Catalysts for a Creative Community
Hitch Hikers Improv presents a wonderful night of Improv fun! We promise gut-busting, funny-bone-tickling, milk-coming-out-of-the-nose, good old improvised laughter! Featuring a young-gun ensemble of some up-and-coming Regina improvisers! They promise to enlighten your evening with joy, happiness and anything else you can imagine.
Doors will open at 7:00 and the show will start at 7:30pm. Tickets only $5 at the door!
Taking her cues from Lucinda Williams, Ani Difranco and Tom Waits, Lynn Jackson uses her ‘whiskey and honey’ voice to mix her timeless melodies while spinning yarns about love, loss and everyday characters. Her rootsy style has drawn comparisons to Alison Krauss, Shelby Lynn and Kathleen Edwards.
Always touring with a new record in hand, Jackson will again travel coast to coast with her 6th and newest album, Down in the Dust. As audiences warm to her soulful storytelling style, Jackson is solidifying her place as one of the most original and compelling voices on the Canadian folk music scene.
Youth Spoken Word Fundraiser for Riverside Mission in Moose Jaw
Hitch Hikers Improv presents a night of Improv fun! We promise gut-busting, funny-bone-tickling, milk-coming-out-of-the-nose, good old improvised laughter! Featuring a young-gun ensemble of some up-and-coming Regina improvisers! They promise to enlighten your evening with joy, happiness and anything else you can imagine.
Doors will open at 7:30 and the show will start at 8pm. Tickets only $5 at the door!
Jayden Pfeifer
Join host Jayden Pfeifer and some special guests for a monthly viewing and dissection of Hollywood’s finest(?) creations! The movies might be terrible, but the laughter will be grand. It’s like watching a movie with your very best pals!
The movie and special guest will be announced soon! Stay tuned.
It’s only $5 for this big bucket of fun, show starts at 8:00pm!
Yes We Mystic is an indie folk band from Winnipeg which captures a bygone era with a fresh, energetic sound. Taking cues from traditional folk and contemporary indie rock, they deliver quiet acoustic melodies and soaring, triumphant crescendos. This is music to make you feel joy through your sorrow.
While Yes We Mystic was originally formed in 2011 as an acoustic folk band, their sound has evolved to include electric instruments and a modern mindset. Memorable harmonies and powerful strings are offset by distant guitars and complex rhythms.
In their hometown of Winnipeg, the band is known for their passionate live show. They have recently shared the stage with such acts as Rah Rah, Two Hours Traffic, and The Wilderness of Manitoba. Their debut EP, Floods and Fires, will be released in September.
Danny Goertz is a young, energetic guitarist and singer/songwriter from Regina, Saskatchewan. Within three years of playing shows in Regina, he has established himself as a gifted folk/indie artist. With influences like Mumford and Sons, Bob Dylan, Coldplay, The Tallest Man on Earth, and other classic and contemporary artists, Danny has managed to create a sound that blends his own music with that of his influences. You are always guaranteed to hear something different at his shows, whether it is new material or the same song played in a different way. Danny Goertz is an act you won’t want to miss.
Ok. So here’s the deal: You have 5 days to stage a 30-minute, 6-song musical in a reputably haunted theatre that’s falling down around you. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention: your cast is a group of eighteen 8-10 year-olds hopped up on Easter chocolate. Aaaannnnd GO!
It sounds like the plot for a reality TV show. You know, one of those programs where Cameron Mackintosh comes in at the end of day 5 and presents the winner with a cheque for a million dollars. In my case, this was a teaching contract I had over the Easter holidays that tested just how far I would go to live the CCC’s motto and be a ‘catalyst for a creative community‘.
It’s called Glee camp. Five days over the Easter break where parents drop their budding thespians off at the Conservatory of Performing Arts for 8 daily hours of singing, dancing and acting. I had signed on to teach at the camp, alongside director/choreographer Chip McDaniel, at the end of February and while I was looking forward to the week I really didn’t expect what was coming.
I felt like everything was under control. Chip and I both knew what we were doing and we worked well together. We’d literally just closed a production of Smokey Joe’s Cafe where Chip had directed/choreographed and I had played DeLee. We had this cased. Or so I thought.
Within the first five minutes of camp we had already been forced to recast the role of Cinderella, three kids were crying because they didn’t like their parts, one kid was crying because she slipped on water that was leaking from the roof, I had nearly been knocked unconscious by a falling piece of Darke Hall’s ceiling decor and I couldn’t deal with any of it because I was too busy filling out an incident report for an asthma attack that one of our campers was wheezing her way through. As I filled out the forms, I scolded myself for forgetting the most important variable in this whole project: the KIDS.
I don’t have any. In case you were wondering. And while I’ve taught children before, I’m more accustomed to hour-long private lessons than an 8-hour school day. As for that motherly instinct that seems to innately tell some women how to best nurture children? Yeah. I got none of that. But my time-steps are lovely, I assure you.
So there I was, putting out fires, slapping on band-aids and feeling like all I was really doing was babysitting when something incredible happened. The kids started to get settled. They started to feel comfortable in the space, with each other and with us and they started to open up. It turns out, they actually like this stuff! We haven’t lost the battle to video games! There are still kids out there that would rather spend their holidays singing and dancing than anything else and throughout the week they continued to impress.
Over the course of the camp, the kids learned 6 songs, a 30-minute script and choreography to each song. We played games, learned about theatre etiquette and shared various ghost stories about Darke Hall’s legendary hauntings. When we assigned homework, it came back completed and the kids continued to make progress. Of course, that’s not to say things were easy. There were still plenty of band-aids to apply, plenty of conflicts to resolve and a few nights where both Chip and I were up until 2:00 am sewing costumes and finding props.
The thing is, all that stuff was secondary to the growth I could see in all eighteen of our students. Every bit of effort we put in was returned in the form of new skills picked up, tighter choreography or even just a smile on a formerly frustrated face. I suppose it’s what they refer to as ‘paying it forward.’
When Friday afternoon rolled around it was time to present our little musical to the campers’ families and friends. The funny thing is, I’ve never been nervous for any of my own performances but I had a major case of butterflies this time around. I knew how hard these kids had worked and I wanted them to have the great show they deserved. I wanted them to feel the joy I feel in the arts. I shouldn’t have been worried. The kids performed ‘Ever After — a Musical’ better than I could have ever planned or anticipated. It was fantastic.
It’s been almost a week since the camp ended and I’m just now getting the feeling back in my legs. The ringing in my ears is probably permanent. I just can’t stop reminiscing about the teachers who stood in the wings with a bad case of butterflies at MY childhood performances. I had loved the arts then just like my campers do now and I’m thankful for the opportunity to pass it on. At the CCC we often refer to the organization as a catalyst for a creative community. I can’t think of a better catalyst than a big group of creative kids.
Most months it takes me a while to figure out what I should write about for the CCC blog. This month’s topic has been following me around like a shadow.
It started innocently enough when I stumbled upon a long and detailed facebook discussion thread involving several participants, most of whom were artists. The thread was examining the age-old question: What is art worth and how should artists be paid? The overwhelming majority seemed to side with the opinion that there is no free art; an artist’s work and time are valuable and the assumption that they should be given away for free leads to the death of many burgeoning careers. I read through the thread and thought about all the times I have been asked to sing at weddings and other events only to be met with a shocked expression upon bringing up the subject of payment and I thought: here, here.
The next morning over coffee and my daily facebook addiction, the topic arose again. A friend of mine, currently studying musical theatre composition at NYU, had posted a TED talk by alt-rocker Amanda Palmer entitled ‘The Art of Asking’. Over the course of a 15-minute talk (a must-see for any art lover, regardless of their position on the topic), Palmer compared her experience busking to the way music is available online. She talked about the exchanges she had made on the street – a human, artistic connection in exchange for a free will donation – and how that had inspired her to price her digital music as ‘pay what you can’. If that meant giving it away for free, so be it. She summed it up by saying the solution to the ‘cost of art’ problem was not about making people pay for art but asking people to pay for art. There may be people who scoff and yell ‘get a job!’ as they pass but there will be more who see the real value and will pay what the art is worth. After watching the presentation, I thought back to the nearly 4 months I had spent in 2012 as a busker in Melbourne, Australia. I had managed to feed myself on the money passersby were willing to exchange for the songs I was singing and I thought: She has a point.
A few days later I really got smacked with it. I had been contracted to work as a performer for a set amount of time and money. With less then 24 hours’ notice, the employer asked for additional services which I was unable to provide and so declined. The next thing I knew, I was dealing with an employer who wanted to halve my agreed-upon wage for not consenting to work outside our agreement. After a long, hard meeting over what was fair and what was deserved, I left fully paid but my head was spinning, wondering what in the world I had signed up for when I decided that I wanted to work in the arts. Was this going to be a constant theme in my life? I have always found myself struggling with the idea of what exactly I’m worth as a musician, actor and arts instructor. Am I less of an artist if my passion for what I do gives way to a need to put food on the table? I have always hated the term “starving artist” and tend to respond to it by saying ‘I ate three meals today, all of which I paid for. Thanks.’ but I also do certain gigs for free if the cause is right or the experience is worth it. It’s always been a matter of personal judgement and a personal balancing of the books. So am I less of an artist? Less a contributing member of society? I have to admit, for a moment in the midst of my head-spins I was contemplating law school.
Then, on Thursday night I got my closure. I was traveling through Eastend, SK. and staying the night with a couple of married artists in their eighties. She works in watercolor and he works in stained glass. As we sat in their kitchen chatting over a cup of tea, the topic came up again and I thought that, surely, this couple with decades of experience would have the answer. They didn’t. They’d come up against the question of ‘the cost of art’ their entire lives. They had built careers, they had had their art purchased for good prices, their art was hanging in collections all over the world and yet every now and then they still came across someone who didn’t view what they did as a ‘real job’. Grandparents in their eighties.
I said that that evening gave me some closure on the issue and it really did. I walked away from that night grateful for all of the people around me who know that art enriches their lives every day. It’s a community of people who instinctively know that art is ‘a real job’ and that it encompasses entertainment, sentimental and monetary value. If that community can continue to work and bring value to our larger community as a whole then those people yelling ‘get a job’ as they pass will be vastly outnumbered by those who are willing and excited to support the arts – financially, physically and spiritually.
February 11th was a really awesome night at the CCC. The Once, a Juno nominated folk trio from Newfoundland, played a fantastic show to a sold out house in our Hague Gallery. The music was beautiful, energetic and inspiring and the crowd in attendance was much the same.
Regina did us proud that night by not only packing the place but by supporting the band through CD sales and bringing the warmth and excitement that Saskatchewanians seem to take with them wherever they go. A great time was had by all, and I’m not surprised.
Saskatchewanians have this uncanny way of getting behind things and giving them wings. As Regina grows (as it seems to be doing in leaps and bounds these days), so does its arts community. Artist followings seem to be steadily rising, allowing for more culture within our community, more program development and more jobs outside of the corporate mold.
Okay. That may be a slightly utopian way of looking at Regina in 2013 but I call ‘em like I see ‘em. The artistic presence in this city is growing and it will continue to do so as long as the community gets behind it. With the Junos arriving in Regina this April, our community has a huge opportunity to show the rest of the country just what our cultural climate has to offer. With an incredible array of local talent and the world’s best fans, we have a lot to be proud of!
So keep up the good work Regina! We at the Creative City Centre appreciate it. It’s through your support that this city becomes a more exciting and engaging place to be with each passing day.
How many CCC employees does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Two. One to get up on the ladder to change it and the other to take a picture on her cell phone. That’s exactly what happened in the office this afternoon. Shayna (our grant writer) took a picture of me taking down the light fixture above my desk to change the bulb. I suppose it’s probably because I don’t really seem like the type to be hauling around ladders and fixing things (to be fair to Shayna, I was wearing a skirt) but it’s one of the many facets of this job.
The longer I spend working here, the more I get to thinking that jobs in the arts are hard for people to wrap their heads around. Friends, family and patrons ask me all the time what exactly it is I do all day and the answer is anything and everything. In an average work day I can do anything from going shopping for beer, pretzels and office supplies (yes, we need all those things to operate successfully)to washing dishes, cleaning the bathrooms, taking potential renters on a tour of the building, doing the office banking, managing the door for a concert, bartending for the same concert, gathering statistics based on our past performance revenues or taking the garbage out. Actually, that’s exactly what I did yesterday. I am the janitor, the office manager, the MC, the superintendent, the bartender, the house manager and anything else that might be needed on any given day. The funny thing is, that’s not all that unusual.
Marian Donnelly handled all this plus booking and grant writing before the current staff came along and she’s still helping us out as we transition into taking over the office. Arts organizations across Canada function with ‘jack-of-all-trades’ staff who make the place run while working hard for grant funding to keep the programs rolling. It’s not your typical office.
There are a lot of perks to a job like this as well. As an artist-run centre, our staff keep pretty flexible hours which we work around our other gigs. We often work from home, and can work late nights or early mornings depending on what shows and meetings are booked into the calendar. Speaking of shows, that’s probably the best part of this job. We’re exposed to new artists every day. I have discovered dozens of artists that I love since starting here in July and have been inspired by all of them. I think I speak for all staff when I say we feel pretty lucky to be here.
It’s an unconventional job but I’m glad it’s mine. Music, flexible hours, a beautiful building and an amazing staff. All in a day’s work.
