Perspective.
I've started to dread getting up in the morning and turning on my computer to see the latest batch of bad economic news for orchestras and the arts in general rolling off the virtual presses. Obviously, times are tough all over, and no one who works in our business would ever have expected it to be spared given the global circumstances, but there's something about the steady, seemingly endless drumbeat of bad news from all corners of the industry that makes it hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Some days, the most optimistic thought I can muster is something dark and schadenfreudian like "Glad I'm not in that orchestra."
But the fact is, no matter how bad this economic malaise gets, or how long it lasts, we are eventually going to come through it, and most of us will not have been reduced to begging on Nicollet Mall or selling apples out of a wheelbarrow to survive. Even as we see the statistics on home foreclosures and corporate layoffs roll past us on the news every day, I think it's important to remember how many of us are still okay, and more importantly, in a position to help get things back on track.
Reality is a tough thing for an awful lot of people right now. But when I take a step back from the ball of navel-gazing fear that CNN wants to turn me into, here's the personal reality I need to focus on: Barring a truly unthinkable catastrophe within my organization, I am not in any danger of being laid off. Furthermore, even if I were to wind up taking a substantial pay cut (certainly a possibility) to help stabilize the orchestra's finances, it is almost inconceivable that it would render me unable to afford the extremely modest home I own. I have relatively little personal debt. I have no children to put through college. And I've had the opportunity to put some money away for emergencies.
In other words, I'm going to be okay. I'm not remotely wealthy, and never will be, but at a time like this, I start to feel awfully fortunate to have the limited stability I do. And watching the sandbags pile up in the Red River Valley this week, I've been struck by the generosity so many people will show at the slightest hint of the need for it, even as a lot of them could probably use some charity of their own.
So here's my plan. As of right now, I am done worrying about AIG's bonus payouts, President Obama's stimulus plan, or Governor Pawlenty's LGA cuts. I'm through shivering in my little news cave waiting for the sky to fall in, and I'm also done fearing, every time an orchestra agrees to a pay cut or a temporary furlough, that it means The End Of The Music World. Instead, I'm making a commitment to seek out the people and organizations whose work makes my life here in Minneapolis worth living, and support them on a far more consistent basis than I have in the past.
Specifically, instead of hoarding every dime I bring home in preparation for the apocalypse that isn't coming, I'm committing to going out and putting some of my income to good use at least twice a week. I'll buy tickets to a theater I've never attended before, or take a chance on going to see a new band at the Entry. I'll take advantage of all the museums and galleries that the Cities have to offer (and not on the days when they let everyone in for free.) And if, some weeks, I'm just too exhausted or overworked to contemplate an evening like that, I'll go buy a few new books from Magers & Quinn, plunk down a few bucks at a neighborhood wine bar, or invite friends to join me for dinner at one of the countless locally owned, chef-driven restaurants that make Minnesota unique.
You might say this is an easy commitment for me to make, since all I'm really promising is to pay people to entertain, educate, or feed me. You'd be exactly right. It's ridiculously easy, and I don't know why I ever allowed the Voices of Economic Doom to convince me that I shouldn't be doing it all the time. Because wouldn't I feel silly if, at the end of all this mortgage-backed-security-credit-default-swap-Wall-Street-vs.-Main-Street foolishness, I was left living in a world stripped of the art, music, and literature that I value, only to realize that I could have helped keep it alive?
Admit it: you'd feel silly, too. Now who's with me?
But the fact is, no matter how bad this economic malaise gets, or how long it lasts, we are eventually going to come through it, and most of us will not have been reduced to begging on Nicollet Mall or selling apples out of a wheelbarrow to survive. Even as we see the statistics on home foreclosures and corporate layoffs roll past us on the news every day, I think it's important to remember how many of us are still okay, and more importantly, in a position to help get things back on track.
Reality is a tough thing for an awful lot of people right now. But when I take a step back from the ball of navel-gazing fear that CNN wants to turn me into, here's the personal reality I need to focus on: Barring a truly unthinkable catastrophe within my organization, I am not in any danger of being laid off. Furthermore, even if I were to wind up taking a substantial pay cut (certainly a possibility) to help stabilize the orchestra's finances, it is almost inconceivable that it would render me unable to afford the extremely modest home I own. I have relatively little personal debt. I have no children to put through college. And I've had the opportunity to put some money away for emergencies.
In other words, I'm going to be okay. I'm not remotely wealthy, and never will be, but at a time like this, I start to feel awfully fortunate to have the limited stability I do. And watching the sandbags pile up in the Red River Valley this week, I've been struck by the generosity so many people will show at the slightest hint of the need for it, even as a lot of them could probably use some charity of their own.
So here's my plan. As of right now, I am done worrying about AIG's bonus payouts, President Obama's stimulus plan, or Governor Pawlenty's LGA cuts. I'm through shivering in my little news cave waiting for the sky to fall in, and I'm also done fearing, every time an orchestra agrees to a pay cut or a temporary furlough, that it means The End Of The Music World. Instead, I'm making a commitment to seek out the people and organizations whose work makes my life here in Minneapolis worth living, and support them on a far more consistent basis than I have in the past.
Specifically, instead of hoarding every dime I bring home in preparation for the apocalypse that isn't coming, I'm committing to going out and putting some of my income to good use at least twice a week. I'll buy tickets to a theater I've never attended before, or take a chance on going to see a new band at the Entry. I'll take advantage of all the museums and galleries that the Cities have to offer (and not on the days when they let everyone in for free.) And if, some weeks, I'm just too exhausted or overworked to contemplate an evening like that, I'll go buy a few new books from Magers & Quinn, plunk down a few bucks at a neighborhood wine bar, or invite friends to join me for dinner at one of the countless locally owned, chef-driven restaurants that make Minnesota unique.
You might say this is an easy commitment for me to make, since all I'm really promising is to pay people to entertain, educate, or feed me. You'd be exactly right. It's ridiculously easy, and I don't know why I ever allowed the Voices of Economic Doom to convince me that I shouldn't be doing it all the time. Because wouldn't I feel silly if, at the end of all this mortgage-backed-security-credit-default-swap-Wall-Street-vs.-Main-Street foolishness, I was left living in a world stripped of the art, music, and literature that I value, only to realize that I could have helped keep it alive?
Admit it: you'd feel silly, too. Now who's with me?
Labels: philosophical musings, state of the art
posted by Sam at
9:20 AM
5 Comments:
Sam, this is why I like your posts so much. You put everything out there in such a normal perspective. All this BS on CNN and everywhere else is getting really old. And I'm sick of waiting for the next shoe to drop.
Considering how I work in one of the most unstable of industries, and my job could easily go away (as have many of my peers), it hasn't yet, and I'm still out there living...buying cd's at Cheapo, stuff to read at Barnes and Noble...I've been going to more happy hours than I have in many years (I don't actually know if that's a good thing), and other such items of normal day-to-day living. And as long as there isn't some unforeseen glitch, I'll even be at Orchestra Hall this week to listen to Shostakovich.
Considering how I'm going to be 39 in a couple weeks, I don't plan on crawling in a cave someplace...I won't get this time back, so I don't plan on squandering it. Therefore, it's mostly business as usual in the world of Ken. (and if I do become jobless & homeless, I'm really good at living off the land - and you won't have to endure my blogging).
I still haven't figured out though, how much of this is knee-jerk reaction to the stock markets? Unless they planned on tapping into their investments right this second to cover expenses, then does it really matter that the markets are down? Obviously attendance is down at events, but it appears people are still going in decent enough numbers to most of the events. And to be honest, some of this purging of was long overdue - there is way too much excess and greed out there.
And as long as there isn't some unforeseen glitch, I'll even be at Orchestra Hall this week to listen to Shostakovich.
Good to hear. Bring earplugs. Just sayin...
Thanks for the heads-up. I didn't bring earplugs, but I did sit several rows further back than I normally do. It certainly was a very dramatic (and loud) version of the Shostakovich 11.
I'm curious though about the ending that Litton chose. He used the bells at the end to the hilt, which I think was fabulous. However, the long fade...I've never heard that done in any of the previous versions that I've heard of this piece...is that a liberty that Litton imposed, or is it something in the score that others just miss or pass on?
In my mind it seemed to dilute the excitement at the ending just a fraction. I guess it probably falls into that gray area - sort of like the ending of the Rachmaninoff Symphonic Dances - some like no fade at all, others a long fade - whereas I prefer a quick fade.
It is somewhat unusual, but since most orchestras just use standard chimes for the 11th, the fade wouldn't normally be very long anyway. Andrew very specifically asked our percussionists not to damp the bells (which he had brought in from Dallas) even a little bit, and the dramatic lighting was his idea as well. Personally, I thought it worked, and that the long fade heightened the tension that rolls through the finale, but it's certainly a matter of personal taste.
It certainly was very interesting and unexpected..and hearing those chimes in that acoustic was certainly a thrill! We'll have to wait and see what Mr. Litton has up his sleeve come July, as he has a couple of interesting programs on the summer schedule. I'm guessing he and the orchestra will have a fun time with the Organ Symphony. Can't wait.
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