A few weeks ago, a friend sent me a notice that our legislative assembly was sending the finance committee out and about in the province to get the pulse of the people, and hear what's important to British Columbians. It's under the guise of getting input on priorities for the next BC budget (2010). I suspect it's a bit along the lines of the illusion of transparency, but I am an optimistic realist, so I took the bait.
After looking into the website for the finance committee and what was happening around the province, I decided to apply to speak to the committee and get my voice heard. When else would I get the opportunity to speak to 11 MLAs in one sitting? When else would I get to speak to any MLA about the budget?
It was an interesting experience, and I'm digesting it as I type (and the excellent dinner we had after at Local Lounge in Summerland, too).
For anyone interested in how I chose to put voice to my concerns, below is a copy of the address I made today, at 4:05pm, in the Kelowna Best Western. I was the first of about a dozen speakers, and we left after my presentation - not to disrespect other presenters, but we were hungry.
It might be the government, but it's our voice. Remember to be heard.
______________________________________________
I would like to thank the Committee for providing me with the opportunity to share my views through these consultations. I and many others believe it’s important that our communities engage in dialogue with our elected government around the planning of British Columbia’s future.
I wish to speak about the significant reduction in funding to the areas of Arts & Culture in British Columbia, and I ask the Committee and our government to be mindful of the impact their coming decisions will have on our province. You play a significant role in the guardianship of our investment in self and story, and that warrants some care.
I have watched over the past few years as a small art gallery in Penticton has brought new and exciting things to the area. Along with celebrated artists of significant notoriety, the gallery provides space for middle and secondary school students works. Summer sessions are available to inspire young minds, and the limited staff challenges themselves to deliver more and increasingly unique ideas to the people in and around Penticton.
While fund raising and annual auctions bring much needed revenue to this small organization, the gallery relies on financial support from our provincial government to remain active members in the community.
Our Penticton Art Gallery is one of dozens or more who have seen significant cuts in financial support from government - support needed for them to be a contributing voice to British Columbia's arts and culture.
We owe it to ourselves and generations after us to invest in Arts & Culture. We are what we create, inspire and envision. We are what we are encouraged to be curious of, and what we leave behind for others to be curious about.
Through the Arts there are ways in which we can responsibly leave an imprint of ourselves behind; ways that we can pass on the telling of our collective hopes, dreams and lives for future peoples. We can tell the stories of our journeys and of this moment in time, tell tales which celebrate the creativity of the human mind and those which record our spectacular disasters.
As the caretakers of the now, we can share with future peoples the joy of our collaborations and the sorrow we feel for our flaws. This is storytelling – and story sharing – and it’s the backbone of our Arts communities. Right now, it’s floundering.
Through the development and support of our creative endeavours we preserve and educate future generations about who we were, and of what we could have been. If the world and our people are ailing, our Arts & Culture communities are the instruments of measure for our collective temperature. It is the information which we use to be effective guardians of our human spirit.
Federal, provincial and local governments often ask us to choose between supporting businesses or the Arts. This adversarial approach, to what in reality is a multiple-bottom-line economic model, erodes our very foundation. By asking us to support one or the other – as opposed to one and the other – we as a people are put in jeopardy of losing an entire generation, or more, of a vision of history.
People in the communities of British Columbia are voicing distress and fear over this decline in support in the areas of Arts & Culture.
This address is not a complaint. It is a plea to that part of each of us in which lies the smallest of embers to kindle, and the strongest of fires to feed.
I respectfully ask the committee to reflect on the level of support provided to the areas of Arts & Culture in the 2010 budget. We risk losing our valuable contribution to the larger arts and culture arena, which might never be regained, if we aren’t effective caretakers of the voices of our people.
I ask that the Committee kindly consider the following requests on behalf of our communities when the Committee and our government are planning this next budget.
Nurture emerging talent
The emerging voice is a tenuous one. Re-evaluation of existing support mechanisms is a key part in removing barriers for emerging talent to succeed. Review existing and past financial support structures. Support the development of new resource pools, and include stakeholders to participate in the construction of alternatives.
Sustain established arts institutions
Traditional fundraising efforts are often not enough to acquire, keep and share our collections. Collaborate with our organizations in developing appropriate budgets based on current, innovative best practices. Invest in scalable infrastructure to adequately support the growth and development our communities need to acquire, maintain and showcase our history and future.
Engage community in dialogue
Our communities are where we sing our songs, paint our canvasses and perform our works of art. They are the places which hold our culture. We do not ask our political leaders to own the success of our resolutions; instead, we ask them to engage our communities so we can together perform to our best expectations.
Remain accessible
Removing barriers – financial, physical or other – for communities to participate in arts and culture is vital to the health and growth of a community. The arts inspire, motivate and engage at every level, and our collections should remain available to all – regardless of where one is in life.
Be mindful of what we have obliged ourselves to
We have a collective responsibility to ensure the success of our arts. Should we commit to an endeavour, we must hold to our task. It is our responsibility to be mindful of what we have promised of ourselves and of our government.
Empower our people to be the stewards of our own stories
Ask us to be, and remain, engaged. Provide us with the support we need – when we ask – to do the work we need to do which will ensure our creative visions will come to exist beyond ourselves. Charge our people with the stewardship of our own voices; then support our efforts to do so.
The 2010 Budget Consultation Paper addresses the British Columbia “competitive edge”, our need for “sound fiscal management”, the emphasis for “creating jobs”, a need to continue “protecting vital services” and the goal of “building on the foundation”.
Yes, there are numerous priorities for financial support and government spending. There always are, and there always will be as long as we remain a country and a province that holds strong belief in delivering social services.
Health care, education, economic sustainability and arts & culture support aren’t mutually exclusive endeavours. Wise investors wouldn’t ask their investment specialist to select one or two areas alone to invest in – no, the wise investor acknowledges the diversity of the market, and that the success of one investment often relies on the development of another.
We can educate and train ourselves and our future generations to develop, research, construct and cure. But we also need to be encouraged and supported to dream, create and express.
We need our government to be strong and provide for every area of our province’s development. I ask that this Committee and this government recognize our arts & culture’s contribution to the economic growth of the province by making it a priority.
Wealth has more than one measure.
Thank you.
~ Jeannette
(c) Okanagan Writing Services
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
if a leaf falls
I love the smell of falling leaves. Yes, they actually have a distinct smell to them, and if you pay close attention on a sunny fall afternoon you will likely notice this. It's not the pre-rot of foliage as it lays on the ground, but that does give us a good backdrop on the scented stage. This smell is a clean, yet dusty aroma that seems to kick our instincts into low gear for the upcoming cooler season.
This past weekend I had the opportunity to visit some of our Okanagan communities, and even stretched the road trip as far as the West Kootenay area to include Revelstoke, Nakusp & Kaslo. The drive took us through some spectacular mountain roads and across small ferries, into communities preparing for a winter sleep away from the busy season of the tourist.
Through it all was the undeniable scent of falling leaves. The smell made part of me want to heat up big cauldrons of stew and settle in a comfy chair. Another part of me had childhood memories triggered by that unusual and unique scent. These back country roads, empty except for the occasional deer looking for a snack, brought out the memory of our annual fall family ritual.
Some kids remember fall as the time of sports sign up, soccer games and the fitting of last season's snow suits. I remember fall as the time of outdoor weekend adventures in the wilderness with my family, miles from nowhere, deep in the forests of Ontario. That heated stew made an appearance, too.
September for me brought text books, the dreaded school bus, and wood. Lots and lots of wood. We heated our home with a wood burning, air-tight stove, and to make it through a winter we needed anywhere between 5 and 8 cord of wood. What's a cord? Well, think two wilderness trees of average height, cut down into little four foot lengths. Now think that five to eight times over. That's a lot of wood.
Each September, our family would start the weekend outings to whatever area on Crown land (land owned by the province) that we had obtained a permit to fell (cut down) and buck up (cut into manageable lengths) our own trees. This was an all weekend event, over many weekends, starting early Saturday morning and ending late Sunday evening. And it was so much fun - for us kids, anyway.
Early in the day, mist laying low among small openings in the woods along the roadside, and we were already hard at it. By eight in the morning there was usually one or more trees felled across the road at our designated work site, and my dad would work quickly to clear a car lane while my sister and I stood a distance away for traffic control. If there even was any traffic. Usually not.
This pattern continued from September and into October - sometimes even to November, with the lightest of snowfalls. We were in the bush, the back country, each weekend, and we were happy. Big trees became road blocks, which eventually became a chair or a table for our impromptu lunch. Mom would get a fire going to heat a big pot of stew - sometimes chicken, but usually venison - which we would eat with mittens and gloved fingers, breath pluming out around our faces while we laughed about one almost accident or another.
The days were shorter and cooler, but we didn't mind. All around us was bright sunlight and the smell of falling leaves. To this day, the smells and sights of fall can quickly take me back to those days spent in and around the back roads of Ontario. It's an easy and welcome journey.
Grab a pumpkin, take a walk, drive along your favourite stretch of road. Whatever your favourite fall stories are, don't forget to make new ones to tell next year.
~ Jeannette
This past weekend I had the opportunity to visit some of our Okanagan communities, and even stretched the road trip as far as the West Kootenay area to include Revelstoke, Nakusp & Kaslo. The drive took us through some spectacular mountain roads and across small ferries, into communities preparing for a winter sleep away from the busy season of the tourist.
Through it all was the undeniable scent of falling leaves. The smell made part of me want to heat up big cauldrons of stew and settle in a comfy chair. Another part of me had childhood memories triggered by that unusual and unique scent. These back country roads, empty except for the occasional deer looking for a snack, brought out the memory of our annual fall family ritual.
Some kids remember fall as the time of sports sign up, soccer games and the fitting of last season's snow suits. I remember fall as the time of outdoor weekend adventures in the wilderness with my family, miles from nowhere, deep in the forests of Ontario. That heated stew made an appearance, too.
September for me brought text books, the dreaded school bus, and wood. Lots and lots of wood. We heated our home with a wood burning, air-tight stove, and to make it through a winter we needed anywhere between 5 and 8 cord of wood. What's a cord? Well, think two wilderness trees of average height, cut down into little four foot lengths. Now think that five to eight times over. That's a lot of wood.
Each September, our family would start the weekend outings to whatever area on Crown land (land owned by the province) that we had obtained a permit to fell (cut down) and buck up (cut into manageable lengths) our own trees. This was an all weekend event, over many weekends, starting early Saturday morning and ending late Sunday evening. And it was so much fun - for us kids, anyway.
Early in the day, mist laying low among small openings in the woods along the roadside, and we were already hard at it. By eight in the morning there was usually one or more trees felled across the road at our designated work site, and my dad would work quickly to clear a car lane while my sister and I stood a distance away for traffic control. If there even was any traffic. Usually not.
This pattern continued from September and into October - sometimes even to November, with the lightest of snowfalls. We were in the bush, the back country, each weekend, and we were happy. Big trees became road blocks, which eventually became a chair or a table for our impromptu lunch. Mom would get a fire going to heat a big pot of stew - sometimes chicken, but usually venison - which we would eat with mittens and gloved fingers, breath pluming out around our faces while we laughed about one almost accident or another.
The days were shorter and cooler, but we didn't mind. All around us was bright sunlight and the smell of falling leaves. To this day, the smells and sights of fall can quickly take me back to those days spent in and around the back roads of Ontario. It's an easy and welcome journey.
Grab a pumpkin, take a walk, drive along your favourite stretch of road. Whatever your favourite fall stories are, don't forget to make new ones to tell next year.
~ Jeannette
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