Reminds Me of a Simpsons Episode
Anybody else catch Frank Gehry's appearance on The Simpsons last night? It gave me a chuckle to see his work lightly made fun of, since every trip past the Peter B. Lewis building filled me with a millisecond of disoriented shock ("I don't remember hearing about an industrial disaster in University Circle...oh, wait.")
More than that, though, the episode touched on some interesting city planning issues. The gist: annoyed at how upwardly mobile Shelbyvillians look down upon Springfield, Marge tries to inject some culture into the city by building a concert hall (enter Frank Gehry). Needless to say, the concert hall doesn't get much business (Mayor Quimby moans, "why didn't you people tell me you didn't like classical music?")
It reminded me of the time my sister and I went to see a midweek Cleveland Orchestra concert. My sister, fresh from a 9-year stint as an art student / restaurant manager in San Francisco, was less than thrilled at being thrust by financial burden back to her humble hometown. So a trip to the Orchestra seemed welcome respite from the hoardes of grotesque, uncultured Old Clevelanders she now so heartily disdained.
She had to absorb a bit of culture shock when we got to Severance and found the aud less than a third full, and where a seat was occupied, it was occupied by an arse several decades older and in a much higher tax bracket than our own. In the City on the Bay, she instructed me, everyone goes to the symphony. Stinky hippies in sandals go to the symphony, and they sit alongside the chic and fur-coated in an über-diverse festival of wholesome liberal values.
The auditorium, she assured me as if describing the Promised Land, is always full.
It's been on my mind ever since. What's up with Cleveland? Why don't we fill our concert halls? Why couldn't we hold on to the Ballet? Why do charming little areas like Shaker Square struggle like ailing houseplants? And (more puzzling to me now that I'm on the Jersey Shore) why aren't our beaches clean? Part of it is the obvious "it's the economy, stupid" but there's more than that. Part of Cleveland's psyche detests beauty. Part of Cleveland's psyche sees beauty and wants to destroy it.
Part of Cleveland's psyche derides and resents the entire Creative Class, too. What, after all, is art good for? You can't eat it, it doesn't raise anyone's test scores, and you sure as hell can't make cars out of it. At one point, Cleveland's whole economy was based on filthying up the landscape. Those were the good old days, back when honest, hardworking people could make a living for their family. Right? Now we have all those sissies and fancy-boys saying that what'll really bring Cleveland back is a few lousy pictures spray-painted on the side of the empty factory where my old man used to work. Hell, things aren't like they used to be. Cleveland just sucks.
Yes, I'm aware that I've left people like the Progressive Arts Alliance, Dobama Theatre, and Lakewood Public Library completely out of the picture. That's for the time being only. But every Wednesday comes around and I get Cool Cleveland in my inbox, and that starts a flurry of excitable, crazy, half-baked "if only I were in Cleveland I could start X cultural initiative, or Y small business, or get Z startup grant" schemes, and I have to remember there's a reason why I left. I have to remember that even though I love Cleveland dearly, I'm still too vulnerable to its infamous pessimism. And I don't want to get sucked into that, I want to tour around and see other cities' good ideas first, and then come back. Because whatever scheme I end up adopting, it's gonna be good, and I don't want it to go bust due to my lack of life preparation.
So thanks Bart and Lisa, Lenny and Carl, and especially you, Mr. Burns, for reminding me of my life's course.
More than that, though, the episode touched on some interesting city planning issues. The gist: annoyed at how upwardly mobile Shelbyvillians look down upon Springfield, Marge tries to inject some culture into the city by building a concert hall (enter Frank Gehry). Needless to say, the concert hall doesn't get much business (Mayor Quimby moans, "why didn't you people tell me you didn't like classical music?")
It reminded me of the time my sister and I went to see a midweek Cleveland Orchestra concert. My sister, fresh from a 9-year stint as an art student / restaurant manager in San Francisco, was less than thrilled at being thrust by financial burden back to her humble hometown. So a trip to the Orchestra seemed welcome respite from the hoardes of grotesque, uncultured Old Clevelanders she now so heartily disdained.
She had to absorb a bit of culture shock when we got to Severance and found the aud less than a third full, and where a seat was occupied, it was occupied by an arse several decades older and in a much higher tax bracket than our own. In the City on the Bay, she instructed me, everyone goes to the symphony. Stinky hippies in sandals go to the symphony, and they sit alongside the chic and fur-coated in an über-diverse festival of wholesome liberal values.
The auditorium, she assured me as if describing the Promised Land, is always full.
It's been on my mind ever since. What's up with Cleveland? Why don't we fill our concert halls? Why couldn't we hold on to the Ballet? Why do charming little areas like Shaker Square struggle like ailing houseplants? And (more puzzling to me now that I'm on the Jersey Shore) why aren't our beaches clean? Part of it is the obvious "it's the economy, stupid" but there's more than that. Part of Cleveland's psyche detests beauty. Part of Cleveland's psyche sees beauty and wants to destroy it.
Part of Cleveland's psyche derides and resents the entire Creative Class, too. What, after all, is art good for? You can't eat it, it doesn't raise anyone's test scores, and you sure as hell can't make cars out of it. At one point, Cleveland's whole economy was based on filthying up the landscape. Those were the good old days, back when honest, hardworking people could make a living for their family. Right? Now we have all those sissies and fancy-boys saying that what'll really bring Cleveland back is a few lousy pictures spray-painted on the side of the empty factory where my old man used to work. Hell, things aren't like they used to be. Cleveland just sucks.
Yes, I'm aware that I've left people like the Progressive Arts Alliance, Dobama Theatre, and Lakewood Public Library completely out of the picture. That's for the time being only. But every Wednesday comes around and I get Cool Cleveland in my inbox, and that starts a flurry of excitable, crazy, half-baked "if only I were in Cleveland I could start X cultural initiative, or Y small business, or get Z startup grant" schemes, and I have to remember there's a reason why I left. I have to remember that even though I love Cleveland dearly, I'm still too vulnerable to its infamous pessimism. And I don't want to get sucked into that, I want to tour around and see other cities' good ideas first, and then come back. Because whatever scheme I end up adopting, it's gonna be good, and I don't want it to go bust due to my lack of life preparation.
So thanks Bart and Lisa, Lenny and Carl, and especially you, Mr. Burns, for reminding me of my life's course.
posted by Christine Borne at 5:56 PM
1 Comments:
It is an interesting situation.
First, on a note unrelated from the rest of my comment, I was highly amused by yesterday's Simpsons, especially as all of my classes next year will be in the Peter B Lewis building.
I think Cleveland has a chance to really thrive in areas of culture that might not immediately fit in the general envisionment of "cultured." For example, Cleveland has a very dedicated collection of people in the electronic music scene. While the dedicated aren't many (and there are plenty of sideliners, a role I've played at times), their dedication is unwavering. The electronic music scene is still recovering from a rough 2004, but big plans are in the works for the summer of 2005.
I know most people wouldn't associate the electronic music scene with a cultural establishment; most people think of generic thumpa thumpa and a dance floor. It is significantly more than that. If you find the right corners of the electronic dance crowd, you'll find some people who produce and perform some very intricate and interesting electronic music. People throw entire events based around this (Midnight Mixer or Recycled Rainbow, to name a couple) and incorporate other forms of creativity into this (Midnight Mixer, for a while, offered a discount to admission if you brought a picture with you that fit in with a very broad theme and could be added to a sort of communal collage).
I realize I'm starting to ramble relative to my specific experience. I think what it really comes down to is that there is a significant collection of those in the "younger generation" who understand the value of art, beauty, culture, etc. and they may not have the easiest time getting that out and about right now. Like many things, generational change is one of the primary requirements to really get community/social/cultural change.
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