When Tableau D'Hote Theatre's Mat Perron found himself in rural Kansas earlier this year, he wondered what it must be like for people from rural communities upon the realization that opportunities for creating, collaborating and inspiring change in one's community are limited. What must it be like, he mused, to know that one pretty much has to abandon hope of contributing to one's home community if one wants to pursue one's passions, and is it even possible to leave, create, and return with something to give back. It's taken me a long time to respond, because I have a lot to say. This'll be the first in a series of posts on geography.
I grew up in rural New Brunswick. Growing into being an artist was, I imagine, simultaneously like getting a calling to the priesthood, and the realization one might have that one is gay. There was no choice in the matter, only the obligation to my "true self" and sense of sanctity to pursue life as it presented my self to me. Whether or not I could do what my heart desired, or be who I was in my hometown was besides the point. Whether one wants to pursue the glamourous life of bohemian artistry or simply become an accountant, one has to leave rural areas to get an education or any real training.
Being an artist in a rural area is alienating. Much like being isolated in a place built around a hole in the ground, in the middle of a potato field, in the middle of the woods. I was besought both by the alienation of being a weird kid, and of my weird aspirations, not to mention the fact that those very aspirations were the stuff that the most unlikely of dreams are made of. There were 3 possible reactions I would get as a teenager when I'd tell the adults in my life that I planned on a career in the arts. They were:
I was in a place where companies would stop for their school tours occasionally, but there were no theatres. No live music venues. No gallery. No audiences. Not even a bookstore. One ambitious pipe-dreaming teenager cannot alone ignite these fundamental cultural aspects in a vacuum. In a rural, farming & forestry town, the general education level tends to be low, and exposure to culture comes via Wal-Mart and American television. The definition of reality is conservative and the view can be narrow.
My guidance counsellor didn't have half a clue about what direction to point me in, "Well, you'll have to try NTS, that's all there is. Have you considered Saint Thomas or UNB?" Read: We don't pay a lot of mind to fancy-pants artsy stuff 'round these parts. We've got fields to till and lumber to mill, thank you very much. Please consider doing something useful.
The only thing for me to do in Grand Falls was leave.
And there I was.
Gone.
- "You know, you're going to have to leave town for that."
- "Go. You've got real potential. Get out of here, never come back, we'll see you on the TV."
- "Pfffffft. Yeah, right."
I was in a place where companies would stop for their school tours occasionally, but there were no theatres. No live music venues. No gallery. No audiences. Not even a bookstore. One ambitious pipe-dreaming teenager cannot alone ignite these fundamental cultural aspects in a vacuum. In a rural, farming & forestry town, the general education level tends to be low, and exposure to culture comes via Wal-Mart and American television. The definition of reality is conservative and the view can be narrow.
My guidance counsellor didn't have half a clue about what direction to point me in, "Well, you'll have to try NTS, that's all there is. Have you considered Saint Thomas or UNB?" Read: We don't pay a lot of mind to fancy-pants artsy stuff 'round these parts. We've got fields to till and lumber to mill, thank you very much. Please consider doing something useful.
The only thing for me to do in Grand Falls was leave.
And there I was.
Gone.
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