The Closing of Starbucks COB

First of all, the disclaimers.One, I am a coffee addict. Specifically, a Starbucks coffee addict. Let's just get that out of the way right now.Two, I know that Starbucks isn't the company of the year and that trueblue radicals eschew it just as much as they fight the WTO.And three, I live in The Bahamas where issues get very complicated and some things are not what they seem.That said, here's what's bothering me. The Starbucks outlet at the College of The Bahamas is closing down. It's a big secret, too, with nobody announcing it beforehand, just a locked door on a new-week morning with the dark drawing in and students heading for finals.And last Monday, when I was on campus with my class, and when the glut of students that meets in the Michael Eldon Building on a Monday evening, when I took my students into Starbucks for a class meeting just before it closed down, there was an incident in the parking lot in which four rather large young men stood around and mingled with the students. They looked somehow out of place, too alert and watching too many different people, to be entirely unsuspicious, and after hanging around the dark edges of the buildings at the perimeter of the crowd, they noticed that they had been noticed (by lecturers as well as by security guards) and they moved towards the edge of the lot, heading towards MacDonald's. As they neared the gate, the incident happened.By "incident", of course, I mean "fight"; they tried to steal a student's cell phone, and the security guard who'd been watching them intervened.The difficulty was that the guard was smaller than they were, and, they tell me say, one of the young men has a black belt in karate. The result was that the attempted mugging turned into a fight in which the four began to beat and kick the guard. The other guards came to his rescue and the police and the ambulance were called (and came), and the four scattered. Two were caught, they tell me say, and two got away.I say all of this to say something else.The College of The Bahamas campus has absolutely nowhere for students to gather. It is an excellent academic institution, and I have long ago resolved in my mind that it is a university, no matter what detractors say. But as a place where people gather and talk and think and create the kind of change that makes societies grow? Not a chance.  There's no place for people to sit and meet and talk. What happened on Monday night is too unfortunately commonplace on the campus because of this very fact. And because Starbucks is pulling out of the campus, it is likely to become more commonplace still.For the past two years, the only such place was provided by an outside entity -- Starbucks, owned by John Bull. In the past two years, John Bull has provided an immeasurable service to the college community, and, by extension, to the city of Nassau, by having had the guts and the foresight to place one of its outlets on the college campus. A brilliant stroke, I thought. A wondrous place. Besides the overpriced caffeine shots and the too-large bits of food, it was a cafe in the place where young minds are beginning to wake up, and the fact that it was a corporate entity, part of a chain, was important, for more than students gathered there. It was a node where all parts of the society could come in safety. You could run into anyone there. Each local Starbucks outlet has its own clientele, its own feel; in this one, though, it seemed that you could run into almost anybody. For the past two years, Starbucks has contributed to the studies of students, by providing a sensible place where people could meet and talk and plan group work. It has been intimately involved in book fairs, by allowing its porch to be used for readings. It has embodied Bahamian art with its mural on the wall. And, while supplying the campus with its special drugs, it has helped festivals get planned, books get written, research get done, and a future Bahamas be made.Apparently, however, none of that is important. What appears to be important is some kind of bottom line.  I hear rumours that it is the least profitable of the chain, and it has long been on the chopping block.Corporate Bahamas, hear me loud and clear: WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO REALIZE THAT PROFITS ARE NOT SIMPLY MONETARY? When are you going to understand that sometimes profits are like dividends; they pay off down the line? (You expect your shareholders to get that concept -- what if shareholders treated you the way you treat your customers, suspended their goodwill, and expected major returns straight off?) The profits that are being borne by the Starbucks COB would have been reaped by you, or by John Bull, or by the society at large five, ten years from now when the students you allowed to congregate in your outlet, even though they didn't spend as much money as the corporate individuals or the tourists in your other places did. The service you were providing to the community is worth far more than profit margins or overheads. (Perhaps this is something one could pass on to your landlord as well; perhaps the College itself is to blame for charging too much rent). But when the outlet closes, something far more than coffee will be gone -- and the society as a whole will feel it down the line as well.So this is my answer to those people who don't think it's worth fighting to keep that Starbucks open. I don't care about the coffee or the prices or the reputation of the place. I care about the people and the society and the service that that cafe provides for the community. There are precious few places in this Bahamas that treat Bahamians like fully fleshed human beings; Starbucks is one of them. I go into Starbucks for the smiles, not the coffee (I can buy the coffee and take it home). I go there for the feeling of being treated like I belong, that I am worth something in my own country. Too few other places provide that feeling, and none of them exist where young people congregate. That alone is more important, and more revolutionary, than any coffee, tea, or muffins could ever be.

Differing Further

I only began to touch on the reasons for my not agreeing entirely with Ward on his assessment of the theatre industry here in The Bahamas. To recap: his take on things proposed that the surest way for any writer to make a living at writing creatively in our country is to do it for theatre. He offers these arguments in his defence:

• Up front costs for the producer-writer are less than production costs of a feature film.
• Audiences for popular shows are immediate and probably larger at one time than audiences for films.
• Selling out shows - playing to packed houses - will give you the kindof return on investment that is needed to maintain viability.

and

• Formulaic writing will ensure the returns for the playwright's investment.

(Ward, correct me if I'm offbase here -- this post has been some time in coming and I may have forgotten details, but it seems to me that these are the basic premises you put forward.)My problem in jumping on his bandwagon regarding the rewards adhering to writing for the stage in The Bahamas involve most particularly the fact that theatre (in all its forms -- dance, opera, and drama) cannot take place on its own. Of all the arts, it is the most collaborative. Oh, sure, you can say that film is collaborative too, but it is quite possible for an individual to make films; BIFF is full of them, documentaries that rely on a single camera, a single person, and a catchy subject. The fact that film is a medium that records and plays back (and is therefore infintely portable, theoretically, and therefore able to generate revenue from many markets, not just one) is one of the most liberating aspects about it; and if one wants to make a living as a documentary filmmaker, in The Bahamas or anywhere, I would argue one can do so. In fact, the more exotic the topic the better in most documentaries, so perhaps The Bahamas provides the perfect palette for the filmmaker. We're as exotic as they come, our aspirations notwithstanding.But theatre? Can that exist without collaboration? I'd say not. At the very very least, the artist needs an audience. Usually the artist also needs a whole heap of other supporters as well: technicians to handle light and sound, people to assist backstage, people to sell and market the show, and so on. It is indeed possible for a multi-talented individual playwright to do all of that himself. But easy? No. And not even preferable. The energy required to perform to the audience's satisfaction is far better concentrated on performance, not on hustling and promotion and production. Michael Pintard's success has, ironically, led to his retirement from the stage; he works behind the scenes, while he hires people to deliver his words. Terez Davis, on the other hand, has a business partner who helps her to manage the publicity and dull stuff to allow her to slip into the character of Daisy and remain in front of the audience.So the centrality of collaboration that lies at the heart of theatre, which gives theatre its peculiar power, is also what makes it oddly less able to sustain a long-term living for its practitioners. The revenue might be enviable, and come in all at once. But nobody seems to consider the overheads that are incurred -- or that they have to be spent before the revenue comes in, on faith as it were. One might say that this is not so different from film, and one would be right. But the immediacy of theatre also lends it an urgency that film does not share. Film records and retains, and its preparation can be done in stages over long periods of time. But theatre? The alchemy that drives performance -- especially performance of the part-time community variety -- has an expiry date. When people do not have the luxury of full-time engagement with the stage, their energy comes from a number of sources -- the freshness of the material, the chemistry of the cast, the response of the audience. It's possible, when people are fitting their performances around their everyday lives, for a show to peak and to taper off. Where there is no extensive community of ongoing classes, courses and workshops and no time to engage in them if they do exist, part-time performers find it more difficult to keep things new and exciting, and shows can go stale over time. And so in the kind of theatre that exists in The Bahamas, productions have an optimal rate of investment and return. And as live performance is variable, and unpredictable, that rate will vary over time.In order to make money off your writing, Ward argues, you need to find a formula and stick to it. In order for your writing to be viable, to sustain you, the formula will suffice. This formula will find a ready audience, will allow for a stability of expenditure and revenue that, once it's been fine-tuned and located in fairly predictable spaces (like James Catalyn and Friends' relation to the Dundas), will work. And he's right, as far as it goes. My objection comes from the idea of sustainability. The problem with formulae is that they are boring, especially in live theatre. They can work fine day in day out on apparently "free" media like television, because there's no effort involved in consuming them; they can also work fine in film, because most blockbuster films have the money and clout behind them to create a demand among audiences who might not otherwise be interested in them. But in live theatre? Not so much. I would argue that the formulae that he extols would begin to pale, to taper off, if they had to run day after day after day, if they were mounted on a monthly basis, if they were produced in the kind of time frame that would allow for real sustainability. Even Pintard's shows have expiry dates. Even Summer Madness has a season -- the end (and in good years the beginning) of Summer.No. If we're looking for formulae, I would argue that the true measure of sustainability in contemporary Bahamian theatre lies elsewhere: in Thoughtkatcher's Da Spot, which sustains audiences for weekly performances over two or three months (again, a season), perhaps precisely because it's improv, because of its unpredictability. There is a formula, true, but it's not the writer's formula. It's the performer's, and audiences go back because they never know what will happen next.Or perhaps the other formula that was truly viable and which could be maintained over time was the formula practised by the Dundas Repertory Season between 1981 and 1999, and which allowed for the production not only of formulaic comedy shows but for plays, musicals, new shows and old. That season ran from January to May, and ran a rotation of shows, a different one every month, during that time. Some shows made money, and some shows lost, but for 17 of its 19 years the season never made a loss. The revenue from the season sustained the Dundas and paid directors and technicians (though not actors or backstage crew). And unlike the formula proposed by Ward, the revenue didn't rely on meeting the audience's demand. Rather, it depended (like Hollywood and other truly successful art forms) on having the audience discover a demand for things it never knew it liked before, and thus laying the foundation for future sustainability -- the possibility for growth.So what am I saying? Perhaps I'm agreeing now with Ward -- that theatre allows the Bahamian writer her best chance for making a living. Well, I don't know about that. The whole secret of the Season's success was that it served up a variety of shows for a wide range of audience tastes, and therefore didn't depend on a single writer. But it also spawned a whole crop of new writers as well -- who didn't necessarily make a living off their plays, but who were nevertheless able to write what they were called to write without tailoring it overmuch for an "audience" that they knew only imperfectly. But I am conceding that it may be possible to sustain your living by writing for theatre -- but only if you recognize the need for collaboration, understand that theatre cannot happen with one person alone, and -- perhaps most important -- have the ability to access performance spaces that allow for viability to happen, that are not so prohibitive in their overhead that all one's revenue goes into paying the rent.

Begging to differ

with Ward again (c'mon, what did you expect? I mean, really.) Not that he's totally off base. He's right, as usual, but only partly so.

Here's how he begins his fourth post on the viability of Bahamian art:

If you want to be a professional creative writer in the Bahamas you are going to have to be some kind of playwright. It really is that simple.

Poetry is currently back in fashion, but in its raw form, on the page, or performed at small events, open-mike style, it will not make you any money. The only way that poetry can make you money in the Bahamas is if you package it as a play.

--Ward Minnis, Hollywood, Michael Pintardand the Viability of Bahamian ArtPart 4: Laughter is the best medicine…

K, so let me just say that I don't quibble with this statement. There is some real truth to it -- especially if you're not looking to make a whole lot of money.

Because it's harder than Ward makes it seem. Even Michael Pintard doesn't hit home runs all the time, and supplements his income as a writer by doing other things -- in short, by hustling to make opportunities for himself every day of his life. Terez Davis' Daisy character may earn her money, but surely there's a reason for why one writes in the first place -- and if one is locked into formulaic theatre for the rest of one's life, then there's not a whole lot of point. Better to do it as a hobby.

I'm still convinced that it's easier to make a living off films in The Bahamas than off theatre. The main reason is that theatre requires you to work with other people, while film does not. And the up-front overhead for theatre is substntial.

But more on that later, when I have more time on my hands. For now, go read Ward's post, and then go think about your own position for yourselves.

Google May Hand Over Caribbean Journalists' IP Addresses

I have often wondered seriously about the American commitment to freedom, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. I have often wondered also about the American belief in the principles on which it is founded; it's one of those things that make me deeply sceptical about any action taken by that giant of a country that seems to find it so very easy to draw a line between the rights that it accords its own citizens and the denial of those rights that appears to be routine in its treatment of non-Americans.Below is a case in point.

Google May Hand Over Caribbean Journalists' IP Addresses (Updated)Google said the following in a letter to the TCI Journal last week, as posted on Wikileaks and sent to us by the Journal:

To comply with the law, unless you provide us with a copy of a motion to quash the subpoena (or other formal objection filed in court) via email at legal-support@google.com by 5pm Pacific Time on September 16, 2009, Google will assume you do not have an objection to production of the requested information and may provide responsive documents on this date.

Google has not yet responded to our inquiry asking what the company might do once the TCI Journal does send a motion to quash the subpoena, which we presume it will do. Hiring lawyers in California will likely be an onerous task for a volunteer-run website from a tiny Caribbean island. Journal editors tell us that they hope Google will decide to help them fight the case on 1st amendment grounds.Update: A Google spokesperson sent us the following response to our inquiry.

"When Google receives legal process, such as court orders and subpoenas, where possible we promptly provide notice to users to allow them to object to those requests for information. Users may raise any and all objections they feel are relevant, including First Amendment arguments. In addition, we are still evaluating all our legal options regarding this particular request."

Here's my problem. In small nations like ours, fighting for freedom of speech and opinion, fighting against corruption and special interests and the continuation of the rape of our region by those who can gain disproportionate access to leaders is risky at best, virtually impossible at most times. Victimization is the word we use to describe what has happened in The Bahamas; in the USA it was called blacklisting and it was carried out against suspected communists in the 1950s, and it is pretty widely rejected as being anti-democratic (though the communist ideals and the communist party has never recovered in the USA since McCarthy). No matter what the British response was to the exposure of the corruption of the Misick government in TCI (and the suspension of the TCI constitution is questionable at best, but that's another topic), it is nevertheless crucial that such corruption could have been exposed and dealt with in a reasonable amount of time.Because the fact is that in small nations like ours, corruption can be achieved pretty easily, often simply by presenting leaders with tastes of fancy lifestyles. Large corporate interests from outside the country find it embarrassingly easy to get what they want from our governments, as we have poor records of social protest, weak organizations on the ground, and a habit of factional interests that often lead us to suspend our critical judgements in favour of partisan support (simply put, that means that our attachments to one political party or another, which for many of us are complicated by familial, social, historical and sometimes racial ties leads us to support actions we might otherwise criticize if "our" party was in power, or to criticize actions we might otherwise consider a good idea).This makes it very easy for corruption to take hold. (And if you ask me, I'll say, yes, there is probably an element of corruption of some kind or another -- not necessarily economic -- in virtually every foreign investment deal passed in The Bahamas and, by extension, in the Turks and Caicos; it's certainly evident that our governments here in The Bahamas favour activities that benefit our foreign investors (Miss Universe) while rejecting those that favour Bahamians (CARIFESTA)).The twenty-first century answer -- and it's this that I believe to be crucial to the spread of democracy in the world, and not American bootstamping and shock-and-awe tactics, or free markets -- has been that investigative journalists in small countries can expose and criticize corruption thanks to the virtual anonymity of the internet. This is what the TCI Journal achieved. Whether we agree or not with the British reaction to the exposure of corruption in TCI, the fact that the colonial power took such drastic action is testament to the power of the internet press.Google's action threatens the ability -- indeed the possibility -- for true democracy ever to exist in these, our little nations (and by extension those nations that really really need the anonymity of the internet to fight the physical oppression that they face). I have no doubt that it is being pressured by the kinds of external interests that held the Misick government in the palms of their hands, and that the kinds of resources possessed by investors enamoured of their near-absolute possession of a land and its people, virtually limitless in comparison to those of the TCI Journal. But its inability to see its action as being in contravention of its own constitution -- the constitution of the country that it sets itself up as a beacon for democracy -- calls into question, for me, the ultimate value of America's democratic principles.

• By the way, another case in point: "Massachusetts Cuts Back Immigrants' Health Care" via the NYT - the denial of health care coverage to LEGAL Green Card holders in Massachusetts

Ward Follows Up

Following up on the last article, Ward Minnis in his series of meditations on the viability of making a living off of art in The Bahamas writes to illustrate his position. First, he clarifies the sticky point of "viability":

...when I ask is it ‘viable’? I am not asking ‘is it possible?’ Because, of course it’s possible. What I am really asking is this: if this is what you love, can you live off of it?

And then, clever man, he makes reference to the Day of Absence observations in Nassau:

Bahamians who want to exercise their talents in the cultural industries are faced with the choice of pursuing their callings as hobbies at home, or of leaving home to make a living by their gifts elsewhere. And we are all the poorer for it.

If you haven't done so yet, subscribe to Ward's feed, because what he's doing is provocative but important. What he's developing in this series is a blueprint to change the state of affairs for artists in this country. The lament of those of us who established the Day of Absence -- the whole purpose of establishing that day of observance (which will be coming again in February 2010, have no fear) is that although it is indeed possible to create viable economic activity in the arts in our Bahamaland, everything in the society is ranged against it.

This is being written against the backdrop of TaDa's ArtOvation (internet-streamed, thanks to Star 105.9), and she's talking with guests about possibilities, viabilities, and so on.

In order for this viability really to exist, though, the society as a whole has to buy into the idea of supporting Bahamian culture with more than their lips, but also with their pockets. We are avid consumers of culture -- but we prefer other people's. Last semester students at COB conducted an on-campus survey that indicated that young Bahamian college students (who spend, on average, around $50 a week), are more willing to pay money for parties or live concerts (nationality of the musicians not specified) than they are to pay money to see Junkanoo, our premier festival, and the one which, if supported, could actually generate real employment. Perhaps that's pushing the issue a little too far, or in a direction which has its own built-in controversy, but perhaps not. What I'm hoping to show is that we have the disposable income as Bahamians to support far more artistic activity than we do; but it all depends on the choices we make as consumers.

So once again, I want to stretch the debate. The reason I disagreed so strenuously with the idea that we can't have a viable film industry here is that film is a potted medium. Like the visual arts, it can be separated from its creation and have a life well beyond its making. It doesn't all have to be assembled in one place and one time.

For instance. One can be an animator and do all one's work at home, alone, and not have to pay anybody else but oneself, and make a living; one can be a cinematographer or a set builder or a location manager and make a living (both off local films and off those foreign producers who shoot in The Bahamas on location). One can make art films and get grants from international agencies and inject them into the film festival circuit and make a living; or one can be a documentary filmmaker and make a very good living indeed, with only oneself and one's camera, one can make filmmaking viable.

What's a whole lot harder is to provide enough work for other people to give up their day jobs and enter the film industry. Neither film nor theatre has generated enough revenue yet in The Bahamas to enable actors, for instance, or front-of-house personnel, or box office personnel, or playwrights, to make a living off the performing arts. Unlike musicians, filmmakers and others, actors, playwrights and others must work in other jobs for a living. Unless you are willing and/or able to diversify, to become a Michael Pintard (who is a public speaker, an actor, a playwright, a poet, a producer, a landlord and a consultant), viability is difficult. Part of the issue, of course, is the question of payment. It's just possible for a filmmaker to make enough money to keep herself alive; but the development of these industries depends on helping to keep other people alive as well, and that's where the difficulty comes in.

So though I'm going to wait till Ward's finished and moved on to theatre (which he believes is a viable industry) before I continue this argument. But I'm going to encourage you guys to be like me -- keep your eyes peeled and check out Ward's blog for updates!

Ward's take on the local film industry

I'm really taken by Ward Minnis' series of blog posts on the viability of Bahamian art, and I've linked to them on this blog and I'll link to them again. He's developing a number of such posts (more power to him!) and they are very interesting reading. If you're at all interested in entrepreneurship, in the arts, in careers other than the dead old accountant, lawyer or doctor, read them for yourselves.I'm writing to take issue with the premise of his second post, though. I referenced it in my last blog post, and you can see the beginning of the post there. And Ward does this cool thing at the ends of his posts, which is summarize his main points.

(Short aside: Can you come and do that for all of my posts please Ward?)

And so I'm going to give you an idea of what he says in his post by quoting from his summary. Here you go:

IN CASE YOU MISSED IT —>The point® is this:

• A lot of people are making movies in the Bahamas. If you are one of them, please stop and think seriously about your business plan before you lose all of your money and have to sell BTC phone cards for a living.
• The first principle of the Pintard System is to Know your market.
• Paintings and Plays are the products that have the best chance of making you money in the Bahamian art market.

The main flaw in his argument lies in his basic assumption -- that movies can only be made in a Hollywood fashion for Hollywood-sized budgets, and, once made, they must follow the Hollywood model of distribution in order to make money. Now if his assumption were true, then his argument would hold together. But it's not.Let's first of all consider the film industry as it was in the pre-digital age, before digitization changed the playing field. Even then, the Hollywood model was only one among many. Even then, smaller/non-western countries, like Canada, Australia, Jamaica, Argentina, Mexico, Senegal, Brazil, Cuba and others developed film industries that employed people who worked within them. This does not begin to take into account the industries that existed throughout Europe; France, the UK and Italy had big industries that at various times kept pace with Hollywood, and smaller countries (Sweden & Spain come to mind) had their own smaller ones.As I said, that was the world of film before the digital revolution. Now even then, when smaller industries were able to develop in various parts of the world, some of what Ward argues did hold true. One of the most crucial bits was the cost of making a film. Until 2000, it was pretty well impossible to do the job for under six figures. One of the biggest costs was that of film itself; film, the cameras that ran it, the developing and treating of it, and the people who were all involved in the cinematographic and editing processes, were the most expensive parts of the equation. But with the advent of digital video, and of high quality DV, the film industry has been transformed.Today, films do not need Hollywood to be made, distributed, or picked up. There's such a thing as YouTube after all; there are all sorts of internet-based distribution systems. And the cost of making films has gone down.Let's take one Bahamian film as an example, the only one I know a whole lot about. In 2001, before the launch of the Bahamas International Film Festival took place, Manny Knowles and Philip Burrows made what they believe to be the first Bahamian feature film to be completed and released to commercial houses. Powercut is clearly an independent film in virtually every sense of the word; it doesn't follow the rules of filmmaking, it's claustrophobic and grainy and relies heavily on close-ups, it's not commercially viable in Ward's sense of the word (even though we keep getting inquiries about where it can be purchased today). But it cost us under $60,000 to make, and it broke even in a single premiere showing. The film paid for itself. Granted, it was produced on a profit-sharing model, by which all the actors and techies agreed to share in the profits after the fact, and were not counted as part of the overhead; so far, those profits have not yet been forthcoming. On the other hand, any other revenue that it earns today will count as profit.That was in 2001, when there was no film industry in The Bahamas to speak of, when funding came from two granting agencies and the filmmakers' pockets, and when distribution was limited only to the Commonwealth of The Bahamas. Today, things are somewhat different. BIFF allows Bahamian films and filmmakers the ability to connect with professionals throughout the industry, allows Bahamian filmmakers to source funding for their films, and -- yes -- to raise the kind of money that would allow them to make films that can make the rounds of festivals and find distribution outlets.And so I do not agree for one minute that filmmaking is never going to succeed in The Bahamas. The evidence suggests otherwise. I believe, in fact, that it's entirely possible for Bahamians to build a credible indie film industry here, and to find an audience for it, and to make modest amounts of money from it. I'm always a little bemused with the Bahamian myth of the tiny population of 300,000 people. Films today are not limited by borders. I'm pretty sure that, given the response that's reported from Maria to the showings of  Rain around the world, she's already developed a potential viewership that's able to explode that myth.Now perhaps I'm missing the point, and I'm making a faulty assumption of my own. Here's my assumption, for what it's worth: when Ward talks about the "viability" of a film industry his focus is the ability to make a living in The Bahamas off the art of film-making. Maybe I'm wrong, and what he's really talking about is making scads and scads of money off movie-making, building a Hollywood-sized indigenous film industry in The Bahamas. If that is the case, then my argument falls down; Ward is perfectly right to argue that we can't sustain a Bahollywood of our own.Perhaps I'm misreading his idea of "viability" of art by taking it to mean the ability to sustain an industry and to allow some people to do the thing full-time. Perhaps I'm bringing my own understanding of "viability" into the picture -- that making a living off film in The Bahamas is possible today, that people can do it and do nothing else (and indeed people like Kareem Mortimer and Maria Govan and Leslie Vanderpool are doing just that). If I'm wrong -- if Ward's talking about something like Hollywood, something that employs millions of people or affects the livelihood of a whole huge city -- well, then, I don't think he has to argue all that hard. He's absolutely on the money there. But if my assumption is sound, and he's talking about the creation of a film industry that can employ a few people all the time and many people part of the time, then I'd say we've got that going already -- and by all indications, the sector's growing all the time.My five cents. Cheers.

Ward Minnis on Bahamian Artists Part II

Hollywood, Michael Pintard and the Viability of Bahamian Art Part IIPart 2: So, you want to be in the movies…What are we to make of the current passion for movie-making in the Bahamas? Is it possible to apply the logic of Hollywood to our local situation and create an honest-to-God indigenous film industry here? Films made by Bahamians for Bahamians?This is an enormously appealing prospect and, truth be told, we have a long and intriguing historical association with Hollywood. To start off we have produced bona fide movie stars like Sidney Poitier, the academy award winning son-of-the-soil, and Calvin Lockhart. There has also been a long line of Hollywood films made here, from the 1916 silent film, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, to its 1954 remake, to several James Bond films and countless others.But despite this esteemed history, I believe that hopes of a movie industry by Bahamians and for Bahamians is a pipe dream. I also hope that those involved in making local movies have some kind of well thought out financial back-up plan.

--Ward's Life :: wardmin.org

It's a good article, but I don't agree with him. Maybe one of these days I'll have the time to explain in detail why ...

Ward Minnis on Bahamian Artists

Something of interest to read:

When I walked out of Transformers 2 the other day, I had an epiphany. Or more precisely, I had an extension to another epiphany that I had had a few days before.My revelation was about art, how to be an artist in the Bahamas and most importantly, how to make a living while doing it. Yes, it’s that big a deal.I’m working out the ideas a little here first and then I will probably put a full, fleshed out essay on Mental Slavery when I’m done. Hopefully, you the audience, will correct me when I go wrong and extend and help transform these ideas in the process and in the end we may all end up somewhere that we didn’t expect. If you consider yourself to be any kind of Bahamian artist, I am talking directly to you; so please, everyone, comment away!

--Ward's Life :: wardmin.org

Bahamas Writers' Summer Institute

You know, it's about time I blogged about this topic. It's been coming for a good long while, and now we're in its third and middle week, and it seems to be going really really well.What is it? you ask. Well, I could give you a long answer, but I'll spare you that. Here's the short answer, culled from the FaceBook Group page:

The Bahamas Writers Summer Institute, in collaboration with the College of the Bahamas’ School of English Studies, is a Caribbean-centered creative writing program that brings together beginning and established writers in an exploration of craft, theory, and the relationship between imagination and culture.

It started two weeks ago, with classes in various areas of the craft as well as a class in Caribbean context and literature and special seminar events where the students enrolled in the various disciplines can come together to talk about writing and literature as a whole. These take place on Mondays, Tuesdays and Saturdays. On Monday evenings there are conversations about the business of writing, on Saturdays there are readings and discussions with practising writers about their craft, and on Tuesdays are the discussions about the Caribbean context and literature of the region. Wednesdays and Thursdays are the craft-specific workshops.I'm teaching playwriting. I have a class of four students, and so far it's been a blast! The other workshops are creative non-fiction run by Marion Bethel, fiction run by Helen Klonaris, screenwriting run by Maria Govan, and poetry run by Obediah Michael Smith.It's the brainchild of Helen Klonaris, supported by Marion Bethel, and grew out of the movement that began with the establishment of the Bahamas International Literary Festival by Alesha Hart last year. If I had more photographs I'd show them, but they're all on Facebook.But I started this because last night's discussion (at the Hub) was about blogging. The discussants were Ian Fernander, Lynn Sweeting, Angelique Nixon and myself, and we spoke to an audience of writers and others many of whom read blogs, but virtually none of whom blog themselves. The discussion covered the value of blogging -- and of course with people like Lynn and Angelique and me there we talked about the radical power of blogs and bloggers.The Institute continues till the end of July. The Monday and Saturday sessions at the Hub are open to all (they start at 7 and end around 9). If you're interested, drop by -- and if you like the idea, I'm sure Marion and Helen would love to let you know what's happening next year! One thing, though -- next year's Institute should have its own open blog, so that people who aren't on Facebook can see what it's doing.Here's the schedule, courtesy of Bahamas Uncensored, which is the only place you can find it on the open web.

Strong institutions, not strong men

"Africa doesn't need strong men -- it needs strong institutions." -- President Barack Obama, Address to Ghanaian Parliament, July 11, 2009

It's been two years now, and there's been all kind of noise in the public sphere about Bahamian party politics and who bears responsibility for the difficult times we have faced for most of that time, and who will deal most effectively with the difficult times we will face. Most of the time I leave the discussions and the debates about personalities (which is most of what the discussion addresses, even now, mid-term) and political party up to politicized pundits. There's enough noise out there, and it really hasn't done us any good.

And it seems to me that every moment we spend focussing on small tings -- like which colour tie the majority of the members of parliament wear, or which initials we can attach to the administration (and what is the difference, anyway, in real terms?), or whether Perry Christie or Hubert Ingraham is better cut out to lead The Bahamas through the twenty-first century (the answer, of course, is neither -- both men were shaped irretrievably by the third quarter of the twentieth and neither has demonstrated the ability to recognize the current environment we face and find ways that are relevant to today to meet its challenges) -- is time wasted. Our whole political campaign in 2007 was an exercise in time-wasting; because I believe with all my heart that, like Africa, what The Bahamas needs is not strong men, but strong institutions.

Yesterday was independence day here in The Bahamas. Normally I write that title with capital letters, like a proper noun; but today I'm not capitalizing the first letter of the date because I don't think we truly understand the challenges and responsibilities of being independent. Too many of our leaders, no matter what party to which they apparently pledge allegiance (which, for too many of them, changes with a dizzying flourish anyway), do not value our independence, but prefer rather to wait for strong men from elsewhere to solve our difficult problems. Development by dependence is the model they appear to prefer. It's so much easier, after all, isn't it, to allow a monolithic investor to come in and provide short-term happiness. But the hollowness that results in our own society hurts us all. For instance, while Atlantis was employing thousands in the 1990s and early 2000s, our own institutions were growing weaker and weaker and more and more irrelevant, and no strong-man leader had the guts (or the vision) to tackle that fact. The result? We have, if we're lucky, perhaps five more years of functionality within our public entities. We're already beginning to see the crumbling of public services -- from our inability to handle the renewal of passports to the apparent impossibility, despite hundreds of millions being spent in borrowed money on road improvements, to keep our traffic lights working. And the answer does not easily lie in privatization; governments have responsibilities to all their citizens, and one of those responsibilities is to ensure that the smallest and weakest of their citizens is not placed in a position of vulnerability to rapacious private enterprises which have no allegiance to their clients beyond the amount of money they make from them.

Our problem? Like Africa and many other post-colonial regions of the world, our focus has for far too long been on electing strong men instead of demanding strong institutions for ourselves. We have not built our nation in any way that can be guaranteed to last into the future. And our debate continues to ignore that fact.

So my hat's off to Barack Obama today. Let us take heed from those countries around us who have invested in strong men at the cost of building strong institutions. Let us learn from those nations where for years and years good government continued even when the leaders of those countries were people whose names have been easily and quickly forgotten because the institutions that governed those nations were stronger than the individual weaknesses. And let us recognize that there is value in creating and maintaining the institutions that we need.

Caribbean Tourism: it's the same everywhere

One of the stories on the news last night (that's right, ZNS news) was a longish feature on the sufferings of Atlantis, Paradise Island, as the result of the recession. I really didn't write down the figures, but they were enough to elicit weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth -- 3% down in occupancy from projections (it's important to get these titles right) overall this year until May and June, when the occupancy was 20-something % down from projections.I wept, I tell you. Wept.What I found fascinating, though, was that the news didn't go beyond Atlantis and find out what the overall tourism economy was like. Atlantis has always had significantly higher occupancy rates than the national average, for a number of reasons that I'd rather not go into here and now (though one of them is that they don't promote the fact that they are in The Bahamas all that much, and that they suck tourists right off the face of the rest of New Providence and swallow all their money so that ordinary Bahamians don't get anything other than crumbs from the master's table -- don't believe me, go watch After the Sunset, the Big Movie our Ministry of Tourism landed half a decade or so ago to much fanfare and celebration, and tell me if you ever hear either the word "Bahamas" or even a recognizable Bahamian accent in the whole thing. I can tell you now you won't -- the place it's set in is called "Paradise" and the main location, despite some forays onto the main island of New Providence -- was Paradise Island, aka the home of Atlantis. But I digress.) Perhaps, on National Pride Day (the Friday before Bahamian Independence), the news would be too grim.So anyway. I thought I'd take the liberty to cheer us up by sharing the misery a little, and by sharing maybe too a laugh or two. This is thanks to Nicholas Laughlin, whose tweet directed me to this post. Let's look beyond our shores and cast our minds upon our sister B'Island (I mean Barbados, in case you didn't know), where tourists and tourism are addressed by one Ingrid Persaud. There's unity, after all, in shared suffering.

Times are hard and money is too tight to mention. If you can still afford a vacation we really want you to come to our small rock. Never mind the scandalous treatment of undocumented workers or the huge hike in water rates because the water company failed to put aside funds for depreciation. None of this will perturb your paradise. You must come here for the exquisite beaches, superb restaurants and friendly people.Well the beaches are fantastic but maybe best to avoid Mullins Beach because the extensive building works in that area have directly caused severe beach erosion. Restaurants are world class but once you are prepared to pay London prices your digestion will be easier. And the friendly people you might meet on the beach are very friendly if you want to buy shells or get your hair braided. The rest of the population will treat you as if you have had a longstanding quarrel or more likely ignore you.But these are minor matters. I really, really want you to choose Barbados rather than Bali for the summer or winter hols. Maybe you have been put off because there are questions you have but were too afraid to ask. I have gathered a number of such questions that the Tourist Board have neglected to address and provided answers to the best of my ability. These are authentic, hearsay inquiries. If you have others please drop me line.

--Notes From A Small Rock: WE PROMISE YOU PARADISE

M.O. for the rest of the year

I've been a bad blogger lately. There is a reason (isn't there always?) and it's the simplest reason in the world -- I'm stretched to the limit, and I've got five blogs going on six to maintain. So things tend to slip.I had all kinds of plans for the year. I still have them, but they're going to change somewhat. I had planned to issue a new volume of Essays on Life, for instance, and that is still a priority. I had planned to finish my book of Lily poems and submit it for publication, which in itself is a lengthy process, and I had hoped also to begin working on a second collection of poems, this one about the Bahama Islands. Maybe that one, though, will finish itself before Lily; I don't know.And I had planned to write a memoir about my five years in the civil service. There's such a thing as theatre of the absurd, and my favourite proponents of that are Eugène Ionesco and Tom Stoppard; and I never realized how close to absurdism life in the Bahamian civil service can be. (I'm sure all bureaucracies work similarly, especially in the postcolonial world; but I know the Bahamian model the best.) Days I'd wake up I'd be reminded also of Armah's The Beautyful Ones are Not Yet Born.But Shakespeare in Paradise and tongues of the ocean, together with my return to COB and commitment to research and teaching, are more than enough to keep me busy! So some things have to be postponed, or rescheduled.Accordingly, I plan to keep checking in on my personal blogs, but far less frequently than before. I'm hoping to post something once a week on each, just to keep things going. For the rest of the year, that's how it'll be.Cheers to you all, and watch this space -- just not as frequently perhaps as you used to.

Brussels Declaration by artists and cultural professionals and entrepreneurs

Just FYI.from the Newsletter on Cultural diversity

“Today, all countries face a profound crisis: financial, economic, and social. In addition, particularly for developing countries, there are climate, energy, food, and human security crises. Current policies on development cooperation do not respond adequately to the challenges of sustainable development. We must, therefore, rethink our approach to development. And, without wishing to overstate the power of culture, we are convinced that, as already stated by Léopold Sédar Senghor, ‘culture is at the beginning and the end of development.’“Many surveys and studies show us that culture and art is one of the most dynamic economic sectors in terms of employment, economic growth, and wealth creation. It also promotes social cohesion and democratic participation in public life. Finally, unlike mineral resources, social and cultural capital is a renewable resource. Regarding North-South cooperation, it can not succeed without the improvement of human rights, democracy, and governance. By stimulating individual and collective imagination and creating links between communities, culture and artistic creation contribute to the establishment and development of democracy.“Because culture contributes to economic development, well-being, and social cohesion and impacts other sectors of development, we, artists, professionals, and culture entrepreneurs are making three key requests:

• First, that culture be the subject of public structural policies at national, regional, and international levels
• Second, that the cultural dimension be taken into account by other sectoral policies and defined in a integrated approach to development
• Finally, that artists and creators be fully recognized as actors in development and have a professional and social status adapted to their own context

Download the PDF here.

On Recreating the Plantation (in a "Free" Society)

The story I'm about to share is nothing new. It just happened, but the complaint is an old one round here. I'm going to put it side by side with another one, a different one from a different Caribbean nation. The problem isn't just with the fact that the incidents happened. The real problem lies in the fact that we not only let them happen, we appear to invite them. And the real problem also lies in the fact that I can guess how the issue will be received by some Bahamians, and what discussion will follow; over the past several months we have appeared to be more than happy to twist history to fit the prejudices of a few white people. Why not twist the future to fit a few more?It's the story of a qualified young woman who went for an interview at the biggest plantation of them all, the one that calls itself Atlantis and invents for itself its own history, a history which is not ours, and from which Bahamians are excluded fairly routinely unless we agree to pay for access to it, or unless we can pass for tourists.Now this young woman had the qualifications to get the job. She went on an interview with the Human Resources Department, and sat before two Bahamians, and impressed them; she was offered the position right there and then. But before she could take up the position, she was contacted by the HR manager -- who was not Bahamian, but from the UK, to say that the job was hers -- if she would cut her hair.The young woman, you see, has locks. And locks, apparently, are not respectable enough to be worn by Bahamians who will be in positions where they can be seen by the tourists.Now I have a feeling that there are some people who will rise to the defence of this position -- many, presumably, since this policy has been in place since 2000 and no one has spoken out against it in a strong enough voice to have it reviewed or changed by the resort.  (This includes, clearly, five years of government by a political party that purports to champion the welfare of the Bahamian of African descent, as well as by a political party that does not purport to do so.) The fact that we accept, and have accepted, this policy, without much of a murmur, tells us more about ourselves as a people and as a nation than it does about the resort or our governments.It shouldn't surprise us that this happened at Atlantis, which has invented for itself its own space that functions, ironically perhaps, or predictably perhaps, rather like the so-called South African "homeland" in which the brand was developed -- Bophuthatswana.[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OjWENNe29qc&w=425&h=344](For more on Sun City, go here. Or go here.)OK, so you may be thinking, what's the relevance of that twenty-year-old video to The Bahamas today? Well, nothing really, except that the brand that is Atlantis was invented there and transplanted, with some adjustments, here nine years or so after the above video was made. And because of that transplantation, Kerzner was able to remake its image and to whitewash (pun intended) its name.And I wouldn't be so concerned about things that go on over there if the resort weren't still functioning in many subtle and economic ways the way it did in the place it was invented. Like if, say, the black people that it hired were permitted to express their blackness in ways that they -- and not the South Africans who run the resort -- deemed appropriate and acceptable.  As for the young woman who's faced with choosing between the way she has decided to express her identity and a middle-management job: this is a young Bahamian who was fortunate enough to travel widely while she was being raised and who came into contact with intellectuals and other successful individuals who were not afraid to embrace their culture by dreading their hair. She is questioning the so-called "dress code" because she's arguing that the way she wears her hair should really have nothing much to do with the job she is called to perform.And the situation is as subtle as it is destructive. Her hairstyle didn't stop her from being offered the position, but is enough to stop her from being permitted to take it. The choice has become hers, not the resort's. (This is only true, by the way, because she is not a Rastafarian; if she were, she would not have to make the "choice"; the "choice" only comes into play in the case of aesthetics, not in the case of religion.)  And in forcing her to make it, the job is forcing her to regard as equal two issues that are not. In a free country, identity and employment should not be linked. One should not be dependent on the other.But are we really free?Ian Strachan, like many other intellectuals, regards tourism -- or the practice of tourism as it takes place in the Caribbean -- as a revival of the plantation system in contemporary times. And indeed, the resort business as practised here shares many similarities with the plantation.You don't believe me? I'm going to share another story. This one's from elsewhere in the Caribbean, and it's told by a Caribbean woman. This time, I'll use her own words:

Things that pissed me off recently1/ the hotel guest who screamed at me three times, each time increasingly louder and slower “More coffee. MORE COFFEE! COULD I HAVE MORE COFFEE!!!” while pointing at cup.That’s the way it happened… despite the fact that i was sitting at the table waiting for coffee myself as a guest of the hotel just like she was.When I told her, “I don’t work here,” she said…nothing, no apology nothing. And her husband kept looking back at me as though he was afraid I was going to draw a razor blade from under my tongue.

And if this were not enough, it's spreading. Here's what BBC Caribbean has to report about The Bahamas Department of Customs:

in the Bahamas, two customs employees are facing the threat of dismissal because of their hairstyle.

Their dreadlocks have been deemed "unacceptable" by Customs authorities, who insist that the rules and regulations as they apply back that position.

Welcome (back) to the plantation, my friends.

Not exactly an apology: on ideology, debate, and patriots

Over the weekend, Rick Lowe and I had an email exchange that didn't end as well as our private exchanges usually do. I won't go into details, but it boiled down to the question of whether I dismissed him in the discussion following the last post or not. He certainly felt dismissed. Not what I intended, but there it is.The matter in question was health insurance, which I declined to discuss. The bigger question, though, was the idea of debate and discussion and whether or not, by not discussing it, and by referring to ideology as my reason for not discussing it, I dismissed Rick and his point.That was not my intention, as I said before. And yet I didn't want to engage with the topic, and I still do not want to for reasons that are very personal. Part of the reason is that Rick and I have discussed health care at some length elsewhere on this blog, and I'm not at all sure that either of us has changed our position. But part of the reason is also, fundamentally, our disagreements are predictable. He is a libertarian; I tend towards socialism. Our positions on any issue are liable to be diametrically opposed, and usually are. Though sometimes a lot can be gained from the discussion, the best debates are those that are supported and/or supportable by evidence. In the case that I avoided, Rick has most of it; I don't have all that much. What I do have is a weight of personal experience, which makes my bias emotional and fundamental, and which skews the discussion in such a way that it is liable to deteriorate.But our private exchange raised the question for me. What is the role of ideology in debates? Speaking for myself, I don't have a whole lot of time for prepackaged ideologies, not even the kinds that makes sense to me, which usually (but not always) fall to the left of the centre. Most ideological stances were developed by dead white men in countries far, far away from here, in times far removed from ours, holding assumptions that do not fully apply to our realities; most ideological stances are only vaguely relevant to our country and our reality.But Rick and I are both patriotic Bahamians. Where I find discussions between us to be most interesting are in the spaces where we agree. Libertarians and socialists usually don't; where we do are in places that touch our shared Bahamian experience. Where we do should be a bright flag for whoever reads our blogs regularly. As for the rest, for me the value is in the debate itself. Conclusions are boring; they're probably going to find us on our sides of the issue in the end, and we'll be joined, predictably, by people who share our positions. But it's the journey that's the fun part.And so Rick, maybe one day I'll engage about health insurance. But not right now. Right now, I'm more interested in the general economy -- and not in how we're spending our money (or not) today, but where we're going to get it in the future. I could be wrong; but I see the current economic time as a symptom of a far greater change in global economics, not an end in itself. Where we're moving I can't say. But what I am pretty sure about is that our country and our government are stuck in a reality that is fast becoming obsolete, and we'd better get all hands on deck, and light every torch around, to figure out what we're going to do when it's over.

Day of Absence responses

Well, the Day of Absence idea got far more responses than I expected or hoped. Not that it makes a whole lot of difference in real terms -- yet -- but I'm impressed by the number of people who appeared to be touched by the matter. There was even coverage in the national dailies -- on Page 3 in Thursday's Tribune (pretty big -- *I was gonna link to it but they're playing around with their website so I can't*) and today in the Arts Section of the Guardian.And the discussion has proliferated across cyberspace and across the airwaves. On the Ringplay blog, we'll link to all the different posts we come across (lots of them are on Facebook).But here, the most interesting response that I received was by email. I'm going to post the exchange as we go on. It's between Patrick Rahming and me, and he makes some solid points.Check back to see the discussion unfold.

Day of Absence: 11th February

In 1965, an African-American playwright by the name of Douglas Turner Ward wrote a play he called Day of Absence, which told the story of a small town -- any small town -- in the Deep South in which the white inhabitants discover on a particular day that all the black people have disappeared.

When this fact becomes general knowledge, the establishment comes to the brink of chaos. Without its black labor force, the town is paralyzed because of its dependence on this sector of the community.

Day of Absence: Information from Answers.com

Part of the reason I agreed to take the job of Director of Cultural Affairs, and much of the reason I left, was that, in many ways like African-Americans in the 1960s USA (and black Bahamians, and people of African heritage the world over), cultural workers in The Bahamas -- artists, musicians, writers, actors, directors, dancers, designers, craftworkers, you name it -- are marginalized, disrespected, and taken for granted in our nation.Thirty-six years after independence and forty-one years after majority rule, creative workers in our country are unable to find work in the areas in which God has gifted them. There are virtually no avenues in The Bahamas to enable creative people to develop and hone their talents, or to enable them to make use of them when they are developed. Our greatest brain drain is arguably in the area of the arts; like Sidney Poitier over sixty years ago, Bahamians who want to exercise their talents in the cultural industries are faced with the choice of pursuing their callings as hobbies at home, or of leaving home to make a living by their gifts elsewhere. And we are all the poorer for it. That we appear to be unaware of the absurdity of this state of affairs in a nation which welcomes several millions of tourists to our shores annually is indicative, to my mind, of our abject conviction as a people that Bahamians, and particularly Bahamians of colour, are congenitally unable to produce, behave, or perform at any level that could possibly be considered world-class, and that it is a waste of time, money and effort to believe anything else.Newsflash. No country can be great, or even good, without its artists. When all has passed away, when all has crumbled and gone, it's not the speeches of the politicians, the enforcement of the country's laws, the profit and the loss, or the tourist arrivals that are left behind to tell the story of the people who once walked this earth. It's the art. It's the statues, the paintings, the music, the poetry. Until we invest and believe in our art, and until we respect our artists, our country will never even be.And so I'm calling for a Day of Absence in honour of all cultural workers in The Bahamas and around the world.On February 11, 2009, I'm asking us all to stop -- for a day, for a moment even, and imagine our country, our world, if we woke up one day and all the artists and cultural workers had disappeared.I see it as a symbolic day, to be started this year and go on annually, where artists can come together in person or in cyberspace, and blog, email, sing, act, perform, speak, or whatever they want to do, in honour of art and artists themselves.I chose February 11 because it's my father's birthday, and the disrespect began to be evident when he was Director of Culture. It wasn't so clear while he was living. As with so much in this country, the people who did not respect what he stood for, who did not respect his art, respected him. Many of the leaders -- the politicians of his day, and certainly the senior civil servants -- had been his schoolmates, had known him and his family for years, and trusted him when he said he could do things. It's for this reason and none other (well, maybe it was also because of our new-nation status too) that culture flourished to the extent that it did during the 1970s and early 1980s in The Bahamas. But his death in August 1987 took everyone by surprise.People say that no one is indispensible, and there is certainly truth in that; but some people, especially when they fill a gap that is created because of ignorance or prejudice or disrespect, are irreplaceable. My father appeared to be one of those people -- not because of any specialness about him (though he was special) but because of the fundamental emptiness and fear of self of the Bahamian people and their leaders.  Our cultural development didn't take place during his tenure because our country respected culture. It took place because our leaders respected him. It took the government 7 years to replace him because they had taken him and his position and the work he was doing so much for granted, and had no idea what they had lost or how to replace it.I know governments are only a part of the equation, but the things he left in place when he died in 1987 have yet to be replicated or replaced by the government or the country of The Bahamas, and culture has absolutely no respect in the national discourse.And so: Day of Absence. It's to be a day like Green Day or World Hunger Day -- a movement, an idea that can catch fire, a spark that can spread without specific action, but just as people see the idea and become ignited by it.Art and culture are the most human, the most divine, the most basic, and the most true actions that any living human being can do. But in The Bahamas (and throughout the world too) arts and culture are far more likely to be laughed at, talked down about, ignored, dismissed, insulted, disrespected, and taken for granted than any other action.There are more creative people and more creative activity in our nation than there are other people with special interests. Yet our government has no legislation that supports our activity. It has a whole national sporting complex in Nassau and has sports fields and sports equipment and sports activities throughout the Bahamas, and it has legislation to govern hotels and tourist activity and education and health and disability, but nothing either in law or on the ground, to support, encourage or develop artistic activity.And yet artists and cultural workers in The Bahamas and throughout the world are the invisible backbone of nations. When people think about what is "Bahamian" they think about what we produce, not what the doctors, lawyers, athletes, or politicians produce. This is true in every part of society, from top to bottom, from secular to religious.And yet no one wants to recognize us, respect us, hire us, support us, or acknowledge that we exist or are important.The Day of Absence concept is designed to get us as artists and society as general to imagine a world without artists. It is a day on which artists can stop what they are doing so that people can notice how fundamental art and artistic production and cultural activity are to everyday life. It is a day on which we encourage DJs to stop playing music for an entire minute, hour, or day, when we ask talk show hosts and newscasters and writers and editors and songwriters and artists and straw workers and advertising agencies and whoever else works in the creative field, is unappreciated for their activity, is producing work that people think of as "soft" or unnecessary, to stop doing what they do so that the people who do not respect us understand for just one moment or just one day that we are important, that without us society stops.It's a day to wear white because it's a day without colour. Artists govern colour.It's a day to be silent because it's a day without music, writing, speeches. Artists produce music, writing, speeches.It's a day to stop spending cash because without artists, money has no meaning -- the designs on our coins and our paper money were created by artists.It's a day to worship silently, without music, or pretty clothing or the Bible, because artists are the vehicles God chooses to express the glory of His creation and Himself.It's a day of reflection, of discussion, of absence in honour of the creative spirit that our society insists on beating down, on disrespecting, on crushing.On February 11, 2009, I will observe it.  Come join me.

There Gatta Be A Better Way

First things first. This post is being was written in the knowledge that it might never get posted, simply because it's going to be critical and in contravention of my terms of employment -- in other words, flying in the face of General Orders. So if you're seeing it, (a) I'm no longer a government employee; (b) I no longer care what the consequence is; or (c) I'm dead. Or all of the above.But I'm writing it because it needs to be said.I've been was a civil servant for five years. The specific position I hold is held was part of the problem, but it's not all of it. The political persuasion I hold held, real or perceived, is was also part of the problem, but not all of it. The fundamental problem was that the system of government that is responsible for the development, promotion, sustaining and honouring of Bahamian culture is, quite simply (and I say this, borrowing unashamedly from other people's military and begging forgiveness for all those who are offended or outraged by "Language"), FUBAR.Here's how it works, or doesn't.Everything worth doing requires money. This is especially true for culture, which, in spite of popular misconceptions about it, is in many ways a business that has been around for centuries. And as with anything else, in the cultural field, you tend to get what you pay for. That's not always true, of course — a Brent Malone painting during his lifetime was far more reasonable a purchase than a Chan Pratt painting during his, but that was due far more to the philosophy and sensibility and target audience of the specific artists than much else, and the two prices may adjust themselves now that both painters have sadly passed on. But in most cases, it is true.The thing is, The Bahamas Government doesn't appear to see it that way. This is a problem that seems to be at the root of every decision made by every decision-making agency in the country. The main question at hand has nothing to do with seeking value for money; rather, the average civil servant aims to spend as little money as possible in one go, even if that means that what is purchased with that money is so low in quality that you have to buy it again and again and again.Now I know that this isn't unique to our government, that many governments suffer from the same malaise. That doesn't make it any better. And when it comes to culture, it grows even more difficult.Because, you see, culture isn't something that (a) most Bahamians seem to believe can/should be paid for and (b) most civil servants know very much about. (Let me stop right here to say that point (a) only applies to local culture; most Bahamians are avid consumers of global culture, and in fact we often spend far more than we need to on designer thisses and thats, on going to see foreign performers and shows, no matter how mediocre, on films we import, on cable stations that feature the cultural products of abroad. What we will not spend our money on is our own people and their cultural productions -- at least not unless/until foreigners spend their money on them first, as with Amos Ferguson. But I digress.)Most civil servants, in fact, labour under the impression that cultural production is some sort of fancy hobby, something that anybody can do, and worse, that people enjoy doing, and so they resist the idea of paying for it in any way, shape or form. Accountants are particularly prone to this misapprehension, but they're not alone; senior civil servants and politicians also hold it (except, in the case of politicians, when it comes to Junkanoo, and in most cases that exception is made because (a) they believe that only what is popular is good or (b) they need the votes).It makes for difficult times if you're the Director of Cultural Affairs for the government.I have spent my time as Director apologizing for my government, especially to professionals who, if they were in any other field, would be given red carpet treatment because of their stature. The same people who kowtow to ministers because they have blue licence plates, official cars, and drivers scoff at the demands of people -- professional people, mind you, with training or experience or a lifetime of performance under their belts, or all three -- to be paid what they are worth in the cultural field. These are the same people who think nothing of paying thousands of dollars for refreshments or decorations or the sound systems or seating for an event (accountants are not included in the above; most accountants of my acquaintance query all expenditure -- it's their job). But when it comes to the live entertainment, forget it.This is usually how the conversation goes.Government: We need a cultural show for [insert event of choice: visiting dignitaries, international conference, national celebration, CARIFESTA]Me: All right. I'll send you a budget. I'll let you know what it costs so you can build it into your expenditure.Government: ... A budget?Me (if it's a good day): Yes. Cultural shows cost money. (If it's a bad day, I'm not responsible for my reply)Government: We thought your department would pay for it.Me (after laughing hysterically and making a close acquaintance with the floor): You're kidding, right? My department doesn't even have a permanent home, you're thinking we have funding to pay for every event that comes across your desk? The Director of Culture may be the only director in the entire government system that doesn't get a courtesy car along with the office, and you think we have the funding to cover the cost of your show? No, I'll send you the breakdown and you add it to your Cabinet Paper. (I'm thinking: you're going to pay for everything else, from the sound system to the conference facilities, from the catering to the little folders and the goodies you're going to be handing out to the people attending, but you want me to provide the entertainment for you for FREE?)Government (doubtfully): Okay, send it, we'll take a look at it.(Time passes. Then we get one of the following communications.)A)Government: Okay, we've gone over your budget, and it's fine. Except for one thing. Do the performers have to cost so much? Can't you get people to perform for less? (Translation: can't we get somebody to perform for free?)B)Government: Okay, we've gone over your budget. We think we're going to go with the Police Force Band/the Defence Force Band/one of the above's Pop Band (Translation: we don't want to spend taxpayers' money on anybody who isn't already making a salary and has a pension coming after they retire, so we'll get in-house talent)C)Government: We've decided we don't need a cultural show after all. (Translation: we wouldn't pay a working artist a fair price if it killed us.)This notwithstanding the fact that if you invest in cultural performance, and if the performance is high-quality, and if you make people feel good or different or better or bigger (which cultural performance aims to do), you get a tangible return. People pay for that kind of experience, and they pay big. If they didn't, there wouldn't be a Hollywood film industry, there wouldn't be a Broadway in New York, and there most certainly wouldn't be Las Vegas, whose reputation is not all built on casinos and gaming tables. People are always looking for a different experience, something unique, something you can't get anywhere else, and the better and more unique and more different it is, the more they'll pay. It's called show business for a reason, folks, and it runs by a tried-true formula that works.And The Bahamas is so very rich in culture that we could all be benefitting from it.But we're not.  Part of the problem is what I've just described above.  There's a fundamental lack of respect for what we creative people do across every sector of our Bahamaland, and we are dissed on so regular a basis that I'm surprised that we stay here. The disrespect that is shown to Bahamian artists and cultural workers is played out in any number of ways, from the politicians' laughing about us in the House of Assembly, to the civil servants' disparaging remarks about artists and singers and shows, to the businessmen's opinion that what we do is a waste of good capital, to the average churchgoers' dismissal of the artistic lifestyle (if the artist doesn't happen to be part of the church membership of course, and providing entertainment aka praise and worship for the church itself), to the salaries not paid and the budgets not awarded and the promotions not given to those people who bust their behinds for the culture of the country day in, day out, with no questions asked and no rewards requested.They say what goes around comes around in the end.  They say, too, that time is longer than rope. And the fact that we're now in the twenty-first century in the middle of a global creative revolution suggests that the typical Bahamian attitude to artists, art, and creativity is heading us all for a big, hard crash.There gatta be a better way.  Arts and culture make good business.  There gatta be space in this nation, in this society, for artists, for creativity; after all, the way of the world now depends on innovation, uniqueness, difference. There gatta be investment in new ways of seeing, fresh ideas. There gatta be room for critical commentary and flights of fancy in this Bahamaland of ours. There gatta be room for creative people to make a living being creative. We will not always be able to make money by transplanting other people's bright ideas. Our business, our main industries, our economy all depend on our best creative minds. And so, politicitians, businessmen, accountants, civil servants, churchpeople, Bahamians, consider rethinking your prejudices and resistances to the culture within us. It's yours too, you know. We artists just help you see it.And who knows? You might just love it as much as all the other people's culture you've already paid top dollar for.