ten years ago, and if I was the same person I was in university (or playing at being the same) it’d be the tragedy of my life.

Oh hey, Daniel.

If I turned this website into the Blog of Shirtless Men, I’d have a much larger audience.  I can imagine how I’d optimize the SEO (yes, I’d optimize my optimization) and what my markets would be; that’d be the easiest sell of all time besides shirtless women.  I’d probably end up as a “Sexpert” on Tyra giving women (and gay men) questionable relationship advice.  And every day I did that, I’d be ensuring that my mind atrophied and all the things I value in myself withered and died.

Did that seem judgmental or cynical?  I fucking hope so.  Because developing one facet of your personality to the detriment of all else is bad for you and bad for our success as human beings.  And you don’t need to trust me on this one; I’ve got history to back me up.

Seriously, I love this guy.

Consider our good friend Genghis Khan (that’s a great book, btw), who was frankly totally awesome.  Aside from conquering more territory than Alexander the Great (another hero of mine), he also did this marvelous thing where he allowed the people of each place he conquered to (usually) keep their culture, religion, and essential body parts.  He took the best and the brightest people of each culture, and brought them together.  The ideas behind Chinese fireworks and European cathedral bells cross-pollinated and became a major advance in warfare technology – canons.

Or think about the Kingdom of Sicily in the middle ages, where the mingling of Muslim, Christian and Jewish ideas, culture, and people brought about a  distinct flowering of arts, sciences, and culture.  When they started doing stupid things like kicking out all of the Jews, they floundered, financially and culturally (okay, that’s a generalization, and you could argue with me on it, but it was a big part).

Or consider Gavin Menzies’ assertion (in his book 1434) that the Chinese visit to Europe ignited the Renaissance.  The book, like all of his work, is not very well-written but his ideas are kind-of earth-shakingly wonderful.  The central idea is that the Chinese introduced to parts of Europe ideas and learning that were foreign to  European thought, and when those collided they opened new channels that lead to massive leaps in technology, arts, learning and culture (though I think that the Arabs, who preserved copies of the ancient writers and had added substantially to the store of knowledge should get a lot more credit).

Or how Picasso’s exposure to African art completely changed and influenced his style – and all visual art in the 100 years since, around the world (I don’t like his work, nor a lot of Modern art, but I appreciate the change and the ideas behind it).

When different ways of thinking collide, crash, or sit side by each, there is opportunity to move forward, to develop.  This is usually uncomfortable; our assertions get challenged, our sense of what is right and wrong gets upended, people fight, and you often have to admit that the ideas you used to passionately defend were wrong (that’s the hardest part).  For a society, it’s a vital process that leads to financial and cultural success; for an individual, it’s growing up.  It’s character development.

What I’ve been noticing in TV lately is this gorgeous thing where different cultures or ways of being are being shown as doing the uncomfortable dance around how to live together and the changes that happen when they do.  Rome had all these lovely juxtapositions of class.  Deadwood was an exploration of what happens when the normal societal rules are stripped away and everyone – regardless of class – is thrown into a pile in the middle of nowhere.   Glee (and High School Musical, though with a lot less complexity) mostly rests of the tensions between jocks and nerds and whether or not it’s possible to straddle those groups.  True Blood, about humans and newly-outed Vampires explores the tensions between established and emerging cultures.  Heroes, though I feel like it’s gone off the rails a lot, is about internal struggle – what happens when we are changing and challenging the truths that are essential to ourselves – who we are as people, as human beings.

You can’t really say any of that for The Golden Girls or Dallas or Full House.  Sorry 80s TV, you sucked!**

It’s the Generalist who (while they are good at a couple of things) is actively interested in the rest of the world who moves the world forward.  The Specialist might be really, really good at say, graphic design or rocket science, but there’ll be a point where that individuals skill and knowledge plateau, and it’s not really possible to develop any further.   Specialists are great when you have them operating on your brain, not so great when you want your culture to flourish.  There has to be a happy accident, a catalyst of some kind that shakes us out of our complacency, that changes the game somehow.  And we won’t find that if we re-tread the same territory or spend too much time with like-minded individuals.

In the nakedly self-promoting glare of one-topic bloggers the world looks like a pretty terrible place.  Thankfully, I think a sea-change is coming; I believe that Western culture is tuning in to the many blessings of difference, and beginning to reject the extremism that stereotypes and sealed knowledge and an infinite loop breeds.  At least, I hope it’s so.  For my own edification, if nothing else.

*Am I using this term correctly?  I think I am, but I’ve been wrong before.  I mean an endless repetition, like when you point a video camera at a Television.  In any event, recursion is fun to say.  Recursion, recursion, recursion. Infinite recursion is even better; all those tasty syllables! Recursion, from the Latin to run back.

** Am I missing something awesome?  Because I don’t remember liking anything on TV in the 80s, or even most of the 90s. Friends, Beverly Hills 90210, Seinfeld… blech.

I am continuing, as I had planned, as Artistic Director, and stepping down as Executive Director.  Partially for continuity, and to be there in a mentoring role to whomever becomes ED, and partially because I really love being involved with the festival, and the things I’ve always dreamed of doing will be possible if I’m freed up in other areas.  Also because I’ve already started booking acts for next year.

Raging Asian Women were the runaway success; they’re  incredible, and wonderful, gracious people who completely get the festival and the spirit of the event and enhanced it by their presence.  Unity were also amazing; I wish the weather had been better before their set, as more people ought to have heard them, but the first song in particular was freakin’ crazy-good. David Newland soldiered on throughout the entire weekend, inspiring and enlightening wherever he went.  David Simard is always a treat to be around, and his music is gorgeous.  Sheesham and Lotus were fabulous evening hosts, and put on a terrific set (as attested by their CD sales, which were through the roof).   Elliott Brood were brilliant, and the perfect end to the evening, and the super-sweetest guys on earth to work with.

But I’ve been telling people that music is a part of the festival, not the point of the festival, and trying to impress on anyone I talk to about it that the whole point is to work with decent people and create a community spirit that everyone can carry away with them into their real lives.  There are too many good bands out there; I don’t ever need to book assholes, people who are going to be dicks to my sound techs, my volunteers, my hosts, my audience or me.  This is a community festival, not a music festival; this is not one of those horrible, insane events where 20-somethings are herded like cattle into enclosed spaces, charged exorbitant rates for water and food, and sponsors decide and brand every aspect.  This is the sort of festival where you can spread out a blanket on the hill, alone, with friends, or with your family, listen to music you don’t hear every day, soak up some sun and see people in your community out doing the same thing.   The music is what brings people to the park, but what sets our festival apart from anything else in the County is the sense of the broader community.

And when I say ‘community festival,’ I don’t mean that I only book bands who are from the community (which is not the festival’s mandate, and if I did book only local bands I’d lose 1/3 of our funding), but bands that serve the event in some way – by exposing our community to new sounds and ideas, by celebrating diversity, by cracking open doors to musical styles and genres that you don’t otherwise hear, by presenting music you’d never listen to on your own in a setting without risk or judgment.  My goal is to bring together people from all over our community in an inclusive space where no-one feels like they don’t belong, where everyone is welcome; free, accessible, comfortable, easy-going, and lovely.  I want everyone to see something of themselves reflected on the stage, and everyone to see something completely outside of their experience.

This is the first year where I feel that we’ve really made significant moves towards that vision; I’ve always been proud of the work we’ve done, but this year it seems like we’ve finally found the right format for the festival that will make it possible to achieve that dream.  We’ve got a long way to go, and a million tiny kinks to work out, but I am so proud of the grace and patience and quiet strength of our volunteers, especially our Board of Directors, of the talent, ability and friendliness of the musicians that joined us this year, and the open minds and hearts of the people who joined us in the audience.

Our community: much bigger and more interesting than a scene or a genre.  Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

There were two very clear messages I took with me from that time; the first and most solid was the white men in suits who said, over and over until I believed that it was true, that alternative energy sources would never be anything more than a novelty act.  That you couldn’t draw serious energy from the sun, wind, anything.  We could recycle all we wanted, but our dependence on fossil fuels was forever.  Even to an 8-year-old, that sounded horrible, futile, depressing.  To know that I was so dependent on a resource that was finite and depleting fast meant my future was compromised; the horror of dystopian sci-fi seemed like true prophesy.

The second message was that Lyn Kelsey, my third-grade teacher and by leaps and bounds one of the most interesting, intelligent, and inspiring people in my young life, believed in the green movement.  Probably the only teacher who taught me a damned thing in Elementary school, Mr. K was a guy with a passion for history, for stories, for reading, and for individuality.  As I grew up, I realized that his historical perspective was what inspired his interest in the environment; he taught us that we had a place in time and space, and that we weren’t the centre, but we could influence the whole.  He could imagine a future where things that didn’t currently exist had been implemented, where our future was hopeful because we had the ingenuity to learn from the past and move forward in an unexpected direction, because he knew it had happened in the past.

For years these two ideas struggled inside my mind; the pessimism of the suits often won out over the optimism of the dreamer, because it just seemed so concrete, so definite, and I was young and couldn’t imagine that it was smarter to be optimistic than to be pessimistic.

Well, this last decade has proven the suits were not just wrong, but extremely short-sighted.  From the perspective of 80s corporate culture anything that took us away from the petroleum-driven economy seemed like a big waste in comparison to the cheapness and ubiquity of the systems in place.  But they didn’t have the far-sight, or the sense of history, to see that human ingenuity has flown us over these chasms before.  The generation that went to the moon couldn’t imagine switching from petroleum to other energy sources!  It almost seems quaint now.

Yeah, we haven’t yet made the leap; I commute 40 minutes to work in a gasoline-fueled car, heat my house with oil, use plastics every day.  But solar panels are becoming a common sight around my city, and technologies to exploit, collect, store and distribute passive solar are jumping forward at an impressive rate.  I have great hope for geothermal heating and cooling (especially as espoused by Toronto City Counsellor Adam Vaughan, whose idea of putting geothermal in schoolyards in heritage neighborhoods and using it to turn a profit that will fund the schools themselves raised the hair on my arms and pretty much fucking blew my mind), and new technologies and ideas are being explored by people all over the world.

I think at this point, anyone who predicts that we will never break our reliance on fossil fuels would look particularly feeble-minded and unimaginative.  Definitely not the kind of person whose business you’d invest in, or whose projects you’d support.  And there are still a bunch of those short-sighted guys running around (the gentlemen who in recent years decided to really push light trucks as the future of the auto industry come to mind), though luckily they’re putting themselves out of work pretty quickly.

Anyone who has studied history, particularly ancient history, knows the incredible and beautiful resilience and adaptivity of humanity.  You can see a thousand examples of civilizations embracing new technologies and then abandoning them as they become outdated, impractical, or as a new technology emerges.  When you consider that we’ve only become really reliant on oil in the past 70 years or so, it becomes clear that we can move forward with cleaner technologies.

Prior to the invention of the wheel, I’m sure somebody said with great confidence that no one was ever going to improve on the technology of the sledge.  Prior to the invention of the bow, I’m sure it was commonly felt that no one was going to improve on the technology of the spear.  To deny that we can improve – or surpass – the technology of the fossil fuels era is to despair, to believe that we are the apex of humanity, to give up.

There’s a Latin phrase – nihil sub sole novum – which has always been a  great source of hope to me, something I return to again and again in times of worry and trouble.  It means ‘There is nothing new under the sun,’ and it was written by a Roman writer more than two thousand years ago.  He thought he had seen it all.  When you consider the incredible things that have been achieved in the intervening years, you have to feel hope: what seems like the end of the line, the apex of technology is actually the funny old inventions of the future, of a history that we shape every day.  Some person a hundred years from now is going to smile indulgently at those long-dead suits and their lack of imagination, or our quaint worries about the future.

Contrary to what I believed when I was young, it takes a lot more intelligence to be an optimist than to be a pessimist; you have to know more about the world and our place in it to see the potential, to believe that we can do more than the best that we have now.   People only despair when they don’t know enough to hope, but you can always teach a pessimist, given enough time and patience.  And if you don’t, it’s okay – history will teach them, if they’re paying attention.