From the Field – Anne Frost
Sheatre – On “The Ballad of Kennedy’s,” about a former foundry in Owen Sound, Ontario
Stakeholder engagement was crucial to the success of this project, as we neither had the advantage of presenting a familiar script, star actors, nor a huge budget to make a media impression. We relied rather on nurturing long-lasting, consulting relationships with folk in the community who were connected to the former Kennedy’s foundry, described earlier in the chapter. Instead of spending money to buy the attention of the community, we invested significant time in creating a large group of stakeholders—advisors, participants, supporters, volunteers, audience members, advocates, and performers (some lead roles were played by professionals contracted through Canadian Actors’ Equity Association).
The company achieved this through all the tactics that we’ve offered elsewhere in this chapter. We attended service club meetings, gave presentations and shared meals with our hosts; we appeared on the local Rogers Cable TV community channel; we provided local print media with attractive images and rehearsal shots and bought advertising that brought some editorial coverage (usually an unwritten rule); we set up a booth at the local shopping mall with promotional swag and information; we sought supplies for the event (rented chairs, AV equipment) from local suppliers whom we cultivated as sponsors; and we engaged local artists to compose music for the show and train young Scottish dancers at a local, well-known dance studio.
Once we’d gathered enough momentum and attracted stakeholders who were in some way related to the former foundry – through family, work, living alongside the previous location of the site, and even those who remembered running their day by the noon and 5pm whistles from the foundry that could be heard across the whole town – we involved them in ways that they chose, outlined above. Eventually our three-week run of the show began, albeit in a tent (a dangerous strategy in late summer when stormy weather was to be expected).
This was in 2001. Our run began in late August. Halfway through its second week, the 9/11 attacks took place. After that Tuesday, no one had the heart to come to the show. The skies were clear of aircraft (as they have been again during COVID). TVs played the impact footage of the planes hitting the World Trade Center in New York on what seemed like an infinite loop. We had no more box office revenue, and we had CAEA actors, other artists and suppliers to pay. I donated back two weeks’ salary and took a charitable receipt for the contribution. We attempted to negotiate favourable payment terms with local suppliers and embarked on a series of small fundraising events, through which we raised $11,000, largely from the stakeholders whom we’d involved early on. After just over a year we were able to retire all our obligations.
Without the support of the stakeholders cultivated during this community engagement, the company would not have been able to survive the catastrophic effect of 2001’s global events on the project. Of course, others were more severely affected than we were. One of my most poignant memories from that time was stacking folding chairs in the tent as we took the show down, listening a CBC memorial event broadcasting Elgar’s “Nimrod” from “Enigma Variations” (medpiano, 2007), on the PA, and crying for the sadness of it all.
Working with Indigenous community-engaged arts project partners
In Canada, whether working in urban or rural environments, it is likely that a community-engaged arts project will have Indigenous elements, either as part of its initial concept or through serendipity as the work progresses.
Elsewhere in this chapter, Kevin commented on his learning process when working with Muslim participants in a school-based dance project. This was an example of cultural sensitivity and competence that, once learned, was not forgotten. As arts workers, we seek to provide connection, transformation and joy, and we work hard to not alienate, Other or exclude. Working with Indigenous communities or community members requires a specific form of cultural competence and sensitivity that bears examination in this chapter.
Here are some things to consider, borne from experience, when interacting with Indigenous project partners, participants and collaborators:
- Take, and allow, time. When you are asking a business owner for permission to paint a community mural on the side of a building, that person can make a fairly prompt decision since they are autonomous and may not have to consult anyone). When working with Indigenous collaborators, expect to move slowly, and build this into your process. These relationships are not transactional but rather substantial, nuanced and long-lasting. Many Indigenous leaders have been approached time after time by ambitious settlers who have identified a funding source that is, for example, available to projects involving Indigenous partners, and are rightly skeptical of the “hit and run.” If your project isn’t organically connected with the Indigenous population you’re seeking to involve, you will fail to make a positive impression and should re-examine your project proposal.
- While you take time in terms of project duration, also take time in the moment of each interaction with Indigenous project partners. Be actively present. Speaking quickly may be a settler default, but it’s not universal. Show up. Share tea and bannock if you can and let things happen. Keep showing up. Listen more than you talk. Slow down. Adapt. Respect and learn from the process.
- In order to work on reserves with Indigenous partners, Band Councils must know of and approve the activity. Approaching the Band Council appropriately and with regard for their process as well as your own may lead to a successful relationship. Attempting to impose a project on partners because of your own timelines is unlikely to stick.
- Have regard for language and terminology. Don’t speak of “our” Indigenous neighbours: they are no more ours than we are theirs. Accord your potential partners the respect due to a separate nation and culture. Learn and pronounce names correctly. Be able to express gratitude in the language of the folk you’re speaking with (in Anishinaabemowin, “Miigwetch”). In the recent past, the term Aboriginal was used to denote folk currently described as Indigenous. Within this term are three distinct groups, currently known as First Nations, Métis, and Inuit. This terminology is constantly and purposefully evolving and requires flexibility—embrace the changes.
- Seek to learn, but don’t put Indigenous folk in a position of educating you about colonisation. It can re-traumatise and harm your program’s participants. Do your own homework: For example, read the report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRCC, 2015), learn about the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous People (United Nations, 2007), and be aware of the phenomenon of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls (National Enquiry into Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls, n.d.).
- Broadly speaking, in Indigenous contexts, an “artist” may also do several other things as part of a working life without the same distinction that is drawn by Arts Councils. For example, that a “professional” artist must derive revenue from their work, or must seek to spend more of their time engaged in the work if financially viable, or be professionally trained are constraints used by Arts Councils to go about the difficult task of deciding who is most deserving of funding. In contrast to this, art is more embedded in life in Indigenous worldviews and is part of a continuum. For example, the late Inuit printmaker Tim Pitsuilak, who made work at Kinngait (Cape Dorset) was able to render such stunningly lifelike images of whales because hunting them for food was part of his way of life. He knew them well, and his art was an offering to them, graciousness for the life they’d given up to him, a song of praise for them. His status as a hunter in no way reduced his standing as an artist.
- Indigenous communities and individuals represent themselves only, not all bands, tribes and nations, any more than you may be expected to speak on behalf of all Japanese Canadians, folk with red hair, or soccer fans.
These are just a few of the considerations to bear in mind when seeking a project partnership, collaboration with or the participation of Indigenous community members in a community-engaged arts project. This is not an exhaustive list, as it’s only derived from the experience of one arts manager.
A final adage when working with distinct populations is “nothing about us, without us” (Wikipedia, 2022b) which reminds folk to assume neither that they know what’s best for others nor how things should happen. This concept pertains to any distinct group, be it racialised folk, people with disabilities, socially excluded youth, or anyone else. Provide the expertise you can, but be led by and learn from the experts and set aside expectations of retaining total control.