Our Guest Blog this month is a photographic essay with text by Dee Lysak and photos by Wanda Kabel-Easton.

 

The still images are shared in black and white. They represent a mapping of cultural spaces – up and down the King’s Highway #71, in the Township of Sioux Narrows-Nestor Falls.  Rural and remote communities and the people that reside there, alongside of their urban counterparts, are living through a once-in-a-lifetime global health pandemic. This photo essay explores the sad reality of so many spaces that are  shuttered, indefinitely. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I sit empty. Vacant. Waiting. Wood beams, pine boards, asphalt shingles. The quiet surrounds me.

This summer – the woodland friends kept me company. The blue heron in the reeds on Caliper Lake. The blue jays. Nuthatches.  Jackrabbits.  The sounds are familiar, yet others are missing.

I am purpose built. I am an outdoor stage for the Moose n’ Fiddle Music Festival. I need musicians: singer-songwriters, guitar players, drummers. I miss the audience. Where has everyone gone?

 

 

 

 

Imagine. Tables and chairs. A painter’s workshop.  Folk art. Tyler Boyle. Bridge & Falls Creative Residency. A potter. A writer. A playwright. A geologist. A reading. Artist talkback.

People entering. Take your seat. People. All walks of life. Indigenous. Non-Indigenous. Young and old. The lights dim. A live performance of AN ILLUSTRATED HISTORY OF THE ANISHINAABE by Ian Ross. Performed by Ian Ross and James Durham. Laughter. Applause. Cold brew coffee. Pastries. Q+A. Conversation.

In the here and now, all alone. Waiting. Patiently. For the next act. For friends to come again. Enter. Exit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wood. Light. Air. Sun. Wind. Rain. 

I am ON THE ROCK. I am the inspiration. Artist-centred. To work. To create. To take deep dives into artistic practices. Creative minds. Come and go. The window opens. The cool breeze rushes in.  Poet’s linger. Laptops. iPhones. Pencils. Paper. Voices. Movement. Artists play.

I am ON THE ROCK. I am transformed. I am a satellite performance space. Playing now. 14 Chairs. Pop up performance. First set: Charlie Madden and Jake Blosser.  The music echoes over the Canadian Shield. Sitting here at the head of a trail.  In the deep, dark woods. Twilight is upon us. The moon rises.  

When will we meet again? Soon, I hope. 

 

 

 

 

Summer picnics. Let’s break bread together. BBQ, grills are fired up. Smokers: hickory, applewood, mesquite. In my mind’s eye. Coolers are everywhere. A buffet table.  Red + white checkerboard cover.  Side dishes. Cold salads. Condiments. Families. Aunts and Uncles. Grandma, grandpa, mom, dad, cousins. Friends.

On the lawn. Children play: hopscotch; red rover, red rover; duck, duck, goose.  Minnow races.  Dogs on and off leashes.  Beach towels. Clouds roll in. Thunder and lighting. Rainbows. Campfires. S’mores.  Sing-alongs. Ghost stories. 

Art in the Park?  Crafters. Displays. People roaming. Wifi on. Bags filled. Transaction approved. 

Shelter in place? Am I now redundant?  Do I still exist? Without living – breathing human beings, I am just a shell.

A new piece by Guest Blogger Denise Lysak.

I will start with the words of Antoine de Saint-Exupery, “A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single person contemplates it, bearing within her the image of a cathedral.” I think this is a perfectly good place to kick-start this blog titled ‘fire and water’.  

The Moving Gallery is just a tiny structure with windows, walls and wheels OR maybe, if you let yourself imagine, it is so, much more. With every artist that worked on this project – the Moving Gallery became a living, breathing exhibit and exploration around the theme of water. It was infused with original works of art: all informed by thoughts, sensibilities, care, connections, history, brush strokes, stories, photos, sketches, reflections, impulses, charisma, and courage.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The MOVING GALLERY, is a tiny mobile studio fitted with art installations: iPods with recorded podcasts, visual art pieces, interactive exhibits, chalkboard walls, mechanical flipbooks, and ‘selfie” corners – created and developed by amateur and professional artists, from Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities across Canada. The Moving Gallery travelled to fairs, farmers’ markets, festivals and forts throughout the summer of 2017, in celebration of Canada’s sesquicentennial.  

With the Moving Gallery, audiences and artists came together in a tiny space and as you took your first step in, you were submerged in the soundscape by Gerald Laroche.  Sounds of crashing waves, rain drops and the call of the loons supported an immersive experience. The tiny studio engaged audiences in a sensory experience, from hearing and seeing to touching and feeling.  

In 2020, fires have raged and continue to destroy vast swaths of land, endangering town, cities, human life, wildlife, natural and built environs. Our work as creators is to create conversations, to evoke critical thought, to challenge perceptions, and, yes, at times, to simply entertain. The installations that were part and parcel of the Moving Gallery, celebrated in part our nation’s sesquicentennial in 2017 and the larger gift of water.  And, it is in that polar opposite that moves me to discover the dichotomy of fire and water.  

 

There are words in the “cloud” that jump out at me: scorched earth, evacuate, climate fire, ash, water and life. The word cloud hints at a serene landscape – with the green of mother earth veiled by the light and airy atmosphere from above – all while taking another turn around the sun, in that idea of a year.  In our utopia, this would fairly represent planet Earth and all of its inhabitants, creatures great and small. Our world view tells a very different story and suggests a reality that is far from the idyllic imagery suggested above. How do we reconcile the two?  With art.  With art that opens windows to the world.  With art that boldy illustrates the world we live in and challenges, all of us, to imagine and build an even better one.  With art that touches our souls, heals our minds, and moves our bodies to act.  Now.

THE WHO’S WHO, MOVING GALLERY                     Artistic Curator Denise Lysak

PRIMARY CREATORS                                                      TINY STUDIO DESIGN TEAM

Nicola Cavendish | Writer                                              Erik Arnason, Eduardo Aquino, Shawn 

Wanda Easton | Photographer/ Blogger                     Bailey, Chrissy Sie-Merritt, Shawn

Gerald Laroche | Soundscape Artist                            Sinclair

Kate-Lynn Paypompee | Photographer                       Elyse Hartman | Gallery Guide

Ian Ross | Storyteller

Chrissy Sie-Merritt | Visual Artist

Today’s blog is an introduction to next week’s Expert Chat – My Voice Counts: Building Community Media In the Internet Age, by Victoria Fenner.

 

 

I’ve lived in a community with its own community radio station for most of my adult life. 

For the first part of my life, that was coincidental.  My first experience with community radio was at university.  Back in the 80s, that was the most common form of volunteer produced community radio.  Though based on a university campus, the mandate of campus based stations was to serve both the campus and the community. 

In recent years, especially the past ten years or so, there is a new trend developing.  Small towns all over Canada are starting their own stations.  In places like Picton, Cobourg, Stouffville, Huntsville and Haliburton, people have started their own non-profit based radio stations.  

What this means is that people can turn on the radio and hear people on the air from their community.  They can hear their own local musicians, sometimes even playing live from the studio.  It’s also not uncommon to hear poetry, radio drama and sound art on the airwaves.  The best thing for me, as a listener, is that I get to hear what my neighbours are doing. 

As a producer of sound art, it also means I can get my work on the air. My neighbours can hear me. I can also hear about exhibitions coming up, events in the community and also (if there are shows that do information programs), I can hear what my town council is doing to make sure my community is a healthy community for arts to flourish. And call them to task if they’re not.

There are many things that community media does beyond art – in this column I’m focussing mostly on performing arts because the mandate of SPARC is to promote performing arts in rural and remote communities.  Community media – radio, television, internet based or even good old fashioned newspapers, can do that.  

It’s important to have media which supports your community. A growing number of communities are realizing that the best way to ensure that the needs of the community are being met is through community ownership of its own media.  So they’re setting up their own community media organizations.  Some have radio stations, some have internet portals and some of them even have their own standalone over the air TV station. 

If this idea intrigues you, there are a few organizations who can help.  If you want to learn more about community radio, the National Campus and Community Radio Association (ncra.ca) has a list of all its members (mostly in English speaking Canada), as well as resources to read about how to set up a station.

For francophone communities, you can go to the website of ARC du Canada – Alliance des radios communitaires (https://radiorfa.com/ ).  There are also many Indigenous community radio stations in Canada.  You can also check out the website of the Community Radio Fund of Canada, https://crfc-fcrc.ca/ , an organization set up twelve years ago to help fund community radio across Canada (disclosure – I am on the board of the CRFC).

I’ve used radio as my first example because that’s the medium to which I have dedicated most of my life’s work.   Right now, I’m also branching out into community television and exploring new concepts like video gaming and virtual reality with one of my colleagues.  (another disclosure – I also work in community television too with the next organization I’m going to tell you about).

 

 

If you’re interested in television, video gaming and virtual reality, check out CACTUS – The Canadian Association of Community Television Stations and Users (cactusmedia.ca).  CACTUS was established about ten years ago by a group of people who saw the need to support the emerging community television sector beyond the usual model of community channels owned by the big cable companies. For a whole bunch of reasons, many of those stations have been closed down, leaving communities without a way to reach each other on television.  

CACTUS’s vision includes working with communities to help them develop community media across all platforms – not just radio and television, but also community based virtual reality and video games. 

Whatever distribution method you choose, the important thing is that it’s media produced for your community by people IN your community.  Because that’s what real community media is.  It’s not just some corporation creating media FOR you.  It’s about media created BY you.

If you would like to learn more about community media, I will be doing a webinar for SPARC where I can answer your questions about what’s involved in starting a community media organization in the place where you live. 

Details about the Expert Chat: Wednesday August 26 at 7pm on the SPARC Member Network Facebook group page (click here).

VF bio:

Victoria  is a community builder through media arts.  Whether she’s facilitating an arts camp, running a community radio, television station or community internet portal; or helping community groups develop their fundraising plans, she enjoys helping people find their unique role within a shared purpose.  She integrates principles of socially engaged arts practice in her projects, conducting story circles, acoustic ecology  and participatory media arts workshops.   She is also a radio journalist and environmental sound artist who is constantly exploring new ways to listen.  She lives in Barrie with her partner, singer songwriter Edward St. Moritz. 

Graeme Bachiu takes us inside his pandemic documentary journey.

Of course, I knew that I’d have no real ability to produce content in the conventional way, the before pandemic way…I’d have to come up with a new way of doing things. I collaborated with some close friends on some text message brainstorming and put together a bit of a plan.

Of course, there’d be some revisions and re-shoots and I enlisted my regular team of professionals to do an audio mix, colour correction and some motion graphics. We accomplished this all on shitty rural internet, using Slack to keep the team in touch and the wonderful folks at frame.io to pass our footage back and forth. We shot some footage ourselves, observing strict distancing, leading me to believe that this is the first 100% socially distanced documentary series produced during a pandemic in Ontario…and possibly in Canada?

Executive Producer Carole Aeschelmann and I have a passion for telling stories about the rural areas of Ontario and Canada and, aside from the thrill of creation and the pride of doing something different and unprecedented I take great pride in generating some revenue for the people who work with me.

 

Making Things Count: Pandemic Postcards is now available to Bell Fibe subscribers on Bell Fibe TV1, channel 1.

A blog by guest blogger Denise Lysak on COVID and its impact on the Arts

Photo Credit: Be Amazing

I live in rural and remote northwestern Ontario. I live off-the-grid on a small tea-coloured lake that is home to more fish than people and the most common species are northern pike, pickerel, perch, large and small-mouth bass. The fish share their space with an abundance of wildlife – from water mammals like beavers and otters to large birds of prey. Almost every day in the summertime, you can see rabbits, pine grouse, painted turtles, red squirrels, geese, ducks, blue jays, woodpeckers, loons and if you are lucky – trumpeter swans.  On rare occasions, our paths have crossed with white-tailed deer, foxes, lynx, wolves, black bears, and yes, even moose. 

The world we live in is the boreal forest and it spans 50 million hectares in the Canadian Shield.  The physical features of the Canadian Shield include rocks, bares and plateaus. The Canadian Shield has uplands which are high or hilly areas, and there are also a lot of rivers, lakes, streams, and wetlands.  Here social distancing can be the norm, 365 days of the year and that is certainly true pre COVID-19. But to be sure right here, right now, COVID-19 is the elephant in the deep, dark woods.  

I have been at home in the performing arts for decades.  My church – for many, many years was the theatre at MTYP at The Forks in Winnipeg, Manitoba, where two rivers meet. My favourite seats were in the balcony and from there I could watch the artists and the audience. There are other sacred spaces, homes to creative endeavours and incredible works, that hold me and keep me…the ruins in St. Boniface, the cage beneath the 232-seat black box Gas Station Theatre in Osborne Village, the Leighton Artists Studios at the Banff Centre, the number 14 bus in Vancouver, BC, the Oodena Circle at The Forks, the On The Rock tiny studio in Nestor Falls, a long ago rehearsal hall on the 5^th floor of the old PTE building on Princess Street (that is now the downtown campus for Red River College), and the Cargill Theatre in St. Paul/ Minneapolis– just to name a few. 

The elephant in the room is like the house hippo. Real or imagined? Well, it must be real. Each and every space listed above is shuttered. Artists are at home. Creators in a “gig economy” are facing financial hardships with no end in sight. Seasons are cancelled. Symphonies are not playing music and the only sound you hear, is silence. Careers are on hold. Our makers, our artists, our musicians all have names.  They are not just statistics or numbers on a pie graph.  

On the radio today, I heard that after four months – The Louvre is opening. The Louvre Museum, is the world’s largest art museum and a historic monument in Paris, France. A central landmark of the city, it is located on the Right Bank of the Seine in the city’s 1^st arrondissement. This good news story sent me on a google expedition to see what else might be opening in the near future. It turns out that much closer to home, both the Lake of the Woods Museum and the Douglas Family Arts Centre is now open to the public. I love the Lake of the Woods Museum and I have yet to visit the Douglas Family Arts Centre.  I will put that on my must-see list for later this fall.  Why, wait – you might ask?  Back to that elephant in the room and the coronavirus that when somewhere, can be anywhere. 

My personal choice is at odds with the very tenets I hold most dear.  Art and culture live in a continuum. Without either we wither – we are simply empty shells existing across time and space. Art influences society by changing opinions, instilling values and translating experiences. Research has shown art affects the fundamental sense of self. Painting, sculpture, music, literature and the other arts are often considered to be the repository of a society’s collective memory. I know so many people who need each and every one of us – to take up space in galleries, studios, theatres and museums. Their very livelihoods depend on it. And, yet – like the willow I bend. I fear that if I act too much like the oak – I will break.  For me, for right now – the elephant looms large and is still very much in the room. The pachyderms have taken over the very spaces that I once entered and exited with freedom, excitement and wild abandon. I am going to wait this out, with patience and kindness. I will find ways to act – to help keep the lives of people I know, as intact as possible under the circumstances.  There are “donate now” buttons to google. And, there are gift cards and subscriptions to purchase. I will also join in important conversations with leaders in the industry, with elected officials, and with arts and cultural funders. 

Now is the time to act, boldly and swiftly.  During this very, long pause – this unscripted intermission we need policies that support professional artists and arts organizations from all disciplines.  Guaranteed incomes for artists and operating funding for organizations should replace the old standby that is often called “project funding”. I once sat in a room filled with people – back when workshops and conferences happened without hesitation. One of the sessions encouraged us to look at the outline of a purple cow. This purple cow represented what could be – if only we allowed ourselves the free will to get past the very idea, that the cow was purple.  Imagine how different our world could be, if we challenge each and every one of us, to come to this new normal with every good idea that has ever been raised. To change perceptions and to challenge the status quo.  Let’s strive for something better, fairer and more just.  Let’s dig deep and do the hard work.  I am happy to say that the elephant in the room has now been replaced with the purple cow.

 

A blog by Fanny Martin, Executive Director & Creative Producer – Art of Festivals

It started with frustration. In March 2019, Mass Culture hosted a Digital Gathering on cultural planning in rural & remote communities in response to feedback from SPARC Steering Committee member Felicity Buckell, who attended the first city-focused webinar of the series. 

In conversation with Annalee Adair, Felicity highlighted some challenges of rural cultural planning, from the lack of genuine local political support for the arts to limited resources to effectively advocate for that support.   

The Community Presenters’ Network took up the baton and, with the support of SPARC’s Collaborative Community Initiatives program, put out a call to start unlocking the network’s collective advocacy potential. This was the beginning of my work with SPARC and the CPN. I had produced the Digital Gathering that spurred this desire for action and wanted to dig deeper into these questions, so I embarked on interviews and research to understand how deep the disconnect is and what steps the network can take to rewrite the narrative. 

Advocacy is a long game, and context varies widely from one rural community to another. Success stories are inspiring but often dependent on structural conditions that take years to shape. So how do we get started on a change process with lasting power? What can we achieve with a concerted effort? The Advocacy Starter Guide I produced outlines 5 key steps to mobilize and amplify the network’s potential for making its case: 

1. WHY: What is our VISION? 

Compelling advocacy is driven by strong values and ambitious shared desired outcomes. Change doesn’t start or end with more money: what is required is a lasting, genuine shift in attitudes and perspectives that reshapes power relations and priorities. This vision could take the form of a manifesto, charter or set of principles, like the HIGH FIVE framework for children’s sport and recreation programming, which promotes cross-sector collaboration to create the conditions for children to thrive. 

2. WHAT: What are our key MESSAGES? 

Vision and values need to be translated into messages that are clear, compelling and consistent. We need to rewrite the script: it doesn’t have to be hockey or theatre, and there are enough resources for both sport and culture in a well-rounded society if we shift our assessment of what matters. 

3. HOW: What are our TACTICS? 

Advocacy is a long-haul journey that requires a tactical approach: a series of campaigns and actions, sustained by research projects and monitoring mechanisms. Making these efforts visible and transparent through “advocacy diaries” – for example a shared open blog – could amplify the network’s impact and support ongoing dialogue between stakeholders. 

4. WHO: Who are the PEOPLE we are working with, for and against? 

Identifying who holds power and how to reach them is a key step in designing a campaign. Strategic alliances with other networks, organizations and individuals with overlapping agendas can also help leverage third-party advocacy and reach targeted decision-makers.

5. WHEN: What is our STRATEGY to make systemic change happen? 

What is the anatomy of a good campaign? Who does what – and when? What resources should be allocated to which actions? What constitutes success? How can progress be measured and milestones celebrated? Creating an advocacy checklist and timeline can help focus efforts and track outcomes: this could take the form of a step-by-step approach to crafting and delivering effective messages and a regularly updated calendar of important dates for the different levels of campaigning (Council meetings, regional conferences, budget reviews…). 

_ _ _ 

The Advocacy Starter Guide, finalised in February 2020, expands on these questions, with quotes, checklists and additional resources, to provide a foundation for customized toolkits and campaigns. But what does this all mean now, in the time of the pandemic? 

With remote working now an option for thousands of workers, urban density perceived as a risk, international mobility patterns affected by health, cost and environmental considerations, we know there will be changes to the ways we live, work and play.

We don’t know yet how deeply the performing arts sector has and will be impacted, how our gatherings and celebrations will be modified in the short and long-term, or how artists will make a living. But we heard official declarations of support for artists; we saw grant conditions overturned to accommodate shifting new contexts, and public funding fast-forwarded to organizations at risk. 

How will this impact rural and remote areas? What opportunities are emerging to make a powerful case for rural arts as the beating heart of vibrant, attractive, caring communities? 

The Advocacy Starter Guide is the first step in exploring these questions and rewriting the narrative. I invite you to read through it and share your thoughts! How can we channel our frustration into collective action? 

 

Follow this link to the Advocacy Starter Guide or email Rachel (rachel@sparcperformingarts.com) for a copy to be sent to you.

A blog by SPARC guest blogger Denise Lysak exploring one festival’s way forward during COVID-19.

All across the country, companies struggle just to survive. Theatres, galleries, museums, and festival sites sit empty. So many artists, musicians, painters, actors, directors, guides, technicians, carpenters, janitors, marketers, designers, and arts practitioners face crippling financial strain, professionally and personally, as well as uncertain futures. Spaces AND people are in unprecedented times. Museums, galleries, playhouses are all cultural gems and losing them would hurt our shared history and heritage. 

As we, the audiences, wait and hope that soon: a) world premieres will come back; b) new exhibits will open; and, c) festivals will find their way forward.  So much hinges on science and discovery – therapeutics or a vaccine and until then, arts and culture are on hold as the coronavirus silently waits. What is the way forward?

Is there a new temporal home for a new season? Can people pivot? Can musicians make a living with live streaming concerts?  Can playwrights, directors, designers, and actors sit at tables, not in the same room, and create new works? Can art exist without audiences – in halls, in seats, in unusual spaces and places – on street corners, on buses or on roof tops?  Can the home, for now – be online?  

If you had asked me this, ten years ago…I would have said no. If you asked me this same question, two years ago, the same response would have been uttered – just no.  And, today, I am still uncertain.  My head says “yes” and yet, my heart says “no”.  Stay with me for just a moment.  Imagine if you will – a kitchen table littered with newspaper headlines and images, cut from free presses.  What do you see?  

THE SHOW GOES ON(LINE): AS EVENTS CANCEL DUE TO COVID-19 

EVENTS ARE GOING DIGITAL: SHOULD YOUR COMPANY FOLLOW?

MUSIC STARS ARE LIVE-STREAMING AT-HOME CONCERTS

OTTAWA FACING SILENT SPRING AS FESTIVALS, EVENTS CANCELLED

EDEN MILLS WRITERS’ FESTIVAL CANCELLED, REPLACED BY ONLINE EVENTS

The headlines bring more questions than answers.  Will the shift to online events forever change the experience that exists between the artists and the audiences? Will people pay to listen to a live-streaming concert online?  Will dialogues be silenced as gallery guides no longer stand in front of a large canvas, discussing the feelings evoked by a series that begs for critical thought and freedom of expression? My simple answer is “I hope not”. 

How then does that square with a decision to curate an abridged version of the now cancelled Moose n’ Fiddle Music Festival in 2020 and produce a 90-minute online event? I hope this is temporary. I hope the online home is truly a temporal home. Let’s focus on the idea that the online platform is simply a tool. A resource to connect to audiences. A way to move through a time and space – until we can all be together again.  

The KITCHEN PARTY is aptly wrapped by the idea of standing together, while staying apart. What does that mean for the artists and the audiences who have put the Festival on its feet? 

In ordinary times, it would mean: a very, long pause.  But these are extraordinary times and we wanted to meet the moment.  So…we have assembled a small group of the who’s who of Moose n’ Fiddle past and present.  We will mark COVID-19 with an abridged version of the Moose n’ Fiddle Music Festival.  

On Saturday, August 22^nd, we invite you to continue to shelter in place, to stay home and be safe while enjoying the sights and sounds of an online KITCHEN PARTY.  In the spirit of standing together, while staying apart, this Kitchen Party will be 90-minutes in length and it will kick off at 8pm. Say hello to Siouxperboat, Belle Plaine, Adrian Sutherland from Midnight Shine, and Fu Fu Chi Chi Choir! Our narrators will be Wanda Kabel and yes, me – Dee Lysak.

The KITCHEN PARTY, online event will be hosted by 89.5 The Lake [Acadia Broadcasting] and the link will be on the moosenfiddle.ca website.  So, grab a cold brew from Lake of the Woods Brewing Company, order up some wood-fired pizzas from Black Oven Pizza, kick off your shoes, and tune in! This KITCHEN PARTY will be in the cloud and we invite you to join us. Yes, things are going to look and feel different. 

The online platform is a virtual room, to see – to hear – to learn – to entertain – to reIMAGINE. 

A new blog by SPARC Guest Blogger, Denise Lysak.

On stages all across Ontario, ghost lights are on.  Plawyrights, storytellers, actors, musicians, comedians, masters of marionettes, and, so many more #stayhome as COVID-19 – a coronavirus threatens the lives of many.  

A ghost light is a small, single bulbed light usually a floor lamp of some sort, that shines on the dark stage throughout the night. It is both practical and mystical. There are many crooks and crannies in theatre spaces. And, trip hazards abound, including orchestra pits and false bottom floors. It is best to keep the spaces lit and on more than one occasion, you will hear theatre techs, grips and gaffers – telling the last one to leave for the night, “to turn on the ghost light”.  

For others, the ghost light takes on a more, mysterious meaning. If it is true that every theatre has a ghost, then the ghost light illuminates and defines the shadowy world that people from our past inhabit. According to Playbill.com, it is said that the Palace Theatre is one of the most haunted theatres on Broadway.  There is an old Masonic lodge in Winnipeg – on the corner of Ellice and Donald – that has been home to many a theatre production and it is known to be haunted by a ghost. More than a century ago, one of Canada’s largest unsolved mysteries occurred. Theatre tycoon Ambrose Small, who owned The Grand London and many other Canadian theatres, sold his empire, deposited the money in the bank, and then disappeared. Eerie encounters with this grand ghost continue and the ghost of Ambrose Small has been seen as he continues to haunt The Grand Theatre, in London, Ontario to this day. Whether it is fact or fiction, the tradition lives on.  And, as emergency measures and shelter in place orders mark these trying times, ghost lights stay on.

In the heart of Ontario’s bread basket, The Blyth Festival has postponed its season but has not yet cancelled any of its shows, the first of which is scheduled to open June 10, with the world premiere of Airborne: The Life and Legacy of Lorne Bray.  Port Stanley Festival Theatre postponed its first two shows of the season, The Crooner Show (May 19-23) and A Legal Alien (May 26-30).

The list goes on. The Stratford Festival has suspended its 2020 season indefinitely.  The Shaw Festival has now cancelled all events until after June 30^th as the Town of Niagara-on-the-Lake extends its state of emergency and ban on all public events and meetings. The curtain has also fallen on smaller outdoor summer music festivals including The Trout Forest Music Festival in Ear Falls and the Moose n’ Fiddle Music Festival in Nestor Falls, far off the beaten path in northwestern Ontario.  

The revenues lost from non-existent ticket sales, fundraisers, and membership drives may prove to be insurmountable for many festivals, theatre, galleries and museums. Tourism dollars will not be flowing and the ripple effect will be felt at lodges, resorts, restaurants, and retail shoppes from James Bay to Point Pelee and all places in between. The livelihoods of artists, musicians, painters, ticket takers, and arts practitioners lay in the balance. 

As not-for-profit organizations and people pivot, stories of wardrobe mistresses making masks and sewing garments for front-line workers and musicians streaming live online are coming to light. And, even in the midst of a global health pandemic, we are all connected. To something bigger than ourselves. To causes and challenges that were only known by generations before us.  Times have changed. Are we all standing at the portal? In the days before COVID-19, this was a familiar hymn heard at New Year’s and a song of praise and worship.  

Today, Standing at the Portal represents a before and after: pre-COVID and the new normal. For now, we are all striving to find a new rhythm. To navigate uncharted waters, with ways and means seldom called upon before. When will musicians play live onstage again?  When will actors and actresses leave small gifts in dressing rooms, just before they take their places to perform beloved classics or world premieres?  When will festivals occupy city spaces, open fields and forested glens – connecting people to places again? Only when we turn off the last ghost light…