A quiet day for a budget (maybe)

Today, maybe, is budget day on PEI. I say maybe, because Opposition MLA and Critic for Agriculture, Fisheries & Aquaculture, Tourism, Environment, Forestry, and Provincial Treasury Jim Bagnall, is in the midst of delivering his response to the speech from the Throne. I suppose he has every right to do so, that’s the point of the legislature, and I do hope that his lengthy reply is not a move intended simply to hamper the smooth running of the place. (Having been the target of a filibuster myself, last year, I know it can be frustrating. The opposition says this is not a filibuster, so, let’s all tune in for ourselves and make our own judgments.)

Budget… budget, budget, budget. Will this be the budget I’ve been looking for and working towards for four years, or will this budget be the one of been dreading for an equally long time. For today, I’ve done what I can do. Like you all, I’ll sit here in my office and wait (watching streamed from the leg). About half-way through, I’ll start drafting my email to the Dept. of Community and Cultural Affairs, and Labour, and ask the Director for confirmation on this years allocation. At some point, he’ll respond, I’ll share his response with the Board of Directors, then after their feedback, draft a message to the membership, the general arts community and anyone else who will listen. I imagine we’ll have a press release or two to go with that. I’ve got great staff for that part.

All of this, even with the potential for great things, for (and I know this seems like hoping beyond hope) a budget increase that will allow the PEICA to do what it wants to do, what it needs to do, what its been tasked and asked to do, I am, today, quite tired. I’ve got pneumonia, for the second time since January – the antibiotics are starting to kick in and I am feeling a bit better thanks.

So, while I hope to god (small “g”, I know, I’m an atheist so I’m not really “hoping to” anything) we see good news, I’m preparing for a fight. If you’ve read my “I am an angry man” post, you’ll already know the basis for the argument. Today though, today I’ll rest a bit. Listen to some good music, go find a quiet spot in a coffee shop, and read my second-hand copy of the “The Outsider” by Albert Camus (also known as "the Stranger").

If you’d like to join me in some metaphysical music sharing, please take a listen to my musical pick for a quiet day. I love this guy – Justin Vernon. Sometimes you just need a guy and a guitar. For those who read this on Facebook and can’t see the embedded video here, you can travel to my blog to see this post in it’s proper format here: http://mudderings.blogspot.com.

I am an angry man.

I am an angry man, although, probably not for the reasons you might think. I recognize also that I may be angry prematurely. That said, I have a sinking feeling, a deep seated suspicion, and that, my friends, is the root of my discontent.

I am not angry that the Council of the Arts will probably not see the funding increase we've asked for and so desperately need. No, I'm not angry. That leaves me feeling sad. Sad for the Island, sad for the arts and artists, sad for the cultural community, sad for the diverse and under served communities we'd created programs for, sad for the children who we'd hoped to start forming into artists, or more creative thinkers, or appreciative audiences (and leaders) for the future. No, that would just make me sad. Sad and tired, for, with each passing year that these areas are not addressed, the job becomes harder, so much harder.

I am not angry that those programs we (and I mean the collective we) worked so hard to create will play second fiddle to programs created elsewhere - momentary responses to perceived immediate needs. Surely, there will be happy people here and there, some progress may be made. I will not be angry, but I'll be experiencing something that grows close to outright cynicism. I'm starting to see this province (to use a health care analogy so as to make the point more meaningful) as a patient riddled with cancer who's treatment has been to cover the visible signs of disease with band-aids. Oh look, there's a Sponge Bob band-aid... how cute.

What will make me angry, indeed furious, will be this:

For four years I have told the creative community on Prince Edward Island that we need to collaborate, we need to discuss, talk, communicate, and partner. I've told my successive Boards of Directors that we need to consult. Where people are willing to engage in productive, results based discussions we must leap at the chance.

I've said that we must research, we must become local experts in regional, national, and international best practices. We must innovate. We must not be afraid to toss out old paradigms and mechanisms. We must not be afraid to embrace new ideas and new models.

I have all but promised the arts community that, by working together, by being responsible to and for ourselves, by acting out not with shouts and angry letters but with thoughtful, considered, reports and plans, we would see success and our accomplishments would have to be recognized.

What makes me angry now is that, after doing it all a manner that bespeaks of professionalism, of quiet incremental, cooperative progress, of incredible responsibility and competence in this community, it will come to naught.

What makes me angry is that, after consulting across the province, after starting from scratch and building a Strategic Plan that was resoundingly supported here and drew nods of approval from our national peers, after building an implementation plan that directly addressed that strategic plan and also directly addressed the Province's own Cultural Policy, we will have achieved somewhere between little and nothing.

In effect, the message from Government becomes:
1) We say we want communities to work together and present common goals and needs but we don't really mean that. What we will respond to is loud squeaking voices and opportunities we perceive will bring more instant gratification.
2) The health of the arts on a Provincial level mean less than the health of a specific group or organization in a specific town, region, riding, that we like or someone we know is supporting.
3) We're quite happy to see you take up a few years of busy work if it keeps you off our back - care to return to that?
4) Shut up already. Here's a little bone. Don't like it? Maybe we'll take all the bones.

My friends, what makes me angry is that I made you all a promise. A promise that, by working together and presenting to Government a set of commonly agreed upon priorities and a set of commonly agreed upon initiatives, that we would see success - that we simply had to see success. What makes me angry is that, as we'll find out shortly, I was wrong.

Let's all wait for Budget day and see... Have a misspoken? Have I gone off on a rant where none was needed? If there is anything I'm wrong about, please let it be that. I'll gladly eat crow.

The Gallery is full… for you.

As I write this, the Government is preparing to deliver the speech from the throne, and I’m just back from the Legislature where I had planned to hear it delivered.

I suppose I wasn’t surprised to walk in and be told “We’re sorry, the Gallery is full. You’ll have to watch from the Theatre.” by the security guards. I’d left it a little late, it was 2:30 and the show was to begin at 3:00. What did surprise me was that, for the group behind me, the Gallery was no longer full. For the couple behind them, it was full again, and for the group of six behind them, there was again room.

I suppose also, that it could be, however unlikely, that the Gallery was expanding and contracting rather randomly (due perhaps to some Star Trek like anomaly in the space/time continuum), and that someone else was observing the moment-by-moment expansion and contraction and was also, by some secret means, sharing that information with security who, in moments of expansion, would then allow a few more people in. I presume that, in this scenario, I had the misfortune of arriving during a contraction and was barred. Had I taken a moment longer to greet the Mayor outside, I would have, instead, arrived at a fortuitous moment of expansion and been granted entry.

Perhaps, though, there were some other criteria in play (however likely my spatial contraction/expansion theory) at play and, for whatever reason, I didn’t merit admittance to the Galleries. Of course, such a suggestion borders on the ridiculous, but, on the very off chance that it is, indeed, this second theory, I’m left to wonder what criteria were used to bar some, and allow others.