As I morph from performing arts presenter to writer (in my non-administrator life) all the freedom that change brings is present –accompanied with an occasional twinge of regret or moment of fear.
Yesterday, the visit to our center from the Egyptian delegation of arts administrators was occasion for one of those twinges! I am convinced that if the world were run by artists: performing, visual, literary, film, or culinary, it would be a far better place. These Egyptians, in the middle of all the turmoil, violence and dysfunction in their country, continue to imagine, create, teach, share, think and dream. And every country has this same coterie of smart and responsible people. What an untapped resource to run the world.
Anyway as they talked about their art centers and opera houses and dance festivals I wanted to immediately book my ticket for a visit and get to know some of the artists and invite them to come to North Fourth with their cultural offerings. And then I said STOP Marjorie. You are a writer. You will travel to all the places in the world—just not to mingle with contemporary dancers and arts administrators. Well maybe a little.
My neighborhood is transitioning also. A new bank—honestly does the world need more banks?—is looming over the little thrift store just a couple of blocks up on Central. I’ve never been in it and it is not necessarily a great thrift shop but at least it does the world no harm. Can’t say that about banks can we?